Chapter 22: Boxes

Ria asked at breakfast, standing up, with a piece of burned toast in one hand.

"I would like to propose a change in the terms."

"Is there a clause?"

"There is no clause. There is only a question." She put the toast down. "Would you like to live upstairs? With me. In 401."

Nanami set down her tea.

"What happens to 202?"

"It stays yours. It is your grandmother's room, and it will be yours as long as you want it."

"The kotatsu stays. The persimmon stays. But the futon..."

Ria's ears went pink.

"I would like the futon to be in my room."

"Our room."

"Our room," said Ria, and her whole face changed.

They moved that afternoon, on the last Saturday before the new year.

It took seven trips.

Nanami carried the boxes up two flights, with the lacquer calligraphy case last, held in both arms.

Ria carried the lighter things and made loud decisions about where they belonged.

A shelf of Nanami's paperbacks went beside Ria's crime novels.

A row of Nanami's work flats went in the entry, next to the tabi.

Nanami's mugs went into Ria's cupboard, and Ria stood looking at the chipped blue one for a full minute.

"It has been a long time," she said at last, "since anything of mine has had company."

At sunset the last box was empty, and the whole fourth floor smelled of cardboard and cedar.

Ria took a brass key from her ring.

It was new, and bright, and still a little sharp at the edges.

"I had the lock changed," she said. "Mine, and yours. It is not a spare. There is only one of each."

She put it in Nanami's hand, and closed her fingers over it.

Nanami threaded it onto the ring on her own belt, where it clinked against her house key.

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