Page 22 of Water Moon

Chapter Twenty-two

Rooms

There were afternoons at the pawnshop when business was slow and Hana would lean her elbows on the counter and imagine the world behind the door. She stitched together the snippets of their clients’ lives, creating a patchwork world of gray office buildings filled with people wishing they were somewhere else, overcrowded trains that were not powered by dewdrops, and brightly colored rooms with rows of pachinko machines that ate money. Not once, in all her daydreams, had she conjured a place with ten-foot-tall windows and an assortment of black-and-white paintings displayed over redbrick walls. Or that she would be sharing it with a man such as Keishin. He had chosen, over and over again, to stay at her side, even when, through any lens, no one would have found fault if he had chosen to walk away. “What is this place?”

“Hana?” Keishin jumped. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be? We are traveling to the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan, remember?”

“But this is my old apartment. I thought you said that we were going to travel to the museum by riding a song.”

“We are. Listen.” Music wafted from a record player beneath the painting of a caged bird. The player’s needle shifted from side to side, finding a woman’s rich and buttery voice in the depths and shallows of the vinyl record’s grooves. The tale of a girl drifting at sea in the night filled the room. “This is your song. We are inside it. I am glad you chose it. It’s beautiful.”

Keishin kneaded the bridge of his nose, sinking into a worn tan leather couch. “I don’t understand.”

“Why I like your song?”

“I don’t understand how we are traveling inside a song and why we are in my apartment.”

“This music playing is the same song that you shared with the kashu, is it not?”

“It is.”

“And this room is where you often listen to it? Perhaps from the exact spot you are sitting in now?”

“With a glass of wine or whiskey after work.”

“Then that is the reason why we are here. This is where the song lives.” Hana sat down on the other end of the couch. “But this is not your apartment. It just looks like it.”

Keishin stood up and ran his hand along the brick wall. “This isn’t real?”

“It is, but it is not your home. This room was created to ferry us to the museum. It is unique to you and your song. My father’s room was very different.”

“What was his room like?”

“It was the pawnshop’s vault,” Hana said. “He always used the birds’ song when we traveled. The vault and all the choices we kept in it were on his mind wherever we went. Unfortunately, sitting in a vault for a whole evening is not very comfortable.”

“The whole evening?”

“The museum is very far away.” Hana fished out her pack of rice cakes from her bag. “Are you hungry?”

—

The rice cakes’ empty wrappings lay over Keishin’s dark wooden coffee table next to a miniature old-fashioned telescope made of brass.

“May I?” Hana gestured to the telescope.

Keishin nodded. “Sure.”

Hana picked up the telescope and looked through it.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work,” Keishin said. “It’s just for décor.”

“Nothing we keep around us is only for décor, is it? We select and surround ourselves with objects that speak to or for us, whether we are aware of it or not.” Hana set the telescope down, leaving streaks of dust on her fingertips.

“And this telescope is clearly saying that it desperately needs to be cleaned. Sorry. I have some paper towels in the kitchen.” He stood up and paused mid-step. “Um…do I have a kitchen? I’m not sure how this ferry thing works.”

“You do not.” Hana wiped her hands on the front of her coat. “You only get one room.”

“Just one room? Good thing this isn’t a date then.” Keishin chuckled.

“What is a date?”

“Wait. You don’t know what a date is?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Well…uh…it’s when two people try to get to know each other better. They go to dinner. Watch a movie or a show. And when things go well…they…uh…”

“They visit each other’s homes?”

“Er…yes. They…um…visit.”

“Like what we are doing now.”

Keishin nodded. “Like what we are doing now.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else do people do on these visits? Why is this room insufficient? What other rooms do they require?” She sank deeper into an oversized cushion, placing her hands on her lap. “This room is quite pleasant. I do not find it lacking in any way.”

“You know what? You’re right. This is a perfectly good room.”

“It is.”

