counting

rimi first learned how to count ration slips.

the pearls that her mother liked were two slips, cheap and inexpensive, bountiful at the bottom of the ocean. thin, stringy candy with peanuts were four slips for a box of six. rimi liked those the best; she would buy one at the marketplace and then sit in the corner watching the people pass by while she stuffed it all in her mouth. if she came in early enough, the owner of the stall would recognize her and give her a box for three slips. then, at the end of the day, she'd have enough slips left over to buy her mother a pearl on the way back.

the most expensive item in the marketplace was the rice. it was always sold by the palace workers who traded with the kojin, and one bag would be enough to feed a family of three for two weeks. those were worth thirty-five slips each, or two pieces of gold.

the days where the palace workers came into the main city of sui-no-sato coincided with the days that the messenger from her father would arrive. every month the messenger always gave her two bags: one which was a sack of rice, and other which was a smaller sack of pearls.

her mother would fawn over the pearls nonstop, making cooing noises as she dipped her hands into the bag and let the little rocks fall through her fingers. then, she would take the bag and retreat into her room for the rest of the week, stringing jewelry and making adornments for the house because it was the only thing she could do. she would only come out when rimi called her for food, or when she made something specifically for her daughter on those days that she remembered she had one.

"oh, yumi," she'd say, smiling prettily as she presented rimi with a bracelet only big enough to fit a baby's wrist—far too small to fit through rimi's growing five year old hands. "you would look so adorable in this."

"thank you, mother," rimi would reply, and then slip the bracelet over her ring finger. "it's very pretty."

her mother would clap in delight with a big smile on her face, and then exclaim: "oh it's better than i imagined! come on, we should show your father. he'd be so awed at you."

and rimi, wearing a tablecloth as a makeshift apron because the one they owned already was too big for her, would be picked up by her mother like she was still in swaddling clothes, and taken to an empty office with a layer of dust on everything.

"we shouldn't disturb father," rimi said, cradled in her mother's arms. "he's working."

"he wouldn't like that, would he?" her mother responded, and then put her down, as if she could not see that the office they were in was completely empty. "he's so hardworking. we shouldn't disturb him."

and then she'd flit back to her room, humming, no doubt to continue making pearl jewelry for the rest of the day, while rimi trekked back to the kitchen and checked the pot on the stove to see if the rice was done.

when her mother died months later, the last sack of pearls that came via the messenger sat on the kitchen table until her father came home only to attend the funeral.

as they stood by each other at the procession, watching her mother's body be burned and then tossed into the depths of the ocean, rimi's eyes found other raen children with their parents nearby, hands clutched together. something in her stomach churned.

"i have hired tutors for you," her father said to her, but never once turned his head. "they will come by next week."

"... understood," she said.

and those were the only words they exchanged then.

when rimi got home, the bag of pearls was replaced with a stack of ration slips.