“But it suits her, don’t you think?” I said, smiling.
He nodded. “It’s good to be young. Anything feels possible. As you grow older, you forget how to dream. Before you realize it, one day you wake up and look in the mirror, wondering who the middle-aged man in front of you is.”
I laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”
“But, like you said, it might be achievable for her,” he added. “She does have a certain charm.”
“And she’s stubborn enough to keep pursuing it.”
A flock of black birds flew by, screeching loudly. Passing through the clouds, they soared into the distant sky.
“Do you know what kind of birds those are?” I asked.
“They’re a type of cuckoo,” Honda said. “In Australia, they’re called rainbirds. They’re thought to sing before stormy weather—it has something to do with their migration pattern.”
So those were rainbirds.
“No matter how far they travel, they’ll always return home,” Honda continued as another flock showed up.
“Isn’t that salmon?” I asked.
“Really? Maybe both salmon and rainbirds,” he said, and looked up. “The sun is getting high. Shall we make a move now?”
“Of course.”
We climbed back over the barricade.
“About the Italian restaurant,” I asked Honda, “is it nearby?”
“Yes, it’s on the way back. We can go there for lunch.”
“Actually, I was planning to go alone,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Before she passed away, my sister and I had planned to go there together.”
“I understand. I’ll drop you there,” he said with a smile. “There’s a bus stop near the restaurant. You shouldn’t have any problem getting to the nearest train station.”
We got into the car and drove off.
I thought about how nice it would have been if my sister had chosen Honda instead of Mr. Nakajima. He would’ve treated her well. And if she’d ended up with him, she would probably still be alive.
But as Honda had said, feelings couldn’t be forced. If my sister could’ve chosen whom to fall in love with, I was sure she would’ve picked Honda. But he wasn’t the one in her heart.
The car stopped in front of a cottage-style building. The place looked more like an inn than a restaurant. A wooden sign bore the name Capriccio Ristorante.
“This is the one,” Honda said, glancing at my paper bag.
“Do you mind if I leave the urn with you?” I asked. “I’m not going to keep it and it’s hard to carry it around.”
“Of course,” he said. “You’re returning to Tokyo tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes, first train in the morning.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
Finally, Honda said, “Ishida, you need to stop blaming yourself for Keiko’s death. She wouldn’t want you to do that.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
“Well, then.” He grinned and offered his hand. “This is a temporary goodbye.”
“I like that.” I gave him a firm handshake. “A temporary goodbye.”
“And remember what I said about your girlfriend. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Tell her what you really want to say.”
I nodded slightly and thought about Nae. She deserved an answer.
I got out of the car and stood at the roadside. I waited there until I could no longer see Honda’s car. It suddenly occurred to me that Honda and Mr. Tsuda were both math teachers. Could it be more than coincidence? I hoped I was wrong, but it was too much to be random chance. My sister had probably tried to replay her past, hoping for a different outcome, and ended up disappointed. When you ask too much of others, of course people will start to fail you.
I pushed the door and walked into the restaurant. The bell tinkled and soon after, an elderly lady came out from the kitchen.
“Welcome,” she said. “Are you dining alone?”
“Yes, my companion couldn’t make it,” I said.
“That’s a pity. I’ll get you the best table in the house.”
She led me in and I realized the restaurant was empty. She gave me a table for two with a panoramic view of the valley and handed me a menu.
“Can I get you a glass of water?” she asked.
I nodded. “That would be great.”
The lady disappeared into the kitchen and I gazed at the empty chair in front of me. I imagined my sister sitting there, looking at the menu, and asking me what she always did.
“Hey Ren, what are you ordering?”
I asked her in return, “What would you suggest?”
She glanced through the menu and bit her lip. “It’s hard. Everything looks delicious.”
“What did you have last time, when you came with Honda?”
“Bruschetta, beef lasagna, and tiramisu.”
“I’ll have that.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Let’s try something new.”
“Why don’t you choose for both of us? Pick anything you want.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
I nodded. “If after that, you still have something you want to try, we can always come back another day.”
My sister smiled but didn’t say a word.
I watched her go through the menu, mumbling here and there. Sometimes, she would look at me and ask for my opinion. But most of the time, she was in her own world. Keiko Ishida, she always had the excitement of a child.
“Are you ready to order?” The elderly lady’s voice startled me. She had placed a glass of water on my table.
“What do you recommend?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “Do you have any preferences? Pizza, pasta, risotto?”
“Probably pasta.”
“May I suggest the fettuccine Alfredo? It’s fettuccine pasta, tossed with Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and butter,” she said. “It’s popular with our regulars.”
“I’ll take that, then,” I said, though seeing how empty the restaurant was, I had doubts about who might qualify as a “regular.”
“What about the first course? Our crostini is good.”
“Sure, I’ll follow your recommendations.”
“And would you like a glass of wine, or dessert?”
“Just a cup of coffee will do. No sugar.”
The elderly lady scribbled on her notepad. “One crostini, one fettuccine Alfredo, and one coffee, no sugar. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
She disappeared into the kitchen again, and my sister began to take form.
“You should have ordered dessert, too. A meal isn’t complete without it,” she complained. “It’s like the final note of a song, or the conclusion of a journey. Ren, you’re missing the punch line.”
