The hole was small, even for a child. The walls were made of solid concrete, unbreakable. Water sprayed down on me from above. It felt like I was being swallowed. I craned my sore neck to see my captor’s menacing silhouette above. “Do you know why you were named Reiko?” My father asked the same question whenever he put me down here, in the water drain outside our house in Kyoto.
Shivering in my drenched night gown, I could do nothing to answer him. He probably couldn’t see me from his perch anyways. The water was slowly rising to my stomach as he filled the small hole with the garden sprinkler. Sometimes it would be freezing and other times it would be hot, depending on his mood. If it was already raining, he wouldn’t have to use the hose. He’d leave me there to shrivel into nothing and listen to how scarily casual he could speak to the neighbors on the surface.
“Do you even know how to write your name in kanji? You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?”
“Papa, why are you doing this to me?” I wanted to ask but I learned that being silent was the safest option. I let him talk as he pleased. He loved to hear his voice but to me, down here, it was a low, ugly muffling nose that I wanted to go away. The water began drowning out his false kindness. How many times did I have to put up with this? Do other fathers do this to their children? What had I done wrong? Answer me!
“It’s the character ‘rei’ from ‘spirit’ and ‘ko’ for ‘child’.” I barely caught his words. That name…My name that you and mother gave me…I want to get rid of it. I hate it. Get me out. Someone please get me out!
“Ms. Miyato!”
My head shot up from the desk and I blinked in the glaring light. A few blinks later and my vision started clearing up. I was in a classroom. It was a dream? Mrs. Kawada stood beside my desk with daggers for eyes and fire for lipstick. “No sleeping in class. Did you get a word I’ve said all period?” Her voice was sharp and dug into my ears. Everyone’s eyes were on me. A few snickers sounded.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I—“ I struggled for words in my embarrassed state, when the bell rang.
“Apologies don’t make up for lost learning, Ms. Miyato. This will count against participation,” the woman sniffed and walked back up to the podium. “It would do you all well to teach our new transfer student some rules of the classroom. This may be your first week here but I will not tolerate this kind of rudeness. All rise!”
Chairs and desks clanked as we all stood. I self-consciously patted off the invisible dust from my high school uniform.
“Bow!” she barked. We obeyed. My new skirt was uncomfortable as it brushed the back of my legs. Pathetically thin black hair fell from my shoulders to hang before my eyes.
“Dismissed!”
At once, the classroom that was so quiet for lecture was now alive with noise. I looked at the clock. Last class, huh? Thank goodness. I checked the sky and it was still fairly clear. There were clouds but they were the happy wispy ones. It was out of habit that I had to constantly check the weather status with my own eyes. No rain would come today, thank the gods. I had of course brought my umbrella, as I did every day. It doesn’t matter what the forecast predicted. Even if it were summer, I carry a small umbrella in my purse. I admit that this is out of fear. I know rains and thunderstorms usually don’t hurt people but still—they once hurt me. I can’t stand the water pouring down, suffocating me, sucking out the remnants of life I have.
Classes had ended and I had managed not to talk to anyone again. With lips sealed, I listened to the girls in homeroom giggle about me. The human ear is trained to recognize names. Reiko. Reiko. Reiko. I clapped my hands to my ears and hurried to the shoe lockers.
Strange. It was cool now. The room was full of students locking and unlocking doors to get their belongings all the while chatting and laughing. My eyes skimmed the hundreds of rows to find the correct door. It was loud here and hard to focus. I fumbled for the keys and clumsily shoved it into the hole. I found my black Mary Jones safely inside and wordlessly forced them onto my small feet.
The door of the exit opened and closed from students going in and out. The wind just now…It was definitely colder than before. Without meaning to, my breaths became shorter, my nerves more sensitive. I shuffled past all the strangers and out the door. The sun was lower on the horizon. Shuffling shadows on the ground were stretching west. Crowds of students were leaving the grounds on foot or on bicycle heading home. They would return to their families safe and sound. I was so happy for them.
