Kiki's Delivery Service

by Eiko Kadono

  She spotted a mountain of luggage labeled TO KORIKO. There they are.

  “Okay, Jiji, go in through here.”

  “I can’t, I can’t. I’ll fall!” Jiji shrank back and clung to the broomstick.

  “No, in you go.” Kiki grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him through the opening in the window. Branches of the trees lining the tracks on the mountain whipped at Kiki’s body. She flattened herself out to let them go by, but then came the next batch. “Hurry, Jiji! Open the door—please!” She stretched down and pounded on the back door.

  Suddenly the train entered another tunnel, and everything went pitch-black. The wind gusted past her with a tremendous roar, and Kiki could feel herself slipping. In a panic, she grabbed her broom and tried to find a handhold, but just as she did, she slipped off the roof.

  “Jiji! Jiji!” Just barely hanging on, she kicked the train car. At that moment, the door opened, and she tumbled inside. As the train exited the tunnel, bright light poured in through the windows.

  Jiji sat on the floor as if his legs had given out from the fright. All he could do was stare at Kiki in shocked silence.

  There was a whole mountain of bags in the car, but the eight instruments were in oddly shaped cases, so she could tell them apart from the other things right away. Even so, it was a lot of luggage.

  “How are we going to carry all this?” Kiki plopped down like Jiji, exhausted.

  “They have handles. Could you hang them from the broom?” Jiji said, seeming to have returned to himself as he sat next to her.

  “There are eight of them, though. Do you think that’ll really work?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Oh, wait a second. Maybe if we take them out of their cases, they’ll be a little lighter.”

  Kiki opened the case nearest her. Inside was a shiny golden instrument shaped like a twisty slide at an amusement park.

  “This one is a horn—you blow into it. Oh, here’s a trumpet. And a trombone. This is a violin and here’s…a cello! Dad taught me about all of these.”

  Kiki opened case after case. Each instrument sparkled, as to be expected, given how proud the musicians were of them.

  “Jiji, you can carry a violin, right? I can carry the cello. Let’s thread the brass section from biggest to smallest like a necklace and hang it from the broom. We can use bits of the string from those packages,” Kiki explained busily as she began to connect the instruments. Then she tied them to her broom and said, “Okay, Jiji, time to go. Hop on the back.”

  Kiki straddled the broomstick, holding the cello against her lap with her right hand and the bow in her left. The violin was bigger than Jiji, but he held it with all four of his paws and sat with his tail wrapped around the broom’s brush.

  “And we’re off. Let’s go!” Kiki shouted, and flew out the open door. The brass instruments took off one by one behind her.

  Pree, pree, pu-pu-pree!

  As soon as the wind hit them, the horns began to make noises. Surprised by the sounds, the passengers of the train looked out the windows, pointing and yelping.

  “Ha!” Kiki exclaimed, “You never know what can happen in the sky—and this is pretty special.”

  Riding the rush of confidence, Kiki began to play the cello in her lap. Jiji plucked the violin strings with his claws. It was the first time playing an instrument for them both, so the sounds were squeaky and screechy. It was bad enough to rattle the teeth of anyone listening. The brass instruments continued making bizarre sounds in the wind, like pigs or people snoring. But once the breeze from the south mixed in, it became fun and rhythmical. Kiki wove this way and that, climbed up and dove down, trying out all different sounds as she headed back to town.

  Meanwhile, the outdoor auditorium in Koriko was full of people. It was already ten minutes past three, the time when the concert was supposed to have started. A poster reading A CONCERT TO BECKON SPRING hung at the center of the stage, and below it, the eight musicians sat in a row with their sharp features facing the audience. They may have looked composed, but inside they were terribly nervous about whether Kiki would manage to deliver their instruments or not. Most anxious of all were the stationmaster and the porters backstage.

  “We’re cold, so please start already!” someone from the audience shouted.

  “We’re going to freeze. Aren’t you supposed to be beckoning spring?” someone else jeered, and everyone laughed.

