Track 12 – Kyoto Rain

Water flows through everything, even the rivers of Kyoto that wind between narrow paths, little bars, and dimly lit restaurants. After the exchange program ended, Sunny and I continued our journey across Asia – Seoul, Busan, Manila, Tokyo, and finally Kyoto, a city as pretty as Paris with trees that hang low enough to caress you when the wind strikes them, with shrines protected by fox statues, and beautifully curated cafés.

Sunny and I talked about many things. She and I had grown quite close, and I had told her about me being a Changeling, which led to some deeper conversations as we walked back to our hostel, late at night past gardenia bushes that grew along the river, and which had been drenched in rain that day, filling the air with their rich, clear scent.

“So you’re saying you always mean what you say?” she asked, her face full of surprise. “Wait, you don’t mean exactly what you say? What else could you mean?” I was equally shocked. “Well, I imply things sometimes. It can be rude to be too direct, but people usually get what I mean.” She pondered aloud. “But if they understand the implication, why not just say it directly? I don’t get it!” We both laughed.

“Wait until I tell you that when someone says they need something, they’re often still flexible about it. Like, ‘I need to get out of the sun right now!’ might really mean they’re okay for another five minutes.” she said, amused by my disbelief.

“No way! What have I been doing all these years? For me, if I express a need, it’s because I’ve already been holding it in until I can’t anymore. I assumed everyone’s needs were as urgent as mine when voiced. But now I see why people sometimes ignored what I said, even when I was clear about it.”

Sunny’s laughter faded, her eyes suddenly serious. She looked at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. “You mean you always speak the truth, and only express your needs when they’re urgent, while everybody assumes you’re still lying? Sio, that’s awful.” I paused. “Is it?” I asked, genuinely. That had been my reality for as long as I could remember. “Yeah, it is,” she said, and then she cried – for me.

For the first time, I felt truly seen, and it was healing. I had always craved to be understood, but was cursed, like Cassandra, to speak truths that were never believed. To be understood is to have your feelings validated, but how can that happen when you struggle to connect with the world?

People often said I seemed arrogant, which surprises me. Arrogance implies thinking you’re better than others, but I never saw the world that way. Hierarchies aren’t native to my mind. I see people by their differences – some are skilled, some are cruel, but they’re all just people. Yet, I know hierarchies exist and have very real consequences. It’s like being in a foreign country with invisible laws – if you break one, you’re still punished. In my world, innocence never protected the guilty. But it seemed somebody knew now what I had always been trying to tell people. I wasn’t sentenced to be a liar anymore. Water once again absolved me.