"Rain, have you waited long? Mom will take you to eat sothing delicious. Don’t you like salted egg yolk rice balls? Mom will take you to eat."
Her mother opened the door, her clothes disheveled, and ca out, forcing calm as she pulled her up.
Little Rain said nothing; through the half-open door, she saw the greasy middle-aged man pulling up his pants.
She didn’t understand what had happened just now, but seeing the roll of cash in her mother’s hand, she knew her mother must have made so money.
"Mom, can we go ho?" Little Rain looked at the roll of cash, feeling inexplicably full of disgust.
"Rain." Her mother heard those words, her expression panicked, helpless, and guilty. She raised a hand to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen onto Little Rain’s cheek, her eyes brimming with tears, choking back sobs: "We have no ho here."
"Did Dad abandon us?" Little Rain rembered that she was supposed to have a father, like other children.
That father might have been strict, but every ti he ca ho from work and saw her, a gentle smile would appear on his face.
Occasionally, he’d bring two salted egg yolk rice balls, her favorite, and she’d secretly hide one to have her mom put in his lunchbox the next day.
But when did she stop seeing him?
It seed... since that ti a woman burst into their ho.
She barged in with a group, hurling filthy insults at her mother without hesitation.
They punched and kicked her mother; she was held tightly in her mother’s embrace, well protected.
She peeked through the crook of her mother’s arm and saw behind the woman stood a boy slightly older than her.
He wore an exquisite little suit, his hair grood like an adult, and the collar of his white shirt was pinned with a big red bow tie.
He surely lived better than her, did he also love salted egg yolk rice balls?
What happened afterward, Little Rain couldn’t rember, but she etched that little suit and bow tie deeply in her mind.
From that day on, she and her mother were holess, wandering the streets.
When she was extrely hungry, her mother would sneak into a convenience store and bring out so snacks.
For unknown reasons, sotis the clerk would chase them out, loudly cursing her fleeing mother.
Occasionally, her mother would co out with a bluish corner of her mouth, gently telling her apologies.
Often, during these tis, she suspected they’d go hungry again that day.
But her mother was surely hungrier than herself, yet she always smiled, telling her not to worry.
Later on, she couldn’t rember when, but she no longer had to go hungry.
And every few days, she could even eat her once-favorite salted egg yolk rice ball.
Although her mother frequently visited different people’s hos, leaving her outside.
Sotis, she could see her mother’s face in the window.
Her mother would bite her lip hard, gesturing for her to turn away, not to look.
Her mother didn’t know that she no longer liked salted egg yolk rice balls since leaving ho.
Not because they didn’t taste good.
But because.
They no longer contained love.
The love from her father.
She rembered that night, it rained heavily.
Her mother held her hand, walking in the rain. The cold rain falling on her skin made her shiver.
Mother clutched her hand tightly, with the other desperately holding onto the cash, unwilling to let it get wet.
They passed by a public bath; her mother took her inside, reluctantly pulling out two bills to hand to the stern-looking old lady.
The bath was so warm.
Warm steam condensed on the white tiles, slowly sliding down.
She sat on a little stool; her mother fetched a basin of hot water, gently wiping her body with a towel.
Very carefully.
And very tenderly.
Her mother spoke so words she didn’t understand back then; she still rembers them now.
The body is like a Bodhi tree, the mind like a clear mirror.
Keep it clean, don’t let it gather dust.
Those words must have a profound aning, right?
When her mother spoke them, her voice trembled, her eyes were moist.
Was it because the steam in the bath was too much, blurring the eyes?
It must have been.
She was still young; she didn’t understand anything.
At that age, she was supposed to understand nothing!
That night in the bath, her mother t the benefactor of her life.
She was a heavily made-up woman; even in a steamy room, her face was full of powder.
The makeup was so thick that her face and neck were two different colors.
Her walk swayed with every step; as heard from other ladies in the bath, n liked won like that.
But her mother was different, yet still well-liked by n.
Although they only t those n once.
But from their gazes at her mother, it was clear they were satisfied.
It was like buying a chicken at the market, one that’s perfectly plump, a good buy.
The woman was called Kohara Erika and claid she was a film actress.
Specializing in roles n liked to watch.
She also said her mother was pretty and had a great figure, perfect for the job.
It was evident her mother wanted to refuse.
But hesitated, saying she’d think about it.
Kohara Erika left her a card, saying she could find her when she had made up her mind.
In the following days, Little Rain fell into a fever, delirious for days.
When she woke up, she realized she and her mother now had a place to stay.
Her mother said she found a job that paid well, and they’d never go hungry again.
Even salted egg yolk rice balls could be had daily, every al.
Little Rain didn’t tell her mother that she no longer loved salted egg yolk rice balls, preferring the store-bought snacks now.
Because those snacks were filled with love.
Love from her mother.
Since then, life at ho improved steadily, and their apartnts grew larger.
Little Rain could go to school, just like other children, to learn and study.
But in that world, there was no longer a gentle mother.
Only an actress known as Ozawa Kazue in the film industry.
Specializing in roles n liked to watch.
Very popular.
Days passed, and Little Rain grew up day by day.
Her mother, as if trying to make up for sothing, would give her anything she wanted.
But couldn’t give her the sa love from childhood.
Until that day, while at school, Rain received the call that her mother had collapsed at work and was hospitalized.
By the ti she arrived, her mother’s life was hanging by a thread.
Due to long-term intensive work and a weakened body from past starvation, she was diagnosed that day with stomach cancer.
In its final stage.
Already spreading.
Rain rembered that day, the sunset’s afterglow streaming through the window onto her mother’s pillow.
She knelt by the bed, her mother holding her hand, once again showing that familiar smile, and said to her.
Not to treat it, let’s go ho.
She wanted to leave all her savings to her daughter, enough for her to finish college. If she used it for treatnt, it would inevitably drag the already struggling family further down.
That day, Rain realized her mother’s love for her had never changed.
It was her own heart that had changed.
And her love for her mother.
Her mother’s last words to Rain were.
"Rain, turn your head and don’t look."
...
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