It was long after dark when I finally walked into the house that night. Father had gone to bed, but Mother was waiting up for me. Well, sleeping up for me. She was snoring on the floor in the sitting room with a paperback novel in her hand. She’d probably been like that since five o’clock. Did I mention my parents are super old?
“Okaeri,” I whispered to her. “It’s time to go up to bed, Okā-san.”
She looked up and smiled at me.
“You took the long way home from school,” she said, totally unaware of what time it actually was.
“Yes, Mother, I did.”
I helped her to her feet.
“Good night, Koda. There’s shiitake in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.”
Nope. Never hungry enough to pop open a bag of snacking mushrooms.
“Oyasumi nasai,” I said.
“Oyasumi,” she said back.
I was exhausted and slept through the whole night without dreaming at all.
My parents were both gone when I came downstairs the next morning. That wasn’t so unusual for a Saturday. Since the cycle ends in October, they would both be harvesting the remaining shiitake from oak logs stacked outside the house.
I ate a bowl of rice and miso soup, and sat outside on the front steps. I breathed in the mountain air and tried to push yesterday out of my mind. The haiku wouldn’t budge, though. During class breaks Aiko used to stand on the balcony and talk to a three-legged crow that wasn’t there. I figured the poem was just something she’d made up. But then Ichiro said it in the math class, and Taiki said it on the roof. I wasn’t so sure it was a haiku anymore. It sounded more like a warning. Or a cry for help.
“Crows fly.
A traveler on the road
Is lost.”
If people are getting lost on roads in this town, maybe it would be best if I found a new place to walk. I should listen to Yori. Whatever I am, nothing good will come from following this road to its end.
“Koda,” my mother called out to me.
I looked up and saw her pushing a baby carriage from the direction of Route 33. I stood up and unlatched the front gate.
“I brought you your favorite treat, Koda.”
My mother handed me two shopping bags and then parked the carriage in the carport. Parked it. We do have a truck, but since my mother’s vehicle of choice is a baby carriage she purchased ten years ago, the truck was moved to the side of the house to make room.
“Your treat is in that one,” she said, pointing to one of the bags.
“Oh, Milky … yep, that’s my favorite all right.”
No, it’s not. I mean, it was. When I was six. Old people always seem to be stuck in the past. They tell the same stories about you over and over and over again, and they’re always from when you were six.
It’s true that Milky is a very popular candy in Japan. It may be the most popular candy along with Pocky sticks and Kit Kat bars. But once I turned seven, something about the bag seemed really weird. There’s this cute girl on the front—Peko-chan. She’s got pigtails and big eyes. She’s licking her lips with this huge smile on her face and staring off to the side. But just above that, there’s the slogan for Milky candies.
ミルキーはママの味
Milky: The Flavor of Mom
Wait. The Flavor of Mom? What exactly is Peko-chan licking her lips at? Suddenly I felt like I’d outgrown milky mom candies.
“Will you be seeing Haru today?” my mother asked as we walked inside.
“I think so.”
“I hope the boy’s all right and nothing was too damaged in the fire.”
I set the groceries on the counter next to the sink.
“What fire?”
“At his uncle’s house. The night of the festival.”
“Haru’s house burned down?”
“Not down. Just burned. They never did find the cause of it. Smoke can still damage your things, though.”
“I haven’t seen Haru since we were supposed to meet up outside the matsuri,” I said. “I’ll ask him, though.”
Wait, Moya wouldn’t set a house on fire just to get me alone, right? No. I mean, what kind of a person would do that?
A person who is not a person, my brain said.
After my mother finished with the groceries, I picked up my helmet and walked to the front door. I stopped with my hand on the glass and then ran back to my mother. I gave her a hug.
“That’s nice,” she said.
My mother is old, but she’s happy. There’s no trauma or cold-dreaming at all when I hug her. I’m going to go ahead and say it—that’s how hugs should always be.
I turned back to the front door.
“Don’t forget your Milky,” she said, holding out the bag of candy. “It’s the flavor of mom. That’s me!”
Oh wait, there’s the trauma.
* * *
Wing flaps up. Increasing throttle to 2,000 rpm. Increasing back pressure. Here we go. Gaining speed. Going full throttle now. Lifting the nose. Carefully. Carefully. Climbing. Hold on to the stick. A little crosswind, but that’s no problem for Fly-Boy of Kusaka Town. Seventy-five knots. Got it now. Cruising. We are cruising.
