Wordlessly, the maid began to move about the room, tidying and putting things into their proper place. Akiko too was used to the demands of the lady of the house. She had been working here since she herself was a mere child.
Of course, that meant that Akiko had known Nori’s mother. This was a curious dynamic between them: Nori always wanting to ask and Akiko always wanting to tell, but both too obedient to do either.
“What shall I wear?” Nori rasped, hating the sudden waver in her voice. “What do you think?”
Nori immediately began to rack her brains. She had a polka-dot navy blue dress, with short sleeves and a lace collar. She had a green kimono with a pale pink sash. She had a bright yellow yukata, which she could wear now that it was summer. And she had a dark purple kimono. That was all.
She began to gnaw gently on the skin inside her left cheek. “The black one,” she said resolutely, answering her own question. Akiko went to the closet and laid it out on the bed.
Nori arrived at this conclusion relatively easily. In contrast to the dark hues of the garment, her skin would appear lighter. Akiko brought the kimono over and began to dress her, while her mind began to wander to other places.
She ran an unsteady hand through her hair. God, she hated her hair. It was thick and boisterous, stubbornly curly despite her daily efforts to tame it with a brush. It was also a peculiar shade of dark brown that Nori likened to the bark of an oak tree. She could not get it to fall straight and free around her shoulders, as her mother’s and grandmother’s did.
However, if she brushed the hair hard against her scalp, it would flatten enough that she could wind it into a long braid that she would tie neatly behind her head. It fell nearly to her waist, and she bound the end of it with a brightly colored ribbon. If she did it that way, it looked almost normal.
She was wearing the red ribbon today, one of her twelve. It was her favorite one, as she thought it brought out the brightness in her champagne-colored gaze. The one thing she did like about her face was her eyes—even her grandmother remarked once, in passing, that they were “quite interesting.”
They were gently almond-shaped, just as they should be. At least there, she did not stand out so much.
Once Nori had been dressed, Akiko took her leave.
Nori made her way to the center of the room and stood, bone straight, waiting. She willed herself not to fidget. She folded her hands neatly in front of her chest, eyeing the skin with mild contempt. It was improving. Two years of the baths and she was starting to see a change. She estimated that in another two years it would be fair enough that she could leave the attic.
Unlike her grandmother, who visited occasionally, her grandfather did his absolute best to avoid her entirely, and besides, as the Emperor’s advisor he was in Tokyo most of the time anyway. On those very rare occasions when they did cross paths, he looked at her with eyes as hard as coal. It always left her feeling cold. She sometimes asked Akiko about him. Her face would flatten and she’d say simply, “He is a very important man, a very powerful man.” And then she would hurriedly change the subject.
Curious as she was, Nori was not fool enough to broach the subject with her grandmother. She remembered her mother’s advice well, and though she still did not understand it much, it had proved to be quite useful. Of course, it did nothing to tell her where her mother was or when she was coming back. Nori tried not to think about these things.
The sound of footsteps alerted Nori to her grandmother’s arrival. Rather than looking up, she lowered her eyes to the floor and dropped into a low bow.
The woman before her was silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “Noriko.”
This was an indication that permission to rise had been granted. Nori straightened slowly, making sure to keep her eyes lowered respectfully.
The old woman walked briskly over to where Nori was standing and, in one deft motion, reached out and lifted her chin with a slender finger.
Nori looked at her grandmother’s face. Traces of beauty were still present despite the marks of time. Fine wrinkles decorated the smooth skin, a shade of yellow so faint it was nearly eggshell white. Her grandmother’s features were those of a classic belle: long neck, small hands, and tapered fingers. Dark hair, streaked with more white every passing year, that fell in a perfectly straight sheen well below the waist. Delicate nose and poignant, finely shaped eyes colored the striking shade of Kamiza gray-black that reminded Nori, with a none-too-gentle pang, of her mother.
And of course there was the swan-like elegance and grace that seemed to evade her so frustratingly, possessed by both generations that had come before. It was beautiful and maddening to behold.
“Konnichiwa, Obaasama,” Nori said, trying not to wither under the intensity of her grandmother’s glare. “God grant you well-being and joy.”
Yuko nodded, as if checking off a mental checklist. She backed away slightly, and Nori let out a barely audible sigh of relief. The old woman did a cursory sweep of the attic and then nodded once more.
Nori pulled out one of the chairs at her dining table in anticipation. But her grandmother made no move to sit.
“You have grown some, I think.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. This was a question she was not prepared for.
“A little, Obaasama.”
“How old are you now?”
Nori bit her lip, willing her emotions to retreat back into their cavern, somewhere at the bottom of her stomach.
“Ten, Grandmother.”
“Ten. Have you bled yet?”
Nori felt panic seize her. Bled? She was supposed to bleed?
“I . . . I am sorry. I do not understand.”
Rather than reacting with disdain or fury, as Nori might expect, her grandmother only nodded yet again. These were all answers she expected.
“How are your studies?”
At this, Nori brightened instantly. For a moment, she forgot herself.
“Oh, they are wonderful. Saotome-sensei is a very good teacher. And he says I shall have more books when I can read a little better. I already have two new books and they are in English. He says that I have a natural facility for—”
Yuko turned a cold stare in Nori’s direction, and it cut her off at the knees. She ceased speaking at once, tasting bile when she closed her mouth.
It is good for a woman to learn silence.
Nori lowered her head. She eyed the faded wooden floor beneath her feet, wishing she could become one with it. To her absolute horror, she felt the beginnings of tears stir behind her eyes. She blinked in rapid succession to push them back.
After what seemed like an eon of silence, her grandmother spoke.
“How much do you weigh?”
Nori knew the answer to this query at once, thank God. She was weighed every day before her bath.