Chapter 11

I left the room before the blood had stopped flowing from the wound on my forehead. I was sobbing, too, and quickly managed to attract the attention of the grown-ups. I was an inconvenient member of the family, but they couldn’t turn a blind eye to me in that state. Humans can’t ignore blood. When enough people were gathered around, I wailed that it was one of the grown-ups who’d hurt me. I didn’t say who, because they would immediately have jumped to the accused’s defense, denying everything. No, accusing the one who was guilty would be pointless. Even if the right person did get punished, someone else would start picking on me later. What I needed was someone to give me permanent shelter. The grown-ups were standing a little distance away from me and staring in shock. I unabashedly scrutinized their faces while I sobbed. And I didn’t have to fake the tears; I was in enough pain. My dad reluctantly trotted over to my side, eyeing me with resentment. He didn’t like being in the same room with everyone; he was self-conscious of his current status in the family. I watched him, thinking about what to do. He wasn’t someone I could rely on. Like the other grown-ups, he’d been pretending not to notice when I needed help. The stalemate was broken when the tallest member of the family, my grandfather, came to see what the commotion was all about. Like an idly curious onlooker who’d come to watch a house on fire. As soon as he arrived, the others made themselves scarce. My grandfather, dressed in a kimono, crouched to inspect the wound on my forehead. I quietly waited for him to say something. I was struggling to keep my head straight; I felt as if I might fall over if I stopped concentrating for a moment. “Did it hurt so much you thought you might die?” Grandfather asked, looking deep into my eyes. I gaped a little, surprised. My reaction must’ve been just what my grandfather had been expecting, though. He stood up and beckoned me to follow. “All right, you come with me.” That was more than I’d been hoping for. I obediently followed, making sure I was still crying. “You don’t want her, do you?” Grandfather asked my dad. “If you don’t, I’ll take her.” Dad was flustered, but he withheld his reply—it was obviously true that he didn’t want me. “I’ve grown tired of spending every day on walks with my old missus. The girl will be a welcome distraction.” Grandfather was the tallest of my family, and he had the most commanding presence, too. He told me to follow him down the hallway encircling our spacious inner garden. When there was nobody around, he spoke to me again. “You must’ve whacked your head damn hard, girl. You didn’t break the wall or pillar or whatever it was, did you?” Blood was running down my nose and making me feel icky. “You did it to yourself, didn’t you?” “I did.” He’d seen through me, so I replied truthfully. He nodded, satisfied, and walked ahead, his arms swinging—a sign he was in a good mood. “Neither myself nor your grandmother will be your parents, mind. We’ll provide you with an appropriate environment, but you will have to do the growing-up yourself.” “I understand.” Grandfather seemed pleased by my obedience. “Excellent, excellent,” he muttered, his spirits lifting even higher. Maybe he had a fondness for obedient children. I was glad I was so good at lying. “You smash your own head without hesitation; you lie without batting an eye.” “…” I wanted to reply, but my consciousness and my body were slipping away from each other, and I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t pass out completely. “I wonder what an oddball child like you might grow up to be. Or perhaps, once you’re older, you’ll grow soft. Either way, I’m interested to find out, so don’t go dying on me so quickly.” A sick feeling rose from my left side, stopping me dead in my tracks. I fell to my knees and rolled onto my side. As I lay on the floor, retching, my grandfather just watched with no intention of helping. “I’m looking forward to this.” He smiled, like a gardener who’d just sprinkled fertilizer on a prized little seedling.