Flying the Dragon (2 page)

“Be careful, Hiroshi. That kite is too close to the dragon.”

“I see it, Grandfather.” The winter wind skipped off Tachibana Bay, whipping Hiroshi’s hair in all directions at once. Hiroshi steered the dragon kite out of danger with a simple tug of his line. His eyes tracked the dragon now as it nibbled at the sky, swooping among the other villagers’ kites.

“It’s perfect, Grandfather.” Hiroshi beamed.

“We still have a month to make any changes,” Grandfather said with a nod. “But it’s flying well.” Grandfather closed one eye against the sun. “There are many fine kites up there on the wind. You must not let them distract you. Remember to focus on—”

“The line, not the kite. Don’t worry, Grandfather—I’ll remember.”

Hiroshi had dreamed of this year’s
rokkaku
kite battle ever since he was old enough to remember his dreams. Now that he was eleven, he could finally enter the competition on his own. Kites would knock each other from the sky. Lines would slice other lines, as kites and dreams fell to the ground like stones. The lucky ones would float back to earth, cradled in the cupped hands of a gentle breeze. The unlucky ones would crash, splintering into a hundred pieces. Only one kite would remain. Hiroshi prayed it would be his. A member of the Tsuki family had always won the master flier title ever since Grandfather had first entered as a boy. Hiroshi couldn’t disappoint his family. He had to win.

“How do you think the battle will turn out, Grandfather?”

The wind gusted, and Grandfather zipped up his jacket. “Do not fill your head with thoughts of winning or losing. You need to empty your mind and listen to what the wind and the kite are telling you.”

Hiroshi pulled in the line then released it, urging the dragon to climb higher and higher. The wind rushed past his ears, but it wasn’t telling him anything. The only voices he heard belonged to the seagulls, who scolded the kites for invading their patch of sky.

Hiroshi frowned. “But what if I can’t hear what the kite and the wind are saying?”

“You will,” Grandfather said. “You will.”

Hiroshi wasn’t so sure. Maybe Grandfather should fly the kite this year, and Hiroshi could be his assistant again.

“Your time has come, Hiroshi. You are ready.” Grandfather chuckled. “It is time I became your assistant, wouldn’t you say? I will keep track of the extra line, and you will concentrate on flying.”

Hiroshi nodded. He wanted to shield his eyes from the sun, but that would mean letting go of the line with one hand; he needed both hands to avoid the other kites. He would not dishonor Grandfather by crashing the dragon kite before the battle.

Hiroshi remembered with a shiver what had happened last year to Yuki, the mayor’s daughter. In the last few minutes of the battle, a gust of wind had sent Yuki’s kite into a downward spiral. In desperation, she had reeled in some line—an amateur move. She should have given the line more slack. The kite dove straight into the ground, leaving months of meticulous work in scattered pieces on the grass.

Hiroshi blinked away the memory. He wouldn’t let that happen to him. The wind swirled harder, and he struggled to tame the dragon.

Grandfather placed his hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder. “Time to bring the kite in.”

“Are you sure? I can keep going.” Hiroshi’s arms burned, but he’d never admit that to Grandfather.

“The wind is getting too strong. Better to stop for today.”

One by one the villagers coaxed their reluctant kites lower and lower. The kites flapped wildly in protest until they hung low enough to pluck from the air.

As Hiroshi rolled up his line, he heard the mayor’s voice behind him. “Will you be giving the rest of us a chance at the title this year?”

Hiroshi spun around to face the mayor and bowed, his body hinged at the waist, hands at his sides.

“With a master kite maker and
rokkaku
champion for a grandfather, surely Hiroshi will have an advantage,” the mayor said, smiling.

Grandfather snuck a wink at Hiroshi. “Our Hiroshi constructed this kite himself. He will bring honor to our family, no matter the outcome.”

Hiroshi tried stuffing his pride back down inside his heart, but it didn’t work. It bubbled up and spilled over into a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He looked at the ground and hoped the mayor hadn’t noticed.

Hiroshi knew he was expected to show his
aiso warai,
the pretend smile grown-ups sometimes wore to hide their true feelings. His expression should show his embarrassment at such a high compliment. But he couldn’t do it. Hiroshi wasn’t embarrassed by Grandfather’s words; he was proud. If he looked at the mayor now, he would surely give away his
honne
—his true feelings.

“Some of us have made our kites with carbon tubes and nylon this year,” the mayor said. “Much stronger than bamboo and
washi
paper. Perhaps this will prove to be an advantage over those who still make their kites the old-fashioned way.”

“Perhaps,” Grandfather said. “It does present a challenge for those who still follow tradition.” He put his hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder. “We welcome the challenge. Good luck to you and your family in this year’s battle.”

The mayor walked away. When Grandfather bent to gather the line and reel, he whispered, “They’ll need luck.” Hiroshi laughed.

“Come on, Grandfather! Mother’s making
yakisoba
for lunch.”

Grandfather smiled. “You go ahead. I need to stop by the workshop first.”

As Hiroshi sprinted through the village, he wished Grandfather were racing alongside him, like he used to. Grandfather tired easily these days.

Hiroshi’s stomach rumbled when he thought of the tender pork and noodles awaiting him. He burst through the door and hopped from one foot to the other, pulling off his shoes. The nutty scent of
yakisoba
sauce drew him into the house, where he found his parents already at the table. But when he saw Father’s frown and Mother’s eyes glistening with tears, Hiroshi’s smile faded.

