color drained from the boy’s face.
“No way! Could you be…. Are you…Rika? I can’t believe it. You came!”
Jet allowed herself a smile. “My friends call me Jet. And you would be…?
“Hiro. Wow! I mean,” the boy switched to perfect English and paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “I thought you would look different… I mean, I thought you’d have dark skin, or blue eyes, like Ojiisan. I can’t believe it. You came!”
“Wait a minute,” Jet said. “Ojiisan has blue eyes?” She switched to English, too, wondering why her mom hadn’t told her about that.
“Yeah. Many people have blue eyes here. We’re different from the Wa.” Hiro glanced around. “Hey, did anyone know you were coming?”
Jet turned around, too. “No. Why?”
“Good. We should hurry then,” he said excitedly.
The dog at his side barked, looking up at Jet expectantly.
“Oh, I almost forgot. This is Aska.” He ran his hand over the dog’s fur. At his command, Aska slowly approached Jet, who reached out to pet her.
“Wait! Please don’t move,” Hiro said. Aska sniffed her feet and went back to Hiro’s left side.
“Now it’s safe.” His face registered relief. “She has to smell you and record the scent for later. That’s her enemy check routine.”
“Oh,” Jet said, wondering how often the boy and his dog had to check for enemies.
“It’s getting dark,” Hiro told her. “We’d better get going! You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been hearing stories about you and your mother since I was little.”
Before she could ask what kind of stories, or even express surprise that he’d known she existed, the boy and his dog took off along the mountain path.
She had to follow them, or she’d be lost.
“Hurry!” he called out. “We should tell Ojiisan right away.”
Jet jogged behind him. As they emerged from the bamboo grove, the Ou Mountain range came into sight, peaked and majestic.
“There’s our village,” Hiro told her. “Come on! Hayaku! Faster!”
In the distance, flanked by the mountain and a river, was a cluster of old thatch-roof houses leaning into each other like people huddled in a circle. On either side stood sheer cliffs like hands lifted in prayer. A white mist hung over the valley like an ancient scroll painting. There was something otherworldly about the scene and Jet was unnerved. It was too quiet, too calm. Where were all the people?
But then Jet remembered her promise to Satoko, and the box from J-Bird. She stopped and knelt on the ground, taking the small box from her pack and clasping it to her heart.
“Mom,” she whispered to her mother’s ashes, “we made it to Kanabe. You’re finally home.”
CHAPTER 6
お祖父さん Ojiisan
Grandfather
An old man with white hair stood at a stone wall. Though eighty, he looked powerful and strong. His skin was smooth and brown, his eyes were—how strange—blue! Just like Hiro had said.
“It’s Rika!” Hiro said. “She’s finally here. Now we can–”
Ojiisan silenced him with a quick gesture, turning back to Jet.
“Granddaughter,” he said gently, “thank you for coming all this way.” Jet was happy to see a smile on his lips. She wasn’t sure he’d welcome her, but his blue eyes twinkled warmly, and she felt herself relax.
“You look so much like your mother,” he said in halting English.
He waved his hand, beckoning her closer. “I’m Masakichi. Hiro calls me Ojiisan, Grandpa, and you can, too.”
He bowed deeply. She held out her hand. He laughed, held out his hand and took Jet’s, shaking it vigorously. His fingers were calloused and rough.
Jet held on tightly as they made their way down the hill. The sun was descending in the distance, casting a golden hue on the valley. Hiro followed close, his nervous energy worrying Jet, making her think of her mother’s warning.
But Ojiisan didn’t seem worried. Jet felt that he’d known she was coming, even though she’d had no way to tell him, and had been warned by J-Bird she must arrive in secrecy.
Jet took a deep breath. The forest was preparing for winter, its smell different from the Southwestern desert’s juniper, piñon, sage. That smell had been brisk and bracing. This forest was smoky, like freshly cut wood.
Ojiisan motioned to a two-story wooden farmhouse with a triangular thatched roof. Just like Satoko had described it.
“We’re home. It’s cold, so let’s go inside.”
He placed a hand on Jet’s back, guiding her into the stone foyer. He took off his muddy boots, shook them, and gestured to Jet to do the same. She removed her own, the wooden floor smooth under her tired feet. The house smelled of moss and rain, as if she were still outdoors.
“Ojiisan,” Jet said and handed her grandfather the box. “This is…”
Masakichi closed his eyes briefly and bowed low, understanding. He took the box gently into his hands, nodding at Jet to follow him as he carried it into a room with tatami mat floors and placed it on the Buddhist altar. He knelt to light a stick of incense and handed one to Jet so she could do the same. Fragrant cedar smoke swirled in the room, much sweeter than the piñon she was used to.
He closed his eyes and clasped his hands at his heart. “Namu amida butsu,” he intoned. I pray to Lord Buddha. Jet repeated the words, calling forth the benevolent one. She felt Satoko with them almost as strongly as if she were really there. A chill ran up her spine.
After a while, Masakichi stood and went into the kitchen, motioning for Jet to follow.
The kitchen had a dirt floor and stone oven in the corner, blackened with soot. An iron pot with a thick, wooden lid gave off steam. There was a rusty water pump and a propane burner, too.
Masakichi stood a moment, as if remembering where he was, or trying to let go of his sadness.
“This house is over two hundred years old,” he said. “I used to cook with Satoko here, just like my own parents cooked here with me.”
“Two hundred years? Wow,” Jet nodded, trying to imagine her mother at eighteen, in the same kitchen she was now standing in. “We never stayed in one place long enough to gather dust, let alone memories!”
Ojiisan’s lip quivered and he looked away.
Jet wished she hadn’t said anything. Awkwardly, she ran her fingers along the bowls, the stove,