I sighed. “If you want it that much, you can add on the dessert.”
“It’s too much for one person.”
“It’s fine, I’ll help you finish it.”
But knowing her, she would polish off the whole thing.
“Sorry, Ren, I couldn’t control myself,” she would say with a satisfied grin. “It was too yummy! Next time, let’s order two.”
I laughed. “Seeing you eat killed my appetite.”
“Hey, that’s rude.”
I knew my sister loved sweet things. Parfaits, candies, shaved ices, stuff like that. Nae loved sweet things, too. Perhaps all girls loved sweet things.
The elderly lady came with the crostini. She seemed eager to start a conversation. “Is this your first time here?” she asked.
I nodded.
“How did you find this place?”
“My sister recommended it to me.”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s nice of her. Please send her my regards.”
“I will,” I mumbled.
“All right, I won’t disturb you any longer,” she said, probably sensing I would prefer to be alone. “Enjoy your meal.”
I smiled and started eating.
The food was as good as my sister had said it would be. The crostini were perfectly toasted. Generous amounts of herbed goat cheese and sautéed baby spinach formed the perfect topping, and I could taste the tanginess of the lemon zest.
The fettuccine Alfredo came just as I finished the last bite of the crostini. Like the appetizer, the main course didn’t disappoint. It had more butter than I’d anticipated, but was still delicious. I polished it off without leaving a single drop of sauce. The elderly lady looked pleased when she delivered my coffee and cleared the dirty plates.
But what moved me wasn’t the fact that the food was done well. It was the warmth I sensed in it. I could feel the passion and dedication poured into every single course.
“What’s most important is feeling,” my sister used to say. “When you cook for someone you care about and you put your heart into it, your feelings will come through.”
I buried my face in my hands, unable to contain the sudden burst of emotion. At that precise moment, I realized why I had the same unpleasant feeling whenever I thought about Mr. Tsuda. He wasn’t a man who could’ve made her happy. I’d always known he was going to cause her pain.
And she did get hurt. Not once, but twice. I should have saved her. Or at least, I should have saved her when it happened again.
“Ren.”
I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. When I raised my head, my sister was looking at me.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything for you.”
“That’s not true. You’ve done plenty for me, Ren.” She reached for my hands and held them in hers. “Listen to me. I’m all right. I lived a fulfilling life. It wasn’t perfect, but I have no regrets. I made my choices and accept the way things turned out. What happened to me has nothing to do with you.”
I sat still, unable to look at her.
“Can you promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself?” she asked.
After a long while, I nodded. “All right.”
“Thanks, Ren,” she whispered. Her dark brown hair shone in the sun.
I felt an ache in my chest. “Mother told me why you came to Akakawa.”
My sister looked up.
“Did you manage to find your real mother?” I asked.
“No, but I didn’t try very hard.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “It took me a while, but I realized the only family I ever needed was you.”
Even though my sister was smiling, I could see sadness in her eyes. Or was it loneliness?
I thought of her room in the Katou household, and her desk at Yotsuba. Neat and orderly, with no personal touch. As if she had never been there. From the moment she had come to Akakawa, she had already planned to disappear.
“Are you going to leave?” I asked.
She stared at me. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” I averted my eyes. “It just feels that way.”
My sister squeezed my hands. “I promise we’ll meet again one day. You know I always keep my promises, don’t you?”
I kept quiet, and she let go of my hands. Her outline gradually faded. She disappeared with a smile across her face.
“Young man, are you all right?” the elderly lady asked. She had returned with the check.
“Yes, just a lack of sleep.” I placed a few bills on the wooden tray. “Can you tell me how to get to the nearest bus stop?”
“It’s about a ten-minute walk,” she said. “After you exit the restaurant, turn right and follow the main road. You can’t miss it.”
I thanked her and left.
Following her directions, I walked up the steep road. Before long, I saw a public pay phone by the side of the road, one I didn’t remember seeing when we’d driven to the restaurant. Why was there a phone booth here? The area was so quiet, who would ever use it?
Perhaps it was fate.
I pushed on the dusty glass panel of the paint-chipped door. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved some coins and inserted them into the slot. The display lit up, and I punched in the numbers I knew so well.
Taking a deep breath, I waited for Nae to pick up the phone.
Author’s Note
I used to read a lot as a kid—at least a book a day. I would spend my recess periods in the library with my best friend. I loved getting lost in the new and fascinating world of each story, and I knew I wanted to be a writer.
However, when I went off to college, studies became my priority. As I struggled with mounting academic work, I no longer picked up books I hadn’t been assigned. By the time I began my first job in marketing, reading had become a thing of the past.
Then, one day, a colleague recommended a book to me. “I’ll lend you my copy,” he said. “I’m sure you’d like it.”
I politely turned him down. “I don’t have time to read.”
But he insisted I give it a try, so I relented.
That book ended up changing my life. It rekindled the wonder I’d once felt, and the dream I’d once had.
Thank you for picking up Rainbirds. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And if you have, I ask that you share it with someone. A friend, a family member, or a colleague—especially one who has not been reading for quite some time.
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