Flying the Dragon (12 page)

“Nice work, you two!” Grandfather’s voice came from the bench behind Hiroshi and Skye.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Hiroshi and Skye said in unison. They glanced at each other, and their smiles faded.

“Hiroshi came up with a good idea on the way over here,” Grandfather said.

Good idea? What good idea?

“He said there are many things about Japan that you have not heard of before, Sorano. And people whom you do not know. This is as good a time as any for Hiroshi and me to teach you.”

What? First kite-flying lessons, now lessons on Japan? Why does Skye need to know all of that, anyway?

“I would love to hear about Japan,” Skye said. Hiroshi looked at the dragon and sighed. There was no way Skye would be going home early now.

Grandfather turned to Skye. “Sorano, is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

Skye nodded, like she’d been thinking of a question all along. “I’ve been wondering—I mean, I’ve asked my father, of course—but I’d love to know more about my grandmother.”

Grandfather’s face softened, and although part of him looked sad, he seemed pleased by the question. “I will tell you a story about when we were young. This is one of Hiroshi’s favorites.”

Hiroshi could barely remember Grandmother, but he’d heard so many stories about her that it felt like he’d known her all his life. “Why don’t you bring the dragon down, Hiroshi? This is a story for sitting.”

Hiroshi wondered which story it was—he had many favorites. He handed the reel to Skye. “Can you take up the slack with the reel?”

Skye nodded, looking pleased. With Skye holding the reel, Hiroshi was free to pull in the line hand over hand, coaxing the dragon lower. The kite fluttered down the last few feet, right into Hiroshi’s hands, as if the dragon wanted to hear Grandfather’s story, too.

Grandfather settled in and began. “Your grandmother was a brilliant kite flier.”

“She was?” Skye grinned. “Did you teach her?”

Grandfather nodded. “That is a longer story for another time. But her most brilliant move with a kite string was the time she saved her father’s farm.”

Hiroshi smiled. He knew this story by heart.

“Crows have always been a challenge for farmers. One year in particular the crows seemed to have doubled in number. They were picking away at the seeds in the furrows, and everyone worried there would not be enough food to last the winter. Until your grandmother had a brilliant idea.”

“The hawk kite!” Hiroshi grinned.

Grandfather looked up as if he expected to see such a kite overhead. “Your grandmother designed a kite that was shaped like a hawk. When she flew it over her father’s fields, the crows stayed away.”

“Wow, that was smart,” Skye said. “But she couldn’t fly the kite all day, could she?”

“With the help of her brother, they mounted the kite on a bamboo pole and put it in the middle of the field. Soon all the farmers wanted one. I helped her make many hawk kites that season, which brought extra income to our families.”

Skye beamed. “What else did Grandmother do?”

Grandfather laughed. “We will have to save that for another time. It is getting late.” Grandfather looked toward the sun, which was now behind the trees on the other side of the park. “Next time we would love to hear one of your stories, Sorano. Wouldn’t we, Hiroshi? I am sure you must have some soccer stories to tell.” Hiroshi nodded, looking at his shoes. Grandfather stood. “It is time we walked Sorano home.”

As he and Skye got up, Hiroshi heard a sickening
crunch.
Skye looked down; her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped.

“What?” Hiroshi followed her gaze where the dragon kite was pinned under her feet.

“I’m so sorry!” Skye stepped off the dragon and reached for the kite, but Hiroshi blocked her with his arm.

“Don’t touch it!” Hiroshi knelt and cradled the kite in his hands. He stood slowly, as if he were holding a cup filled with water and had vowed not to let a single drop spill. “Look what you did.” He wasn’t even sure if he had said the words out loud until Grandfather spoke.

“Hiroshi.” Grandfather’s voice was stern. “It was an accident that can be fixed.”

Skye apologized again, but Hiroshi couldn’t speak. The sight of the wounded kite and the sound of Grandfather’s harsh words drained the strength from Hiroshi’s knees. He sank onto the bench with the dragon on his lap, inspecting the damage in the fading light. Bamboo splintered through the ripped paper.

