akai 👁

I'M looking for her again.

It's becoming an irritating habit. I tell myself I need to get rid of it, as soon as possible.

Chihiro skips up to me. "Where's Miss Iris?"

"Don't know," I bark immediately. "Why would I know? She's none of my concern."

Chihiro looks taken aback, and a little annoyed at the harshness of my tone. "Oniisan, you're in a terrible mood today."

Now I feel guilty. "Sorry," I mutter. "What did you need Miss Iris for?"

"Mama wants to invite her to the Friday family dinner."

I look up from the patch of soil I've been digging. "The one to celebrate Tomiichi coming back?"

She nods. "Mama says she likes the change Iris has brought to the house."

"She likes traumatized chickens and stressed horses?"

At ten-years-old, Chihiro's becoming a rather expert eye-roller. A skill that's only been further whetted ever since Iris Monet took up post at our farm.

I'm momentarily distracted by the mental image of alluring, green eyes.

"Oniisan!" Chihiro stamps her foot. "You're not listening to me!"

"Sorry," I say hastily. "You were saying?"

"I said, it's not the farm that's changed."

"What is it then?"

The child grins wickedly as she points her index finger at me. "You."

¥

I knock on Iris's bedroom door.

"Who is it?" she calls.

Clearing my throat, I adjust the hem of my shirt. The unsettling sensation in my stomach vexes me. I cannot possibly be nervous because of Iris Monet.

"It's Akai."

She doesn't answer me for so long that I'm beginning to think she hasn't heard me. Then, the door opens.

"Hi. What's up?"

Iris looks a bit jarred. And she's absent-mindedly biting her fingernail, which she only does when she's nervous. Not that I pay attention to her habits. Not at all.

"You've been invited to the family dinner this Friday evening," I inform. "By Mrs. Satoh."

"Oh. Is there a special occasion or something?"

"Tomiichi's coming home. He's Mrs. Satoh's son. You haven't met him yet."

As I say these words, a distinct change comes across Iris's features. It's a remarkable countenance that contains at least half a dozen emotions, and it flits across her face like the shadow of an eagle. Then it's gone.

"I see. This Tomiichi is Mrs. Satoh's son," she repeats, her voice duller than a well-used knife.

What's wrong with her? "Your English comprehension skills seem to have gone down the drain today, Miss Iris."

Iris doesn't even bite. Instead, she asks, "And you? Are you Mrs. Satoh's son?"

There's just the tiniest hint of desperation in her voice.

My eyebrows furrow. "No."

"But Chihiro called you oniisan. Doesn't that mean brother?"

"It does," I say curtly, "but I believe the word isn't exclusive to sibling-relation, no? Otherwise, entire Mormon churches would be blood-related."

Iris's voice is so faint it's like she's talking to herself. Her eyes are distant. "No wonder the couple in your bedside photo look nothing like Hayate and Fumiko."

I stiffen, as I always do when my parents are mentioned. "You saw the photograph?"

Iris snaps back into the present. "I – yes. When I was in your bedroom that time. Taking measurements."

"I see." There's a nudging feeling in my chest, urging me to open up and to share. The same way she shared last night. When I held her hand.

Instead, I say, "It would be really helpful if you could give me an answer to Mrs. Satoh's invitation."

"I don't ... I don't know if I'll be here on Friday."

I pause. "I see. Taking leave to go somewhere?"

I don't think I've ever seen Iris look so troubled. For a woman who's usually so confident – to a frankly disturbing degree – it's plain that something is bothering her deeply.

"Is something," I begin, but Iris gets there first.

The words rush out from her lips.

"I'm thinking of resigning. Follow my sister back to London."

I don't react.

A long time ago, when I was 14 and still in Japan, I found an injured falcon in the meadow. It was winter, and the bird would have died if I left it there, so I braved its narrow talons and beak to take it back to our farm. My father told me that falcons could never be domesticated as a pet, but I persisted in trying.