Fly-Boy, everything look all right up there?
“Smooth sailing, Ground Control, smooth sailing over Kusaka Town.”
You going to be up there for a while, Fly-Boy? Over.
“That’s a negative, Ground Control. Don’t have time for sightseeing today. Got a shipment to make.”
Shiitake mushrooms again?
“That’s another negative, Ground Control. Boys on bicycles deliver mushrooms. My shipment is top secret. Comes straight from the emperor.”
So you’re flying to the Imperial Palace, then?
“First off, Ground Control, don’t ever assume you know where I’m flying.”
That’s kind of our job, Fly-Boy. Over.
“Second of all, no. This shipment needs to arrive at Lawson’s.”
Your top secret delivery from the emperor is to a convenience store?
“Umm.”
We need a confirmation on that, Fly-Boy. Over.
“Yes. To the most important convenience store in—”
That’s a roger, Fly-Boy. Make sure to pick up a top secret box of strawberry Pocky for the emperor. Over.
“Real funny, Ground Control. Guess that’s why I’m flying this plane and you’re stuck down there cracking jokes like some … uh…”
Like some narcoleptic loser?
“I’m not really narcoleptic.”
Insult received. Over.
“Fly-Boy out.”
Did I just lose a fight with my own imagination?
Checking my air-speed indicator and carburetor heat. Green lights on both. Lawson’s coming into view now. Ease the stick. There we go. Circle a few times, and then go in for a smooth landing. Wave to Haru.
“Koda.”
Slowing down to seventy knots. Flaps down thirty degrees.
“You are so weird, man.”
Making the final turn. Keeping it straight, keeping it straight. Turn the rudder just a bit.
“You’re making me dizzy. Stop.”
Ignoring Haru. Floating. Lift the nose. Floating some more. Elevator to the back and … touchdown.
“Where have you been lately?” Haru asked.
I took my foot off the pedal and kicked my bike stand down.
“Permission to exit the plane, Ground Control.”
“Permission to be an idiot, granted,” Haru said, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“I’m on break. What are you doing out here?”
“I always ride out here.”
“I haven’t seen you for almost two weeks. I thought maybe you’d crashed your imaginary plane into a very real semi truck.”
“I’ve had a lot to deal with,” I said, sitting down next to him.
“Yeah.” Haru snuffed his cigarette on the sidewalk.
“You didn’t fall asleep with one of those and burn your house down, did you?” I asked.
“Nope. For your information it was electrical. Probably. Nobody knows.”
“Huh.” I picked up a pebble and tossed it into the parking lot. “Are you okay from the whole fire thing?”
“I’m fine. Even my uncle’s fine, unfortunately. The bastard. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So, Sports Day is Monday,” I said, changing the subject.
“Right.” Haru flicked his cigarette butt at a trash can and missed. “Your parents aren’t going?”
“They never go. Like, anywhere.”
“You want me to show up and cheer your team on?” he asked.
“Only if you dress up like one of those game show contestants.”
“In a Speedo, covered with vegetable oil, and swinging around a plastic lobster?”
“That was specific,” I said. “And very accurate. Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”
“I’ll pass,” Haru laughed. “What team are you on, Red or White?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s your school pride, Koda?”
“We’re a little low on that right now,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think it will matter. I have a feeling no one’s going to lose Sports Day this year.”
Haru smiled. “Everyone’s a winner.”
“That’s what the posters say.”
A truck roared by on Route 33. I fiddled with the air valve on my front tire. Things were a little awkward between Haru and me. He was probably upset that I’d been ignoring him for so long.
“Guess I should get back to work,” Haru said.
“Um, yeah, I’ve got shiitake to deliver, so…”
Haru pushed up from the curb and turned to the convenience store. “Hey,” he said, “you didn’t go off to that kitten graveyard, did you?”
“The what?”
“The address. The one that girl gave you. You didn’t actually go, did you?”
“Oh, kind of. But it just led to an old pool.”
“A pool graveyard?”
“You could say that.”
“I knew it,” Haru said, walking to the front doors. “Nothing good comes from following strange girls who lie about who they are.”
Very good point, Haru. Very good point.