“Yes, but not together.”
“She regrets what she did. I hope she can return the rest of the money to you soon.” He slapped Sedge’s back and smiled. “Come on, let’s drink tonight and not talk about the past.”
Whatever awkwardness had recently existed between them had no traction here, though he knew it might only be due to the alcohol Takahashi was drinking. What Yuki had told him, however, made him hopeful.
Sedge exchanged greetings and small talk with everyone while Takahashi jumped from his chair to get more sake. The ryokan staff gathered around Sedge with smiles and jokes, and he was the focus of toasts for the next half-hour. By the time he escaped, he could hardly walk without swerving into other people. Mariko handed him a plate of yakisoba outside the tent; putting food in his stomach settled him a bit.
“Has Riku eaten?” Sedge asked after finishing his food. “Maybe I’ll buy him a plate of this. Or invite him for some ramen up the street.”
“He said he wasn’t hungry. I think his medicine has been hard on his stomach. Doesn’t he look thinner to you?”
Riku had always been wiry with muscle, but perhaps she was right that he had returned looking thinner.
“Takahashi told me to make sure Riku didn’t enter the tent.”
Sedge was floored. What worry did Takahashi have about the boy in his condition? “Why? Because of his hand?”
“He said if Riku loses his temper inside, he’ll be responsible for whatever happens. I reminded him that he’d just lost two fingers and he’s not about to start trouble. But he was adamant. I was proud of Riku for not getting angry.”
All around them people were moving about, and a small group in another tent had broken into a traditional dance, though there wasn’t any music yet.
“I’m going to get a beer from a stall and walk around,” Sedge said. “Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head. “Our dance will start soon, so don’t wander too far away.”
He stepped outside. As he made his way forward, someone began walking at the same pace from behind the tents to his left. In the spaces between them, the figure moved with him, like his own shadow projected twenty feet away. At the separation of the next two tents, he peered closely toward the figure. He imagined it was Riku, though he couldn’t see him clearly. But even if it were him, what did it matter?
The beer line was long, and by the time Sedge had bought one an announcer bellowed out for all the dancers to assemble. Dozens of people began hurrying toward the plaza. When Sedge walked away with his beer, the area where he stood had visibly thinned of people.
He turned back to the tent, thinking he’d make sure that Mariko had left, and was startled to see Riku back in front of it, watching Sedge from the corner of his eye. Sedge turned in the opposite direction, though it was slightly longer that way to Yamanaka-za.
When he reached it, he found it completely transformed from how it looked during the day. A red yagura stage with paper lanterns hanging from it had been erected in the center of the plaza; two elaborately dressed women were singing Yamanaka Bushi beneath a roofed enclosure, while beneath them, on a low open stage, three women accompanied them with their shamisen. Dancers in summer kimono held up signs with the names of the local businesses they represented, half-walking, half-dancing in the slow traditional manner one associated with Japanese festivals.
Mariko floated into his vision. At the far edge of her group as they danced, her smile never left her face. He wondered what she was thinking, looking as happy as he’d seen her in several days.
As her group continued to dance in a slow circle around the plaza, Sedge glanced around him again. Casually taking in all the spectators, he turned behind him, to where a large weeping willow hung over part of the crowd. His eyes fell again on Riku, standing a few rows behind him.
Sedge laughed at the unlikelihood of seeing him for the second or third time like this, and he nodded at him. But Riku neither smiled nor nodded back. His eyes drifted back to where Mariko joyously flicked her hands to the song.
What had she told him last night as they lay on her futon? That all she had ever wanted was to be a wife and mother, to support her husband and help a child of her own grow up and become someone better than she herself had managed to be. She said she still could, if Sedge were willing to help her. She would always want to do the best she could for Riku, but her best so far hadn’t been nearly enough for him, or for any of them. Sedge had tried to assure her that none of the bad things that had happened to Riku had been because of her. But she stopped him from saying more, because she was certain that what she’d said was true.
That night Sedge hadn’t slept well. From night until morning her words turned inside him, and he decided that even if the boy hated him, he would try to do his best for him like Mariko wanted to do. If he could manage this, he’d be helping Mariko achieve all the modest things she wanted out of life.
Walking into empty spaces in the constantly shifting crowd, Sedge followed Mariko around the plaza. Two or three times he caught her eye as she twisted in her dance, and she winked at him before returning her attention to her group. When he’d circled back to the men’s baths, he looked around to see if Riku was where he’d just been. But with the large group of dancers and the yagura in the middle of the plaza, it was impossible to see clearly the people on the other side.
Hot and sweaty, he backed away from the crowd and found a box in which to recycle his cup. Small statues of white herons stood near the entrance to the baths, and he walked to the hot water in a shallow pool at their feet, scooping some into his hands and rubbing his face with it. He wiped his face dry on his yukata, and when he opened his eyes again Riku was before him, clutching his bandaged hand to his chest.
“Are you following me?” Sedge said, hoping his smile might dispel Riku’s hostility. “I waited for you to come inside the house before you came here.”
“Why?”
“I thought we might have a cup of sake together.”
“I’m only sixteen. You know I’m not old enough to drink.”
“It was a gesture. I thought you might like it.”
“I just told you no.”
A family with young children walked past them, the children pointing at the herons across from the entrance and laughing. The parents stopped and took the childrens’ photos before continuing on. Sedge was glad the interruption hadn’t made Riku walk away before they’d finished talking. He had something on his mind he needed to tell the boy.
“What can I do to make up for what happened to you?” Sedge said. With the festival noise increasing, he nearly had to shout for Riku to hear him. “I wish I could go back and fix things so you could attend the release at the bird reserve. But it’s in the past. And you’ve suffered for it. But I’m asking you again now to help me. How can I make things better?”
“Better is in the past.”
“What do you mean? In the past when?”
“In the past before I was born. My parents never planned to have me.”
Sedge recoiled as if he’d taken a blow. “How do you know that?”
Riku smirked. “They told me. There’s no way for you to make anything better now. Only I can.”
“How?”
Riku didn’t answer.
Trying to lower the tension between them a notch Sedge said, “Come with me. I’m going to buy a small bottle at the convenience store. We can find a seat away from everyone and watch the dancing and singing. Do me the honor of sharing it together. It won’t make you drunk.”
