Flying the Dragon (26 page)

Hiroshi thought for a moment and then relaxed. She had a point. “Unless—” he began.

“What? Unless what?”

Hiroshi looked back at the girls, but they seemed absorbed in inspecting their blue kite. “Unless they only coated it farther up, near the kite.”

Skye nodded. “Then no one would know since that part would be way up in the sky.”

“Except at launch time.”

“Right. So you just get a look at the line when they launch, then if you see that it’s coated, we tell the judges, and then they’ll be out. We’ve already beaten the other kites, and we can do it again!” Skye smiled, like it would really be that easy.

“Even if I can see it up that close, there won’t be time to tell the judges before the launch. And if we’re wrong, we’re out of the competition.”

“Well, if they cut down our kite, we’ll tell the judges then. After it’s over. We’ll win because they’ll be disqualified.”

Hiroshi frowned. “Then we’ll look like sore losers. Besides, it would take us a few minutes to reach the judges and explain, giving the girls plenty of time to switch reels. It won’t work, Skye.”

“So what’s the plan, then?”

“To win.”

Hiroshi and Skye joined the fliers spread out on the field. Seven kites from the last round had been damaged beyond repair, leaving five teams now on the field.

“One minute to launch time.”

Skye looked panicked. The girls with the blue kite had let out some line and looked ready to go.

Then Hiroshi had an idea. He handed the winking dragon to Skye. “Here, hold this. I’m going to wish them luck.”

Skye looked surprised and then grinned. “Nice plan.”

Hiroshi jogged over to where the girls stood, well away from the other fliers. The one holding the kite made a move as if she wanted to hide the kite behind her back. Instead she handed it to her partner and stepped forward. She did not look pleased.

“Thirty seconds to launch time,” the loudspeaker announced.

“I wanted to wish you luck.” Hiroshi held out his hand.

The girl looked wary. She stuck out her hand and shook his. “Yeah, um, good luck.”

He offered his hand to the other girl. She had to shift the kite to the other hand to shake his, and that’s when he saw it: the glint off the section of the line nearest the kite.

It was coated.

He didn’t let his gaze rest on the line more than half a second. He shook her hand, then jogged back to Skye.

“Ten seconds!”

“Hiroshi!” Skye squeaked and handed him the kite, her line already unrolled for the launch.

Hiroshi nodded. “It’s
manja,
up at the top.”

“Launch!”

Hiroshi ran with the winking dragon, and up it went, anxious to begin.

“What do we do?” Skye’s voice came from beside him.

“We have to knock it from the sky. We can’t let their line touch ours, because I’m not sure how far down the coating runs.”

“Maybe one of the other kites will knock it down first.”

Hiroshi doubted it, but before he had a chance to say so, he saw the hawk kite hovering near the winking dragon. He didn’t hesitate. With a few tugs of his line, he guided the winking dragon closer and closer. As soon as he felt his line cross the hawk’s line, he began sawing, faster and faster, until he felt the break. The hawk sailed to the ground, a tendril of cut line trailing behind it like a tail.

“On your left.”

Hiroshi spotted the lightning-bolt kite just as it snapped the line of another kite. Before the lightning bolt’s flier had time to savor the victory, the winking dragon knocked it to the side, pushing it downward. But the lightning bolt recovered, and Hiroshi’s hands hummed when the lines crossed. He immediately pulled in some line, then released it. Pull, release, pull, release as the lines rubbed against each other. His opponent did the same, but Hiroshi moved faster. Within a few minutes Hiroshi felt the familiar snap as the lightning bolt headed straight for the ground.

He looked for the next kite. For a moment he didn’t see any others. Where was the blue kite?

“Behind you, Hiroshi!”

Hiroshi had almost mistaken it for a piece of sky.

“This is it, Hiroshi!” Skye called. Hiroshi nodded. This was their chance.

Keeping his eyes on his line, Hiroshi guided the winking dragon closer to the blue kite. The cheers and the announcer’s voice grew louder and louder, buoying the kites as they shot higher into the sky. The blue kite raced ahead, then stalled and dropped below the dragon. Its line rubbed against the dragon’s line, but only for a moment. Hiroshi broke contact and led the winking dragon out of danger.