  One of the musicians stood and said, “The performance will begin momentarily. Please wait with open ears. Though it’s cold outside, once we start to play and the beautiful sounds come forth, spring will warm the hearts of anyone listening. We’re currently dedicating a prayer in preparation.” The musician gazed out over the audience and then cleared his throat in a haughty way. “A-hrm-hrm.”

  The other musicians hid their irritation by clearing their own throats, then bowed their heads and pretended to pray. The audience thought disrupting them would be unkind, so they quieted down and bowed their heads as well.

  Then came a faint, faint sound.

  Fwahhh, fwah-wah, praaah.

  Whaaa, whaa-whaa, hrarahh.

  Yaaaa, yaa-yaa, yararahh.

  From between the clouds, beyond the mountains, over the big river, and toward the sea came a sound like a whisper, an invitation, a secret—it was as if the prayer had worked and spring was on its way. The audience and musicians all looked up, one after the other. Something in the sky was catching the sun’s light and shining brightly. It swung and swayed as it approached.

  Fwahhh, fwah-wah, praaah.

  Koo-ree-ree, koo-ree-ree!

  Whaaa, whaa-whaa, hrarahh.

  Poo-ree-ree, poo-ree-ree!

  Yaaaa, yaa-yaa, yararahh.

  The people huddling into the collars of their overcoats, the people curled up in balls, and the people hugging their knees—they all stretched out. It was as if the beautiful approaching sounds were pulling them closer to spring. But the musicians on the stage were shocked. They exchanged looks, blinking furiously, and whispered, “Who could be playing them?”

  Soon the gleaming cluster in the sky was easier to see. Of course, it was Kiki on her broom with Jiji and the string of brass instruments like a necklace of light. The flustered musicians stood and disappeared backstage so they could receive their instruments the moment Kiki landed and begin the performance.

  The stationmaster and the porters waved their hands with all their might to signal her. But Kiki pretended not to notice them. She was having too much fun playing the cello along to the brass noises.

  She turned around and said to Jiji, “Let’s fly a little more.”

  “Sure! Considering the train door might not have opened at all, I think they can wait a little longer.” Jiji was holding the violin and seemed in no hurry, either.

  Below, the audience whispered.

  “Oh, I see! This is a wonderful concert.”

  “I never expected music to come raining out of the sky….”

  Some people simply closed their eyes in bliss as they listened. Others waved at Kiki. Some moved their feet to the beat.

  “I have to get ready for spring.”

  “Yes, this year I think I’ll put violets in my hat.”

  Everyone was excited, as if spring had already arrived.

  Before long, someone began to clap, and soon a huge round of applause echoed on and on.

  “Okay,” Kiki finally said, “I’m going to land.”

  She reeled in the brass instruments so they wouldn’t hit the ground and get scuffed. Then she made a smooth landing backstage, where the stationmaster, the porters, and the musicians were waiting. When the audience could no longer see Kiki, they clapped even louder and offered a standing ovation.

  Meanwhile, behind the stage, the musicians pounced on her impatiently.<
br />
  “How slow!” they complained as they set about removing their instruments from the string.

  “It was the wind’s fault,” Kiki said calmly.

  The musicians grabbed their instruments and dashed out onto the stage. But the audience was already on their way to the exit.

  “Excuse me,” the musician called out, and one of the concertgoers turned around.

  “Thank you for the delightful music,” the concertgoer said. “It was a great idea to have that sweet witch deliver it from the sky. Please visit our town again!”

  Hearing that, all eight of the musicians’ jaws dropped.

  Kiki and Jiji mounted the broom and flew off to return to the shop.

  “Hey, Kiki, did you get anything as a thank-you?” Jiji asked.

  “What are you talking about? I had so much fun! What could I possibly ask for after that?” she said, turning to him in surprise.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Jiji nodded and stuck his ears straight up. “I can still hear the sounds of spring.”