Could this be fixed? When the kite had torn before, Grandfather had worked his magic and mended the tear. But this time? The bamboo pole would have to be replaced, which meant separating the broken pole from the kite, repairing the tear, and then attaching a new pole. He looked at Grandfather for answers, but Grandfather had his arm around Skye’s shoulder. Her face was pale. Grandfather gave Hiroshi a look that warned him not to say anything more.

Why was Grandfather feeling sorry for
her?
She was the one who hadn’t been careful. She was the one who had broken the kite. And Grandfather was too sick to make another one. This was too much.

Hiroshi stood, tucking the kite under his arm.

“It is time to head home,” Grandfather said. Skye nodded, looking miserable.

The walk to Skye’s door only took about ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. Hiroshi wished he could cover his ears to block out Skye’s apologies and Grandfather’s reassurance that they could fix the kite. Before Skye had opened her front door, Hiroshi turned away as he mumbled good night.

“Hiro-chan, you were too hard on Sorano.” Grandfather’s voice was gentle, but his words cut right through Hiroshi.

“But she ruined the kite!”

“A person’s heart is infinitely more important than any object.”

Hiroshi wanted to say that the dragon kite wasn’t just any object, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the anger from his voice. He fixed his eyes on the ground.

“Your grandmother would have loved to see you and Sorano flying the kite together.”

All Hiroshi could do was nod. Why did everything always come back to Skye? What Hiroshi needed was more time with Grandfather, without Skye around. Now all he had to do was think of a way to get it.

Skye shut the front door, snuck past the smell of dinner, and headed for the stairs.

“Skye, is that you?”

She knew her dad wouldn’t let her sneak upstairs without tasting whatever it was he was cooking. She backtracked and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Her dad was stirring something in a pot.

“Did you have a good time?” He stopped, took a sip, nodded, then kept stirring.

“I broke the kite, and—” Skye’s voice cracked. Her dad took one look at her and set the spoon down. “I ruined everything.” Skye took a shaky breath.

“What happened?” Her dad came and gathered her in a hug.

Skye leaned against him. “I accidentally stepped on the dragon kite and broke it.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure Grandfather knows it was an accident.”

Skye shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s broken.”

“I’ve never met a kite your grandfather couldn’t fix.”

“But Hiroshi thinks it’s broken for good—I could tell.”

“Nothing’s ever broken for good. Come.” He led Skye to the stove. He stirred the pot, then held the wooden spoon out, one hand cradled underneath to catch the drips. “Here, taste.”

Skye blew on the clear liquid then took a sip. Her eyes stung. “Wow—spicy. What is it?”

Her dad grinned. “I knew you’d like it. It’s too spicy for your mother, so I’ve made a milder version for her.” He pointed the wooden spoon at a smaller pot bubbling away on a back burner. “
Negi shio
soup.”

Skye had never been a fan of seaweed. She leaned forward and peeked into the pot. Black-green strips churned in the boiling water. Maybe she could just eat the broth and leave the seaweed.

“Dad?”

“Mmm.” He was staring into the pot, stirring and sniffing.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Where’d you and mom get my name?”

His spoon kept moving. “What, honey?”

“Sorano. My name. Why did you choose it?”

Her dad smiled. He turned down the heat to simmer and put a lid on the pot, leaving a crack for steam to escape. Then he wiped his hands and leaned against the counter. “Did Grandfather tell you the story?”

Skye shook her head. “He told me Grandmother’s hawk kite story.”

Her dad laughed. “He must have told that one a million times.”

“It sounds like she was pretty smart.”

Skye’s dad nodded. “She was. You would have loved her, and she would have loved you.”

“So how could you just leave them and never go back to Japan?”

Her dad sighed. “It’s complicated, Skye.”

