Page 17 of Water Moon

Chapter Seventeen

The Gift

The box of tea patiently sat on the table next to Hana’s bed, waiting for someone to notice it. It was wrapped in a silk cloth Hana had painted the week before. Though it was distorted by knots and folds, Hana recognized her design. A water lily bobbed over the cloth, floating along the edges of a calm pond. Hana untied the silk and let it pool over the table.

“What’s so special about this tea?” Keishin said.

“Absolutely nothing.” Hana had not asked Keishin to stay. Nor had she pushed him out the door. But she found herself drawing steadier breaths when he stood by her side, as though his voice made the air easier to breathe. “It is the same tea that we give to our clients in exchange for their choices. I thought that my father did not have the time or imagination to get me anything else. Now I think that there may be another reason. When he gave me the tea, he told me that it would taste different today because it was my first day as the pawnshop’s owner. He said that things would change even if they looked the same. This tea could be another clue.”

—

Hana poured out the tea into a broken bowl mended with gold. The tea looked and smelled exactly as it always did, roasted and slightly sweet. Doubt filled her gut as she inhaled its fragrant steam. It felt foolish to entertain the notion that her father had left a message for her in the tea when it was growing clearer by the second that he did not wish to be found. She filled a second bowl.

“If you’re right about it being a clue, then it probably contains a message that is intended only for you,” Keishin said. “I can wait in the front office while you drink it.”

“You can stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I do not think that I am certain of anything anymore.” She handed him his tea.

“Believe me when I tell you that I know exactly how you feel.”

“We should drink to that.”

“To what?”

“Uncertainty.” Until today, the word was a stranger to Hana’s mouth. It coated her tongue with the taste of metal. “The one thing we can share.”

Keishin looked up from his cracked bowl. “Is it?”

“What more can two people from different worlds have? A ride in the rain? A trip through a puddle? Tea?”

Keishin reached across the table and rested his palm over Hana’s. “A hand to hold.”

“The tea is getting cold.” Hana retreated from his touch. She brought the bowl to her lips, hoping the tea would wash away the truth Keishin’s hand had left on her skin. Warmth felt the same no matter which side of the door you were from. Kindness did too. Her father’s voice in her head reminded her that she could not allow herself to know either. The pawnshop’s rules applied outside its walls. Empathy lost deals.

The tea tasted like it always did. A knot formed in Hana’s throat. Another dead end. And then there it was. A forgotten, deep sweetness rose like a wave from the back of her tongue. It swept Hana to a warmly lit room, across the table from a smiling, wrinkled face. She drew a sharp breath. “Sobo?”

Hana? Keishin called to her from far away. Are you all right?

Hana ignored him, her eyes fixed on her grandmother. The older woman sat across from her, sipping tea from a glazed clay cup. She smiled at Hana, seemingly undisturbed by her sudden appearance in her home.

“Do you know where my mother is, Sobo?” Hana said.

“Please have some more, Hana. You are too thin,” her grandmother said, offering her a plate of little cakes made from mochi and red bean paste.

“Did you hear what I said, Sobo?” Hana gripped the edges of the table.

“Time goes by so fast,” her grandmother said. “I cannot believe you are ten now. Your mother looked exactly like you at your age.”

“Ten?” Hana frowned. “Sobo, please listen to me. I—” The ground shook, rattling the cups on the table. Her grandmother smiled at her and sipped her tea, oblivious to the rumbling. Hana jumped from her seat and grabbed her grandmother’s hand. Her fingers closed around thin air. “No!”

“Hana!” Keishin’s voice exploded in her ears.

Hana snapped her eyes open and found Keishin shaking her by the shoulders, her teacup broken at her feet.

“Are you okay?” Keishin clutched her shoulders.

Hana blinked. “What happened?”

“You were in some sort of trance. You didn’t move or say anything for almost half an hour.”

“What? It was barely a few minutes for me.”

“What did you see?”

“I think it was a memory.”

“Of what?”

“Of the first time I tasted this tea. I was wrong, Kei. This is not the tea my father offers our clients. It is what my grandmother serves hers. I think the memory in the tea means that I need to see her.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, Hana. You said it yourself, none of this will matter when I return to my world. When all of this is over, I’ll forget everything about this place. What harm will it do if you let me stay and help you a little longer?”

Hana ran her eyes over the invisible map on her arms. Every moment she spent with Keishin was uncharted and pulled her further from her fate. Her mother was a constant reminder of what the Shiikuin did to people who strayed. “You are not a part of my path.”

“Of course I am,” Keishin said. “I’m your client. You told me that everyone who walks through your door is a client. That means that I can’t leave. Not until our business is concluded. You’re not breaking any rules, Hana. By letting me stay, you’re following them.”

Hana could not argue with the truth. She shook her head and laid her hands on her lap with a heavy sigh. “My grandmother’s teahouse. That is where we need to go. But we need to wait until midnight.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the only hour of the day that her teahouse exists.”