“My father will be so disappointed in me,” she sobbed. “I’m so careless.”
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said. Her gaze flickered between Sen and Lee, who was standing stunned beside her. “Maybe... well, I suppose I could let you look at a copy here in the office, as long as you don’t take it with you. The passport is proof enough.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” Sen said, her expression brightening as she bowed deeply to the woman before she could change her mind.
As soon as the woman left the room, Sen’s expression fell and she scrubbed tears from her face with her sleeve.
“Well played, Iwasaki Sen,” Lee said under his breath. “But please avoid taking out any more relics. You’re supposed to be the less suspicious one of the two of us.”
Sen glared at him. “It’s not a relic,” she said, jamming her passport back into the folds of her clothes. “And how did you expect to get the koseki without identification?”
“I didn’t know you needed any!” Lee said, crossing his arms. “Death certificates become public record in America after a few decades. You must have been dead for at least a century, so I didn’t think your papers would still be confidential.”
I’m not dead, Sen thought, then closed her mouth when she remembered that wasn’t true.
The woman returned, her gaze shifting uneasily between Sen and Lee for a moment before she set a piece of paper on the counter.
“The original is too delicate to handle, but I printed a copy of the scan.”
“Thank you!” Sen said before Lee could, all but shoving him out of the way to get a better look.
The koseki was a long page of vertical columns with handwritten text. At the top right corner, Sen read the date and location of the office, and below it, her father’s name.
Head of household: Iwasaki Itaro
Born: Tenpo¯ Era Year Two, Second Month, Third Day
To the left was Sen’s mother, then Sen listed as the first daughter, Kura as the second daughter, and her brothers as the first and second sons. All of their birthdates were written correctly, so this was definitely the right document. She turned to the column for secondary information.
Iwasaki Itaro
Death: Meiji Era Year Nine, Tenth Month, Twenty-Seventh Day, First Hour, Chiran-cho
Sen’s breath caught in her throat. She read the words again and again, just to be sure, then she scanned the columns for herself, her mother, and her siblings.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, passing the paper back to the archivist. She turned and walked out without another word, feeling as though she’d just woken up from a long dream. All the bright colors, the smell of hot paper and tea, the buzzing lights crashed into Sen at once.
She’d nearly forgotten about Lee until she emerged in the sunlight and he grabbed her sleeve.
“What happened?” Lee said.
Sen looked up at him, then realized that he probably hadn’t been able to read much of the koseki, that he didn’t know what she’d seen. She looked to the sky, imagining that her soul was fixed on a kite floating higher and higher into the white horizon.
“Did you find what you wanted?” Lee prompted, releasing her sleeve.
Sen let out a sharp laugh. “Yes,” she said, her voice far away even to her own ears. “Though I wish I hadn’t.”
“Why?” Lee said, his frown creasing deeper into his brow.
Sen swallowed, letting out an unsteady breath as she leveled her gaze with Lee’s. “My whole family will die in three days.”
When Sen returned home, her father was sharpening his sword.
On a normal day, Sen knew this meant she shouldn’t bother him. But this was not a normal day. This was one of the last few days Sen would be alive, and this couldn’t wait.
She’d run home from the town hall, too fast for Lee to follow. Her mind was full of storm clouds, and she could think of little else but warning her father, of packing up their house and fleeing as soon as they could. There was still time to escape, to live.
“Chichiue,” she said quietly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway of her father’s room.
