Chapter 6: Tomoe's Notebook

Akari slept until noon on Saturday, and the persimmon tree was flat on the lawn.

It had come down in the storm without hitting the house.

Orange fruit lay in the mud.

She stood on the veranda in socks and a borrowed cardigan, looking at the damage.

Nagi stood a polite step behind her.

"The tree was old," Nagi said. "It fell where I asked it to fall."

"You asked a tree?"

"Everything I ask, I ask nicely."

Akari smiled before she could stop herself.

She canceled the morning class by phone and called the kids' parents one by one.

Then, because she could not sit still, she went into her aunt's room and opened the closet.

She had meant to find a broom.

On the top shelf, behind the spare futon, there was a shoebox of notebooks.

They were the cheap kind with a cherry blossom on the cover.

Every one was marked with a month and a year in Tomoe's square handwriting.

Akari sat on the tatami with the first notebook in her lap.

"May I read these?" she said aloud.

She didn't know who she was asking.

"They are yours," Nagi said from the hall.

"You can come in."

Nagi came in and knelt a respectful distance away.

"I asked her if I could read them once," she said. "She said I could, if I told her what I thought."

"Did you?"

"I told her they were mostly recipes."

Akari opened the notebook.

It was recipes.

It was also tutoring notes.

One child could not read the small kanji.

One needed a snack before maths, and one cried when called on.

Scattered through the pages were little lines in the margins.

"N. watched the carp for two hours today. Asked what carp want. I said I did not know."

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