Izumi Hasegawa -

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

That evening, he walked home with a leaf in his hair and dirt on his knees. He took out his violin. He didn’t practice his scales. He closed his eyes, remembered the kite’s wobbly, joyful loop, and played a single, imperfect, beautiful note. izumi hasegawa

Oba-chan smiled, her eyes crinkling like old parchment. “Ah. You are trying to control the wind, Riku. You are trying to be a perfect kite. But a kite’s job is not to be perfect. Its job is to dance.” “Why so glum, little sparrow

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. He didn’t practice his scales

Eventually, the wind carried the kite gently down into the meadow. Riku ran to it, breathless and smiling. He wasn’t sad. The kite wasn’t lost. It had simply finished its dance.

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.