Page 21 of Water Moon

Chapter Twenty-one

The Sky, the Sea, and a Song

Keishin had been to the beach only a handful of times in his life, and yet each time he strolled along the shore, a sense of familiarity washed over him and warmed him down to his toes. He rationalized the feeling as a result of man’s primordial connection to the sea, a carryover from the time when life emerged from the planet’s prebiotic soup. His toes were of a simpler school of thought, happy to simply accept that they liked the sea because they enjoyed the feel of the sand between them. Today they were bereft, taking it personally when Keishin denied them the pleasure of a stroll. This beach was unlike any he had ever visited. Here, where powder-fine sand ended, clouds lapped at the shore. Keishin crouched next to the puddle they had climbed out of and dipped his hand into the sky at his feet. Wisps of a cloud curled around his fingers. “Incredible…” he said, his voice more air than sound.

“You are lucky,” Hana said.

“Lucky?” Keishin stood up and brushed the sand from his pants.

“I cannot remember the last time I saw something and felt a sense of wonder. Unless you count the time I—” Hana’s eyes darted from Keishin to the clouds crashing into the sand like waves.

“Unless you count what?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on. You’ve just shared your deepest secret with complete strangers at a train station. This can’t be that bad. I can trade a secret for it if you want.”

“There is no need for a trade.”

“Good. I would hate to have to tell you all about the time I accidentally set fire to the lab. Go on then. When was the last time you saw something that left you in awe?”

“Not something. Someone. ”

“Oh?”

“You.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you broke every rule I knew.”

Keishin knitted his brows. “What rules?”

“Too many.”

“Name one.”

“Instead of pawning a choice, you offered me one. Until the day I die, I will never fully understand how you came to stand with me on this beach, helping me search for my parents.”

“You were a mystery to me too.” Kei took a step closer. They were running for their lives and searching for a dead woman, but all he saw was the halo of calm in Hana’s eyes and his face staring back at him from her irises. He envied his reflection. It could go where he could not. He wondered how many of Hana’s secrets it knew, a privilege he doubted he was ever going to share. No matter how close they stood, Hana was always a universe away. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her cheek, his oldest instincts compelling him to know the unknowable. It was softer than he’d imagined. “You still are.”

Hana looked away, hiding the blush that had formed where Keishin’s long fingers had grazed her skin. She pointed to a group of wooden structures standing on stilts in the distance. “That is where we will catch our next ride.”

“Our ride. Right,” Keishin said, tearing his thoughts from Hana’s face. He shielded his eyes from the sun. “I don’t see any boats.”

“There aren’t any. Boats cannot travel on the Sky Sea.”

—

It was a village built on thick timber stilts, extending several houses from the shore. Weathered wooden planks connected one house to the next, forming a complex web of streets above the sea of clouds. Vendors hawked a universe of goods from colorful stalls along the streets, some items confounding Keishin with their possible use.

“Why is that man selling bottles of sand?” Keishin whispered in Hana’s ear. “And why are people buying it from him? They can just scoop some up from the shore for free.”

“That is not sand.” Hana picked up a bottle and offered it to Keishin. “It’s time. Not much, just a couple of minutes inside every bottle. Selling any more than that is forbidden. People like to take them along on trips in case their journey takes longer than expected and they run late.”

“Time?” Keishin held up the bottle and examined the little grains tumbling inside it.

“You do not see vendors selling it very often. It is quite rare. But sometimes pieces of time wash up on the shore. The vendors gather them up and sell them.”

“Wash up from where?”

“From people who are lost at sea.” Hana took the bottle from Keishin and returned it to the vendor. “This sand is the time they never got to use.”

“Oh,” Keishin said quietly, walking away from the stall.

“Is something wrong?”

“Time is a subject that physicists love to debate. I have colleagues who can go on for hours arguing about whether or not it exists, or if it increases or decreases. And yet here it is, salvaged from the dead and sold in bottles to travelers who are worried about being late.” Keishin sighed. “We spend all our lives studying the universe and what do we have to show for it? Do we really know anything at all?”

“You do,” Hana said. “That is why we are here. Do you remember what you told me about time when we were on the bridge?”

“That it theoretically could be bent?”

“What if it was not just a theory? What if there was a person who could bend time for us and show us what really happened to my mother?”

Keishin’s eyes widened. “You know someone who can bend time?”

“I might. He works at the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan.”

“The Museum of Education?”

Hana nodded and stopped by a stall selling rice cakes. “Would you like some for the trip? We have not eaten anything all day.”

Keishin pulled out his wallet. “I…er…only have dollars and yen. Is that okay?”

“This is a market. You do not need money here.” Hana smiled and made her selection.

The vendor wrapped the rice cakes and handed them to her.

“What would you like for them in return?” Hana asked.