The blue kite hit a spot of windless sky and began to drop. The girl let out more line, allowing the kite to find the wind, giving Hiroshi a few seconds to think.

What would Grandfather do?

Read the wind, that’s what he’d do. Hiroshi had been so focused on the blue kite that he hadn’t been paying attention to the wind.

He heard a thud followed by Skye’s voice saying, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” When he turned, Skye was on the ground, the reel holder from the other team helping her up. Skye scowled. “You did that on purpose!”

The other girl grinned. “Maybe.” The judges were too far away to hear. The girl helped Skye up—probably to make it look like it’d been an accident.

Hiroshi was about to ask Skye if she was okay when her mouth opened and she pointed. “Look out!”

He felt it before he saw it. His line buzzed with the friction from the other line as they crossed. Hiroshi led the winking dragon away, pulling it lower than the blue kite. He knew the blue kite would come after him, and it did. As the blue kite crept lower, Hiroshi forced himself to be patient.
Just wait for it; let it come to you.

The two lines formed a triangle with the ground, and the gap between the kites was closing at the top. A little bit more …

When the blue kite was almost on top of the winking dragon, Hiroshi let the line go. The winking dragon shot up, slamming into a corner of the blue kite like an uppercut punch. The blue kite tipped and spun and headed straight for the ground. The girls began to shout something and tried unwinding their reel, letting out more line, their hands a blur. Their kite finally found a low spot in the sky where it hovered.

Hiroshi raced in the direction of the girls, Skye at his side.

“We’re going to cut the line.”

“What?” Skye sounded horrified. “But the coating—”

“Is up at the top. They’re focused on getting their kite back up. We’ll slice the line down low.”

Hiroshi pulled on his line, leading it to the blue kite’s line. When the blue kite started to climb, the lines clashed. As soon as he felt the tingle, Hiroshi started sawing the line back and forth, back and forth.

“No! He’s too low on the line!” one girl shouted to the other. Hiroshi understood her words. His arms burned, but he couldn’t stop now. Within a few seconds he felt the pop of the line. His heart flew as the blue kite flipped and fluttered its way out of the sky, and the crowd roared its approval.

The winking dragon had won.

Hiroshi and Skye stood in the middle of the field, stunned. Their parents rushed over, talking and smiling and hugging all at once. Skye and Hiroshi grinned at each other.

“Excuse me, may I have a word with the winners?” someone said.

“Do you mind if we snap a quick photo?” said another. Hiroshi and Skye turned to see a group with badges that read
Press Pass.

One man stepped forward. “I’m with the
Washington Post.
I’d love to get a photo of you two for our online Metro section.”

Skye and Hiroshi looked at their parents, who nodded their approval. The reporter backed up and focused his camera lens while others did the same.

“Which camera are we supposed to look at?” Skye said out of the side of her mouth.

“I’m not sure,” Hiroshi whispered back.

A woman gestured to Hiroshi. “Do you mind holding the kite up a bit more?” Hiroshi raised the kite, Skye held up the reel, and the cameras all seemed to go off at once.

“The judge said this kite is one-of-a-kind,” one reporter said. “Can you tell us a little about it?”

Before either Hiroshi or Skye could answer, a smiling man came up from behind them, holding two shiny trophies. He stepped in front of the reporters. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Mr. Takumi Sato, president of the National Cherry Blossom Festival. I would like to be among the first to congratulate our winners today.” The reporters tucked their notebooks under their arms and clapped along with the crowd that had gathered around them.

Mr. Sato turned to Hiroshi. “
Omedetou gozaimasu.
” He then turned to Skye and repeated in English: “Congratulations.”

Skye bowed. “
Arigato gozaimasu,
Sato-san.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Sato,” Hiroshi added in English.

Mr. Sato looked from Hiroshi to Skye, then back again. “I apologize to you both.” He looked at Hiroshi. “Your registration form was filled out in Japanese”—he turned to Skye—“and yours in English.”