Every day, I endured the freezing walk from our house to the barn, where I nurtured the falcon back to good health. She refused to let me come near her for the first week, snapping and lashing out constantly. But on the tenth day, she allowed me to pet her head. Then a fortnight later, I could stroke her wings. And at the end of one month, she was waiting for me by the door. As if she had been anticipating my arrival.

I was so elated at this that I rushed home and told my father. He smiled, shook his head, and told me the same thing – a falcon is a wild bird that can never be domesticated. I didn't believe him. The bird and I were making such good progress. I taught her little tricks, like coming up to my glove when I whistled. By the end of winter, her wings were fully mended, and we had developed such a bond that I decided it was time for her to fly outside.

Come springtime, I opened the barn door wide, and watched her hop out. The falcon cocked her head inquisitively, clearly unsure after spending the entire season indoors. Then she opened her wings, and she flew – this beautiful, majestic silhouette against the first sky of spring. Above the melting snow and fledgling sakura buds.

The falcon flew, and she never came back.

I know the fact that I helped her doesn't mean that I'm all of a sudden entitled to her. The fact that I tried hard doesn't mean that she owes me anything. That even falcons have their own right to live the way they want to.

But I was really hoping that she would stay. Just for a little longer.

"Akai?"

I look at Iris. "Should I take that as an official statement of resignation?"

"What? No. I said I was thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"You should." My voice is razor-sharp and ugly. "Then perhaps I can get some adequate help around here. It'd be nice to have someone who isn't a complete idiot for a change."

Iris flinches like I've slapped her with stinging nettles.

"You always do this," she says, her voice quivering. "You always say such horrible stuff."

Don't fly, is what I want to say.

"I am merely stating the truth about your ineptitude, Miss Iris," is what comes out of my mouth.

Iris's jaw clenches the way it does when she's both hurt and angry. Like when she talks about her father. Was that tender moment between us only yesterday?

"Tell Mrs. Satoh I'm attending the dinner – and that I look forward to meeting Tomiichi. It'll be nice to have a conversation with someone of better manners for a change."

The door closes in my face.

£

iris 👁

I skip a pebble across the lake in anger.

I feel like laughing. Laughing in the hysterical manner of all women the second before they go irretrievably insane. I want to laugh at everything I've done to myself and to my life. I want to laugh at all the decisions I've ever made that have led me to this point.

Most of all, I want to laugh at the way I made an absolute fool of myself for someone who wasn't even the right man.

When Heather showed me the news article she found online, I had to read it three times before I fully understood its meaning. For five minutes I did nothing but stare at the article's heading photograph – this professionally taken family portrait that consisted of Hayate, Fumiko, Akai, Chihiro, and a man I'd never seen before named Tomiichi.

Akai is stiff as he stands off to the right, dressed in suit and tie. Even the good lighting can't hide his uncomfortableness. On the other hand, Tomiichi looks completely natural, posed in a slim-fitting suit with one hand tucked in his pocket. Exactly the way an heir to a rich company should look like.

Below the photograph, a caption runs:

Satoh Hayate, founder of Satoh Property Group pictured here with his family: his wife (Satoh Fumiko), son & CEO (Satoh Tomiichi), daughter (Satoh Chihiro) and nephew (Satoh Akai).

And suddenly, everything clicks into place. Why he doesn't know how to tie a tie. Why he never calls Hayate and Fumiko father and mother. How he has so much time to spend on the farm – in fact, how he doesn't seem to need to do anything else. When I think back to how I justified his farm manager role with the whole "give him a taste of the hard life" theory ... it makes me want to laugh harder.

I let out a frustrated scream. "I'm so stupid!" I yell.

"Are you okay, Miss Iris?" Chihiro walks into view, concerned. "Did something happen?"

I force a tight smile. "Nothing. I just ... I just made a mistake."

"Well, that's no reason to call yourself stupid." Chihiro flops down on the grass beside me. "I make mistakes on my homework every day. Whoever said Asians are good at maths definitely hasn't met me."

Her mournful tone makes me smile in spite of myself. "Can I ask you a question?" I ask.

"That's already a question," she says smartly, "but you may ask me another one."

I take a deep breath. "Why do you call Akai brother even though he's your cousin?"