A quiet settled over the living room like a layer of dust neither Hana nor Keishin seemed willing to disturb. Keishin shifted his weight on the couch, making the leather squeak.

“Have you taken many lovers home?” Hana asked as though she were asking something as mundane as the time.

Keishin coughed. “Lovers?”

“That is the purpose of a date, is it not? To find a match?”

“Well…I…”

“Marriage is different in my world. It is a duty just like everything else in our lives. All you need to know about your future spouse is their name.” She ran a finger over her right hand, tracing the invisible path paper cranes flew over in the rain. “We have no use for dates.”

Keishin stared at the bare skin on her arm, wondering if another man’s name might be etched on it. He shoved the thought away. “Then…um…maybe this could be your first date. I mean…that is, if you want it to be.”

Hana smiled, quirking a brow. “I thought that you needed to have dinner first and see a show?”

“Those are optional. Rice cakes and dusty telescopes are all you really need to make it official.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We’re just missing one more thing.” He walked over to a tall window.

“And what would that be?”

“A view. Mr. Li’s Chinese takeaway is across the street. They have the best chicken chow mein. It’s why I chose this apartment.” He tugged the curtains back. Black clouds swirled behind the glass, their outline illuminated by bolts of lightning streaking through the dark. Keishin jolted back.

“We are sailing over the Sky Sea,” Hana said. “In quite a storm. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Keishin shut the curtains. “For what?”

“Bad weather follows me around.”

“Really?” Keishin wrinkled his forehead. “The weather hates me too.”

“You are making fun of me. But it is true. I am certain that you have noticed that wherever we go, the sky soon shows its disapproval.”

“I have, but I assumed that it was because of—” The record skipped and stalled. The room shook beneath Keishin’s feet, sending him staggering against a wall.

“Kei! Your song!” Hana yelled over the rumbling of wood and bricks.

Keishin clutched the windowsill to keep from stumbling.

“Sing it in your head. Now. ”

Keishin squeezed his eyes shut, summoning the song’s notes. The record resumed playing. The quake stopped.

“You got distracted,” Hana said. “The song cannot stop. You must empty yourself of thoughts that might keep it from playing in the back of your mind.”

“This is how people get lost at sea,” Keishin said, swallowing the realization that had lodged in his throat like a rock.

“Yes. That is why no matter what happens, you must not let go of the song,” Hana said. “Or me.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Keishin sat next to her, wiping cold sweat from his brow. “I won’t put you in any more danger than I already have. The Shiikuin wouldn’t be chasing us if not for me.”

“You may have chosen to stay, but I chose to let you. It was…the first real choice I made in my life.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“I…don’t know yet.”

Keishin rested his neck on the couch.

“And how about you? Are you regretting your decision?”

“I’ve been scared and confused more times than I would like, but I don’t regret a single second of my time here.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Keishin sat up, finding his smile.

“Because?”

“Because I get to take you on your first date.”

“I do not recall agreeing to this being a date. Besides, you said that an official date required a view.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Keishin smirked, scratching his nape. “I really wish I could have taken you someplace other than this boring apartment. There are so many things and places you would enjoy seeing in my world.”

“Like what?”

“I would have loved to take you around my university. The campus is especially lovely at this time of year. The maple trees in the courtyard know how to put on a good show.”

Hana nodded, her gaze drifting to the window without a view. “There is something about autumn that makes things more beautiful. Out of all the seasons, it is the most honest about time. Summer and spring blind you to its passing with their colorful displays. Winter paints over everything in white. But autumn is not shy about things coming to an end. It welcomes it, waving leafy flags of red, yellow, and gold. It celebrates its sadness.”

“Not just sadness though, right?” Keishin said. “It’s also a celebration of all that is waiting on the other side of it.”

“Yes,” Hana said, surprised by how quickly she agreed with him when, only a day ago, she thought the season meant only melancholy. Like his dimpled smile, Keishin’s hope was contagious. “That too.”

“So are you curious about what else we would do on this date?” Keishin said.