Hiroshi and Skye looked at each other and laughed.

“Actually, we both speak Japanese and English,” Skye said.

One of the reporters stepped forward. “I heard you two made this kite. Is that correct?”

Skye looked at Hiroshi and he smiled. “Yes, we did,” she said.

“It’s made of
washi
paper and bamboo,” Hiroshi added.

Mr. Sato sighed. “It reminds me of the kites I flew when I was young. May I?” He held out his hand, and Hiroshi gave him the winking dragon. “This is exquisite.”

Hiroshi nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“One more clarification,” a reporter said. “I want to make sure I’m getting your names right for the article. You both have the last name Tsuki, correct?”

Skye and Hiroshi nodded.

“And your first names are Skye and Hiroshi?”

Hiroshi nodded. But Skye stepped forward. “My first name is actually Sorano. S-o-r-a-n-o.” Hiroshi looked at her. She shrugged and grinned.

The reporters packed away their cameras and started to walk away. “Oh, look!” someone called.

Suddenly the air seemed filled with cherry blossom petals swirling and dancing on the wind. Skye drew in a breath. A reporter unzipped his camera bag. “I didn’t think there were enough blossoms left on those trees for this kind of thing.”

“They’re beautiful,” someone else said.

Skye closed her eyes and felt the strong, fragile blossoms whisper around her. And she knew.

Hiroshi hardly noticed the blossoms, but he did feel the wind shift. Like always, he paused and looked skyward to see what the breeze would do next. And that’s when he saw it. Floating overhead was a single cloud the color of a white kimono. Hiroshi could make out the winding tail, long body, and head. He blinked again.

A dragon cloud. He remembered what Grandfather had said that day on the hill.
The dragon is a creature of the sea. When it takes to the sky, it means it is looking for something precious it has lost. When it finds what it was looking for, it returns to the sea in the form of rain.

The first gentle raindrops fell on Hiroshi’s upturned face. And he knew.

Hiroshi and Sorano turned back for a last glimpse of the competition field. People trickled up the hill toward the kite show at the Washington Monument. One of the white tents was being taken down, billowing sails against spring-green grass.

They watched the wind lead the dragon cloud and the cherry blossoms eastward. Hiroshi and Sorano knew they’d be back.

This story never would have taken flight without many helping hands.

For the bamboo bones that make the story fly straight and true, I thank Harold Ames, past (and likely future) winner of the National Cherry Blossom Kite Festival
Rokkaku
Challenge in Washington, DC, and David Gomberg of Gomberg Kite Productions, International. Two teachers in the Japanese Partial Immersion Program in Fairfax County, Virginia, checked my manuscript for cultural and linguistic accuracy.
Domo arigato gozaimasu
to Akiko Bentz of Great Falls Elementary and Yuko Frost of Fox Mill Elementary. Thanks to ABGC Cheetahs and the X-treme 98 Red girls’ soccer team for teaching me all I know about soccer.

For the
washi
paper that takes ages to create, but is beautiful and strong, heartfelt thanks to the communities of writers I’ve had the privilege of knowing over the years: Verla Kay’s Blueboards, the Gango, and the Lit Wits, my critique partners extraordinaire—Cynthia Jaynes Omololu, Ammi-Joan Paquette, Julie Phillipps, and Kip Wilson—whose invaluable feedback helped shape this story and whose friendship and support helped shape me as a writer.

For the painted colors that are the finishing touches to this story, my respect and thanks to my agent, Erin Murphy, and my editor, Emily Mitchell, both of whom are smart, savvy, and funny. And to illustrator Kelly Murphy, a thousand thanks for bringing my characters and setting to life on the cover—Grandfather would be impressed.

For the reel and line that both let me fly and keep me grounded, love and thanks to my family. My parents, Chuck and Carol Dias, read several versions of the manuscript, offered their feedback, and never stopped believing. My children, Teah, Sofia, and Jordan, let their mom spend oodles of time on the computer and gave their kid stamp of approval as the story progressed.