  “That’s because those are the real sounds of spring.” Kiki looked at the town of Koriko spread out below. “I’ve been here an entire year.”

  Spring was in full swing in Koriko.

  Kiki pulled a chair over to the sunny window and sat, hugging her knees. When she looked up at the sky, it was vaguely hazy with sunlight as soft as a baby’s cheeks.

  “The day after tomorrow will be exactly a year. We can visit home.” Kiki had been murmuring this to herself all day.

  As the year-mark approached, she strangely felt both happy and nervous.

  “Yep,” Jiji said. “There’re just two days left, today and tomorrow. There’s nothing you need to get ready?”

  “I mean, it doesn’t have to be exactly a year.”

  Hearing that, Jiji paced restlessly, slapping his tail against the floor. “What’s wrong, Kiki? You were looking forward to visiting so much! Now that the day’s practically here, you’re so indifferent about it.”

  Kiki stared at her knees, grabbed her skirt, and stretched her legs out at an angle with her toes in line. “Do you think I’ve changed? Do I seem older?”

  “You’re taller.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I don’t know.” Jiji shook his whiskers in annoyance.

  “Do you think I really came of age?” Kiki asked.

  “What are you saying? It’s been a year!” Jiji looked at her in surprise, but then cocked his head and consoled her instead. “I think you’ve done a fine job.”

  “Thanks,” Kiki said quietly.

  Kiki had followed in her mother’s footsteps, as daughters often chose to do. She decided on her own to live in Koriko and even began her very own business, Kiki’s Delivery Service. There had been many challenges, but she had done her best. Yet now she was unexpectedly anxious. Have I really succeeded? Before she came of age, she might have bragged to everyone, Look at all I’ve done! Aren’t you proud of me? But now she didn’t feel very confident, even with Jiji telling her she did a “fine job.” She needed someone else to confirm it was true.

  “You’re not saying you want to put off going home, are you?” Jiji gave her a sideways glance.

  “Of course not.” Kiki hopped up and gave her back a good stretch—that was enough mulling for now. “Okay, time for work. Visiting home is a job, too. Let’s ‘deliver’ ourselves to Mom and Dad. Ready? Time…to…go!”

  “Yay!” Jiji said lightheartedly as he did a backflip. Kiki was in a much better mood now and began bustling around.

  “First, we need to let Osono know.”

  * * *

  “Oh my, the day after tomorrow? I didn’t realize it was so soon. How long are you planning to be gone?”

  Osono had always known that Kiki would visit home at some point, so she wasn’t very surprised.

  “Hmm,” Kiki thought. “Fifteen days or so? It’s been a year, after all. I’d like to take it easy for a little bit.”

  Osono grinned and poked Kiki’s cheek. “You’re already starting to sound like your mama’s little girl again. Usually when people say they’ll be gone for a little while, they mean ten days, not fifteen. Make it a short while and come back soon.”

  Kiki blushed and stuck her tongue out.

  After that, she called Tombo.

  “I’m jealous,” he said. “Sounds like a long trip. How fast will you fly? How high? With the wind, or against? What’s the temperature up there? What’s it like to fly through clouds? Do they have a flavor?”

  The whole time they talked he only asked about flying. Does he have nothing in his head besides questions? He’s always like this, always studying. When Kiki hung up, she couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied and glared at the phone.

  Next, she called her many regular customers, plus her friend Mimi, and once that was done, she made a sign with a notice on it: SORRY FOR THE DISRUPTION, BUT I’M GOING ON VACATION FOR A LITTLE WHILE. In the corner, she wrote, A LITTLE WHILE IS ABOUT TEN DAYS.

  That night she told Jiji, “Tomorrow we’ll clean the shop, and then the next day we’ll leave early in the morning. That’s fine, right?”

  Jiji couldn’t stop grinning. He ran in circles trying to catch his tail, then suddenly stopped when he remembered something. “What souvenirs should we bring for Kokiri and Okino? You have to get them a present.”