“So what’s the something you need to tell me?” Skye stood with her hands on her hips.

Her parents exchanged nervous looks. “I told you,” her dad began. “You and I need to speak in Japanese more often.”

Skye shook her head. “It’s more than that, and you’re just not telling me. You never tell me anything.”

Her dad sighed. “Let’s go sit down.” He turned toward the living room.

Part of her wanted to run past him and sit down—the part that was dying to finally know the family secret. The other part wanted to drag her feet—because maybe this secret was something she didn’t want to know.

Her mom and dad sat on the couch, but Skye felt too jumpy to sit. Her parents looked like they didn’t know what to say, so Skye blurted out, “Why were you acting all Japanese at the pizzeria? Everybody was staring.”

Now her dad looked angry. No, sad. Maybe something in between. “Acting Japanese? I am Japanese, Skye.”

If it weren’t for the hurt look on his face, Skye would have laughed. “Yeah, but you’re mostly American now, right?”

Her mom looked miserable. “Skye, your dad gave up a lot of things when we were married.” She took Skye’s hand and guided her to a spot on the couch between them. “He has sacrificed so much for us, and now we need to help him. His family will be coming here.”

“What?” Skye blinked.

Her dad cleared his throat, looking like he’d rather eat live squid than say whatever he was about to say. “Skye, my father is coming here, to Virginia. With my brother, his wife, and their son, Hiroshi.”

All these years knowing almost nothing about her Japanese relatives, and now they were coming? Here? “How long will they be visiting?”

Another glance between her parents, then her mom answered. “They’ll be living here.”

“With us?”

“No. We’ve found a house they’ll be renting here in the neighborhood.”

So why did her parents look so down about the whole thing? Skye had always suspected there’d been some kind of family argument back when her parents got married.
Wasn’t it about time they all made up?

“That’s why I want us to speak in Japanese more,” her dad said, “so you can talk to your grandfather, aunt, and cousin. Your uncle already speaks English.”

Right. That made sense, then. Although Skye understood whatever her dad said in Japanese, answering him was just easier in English. But she could try. “Okay, then. I’ll speak in Japanese more.”

Her parents still didn’t look thrilled. Her dad let out a slow breath. “Skye, speaking with me in the evenings and on weekends is not enough. I’ve signed you up for Saturday Japanese school.”

“School? On Saturdays?” Skye shook her head. “But what about soccer?”

“You can still finish out this season,” her mom said. “The current Japanese session won’t interfere with spring soccer.” Skye relaxed. “But with the summer session—” Her mom sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m afraid you won’t have time for the All-Star team.”

“What?” Skye stared at her mom.
This can’t be happening.

Her mom squeezed Skye’s hand. “I know how much the team means to you, Skye. But we’ve checked into every school in the DC area, and the summer classes you’d qualify for are in the mornings.”

“The classes I qualify for? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Beginner and intermediate classes are in the mornings,” her dad said. “Only advanced classes are in the afternoons.”

“But I’m advanced. I understand Japanese.”

“It’s not enough, Skye.” He shook his head. “Your spoken Japanese is not advanced.”

Skye snatched her hand away from her mom’s and stood, tears already forming. “I won’t go, then. I’ve waited forever to make the All-Star team, and I’m not going to miss it for a bunch of stupid lessons. I can speak enough Japanese to get by.”

Her dad stood, too. “You need to learn more. To get to know your relatives.”

“But they’re moving here! I’ll have plenty of time to get to know them.”

Her dad looked sadder than she’d ever seen him. “You don’t have plenty of time, Skye.” He turned to go, and then stopped. Without looking back, he said, “You’re going to the Japanese Saturday school. And that’s final.” He strode from the room and out onto the back deck.

Skye fought to stay calm. Her mom could smooth things over. She wouldn’t really make Skye do this. Would she?

Her mom shrugged. “I’m sorry, honey. But your dad is right.” When Skye opened her mouth to protest, her mom held up her hand. “Wait, Skye. I know this is hard for you. But the reason the family is coming is because your dad’s father—your grandfather—is sick.”

Skye’s anger cooled, but only by a few degrees. “He’s coming here to get better?” Her mom hesitated, then nodded. Skye shrugged. “Okay, so he’ll come here, get better, and I’ll play on the All-Star team. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Skye’s mom took her hands. “The director of the Japanese school has agreed to let you enroll in the intermediate class mid-semester, starting now. There will be several exams at the end of this semester that will determine whether or not you’ll go on to the advanced class this summer. If not … “

“If not what? I can pass the exams.”

Her mom looked doubtful. “Skye, I don’t want you to set yourself up for disappointment. You can try out for All-Stars again next year and every year after that, if you want to. Your dad’s right. You need to do this.”

Skye couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t believe it. She sprinted out of the room, flew up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door. But she didn’t cry. There was no need to cry: she was going to play on that All-Star team. No matter what.

“Come sit with us, Hiroshi,” Father said.

Hiroshi sat, looking from one parent to the other. “What is it?”

Mother glanced at Father, then nodded once. Father cleared his throat. “Hiroshi, we have something to tell you.” Whatever it was, the news couldn’t be good. Hiroshi forgot about being hungry.

Father rested his hands on either side of his plate. “Do you remember the business trip I took last month?”

“Yes, I remember.” Father had brought Hiroshi a snow globe of the US Capitol in Washington, DC.