"Because he's like one to me," Chihiro replies simply. "He spends a lot more time with me than Tomiichi does. I know it's not Tomiichi's fault, because he's going to be the next company president, and I'm very proud of him! Papa and mama too. But it just means that I see more of Akai than I do Tomiichi, and so I don't see why I shouldn't call him brother. Especially since he's always been so nice to me. He's a really good guy, you know."

As Chihiro says that last sentence she gives me a direct look.

"What?" I say, not comprehending.

She shrugs. "He'll make a good boyfriend."

Boy, if this isn't the most opinionated ten-year-old I've ever seen. I change the subject quickly. "What about his parents? Your aunt and uncle?"

"They passed away in a car accident five years ago. That's when papa wrote to Akai asking him to live with us. Otherwise, he would have been homeless." Chihiro scrunches up her nose. "I don't really understand all the adult talk, but it was something about scummy lawyers and mort-something."

I thought I could guess. "Mortgage?"

"That's the one. They took away the house, and the farm, and all the horses and cows and sheep – "

"Akai used to live in a farm?"

Chihiro nods. "A really big one. Uncle Hinata – that's Akai's dad – planted all kinds of crops and kept all kinds of animals. I used to go over there for the New Year holidays. It was always so much fun just chasing the chickens and watching them scatter over the yard in flocks. And at Uncle Hinata's farm was also where I first learned riding, and Akai taught me how to milk a cow."

I think back to what Akai said. They keep me going when I have nothing else.

There's a sickening feeling in my stomach as I realized this was the traumatic incident from five years ago. The one that Akai is still grieving over.

"So he lost his parents, the house and the farm in one blow?" I said, aghast.

Chihiro nods quietly. Her eyes flicker to me in a glance. "I'm not supposed to say this, but when Akai first moved to London, mama and papa had him put on a watch. Oniisan didn't like the city at all. He wasn't used to it. That's why papa moved us here to Ryefair."

"I thought you guys came here because Mrs. Satoh was sick?" As the words leave my lips I realize, belatedly, that maybe telling a ten-year-old girl that her mother was sick wasn't the best thing in the world to do. What if Chihiro doesn't know at all and the Akai story was a cover story –

"Oh, mama would have been just fine in the city," Chihiro says cheerfully. "We got all the best doctors there, and that's where we've been living all this while anyway. Although it's true that the countryside air has done mama some good. But part of the reason why we came here was 'cause I heard papa talking in the study one day, with Tomiichi. They said that even though it's been two years, Akai doesn't seem to be adjusting well, and since papa was retiring soon, so why not we just move to the countryside? That's why we came here, three years back."

Chihiro kicks her legs as they dangle off the bank of the lake. "Anyway, I like it better here. I got Inu! And Gacho, and Riku, and Maiko ... it's a lot more fun. And it's true that oniisan is a lot happier here."

"Not that you can ever tell from his face," I mutter under my breath.

Chihiro catches it. "That's true! He's got a face like a block of wood. Like it would hurt if any facial muscle bent just the slightest. You know, he's got those annoying eyebrows that sort of rise up in this really con – " Chihiro struggles. "Conde – "

"Condescending!" I exclaim. "Yes, I know what you mean. He always gives me that look when I mess up soiled and unsoiled bedding."

"He gives me that look when I can't do my times tables."

I snicker, and Chihiro giggles.

"Why are you asking so much about Akai?" she asks suddenly.

"Oh, nothing. Just ... curious."

"Are you going to ask him to be your boyfriend?"

"No," I say quickly, too quickly in fact.

"You don't want him to be your boyfriend?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you do?"

Someone save me. I'm helpless in the face of kid intelligence.

"Just saying I don't mind. If you're his girlfriend." Chihiro's eyes are so bright and clear. Innocent. "I like you. You always say what you think, and mama says an honest character is the best character anyone can have."

I feel the same way one might feel if they've just broken a vase in their friend's house. A sense of guilt that stems not just from the damaged item itself, but also from the knowledge that you've broken someone's trust.

Don't put all your eggs in this basket, is what I want to tell Chihiro, but my lips stay shut.