A pair of work clothes was squeezed inside my backpack beside my textbooks. I checked the clock on my flip phone. On the back, a black and white cat charm swung from red string. Work was in an hour and it was only a thirty minute walk away. The stench of gasoline bombarded my nose as I walked along the road. Afternoon traffic wasn’t so bad here on the outskirts of Kyoto but the further in you went, the worse it would get. Again, I raised my head to survey the sky. Darker clouds were in the midst of forming, a cool wind gathering them together. These were storm clouds.
A sick feeling trickled down my body. I swallowed and tried reassuring myself that I had an umbrella. Plus, the reports said there was zero percent chance of rain. Thirty minutes later and no rain had come. The front door of the store was my savior. No one else thought much of this run small building squeezed between a 7/11 and a Tatsumi Bank. “Pan Pan Bakery” read the silver characters nailed above the entrance. Without looking at the brewing clouds again, I rushed inside like a frightened kitten.
When I reached the halfway point home from the bakery, the same sick feeling from before worked its way into my nerves. Ahead was a four-way intersection littered with sakura petals. This was my turn. The walking light remained green until I reached the corner. As if on cue, I felt a couple drops of water land on my head. Muscles tensed. Five more drops in the dark of night. Then the drops became a shower. The walking light blinked red in the night. I swung my backpack around and fished for my only safety net. Books, uniform… “What?”
Where was my umbrella? The water was falling faster, the drops getting heavier. “Oh no!” Breath came in short gasps. I could hardly move from my spot on the sidewalk.
Beside me a young man had pulled out his own clear-plastic umbrella. If only I were so smart. Where could I have possibly left it? I never forgot it! Could it be that it had been stolen at school? Tiny needles were pelting against me. I was going to drown! My clothes were getting soggy and weighing me down.
“No, no please!” I begged but the gods did not hear my crying. I was shivering violently. This was beyond my control. Everything was like this. I could hear my heart pounding relentlessly under my heaving chest. Shelter. I needed shelter!
“Oi,” came a low voice. I could hardly hear him over the thundering in my ears, filling my being. Wait no…There was no more raining? What? No more mini bullets against my body, suffocating me.
“Calm down. Here, you can take mine okay? I’m not afraid of getting wet.” It was the young man beside me. His arm was stretched out. Above me, his umbrella shielded me against my worst fears. “No need to cry okay?” He smiled. What a warm smile. Was I crying? I couldn’t differentiate my own tears from the rain outside.
“W-who?” I asked and slowly stood up, forcing my body to obey. It would take a moment to recover from the shock.
The stranger took my hand and placed the handle in it. His hands were warm like his smile. What was happening? His brown hair was colored black by the rain. There was no uniform on his body. Not a student?
“There’s not much a point in sharing my name when we’re strangers, “the young man shrugged. “But I’m Hatsuharu,” he answered anyways.
“Hatsu…haru…” I gazed at him dumbly, like a deer in the headlights. “This—your umbrella—“ I struggled for words to explain my gratitude.
“Oh look, the light’s green again. I’m going to cross. Have a nice night, okay? Don’t let the rain get the best of you. Remember your umbrella next time, promise?”
“Eh?”
“See ya,” he waved and bravely trudged on, not caring if he got soaked to the bone.
I know most people don’t care. I wished I didn’t care either. I wished I didn’t have this phobia. I wanted to blame my parents but in the end, I ended up blaming my own weaknesses. Normal high school seniors were not so easily scared. My cold, quivering fingers clutched my gift as if it were sent from the heavens. I was so shocked. Had he read my mind? Was that why he gave this to me? I slung my backpack over my shoulders again and continued on through the dim lit street.
From then until I arrived at home and tucked myself under the covers of my futon, the whole ordeal replayed in my head. I didn’t tell my mother how I got the new umbrella, which only served to make her more curious. How could I answer her questions when I couldn’t even answer my own? Hatsuharu, huh? I folded my hands together and closed my eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Hatsuharu. May you be blessed. I pray we meet again.” After all, isn’t that how all tragic love stories must go?