“We don’t need to go anywhere. I am still enjoying the trees,” Hana teased, staring up at imaginary leaves.

“I promise that you’ll like the pumpkin spice cake at the coffee shop around the corner even more. It’s just a short walk. You’ll need to hold my hand though. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.” He offered his hand.

Hana clasped it. “Tell me more about this cake,” she said, leaning against his shoulder.

“Where do I begin? Its cream cheese frosting? Its moist goodness? How it’s perfect with coffee? It’s basically everything I like about autumn baked into a perfect little treat. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Cloves. All things cozy and warm.” Keishin pressed Hana’s palm against his cheek. “And sweet.”

“That sounds delicious.” Hana found herself running her thumb over his jaw, savoring its sharpness and heat. “I think…I like this date.”

“Me too.” Keishin brushed his lips against her wrist.

Hana’s cheeks flushed. She pulled her hand away.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“There is no need to apologize. It was my fault. This world is new to you, but not to me. I should know better. This place can make you feel things that are not real. This room. This couch. They trick your mind.”

“And are you also a trick, Hana?”

“I—”

“Because if you are, then consider me willing to be fooled. The way you see things, speak about things…when I’m with you, you make things feel new. Even this dusty room.”

“It’s…um…not that dusty.” Hana sneezed loudly.

“You were saying?” Keishin chuckled.

Hana laughed too because when Keishin laughed, he made her forget all the reasons she was not supposed to be happy.

“I made you laugh. I hope this means that our first date wasn’t a complete disaster.”

“No, it was not,” Hana said, the last of her laughter still tingling on her lips. “Though I think that traveling inside that café would have been slightly more enjoyable than this room. I have always preferred cake to dust.”

“I don’t even know why the song chose this room for us to travel in,” Keishin said. “Whenever I used to listen to it, my mind never stayed in this place.”

“The song didn’t create this room. You did. Perhaps even as much as you insist on wanting to explore my world, the kashu was right. A part of you is longing for home.”

“If I’m responsible for creating this room, then I can certainly try to do better.” Keishin closed his eyes and weaved his fingers through Hana’s. “If this is my one chance to give you a glimpse of my world, I want to show you where this song really takes me.”

—

Eleven thousand giant, unblinking glass eyes surrounded Hana as she floated on a small rubber boat. She drew a sharp breath through her teeth and squeezed Keishin’s hand.

“It worked.” Keishin blinked, looking around the enormous cylindrical stainless steel tank. “We’re here.”

“Where is here?” Hana said breathlessly.

“More than three thousand feet beneath the ground,” Keishin said. “Do you remember the neutrinos I told you about?”

“The invisible particles that are like ghosts?”

“This is where we trap them. We’re inside the Super-Kamiokande neutrino detector. The mountain we are under acts like a filter. Only neutrinos can pass through its layers of rock and soil.” Keishin pointed to the large glass bulbs covering every inch of the detector’s curved walls. “And those are PMTs, photomultiplier tubes. They detect the light that’s created on the rare occasion that a neutrino passes through the mountain and strikes a water molecule. They’re so sensitive that they can detect light from a candle lit on the moon. This tank is normally filled with water, but it’s been partially drained for maintenance. Today, it’s a small lake for two. Or the inside of the TARDIS.”

“TARDIS?”

“Er, forget I said that. That might be harder to explain than neutrinos.”

“So this is a memory from where you work?”

“A borrowed one. A colleague at the detector recorded a video of the tank during maintenance work and sent it to me. There was a chance that the maintenance would finish early and that the tank would be filled before I reported for my job at Super-K, and he didn’t want me to miss out on seeing this. Very few people get to see the tank this way. I thought that it was the most peaceful, otherworldly place I had ever seen. Of course, that was before I stumbled into your pawnshop,” Keishin said. “And yes, I do see the irony in escaping to a place that is essentially an elaborate trap.”

