“Of the first time I tasted this tea. I was wrong, Kei. This is not the tea my father offers our clients. It is what my grandmother serves hers. I think the memory in the tea means that I need to see her.”
“You don’t have to do this alone, Hana. You said it yourself, none of this will matter when I return to my world. When all of this is over, I’ll forget everything about this place. What harm will it do if you let me stay and help you a little longer?”
Hana ran her eyes over the invisible map on her arms. Every moment she spent with Keishin was uncharted and pulled her further from her fate. Her mother was a constant reminder of what the Shiikuin did to people who strayed. “You are not a part of my path.”
“Of course I am,” Keishin said. “I’m your client. You told me that everyone who walks through your door is a client. That means that I can’t leave. Not until our business is concluded. You’re not breaking any rules, Hana. By letting me stay, you’re following them.”
Hana could not argue with the truth. She shook her head and laid her hands on her lap with a heavy sigh. “My grandmother’s teahouse. That is where we need to go. But we need to wait until midnight.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the only hour of the day that her teahouse exists.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Truth Well Told
The pawnshop was almost pristine if you didn’t look too closely. Only the missing glass panels on some cabinet doors hinted at its earlier state of disarray. Hana and Keishin had spent the day putting the place back together. They hardly spoke as they worked, and when they did, it was mainly Keishin asking where something went and Hana giving him the shortest answer possible. Hana felt that it was safer this way. Talking inevitably led to telling the truth, and there were secrets that she needed to hold close to her chest.
Keishin wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dust on his left temple. “It looks like we’re finally done.”
“You missed a spot,” Hana said.
“Oh?” Keishin surveyed the room. “Where?”
Hana wiped away the smudge on his face with a fresh cleaning cloth. “There. Now we are done.”
“Thanks.” Keishin blushed. “So, what next? We still have a few more hours before midnight.”
“Dinner. I just realized that we have not eaten anything all day. You must be starving. I am sorry.”
“I didn’t notice.” Keishin’s stomach grumbled.
“Your stomach disagrees with—”
Sharp knocking cut her off. Hana shot a glance at the back door. She motioned for Keishin to be quiet.
The knocking grew louder.
“Upstairs,” Hana whispered. “Hurry.”
Keishin crept up the stairs, careful not to make a sound. A step creaked. He glanced back at Hana, swallowing hard.
Hana whispered a plea.“Hide.”
Keishin disappeared into the hall.
Hana made her way to the back door, her heart pounding louder than the knocking. She steadied herself with a breath and pulled the door open. A shadow fell over her.
A slim figure dressed in a white kimono stood at the doorway. A Noh mask, carved from cypress and painted in a hue that matched the moon, covered its face. The slits from where the figure’s eyes looked out were small, revealing only two bottomless pools of black.
“Shiikuin-san.” Hana bowed deeply. “I did not expect you to come so early. The new moon is not yet in the sky.”
“We have not come to collect the birds.” A chorus of at least ten hollow voices, ancient and young, spoke from the Shiikuin’s mouth. The last word was spoken by a young child, but with no less gravity than the oldest in the choir.
Hana nodded. “Please come in.”
The Shiikuin entered, gliding over the floorboards as though floating on air.