  “We have a ton of stories to tell them.”

  “Is that all? What about the belly bands? You were knitting them, weren’t you? With blue yarn?”

  Kiki silently furrowed her brow.

  “You didn’t finish them? Hmph, that’s no surprise. You couldn’t stick with making sneeze medicine, and you can’t stick with this sort of work, either?” Jiji heaved a sigh at her feet.

  “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.” Kiki cracked a smile, ready to share a secret. She took a puffy paper bag off the bookshelf. “I did stick with something, so there,” she said, shaking out the contents of the bag. A little belly band, knit in a bright blue pattern scattered with gray, landed on the floor. “It’s for you, Jiji. I made it so you can look fancy when we go home, since the one the old lady made for you blew away.”

  When she put it on Jiji, words failed him, so he ran happily in circles.

  “And I made Mom’s and Dad’s, too.” Kiki pulled out two belly bands featuring lots of orange and green. “It was hard to knit without you noticing.”

  “That’s so sneaky! I can’t believe you kept it a secret.”

  “But you know, a good secret makes things three times as nice.”

  “A good secret? Maybe that’s not a bad idea. Okay, got it.”

  “You got what?” Kiki asked.

  But Jiji just replied, “Nothing,” and zoomed around in circles again.

  * * *

  The next day, while Kiki and Jiji were cleaning the shop, Tombo raced in panting. Then, with a face so red he looked angry, he thrust a paper package at her and said, “For you!”

  Sometimes, I really don’t understand boys, thought Kiki as she opened it. Inside was a little shoulder bag. A black cat was embroidered on the pink fabric.

  “Aw, how cute!” Like Jiji the day before, more meaningful words failed Kiki, too.

  “You like it?”

  Kiki nodded.

  “Oh, good,” he replied bluntly. “Take it with you.” When she slung it over her shoulder, he blushed and blurted, “Well, you’re leaving tomorrow, right? Take care!” Then he gave Jiji a little tap on the head and rushed away just as fast as he had come.

  Dazed, Kiki watched him go. “What’s gotten into him?”

  “It was pretty thoughtful of him to choose a black cat design.” Jiji noted in Tombo’s defense.

  “That’s true.” Kiki nodded, filled with happiness. “If he picked this out for
me, he must like me exactly the way I am.”

  When she undid the little bag’s red button, she found a scrap of paper inside. “Oh!” she cried. The paper said, I’ll be waving from the bridge over the big river. Tombo.

  “What is it?” asked Jiji.

  “Ah, it’s nothing. Just…” Kiki shook her head, put the paper back inside, and patted the purse.

  * * *

  “Okay, we’re off!” Kiki called to Jiji, turning instinctively to look back into her shop as she went outside with her broom and bags.

  Her red phone, her desk made of boards and bricks, the map, the narrow staircase, the sacks of flour in the corner, all the little necessities she had bought since moving to the town—suddenly, they were all memories of the past year, and Kiki felt a twinge in her heart.

  “Let’s go,” she said after taking a big breath, her voice a bit shaky.

  When Kiki hung her sign on the door, Osono came out of the bakery with a large bag of bread, and her husband followed, carrying the baby.

  “I have a job for you, Kiki,” Osono joked. “Please deliver this bread to your mother. Don’t forget to tell her it’s from the best bakery in Koriko!” Osono noticed Kiki’s saddened face and laughed loud enough to send those feelings out the window. “Kiki, make sure you come back, all right? We’re so happy to have a witch as our neighbor. Everyone says that if they go three days without seeing you flying through the sky, they feel like something is missing.”

  Kiki thought she might cry. Her face twisted as she gave Osono a huge hug. “Of course! Of course I’m coming back.”

  Kiki soared high into the air with the souvenirs tied to her swaying broomstick. Koriko was slightly hazy with the morning mist coming from the sea. After flying over town in a big circle around the clock tower, she slowed and flew toward the bridge on the big river.