The mansion

Like the unwritten law of movies required, I didn’t arrive on time to the mansion to evade the rain. The rain started unexpectedly and with an intensity that can only be described as unprecedented. My clothes weren’t just wet, they were soaked and tripled their weight because of it. The water was running down my face and hair in streams and it was more than once that I had to spit out a rather huge amount of dirty tasting water that had run into my mouth due to my heavy breathing.

I felt ashamed to ring the bell of the mansion but lurking under the small roof at the front door until my clothes were dry, likely would cause justified discontent among the inhabitants.

So I rang the bell. It gave a kind of archaic buzzing sound at the inside and soon I could hear steps.

The door opened and there stood a young woman, maybe in her twenties, maybe already a little older, but all in all of good looks.

“How may I help you?”, she asked.

“oh… I’m sorry but I was surprised by the rain and hoped I could maybe wait here until the worst is over.”

She eyed up on my clothes that were hanging off me like the dripping wet pieces of cloth they were and it seemed to have struck a chord inside her. Apparently, I must have given a pitiful view. I could have sworn to have seen the words “poor thing” running through her mind behind her deep eyes.

“Please come in!”, she offered.

She took a step to let me enter the house and gave me a sign to wait at the entrance before she disappeared in the depths of the house. I took off my shoes and hoped that they would be more or less dry before I had to leave again.

As soon as I was done with doing so, a young man entered the hall through a door on the left side of the room. He was slender, almost awfully even, and seemed to live in disapproval with the world and his own life. His hair, although originally brushed and cleanly waxed, was a little messy and his eyes made the impression that they didn’t focus on anything but rather looked right through it.

He looked at me and started to grin.

“Did Miwako take another stray back home?”

I shyly apologized for my intrusion even if I felt particularly insulted by being called a stray.

He responded with a dismissive move of his hand and left again.

Shortly after the woman, whose Name apparently was Miwako, returned, a large towel under her arm.

Miwako helped me out of my jacket and took it to the room to the right of the hall, which was equipped with some Sofas and a fireplace, in front of which she placed my jacket now. After she was done, she showed me the way to a small bathroom and told me to wait again.

The bathroom was covered in white tiles and appeared to be freshly cleaned.

While I still evaluated the room, there was a knock at the door and Miwako cautiously opened it. She handed me some clothes.

I tried to decline her kind offer, but she insisted on me wearing them, and if only to not wet the furniture. So I eventually agreed. She handed me a black Kimono top together with a dark grey hakama. It had been a while since I had worn something like this but I tried my best to wear it correctly. As I left the bathroom, Miwako took the rest of my wet clothes and placed them next to the jacket in front of the fireplace.

We sat down on the two Sofas, each of us on their own, and started the obligatory courtesy talks.

At first the talk consisted of talking about the usual polite topics like the weather or the interior of the house, which were usually talked about by people having a conversation without knowing the other person. Of course you didn’t want to intrude in the other persons privacy. At the same time you avoided certain topics in order to not infuriate the other person by maybe talking about something they would certainly want to not talk about or maybe talking about a topic in a wrong way. This type of tension exists between all people who meet for the first time. The point in which these meetings and their results differed, was just how fast the tension would break and most importantly why it did so.

Miwako seemed to emit a certain warmth and trustworthiness that finally made me stop thinking too much about what might upset her and just believe that, as long as I wouldn’t talk too reckless about things I didn’t know, everything would be absolutely fine.

“Who else lives in this house? It is surely a little too large for just you alone, I dare say.”

She gave a little smile.

“Indeed. This is the house my grandparents bought. My brother, Kenzo, and I are the third generation of our family that now live here. My brother tends to walk these halls for hours until he then again disappears in his room for days, only leaving to get some food. My father Saburo lives here as well, but he is old and….”, she seemed to trail off and sink into memories of days long gone, knowing they wouldn’t come back even if she gave her everything, before she remembered that she was talking and completed her sentence, “….and doesn’t leave the bed anymore. I take care of him.”

I silently nodded in understanding. This might explain why she took me in in the first place. With her father confined to bed and her brother living the life of a hikkikomori she simply had to feel the wish to talk to somebody.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Would you like some tea, ….?”

She suddenly jumped up for from the sofa and waited for my response. I quickly nodded as I saw the discomfort in her eyes. Miwako left the room with an elegance that is only possible in a surrounding that you could navigate blindly.

“By the way. I didn’t ask for your name so far.”, she added as she reached the door.

“My apologies for my forgetfulness. I am Shota Nakamori.”, I answered while giving my deepest apologies.

“No need to be so formal, Shota.” She shortly paused before saying my first name as if she was hesitating to do it and then left the room with a smile that reached even her eyes.

Outside the thunder continued to growl through the sky and sometimes a lightning tore the night into two dark pieces that were ripped apart by a small line of electric daylight. By rule of thumb the center of the thunderstorm should be right above the house by now.

The time passed. As the fire was about to go out, I took some of the logs that were placed next to the chimney and then sat down again.

There were no clocks or watches in this house but by now it felt like Miwako took an awful lot of time to brew a tea. Maybe something happened to her? Maybe she fell and broke an ankle or something like that. I hesitated for a moment. This wasn’t my house. Not only did I not know the place at all, but I also didn’t feel like I had the right to search for her. Still. I couldn’t just sit and wait anymore.

I stood up from my seat and carefully walked out of the living room. As I entered the hall I was taking a closer look. There were several doors. Of course the front door, the door to the living room and on the opposite to the living room the door from which Kenzo had appeared earlier. I decided to take a look at this door later. It would likely be his room I guessed.

The door next to what I assumed was Kenzos room, was slightly opened. Maybe this was the kitchen. My feet were creating silent tapping sounds on the floor as I passed through the hall and fully opened the door. I actually found the kitchen, but it was empty. In a corner of the room was placed a gas stove and on it a kettle. But the stove wasn’t turned on. As I approached the stove I had to correct this evaluation. The stove was turned on, but there wasn’t a flame. I took a short breath and then, feeling only a little relieve, realizing that there was no gas coming out of the stove.

There was a faint Sound from somewhere inside the house but I couldn’t make out its origin.

Where did Miwako go? Should I search for her?