Izumi Hasegawa 〈2K 2027〉

“Did you see that loop?” she called out. “Magnificent! And that crash landing? The dragon was tired!”

“Why so glum, little sparrow?” Oba-chan asked, settling beside him.

She took the kite from his hands and, to Riku’s horror, untied the carefully wound string from its bridle. izumi hasegawa

Reluctantly, Riku took the stringless kite. He held it up, and a gentle breeze caught its tail. He started to run, not with the frantic goal of launching it, but with the simple joy of feeling it tug against his fingers. He let go.

He threw the kite into the air again. This time, it caught a thermal and shot up, higher than any kite he’d ever flown on a string. It danced freely, sometimes twisting sideways, sometimes diving down in a playful swoop before being scooped up by another current. It wasn't a controlled flight. It was a conversation with the sky. “Did you see that loop

Riku sighed. “What if I run and the wind isn’t right? What if the string breaks? What if it just crashes into the ground?”

One autumn afternoon, Riku’s grandmother, Oba-chan, found him sitting under the persimmon tree, staring at a beautiful, unflown kite he had spent weeks building. The kite was perfect, painted like a crimson dragon. The dragon was tired

Riku ran to it, expecting to find it broken. But it wasn’t. A leaf was stuck to its wing, making it look even more like a real dragon resting in the forest.

It wasn’t a mistake. It was the first note of his very own song.

“Oba-chan! You’ll lose it!” he cried.

“Let’s make a new rule for today,” she said softly. “Today, we are not trying to make the kite stay up. We are only trying to see what it can do.”