‘A rat?’

Uncle Yori looks up from the net he’s repairing. He’s sitting on the deck of his trawler, working in the warm sun.

‘I got a rat too. Hanging from the mast this morning. I tossed it into the water. Kept the rope, though.’ He digs in his pocket and pulls out a length of cord.

‘It’s the same as mine,’ Hotaka says. ‘Black and yellow.’

‘Of course. Black for evil and misfortune. Yellow for cowardice. The message: we’re cowardly rats who will meet with evil misfortune if we don’t behave.’

‘Who do you reckon did it?’

‘Low-life crims would’ve done the deed, but the mayor is definitely behind it, and maybe the local head of Capitol Constructions. The company itself is clean but that local guy is in with the yakuza and as corrupt as they come. Trouble is, we’d never pin anything on those two unless we caught the crooks and made them squeal. We just have to wear this and watch our backs. Or our necks, actually.’

‘So you think they’ll do more?’

‘The rat’s just a warning. They could make life very nasty for us. They’ve already given me a taste of what to expect.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, they’ve damaged my nets for a start.’ Uncle Yori holds up the one he’s repairing, and nods at another two nearby. ‘These will take days to fix. They also put a hole in my runabout. And—’ He frowns as though not wanting to go on, then puts down the net and stands. ‘See for yourself.’

As Hotaka follows his uncle into the boat-shed he has a nasty feeling that he knows what he’s about to see. Even so, he’s not fully prepared. His grandfather’s boat has been smashed – mast and boom broken, and several panels hopelessly splintered. He wants to rage in anger, but can only manage a stifled cry of anguish.

Uncle Yori tries his best to comfort Hotaka. ‘At least you got to sail her before they did this.’

‘I’m so sorry, Uncle Yori.’

‘So am I.’

‘You don’t have to get involved in any of this. It’s not your problem, and these guys could make things awful for you.’

‘Hey, I rode out the 3/11 tsunami. I took on monster waves and spent days at sea tossed about like a cork. Whatever these guys throw at me could never be that bad.’

‘But look what they’ve done.’ Hotaka stares at the wrecked sabani. ‘All that work.’

‘Oh, that’s not important. She can be repaired. No, it’s the insult that upsets me. Wrecking that boat is an insult to your jīchan. He did so much for this town. He helped others less fortunate. He helped fishermen and townsfolk in all sorts of ways. People loved him and his little sabani. Omori-wan’s old man of the sea, they called him.’

Uncle Yori grits his teeth, struggling to control his anger.

‘What those dogs have done here is unbelievably insulting to his memory.’ He picks up part of the broken rudder arm and whacks it into the palm of his other hand. ‘But what they’ve done is also super stupid. They’ve made some real enemies. A few of my friends know about this, and their feelers are out for who did it. If they discover the culprits, there’ll be no escape. Smashing that boat could be the biggest mistake those guys ever made.’

He strikes the piece of rudder arm hard into his hand again, then returns it to the boat.

‘Ahoy there!’The shout comes from the far end of the wharf. ‘Anyone on board?’

‘That’s Osamu,’ Hotaka says. ‘We agreed to meet here. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not.’ His uncle turns away from the little boat. ‘But let’s not mention any of this, eh?’

Hotaka closes the door on the back room, and they walk through the shed to the wharf, where Osamu and Sakura are waiting. Uncle Yori greets them.

‘Hotaka tells me you had a real victory today,’ he says.

‘You bet we did,’ Osamu replies. ‘We have just kicked arse big-time!’ Sakura is standing back, but Osamu grabs her wrist, pulls her forward and holds up her arm like a boxer who’s won a fight. ‘And this is the biggest arse-kicker of all!’

Sakura grimaces and pulls her arm down. Hotaka can feel the tension between his friends, and tries to smooth things over.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here for ages,’ he says to Sakura. ‘You must have got through the selfies at record speed. The queue was huge when I left.’

She shrugs. ‘There was a bit of trouble, actually.’

‘Trouble?’

Osamu butts in. ‘Some construction workers crashed the party. Said they’d come to clean the wall.’

‘You mean get rid of the graffiti?’

‘Yep. They had a big spray unit to paint over the lot.’

‘And did they?’

‘We didn’t hang around to see,’ Sakura says. ‘I wanted to, but Osamu said we should leave.’

‘People started yelling,’ Osamu says. ‘Tempers were rising. I could see it getting out of hand. The construction guys wanted to stir up a fight, bang some heads.’

‘That’s not the only reason,’ Sakura mutters.

‘Okay. I also thought it’d be bad for Sakura’s image if she was caught up in violent stuff.’

‘My image?’ Sakura shakes her head. ‘I’m not a rock star.’

‘You are to many of those people. You said it yourself – you’re their voice.’

