Hiroshima Bugi: Atomu 57

6. Ronin of the Black Rain

| 75 | RONIN OF THE BLACK RAIN | 6 Ronin of the Black Rain That radiant woman orders an almond kuchen dessert and a pot of green tea every morning. She sits at the same small table near the window, cuts the cake into precise pieces, raises the china teacup with both hands, and looks out the window at the rush of people in the arcade. The way she puckers her lips to cool the tea arouses me. I write on a tiny bakery napkin, day after day, and note her every move, the reach of her fingers, bank of her shoulders, and the sensuous rise of her thighs in loose hakama trousers. A blue heat emanates from her sleeves, from every tone and summer heave of her body. My hands are blue in the rainy light. The arcade is crowded with shoppers. The older clerk faults the weather. The radiant woman caught my eye twice last week. Once she smiled, and then turned away, shied no doubt by my rather eager gestures. This morning, however, by chance of the weather and a loyal mongrel we sat at the same table near the window. Virga, who tracks me at a distance, as you know, unwittingly brought us together. Caught in an early thunderstorm, cold and bedraggled, she roamed around the bakery, moaned at the counter , circled, and then shivered under the table. What name? Virga. Funny name. Strange mongrel. What means? Fake rain. Why fake rain? False, phony. Not nice name. Maybe not. Virga was soaked to the skin by the heavy rain. The strong scent of wet hair saturated our corner of the bakery. The story of this tricky mongrel could have been mine, the hafu orphan at the head table, | RONIN OF THE BLACK RAIN | 76 | but not this morning. The park children were at school, so she was content to have a new friend at the bakery. Miko moves with a natural radiance, an erotic trace. The turn of her hand is ethereal, the way a treasure, or a memory, is savored, or the tease and easy smile of an image in a poem. My hands were rough, a blue favor of my time outside. What your name? Ronin. No, not really. Yes, Ronin Browne. Funny name. Your name? Amerika? Very funny name. No, no, not my name. What then? Miko. Lovely name. Thank you. What does it mean? Shaman. Bakery shaman? Shaman of the ruins. Virga moves closer to her tiny feet. Miko reaches down to touch her on the head. She seems to be aroused by the scent of a wet mongrel . Miko crosses her legs, and teases one shoe on her toes, a natural , sensuous balance. The blue, thin leather shoe moves to the side, at a slight pitch, and reveals the perfect curve of her moist arch. Miko told me she is an artist. She paints watercolor scenes of children in the park. Virga, she said, is always with the children, and in some of her paintings. She is a teaser and waits on any morsel of food in the hand of a child or shaman. Now she poses for the almond kuchen at breakfast. What do you write? The turn of your hand. Amerika man. My last stories on a napkin. I reached across the table and touched her hand, and then her tiny wrist. She turned her eyes away, and at the same time moved closer | 77 | RONIN OF THE BLACK RAIN | to my hand. Then she raised my hand to her cheek. She was warm, moist, and generous to an old hafu roamer. Her radiance touched me at the heart. Miko lost the balance of her shoe, and her naked toes reached out to be touched. Virga groaned, pushed the shoe to the side with her nose, and licked her toes. I was aroused by the faint sound of slobber under the table. Miko, the shrine maiden. What shrine? Shinto inu shrine. Dog shaman? Yes, an inu roamer. Virga the roamer. My friends are roamers. Where you live? Atomic Bomb Dome. The Andersen Bakery is located in a restored bank building near the ruins at the Hondori Shopping Arcade. The modern building survived the atomic bomb. An arcane bronze mermaid is mounted at the entrance to the bakery. Fresh baked brioche de raisin, maple and almond kuchen, many custard cakes, and other singular breakfast desserts, are served every morning. My...