“A book,” the vendor said. “Something I have not yet read. A thick one stitched with gold thread.”

Hana dug into the woven bag slung across her chest. She pulled out a book on the history of kite making that Keishin had seen on one of the shelves of the pawnshop. “Will this do?”

The vendor nodded and smiled, admiring the book. “Thank you. Have a safe journey.”

Hana stowed the rice cakes in her bag and moved down the street.

Keishin caught up to her. “How did you just happen to have the exact book the vendor wanted in your bag? What else do you have in there?”

“Nothing.” Hana slipped off the bag and gave it to Keishin.

Keishin looked inside it. “It’s empty…”

“I thought the rice cakes might get crushed, and so I left them on the table in my kitchen. And I got the book from my father’s shelves,” Hana said. “It would be a pretty useless bag and would get very heavy if I had to carry around things insideit.”

Keishin laughed.

“Is something amusing?”

“Yes. My world.” Keishin’s cheek creased into a lopsided smirk. “We’ve sent people into space and built massive underground detectors to study the universe, but somehow, we haven’t discovered how a bag is really supposed to be used.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“What you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“The same thought you’ve had since you discovered that we could travel through ponds. You’ve been trying to figure out how you could accomplish such things on your side of the door. But the ponds…this bag…they’re not meant for your world. You’ll only fail.”

“What’s wrong with failing?” Keishin tilted his head. “Or wanting to make things better? Just because things have been done a certain way doesn’t mean that’s how they should always be. And if I fail, so what? That just means I’m eliminating a wrong turn and getting closer to the right one. Science was built on the shoulders of great people—as much on their mistakes as on their accomplishments. The whole point of everything I do is to explore all that was, is, and—”

“Could be.”

Keishin nodded. “Exactly.”

“It must be nice…” Hana traced the invisible map over her hand. “To be able to want more.”

—

Narrow docks splintered from the cluster of houses, each leading out into the clouds. Queues of travelers waited on the docks, but what it was they were waiting for, Keishin could not ascertain. There were no boats or ships in sight.

Hana pointed to a dock on their left. “That is our dock.”

“Tell me again why we couldn’t use a puddle to travel to the museum?” Keishin asked.

“You will understand when we get there.” Hana walked over to the dock.

“The museum doesn’t seem to be a popular destination,” Keishin said. “There’s only one person in line.”

“She is not in line. She is one of the kashu.”

“A singer?”

Hana nodded. “These docks belong to the kashu. Each kashu takes you to a different place.”

—

The kashu stood at the end of the dock, dressed in a blue kimono and cradling a shamisen. The stringed instrument resembled a banjo with a long, slim, and fretless neck and a square, hollow body. The kashu bowed in greeting. Hana and Keishin bowed back.

“Welcome,” the kashu said in a voice that reminded Hana of the pawnshop’s brass door chime. “The wind carries my song east, crossing the Sky Sea and sending the last of its notes to the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan. It goes no farther and does not turn back.”

“How much is the fare for two people to the museum?” Hana asked.

“I do not require any payment.” The kashu eyed Keishin from head to toe and tilted her head as though considering a thought. “ If your companion will share a song from his world. I have always been curious about the other world’s music.”

“How…” Keishin stiffened. “How did you know?”

Hana gripped the kashu’s arm. “I beg you, please do not tell the Shiikuin that he is here.”

“Why should I tell the Shiikuin anything? My duty is to ferry travelers. It is all that I am bound to. The rules you break are your concern, not mine.” The kashu turned to Keishin. “And I know that you are not from here because I can hear your heart. Only half of it beats inside your chest. The other half is calling to it from far away, from a place beyond any that our songs can travel to. So, do you agree to the exchange? Another world’s song to send you to your destination?”

“But I can’t sing.”

“There is no need to sing. All you must do is think of a song that carries you away.”

“Away?”

“From here and now. From everything that holds you to the present. Our worlds cannot be that different. You must certainly have songs that you have called upon to cast your thoughts adrift?”

“Well…” Keishin said. “There is one song that I can think of.”

“Good.” Thunder clapped over the kashu’s voice. “Share it and be on your way. The Kyoiku Hakubutsukan is quite a distance away, and you do not want to sail your song in a storm.”

“How do I share it with you?”

“Close your eyes and fill your head with your song. Think of nothing else if you do not wish to get lost at sea,” the kashu said. “And hold on tightly to each other.”

Keishin took Hana’s hand and shut his eyes, still uncertain about how a song was supposed to whisk them away. He drew a deep breath and let a familiar melody grow inside him.

The winds of the Sky Sea fell silent. A song took their place. A fire engine’s siren wailed along with it. Keishin’s eyelids flew open. The black-and-white painting of a caged bird he had bought at a flea market a year ago stared back at him, hanging from the brick wall of his loft apartment.