Hotaka sees Sakura’s jaw tighten and her eyes flare. Knowing she could explode at any moment, he moves quickly.

‘Rock star, huh?’ he says, reaching out and touching her arm reassuringly. ‘Can I have your autograph?’ he adds with a take-it-easy smile.

But it’s too little too late. Sakura pulls away and points at Osamu.

‘He’s impossible!’ she yells. ‘He’s a freak.’

‘Sure,’ Hotaka replies. ‘But he’s our impossible freak. And his heart is in the right place.’

‘I know that.’

‘And you have to admit that he’s really got this whole issue right out there in the public eye.’

‘I know that too.’

‘Without his full-on social media push, this might not have—’

‘Okay! Enough of the Osamu Fujita Fan Club. I know all that. And I’m grateful. But he’s still impossible.’

‘So what’s new?’

‘I’ve had enough. That’s what’s new. I can’t go on. Not like this.’

‘What!’ Osamu shouts. ‘You’re crazy.’

‘No. You’re crazy. You’ve gone mad with this seawall thing.’

‘Hey, it’s just how I am when I take something on board. You know that, Sakura.’

‘You haven’t just taken this on board; you’ve taken over the whole ship.’

‘That’s how I am when I run with something.’

‘You’re more than running with this; you’re stealing the race. And I hate it. You’ve morphed into some kind of monster salesman who thinks his mission is to sell me on social media. I’m not for sale. You’re turning this into a weird marketing exercise, hanging it on crappy airhead stuff like image and trending tweets and pins and how many likes you get and…aaarrrrr!’ Sakura shakes both fists at the sky. ‘That’s not what this should be about.’

‘Calm down,’ Osamu pleads. ‘This was always going to be bigger than you, Sakura.’

‘I know that. But you’re making this about me. That’s totally against what I believe, and to be honest, I just can’t take any more.’

‘You have to.’

‘No I don’t.’ Sakura glares at Osamu. ‘And I won’t!’

A tense silence wraps around the teenagers, the atmosphere charged with anger and defiance. Hotaka cannot believe it. Disaster is staring them in the face unless something can be done. He sees his uncle standing in the background, and suddenly has an idea.

‘Uncle,’ he cries. ‘Help us, please. This is too important to lose.’

Uncle Yori walks over to Osamu and puts his arm around his shoulder. He draws him across to Sakura, placing his other arm around her shoulder. Then he nods to Hotaka to join them.

‘You kids are amazing,’ he says as they stand in a huddle. ‘You’ve got fire in your guts like I’ve never seen before. It all started with you, Sakura, and that’s where the main flame still burns strongest. But you passed it to Hotaka, then Osamu, and that flame has grown beyond all expectations. It now burns in the people of Omori-wan. I bet Mayor Nakano is beside himself right now, because the fire you three have started looks unstoppable.’

The big fisherman folds his arms and shakes his head.

‘Except it isn’t unstoppable. As huge as it might be, this fire could be extinguished in a blink by one silly little thing: by what you guys are doing right now – fighting among yourselves. Keep it up and you’ll burn each other out. Mayor Nakano will be the winner, Omori-wan and all of us the losers. Like my nephew says, you’ll lose everything you’ve fought so hard for.’

Uncle Yori steps back a little.

‘It’s up to you guys.’ He stares at Osamu first, then at Sakura, and finally Hotaka. He gives his nephew an almost imperceptible nod.

Hotaka knows what to do. He turns to Osamu. ‘Well? What do you say?’

Osamu immediately offers his hand to Sakura. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get out of control. I’ll try my hardest not to let it happen again, I promise. We can’t let that flame die.’

Sakura slaps his hand away, but then grabs him by the shirt, pulls him closer and gives him a hug.

‘Thanks,’ she says, the emotion unmistakable in her voice. ‘You big goon.’

Hotaka throws his arms around his friends. ‘Phew! I’m glad that’s over.’ He calls to his uncle. ‘Arigatō gozaimasu! You’re a legend.’

‘No,’ Uncle Yori replies. ‘You guys are the legends. Because all that out there is what you’re fighting for.’ He waves his arm in a broad sweep of the hills, the bay, the ocean. ‘The right to have that as part of your life – along with all the other faces and moods of Nature, good and bad.’

The sun is reluctantly releasing its grip on the day, the light slowly sighing out of sight behind the hills, leaving the bay in a play of delicately changing hues. The scene holds them entranced.

But then Sakura suddenly shouts.

‘Oh my god!’ she cries. ‘I forgot. I promised my aunt I’d call in on her.’ She glances hopefully at the boys. ‘I could do with some moral support, if you don’t mind.’

‘Lead on,’ Osamu says. ‘We’ll be right behind.’