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 hadleft 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?”