“A beautiful one,” Hana said. “As the best traps should be. I’d hide away here too. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a calmer place. Thank you for bringing me here.” Hana studied her face in the water. A thousand bulbs shimmered around it like silver moons. She did not recognize herself. For the first time in her life, she looked almost content. She reached over the side of the rubber boat to touch her reflection.

Keishin grabbed her hand. “It’s not the kind of water you want to touch. It’s extremely pure water. It’s corrosive. It sucks the minerals out of anything it comes in contact with. Someone accidentally dropped a metal hammer into the tank, and when they found it years later, all that was left of it was an eggshell-thin chrome shell. The water had hollowed it out.”

“This water can eat flesh?”

“If you made the mistake of taking a leisurely soak in it.”

“Then it is not just in my world that things are not always as they seem.” Hana stretched out over the bottom of the boat. “Still, I’m glad we’re here. It’s best to get all the rest we can, while we can. The next part of our journey may not be as peaceful.”

Keishin lay next to her, their fingers almost touching. “You never told me the end of the story.”

“What story?”

“The story about Urashima Taro and the turtle. What happened to Taro after he opened the box?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course. You can’t tell someone a story and not tell them how it ends.”

“But isn’t that what life is like in your world? A story whose ending has yet to be written? I have often wondered what it would be like to live like that. To me, that would be the greatest of luxuries. I imagine that it is that very uncertainty that makes working in a place such as this worthwhile. The excitement of discovery. The prospect of learning something that could change the course of your world.”

“You aren’t wrong. But it is also a life that comes without the smallest guarantee. There are so many choices pulling you left one second, right the next. People stray from commitments and paths. It’s easy to get lost.”

“You would prefer that a map of your life be written on your skin?”

“I can’t help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if my mother had a map. If her fate had been clear, then perhaps she wouldn’t have been so restless; maybe she would have…”

“Stayed with you and your father?”

Keishin turned to face Hana. “The honest answer is I don’t know. The answer I want to believe is yes.”

“Duty isn’t the same as love.”

“Do reasons even matter if you can’t tell the difference?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

Keishin lowered his eyelids.

Hana pressed her lips against Keishin’s mouth, rocking the boat beneath them.

“Hana?” Keishin jerked his head back.

Hana cupped his face, guiding his lips to hers. Keishin’s shoulders tensed, but he did not break away. He folded her in his arms and deepened the kiss, melting into the warmth of her mouth. Hana pulled back and sat up.

Keishin stared at her, breathing hard. “What was that?”

“A kiss.”

“I know that was a kiss. I want to know why you kissed me.”

“I thought you said that reasons didn’t matter.”

“So it wasn’t a kiss.” Keishin’s face grew somber. “And I thought that I was the only scientist here. It was an experiment to prove that I was wrong and you were right.”

“Was I?”

Keishin lay back in the boat, casting his eyes over the bulbs above them. “Yes.”

“You were right too.”

“About what?”

“The kiss. The first one was an experiment.”

“And the second one?”

“Was the second real choice I have ever made.”

“And was it a good or bad thing?”

—

Unanswered questions were like boxes you never opened, their contents vanishing and reappearing, stretching and contracting, being nothing and everything all at once. Hana did not make a habit of hoarding them. In her world, it wasn’t difficult. For every question that had ever crossed her mind, there was a black-and-white answer that stripped it of all mystery.

But tonight she sat on a rubber boat, a box containing Keishin’s question balancing on her lap. The question knocked on the box’s lid, trying to get her attention. Hana tried to ignore it. She kept her eyes on Keishin as he slept, watching his song dance behind his lids as he dreamed. The box rattled louder. Hana heaved a sigh. She leaned closer to the box and heard the whisper inside it. Was it a good or bad thing? Hana touched her lips, remembering the moist heat of Keishin’s mouth.

His question was simple. Answering it was not. If she was going to find her parents and bring them home, it was not an answer she could ever say out loud. She tossed the box into the water, drowning it in the reflection of eleven thousand moons.