“That’s what you always say. Either that or you tell me it’s something I’ll understand when I’m grown up. Well, I’m not a little kid anymore, Dad. And I want to know.”

He shut off the heat under the soup, and slid the lid completely over the top with a clank. “Let’s have a seat.” She followed him to the kitchen table.

“First of all, your name.”

Skye rested her chin in one hand.

“Your mother and I decided on
Sorano
as soon as we found out we were expecting a girl. It was your mother who first suggested it, actually.”

“Mom didn’t want me to have an American name?”

Her dad shook his head. “She was adamant that you have a Japanese name. By that point we knew that our life was here, and she didn’t want you to forget your Japanese side.”

My Japanese side. Until a few weeks ago, Skye had never thought of herself as having a Japanese side.

“You already know Sorano means
of the sky,
” her dad said.

Skye nodded—then stopped, as something suddenly clicked. “The kites. You named me Sorano because of the kites, didn’t you?”

Her dad chuckled. “You come from a long line of kite fliers, makers, and fighters.”

Skye smiled. “Grandfather, of course. And Grandmother.”

“And I, too, learned
rokkaku
from my father.” Her dad’s eyes looked like they were focused on something from a long time ago. “So did my brothers. I even taught your mom a thing or two about kites.” He smiled.

“So my name makes sense now.”

Her dad nodded. “Your mother said that your name would be one way of passing on your family history.”

Skye remembered the day she had announced that she wanted to change her name. Her dad had chaperoned their first-grade class trip to the zoo and had spoken to her in Japanese the whole time. When the other kids overheard, they kept asking her what she was (American), where she came from (America), and how come she spoke Chinese (it’s not Chinese; it’s Japanese). Then Josh Nesbit had said, “If you’re not Japanese, why do you have such a weird name?”

From that moment on, Skye became her American name. Her real name.

Now Skye’s dad was studying her, as if reading her thoughts. “Your mother was crushed when you insisted on going by Skye.” He smiled. “I told her it was a phase that would pass. Maybe one day it will.”

Skye didn’t answer. She couldn’t just change her name back now. All her friends called her Skye. Did she even want to change it back?

“What will pass?” Skye’s mom came in through the garage carrying two bags of groceries.

“Hey.” Skye got up to help with the bags.

“Thanks.” Her mom planted a kiss on Skye’s forehead. “You two look so serious. What were you talking about?”

Skye didn’t want to bring up the subject of her name, especially now that she knew how her mom felt about it. “I was just asking Dad why you decided to leave Japan and never go back.”

Her parents exchanged glances and her dad nodded. “Why don’t we get dinner on the table, eat, and then we can talk?” her mom said.

Once the groceries were put away, they all sat down to dinner. Skye fished around the floating seaweed to get to the broth, wondering what her favorite dish would have been if her parents had decided to stay in Japan.

“This is delicious, Issei,” her mom said, smiling. “You should cook Japanese food more often.”

“Thanks.” Her dad bit into a rice ball and closed his eyes. “Mmm. I think you may be right.”

Skye took a sip of the broth. “Speaking of Japanese food …” Skye gave her soup another stir. “And Japan …”

Her mom smiled. “Okay, okay. We get the hint.” She took a sip of water. “Let’s see, where to begin?” She looked like she was thinking it over. “I didn’t meet your father’s family until after we had decided to get married. They lived on the island of Kyushu, and we lived on Honshu, in Tokyo—about a day’s train ride away.”

“That part was my fault,” Skye’s dad cut in. “I should have brought you to meet them long before that.”

“No, Issei, it was no one’s fault.”

“What was no one’s fault?” Skye felt like she wasn’t even in the room.

Her mom sighed. “Right. Anyway, for whatever reason, I didn’t meet your father’s family until we had decided to get married. We went down on the train for the weekend so I could meet them.”

Skye’s dad leaned forward. “This part definitely was my fault. I’d told my parents that I had a surprise for them, one that I couldn’t reveal over the phone.”