Interlude:
Rain
THE RAIN OF LIFE pours ceaselessly.
In this country, rain is treated like a gift from the heavens. Rain invigorates the land, breathes life into plants and animals. All living things need it, no matter how big or small.
When I was little, I hated rainy days. Rain seemed to sharpen the loneliness in my life, its cold, icy claws gripping my heart tight as I searched futilely for shelter. I would rather die than beg the heavens for relief. I didn’t believe in God. Honestly, this world could have dried up for all I cared.
To my annoyance, it was raining that day, too—the day he reached out to me. I looked at his pristine, unblemished hands, and I felt ashamed of the filth that covered my own. And yet, at the same time, I found myself wanting to soil his hands so they were like mine. In the shadowed corners of my lifeless heart, a small ember of desire came alive.
“Don’t let go of that. Desire is what keeps you alive.”
All I wanted was somewhere to belong, a voice to answer my calls—for some warmth to caress my outstretched hand. That was what I needed, not rain.
You were the one who helped me realize that.
Rainy days reminded him of things he’d rather not remember. Reo sat lost in reverie, glaring out the window with a bitter look on his face. The sky had been threatening rain all day in Asakusa.
Mabu was out, and Reo had a pretty good idea where his partner had gone. His suspicions only worsened his mood.
“Hurry up and come home, Mabu.”
The words—his true feelings—fell from his lips like droplets of water. Even though he was an adult now, he still hated the rain. It made him remember the feeling of his outstretched hand as his fingertips brushed against a stone-cold heart.