Flying the Dragon

by Natalie Dias Lorenzi

  The last kite flying was the winking dragon.

  39

  Skye

  Skye blinked in disbelief. Judging by the grin on Hiroshi’s face, it must be true—the winking dragon had done it. They’d won the first round.

  “Hiroshi! Skye!”

  She waved at her parents, aunt, and uncle, who were cheering with the rest of the crowd. Hiroshi walked over as he started pulling the dragon back down, hand over hand.

  “Nice job,” he said.

  “We did it!”

  “The first round, yes.”

  Skye’s fingers trembled as she rolled up the line. Something inside her hadn’t expected them to really win. She looked up at the winking dragon, strutting like it knew it was in first place. Hiroshi had flown the kite like a champion. If Grandfather could see them from wherever he was, would he be proud of her, too?

  Skye reeled in more line as the head judge came toward them with a huge grin. “Congratulations, you two! That was some fine flying you did out there.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Hiroshi said. Skye thanked him, too, but she knew he was really there to congratulate Hiroshi.

  The man turned to Skye. “Where did you kids get your kite?”

  She nodded in Hiroshi’s direction. “He made it.”

  “We made it,” Hiroshi said, then turned his attention back to the kite and the line.

  “Well, I helped.” Skye smiled.

  “Amazing. You don’t see kites like that anymore.” The judge shook his head. “Good luck in the next round.” The judge walked off the field toward the kite hospital, where fliers raced around, trying to fix their kites in time for the next round. If the dragon crashed, would Hiroshi be able to fix it?

  “Here it comes.” Hiroshi had pulled the winking dragon low enough for Skye to reach it. “I’ve got it.” Skye plucked the winking dragon from the air.

  The girls with the sky-blue kite came back on the field and got ready for the next round, barely nodding at Hiroshi and Skye. “That blue kite has nothing on you,” Skye whispered to the dragon. “Don’t let it scare you.”

  As the other fliers rejoined them on the field, Skye checked the line. Her hands weren’t shaking this time. Could they do it again? She counted only twelve teams on the field this time. It would be easier to move around with fewer people out there, but these were the twelve best teams.

  Hiroshi held up the dragon and nodded. Skye gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Launch!” commanded the loudspeaker. Hiroshi let go of the kite, and Skye hurried backward, letting the winking dragon climb. She held the reel steady while Hiroshi grabbed the line.

  “Engage!”

  The kites obeyed—crashing into each other and tangling lines. Skye shadowed Hiroshi as he moved across the field.

  “Flier behind you, coming from your left,” Skye said in Japanese. She figured now wasn’t the time to confuse him with directions in English. As Hiroshi glanced over his shoulder, Skye spotted a hawk-faced kite moving in.

  “On the dragon’s right!” she called. Skye saw the hawk’s line rub against theirs. The hawk’s fierce eyes glared down at Skye. Those eyes reminded her of the dragon kite Grandfather had painted. She was mesmerized for a moment, then heard Hiroshi’s call: “More line!”

  Skye let the reel spin between her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw other kites tumbling and spiraling to the ground. Hiroshi was sawing his line against the hawk’s line, but it was taking too long. The blue kite was coming in fast.

  “Cut the line, Hiroshi!”

  “I’m trying!” She could hear the frustration in his voice and wished she had a pair of scissors to cut the line herself.

  But then the hawk’s line snapped.

  “Yes!” The hawk dove straight into the ground.

  The blue kite swooped in, knocking the winking dragon aside. Skye didn’t wait for Hiroshi’s call; she let out more line and Hiroshi fed it to the dragon. When the dragon found another pocket of wind and steadied itself, Skye allowed herself to breathe. But when she saw Hiroshi moving the line back and forth, she realized that the lines had crossed.

  Skye’s heart felt like a bird in her rib cage trying to escape. She raced after Hiroshi as he ran, moving his line faster and faster.

  And then the sky tipped and the grass rose up and Skye was on the ground. She felt the reel fly from her hand and saw it skitter after Hiroshi. He stopped and turned, but she waved him on.

  “Go! I’m fine!” She scrambled to her feet. How could she have tripped? She raced after the reel, scooped it up, and caught up to Hiroshi. He was sawing the line back and forth, back and forth. Then his arms fell to his side and he lowered his head.

  “What—?”

  She watched helplessly as the line in Hiroshi’s hand drifted down, kite-less. The winking dragon was falling, and Hiroshi took off after it. Skye heard the crowd’s cheers. But this time they were clapping for the blue kite flying victorious overhead.

  And it was all Skye’s fault.

  40

  Hiroshi

  “Excuse me!”

  Hiroshi leaped into the crowd, praying he wouldn’t crash into anyone while keeping his eyes on the falling dragon. The wind didn’t want to give up the kite; it rocked it back and forth, taunting Hiroshi. Hurry up! Hiroshi felt like shouting. They had less than ten minutes to make repairs before the championship round.

  Finally the wind set the kite on the ground. Hiroshi held his breath while he checked for damage. The winking dragon was still in one piece. All the other kites in the battle had hit the ground at faster speeds. He knew the washi paper would not have survived that kind of crash. Was Grandfather’s spirit watching over them after all?

  Hiroshi sprinted toward the kite hospital, where Skye was waiting. Under the white tent, fliers cut lines and retied them. They ran their fingers over every bit of their sails, checking for rips.

  “I’m so sorry.” Skye took a shaky breath.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Hiroshi knew it wasn’t. But if she hadn’t have tripped, maybe … No use thinking about it now.

  Skye looked like she was about to cry.

  “Actually, I did something worse in a kite battle once.”

  Skye’s face brightened. “Worse? Did you trip, too?”

  “I didn’t trip myself. I tripped Grandfather.”

  Skye’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t!”

  Hiroshi grinned. “I did. But he wasn’t hurt, and he wasn’t mad, and we won in the end.”

  Skye shook her head. “So maybe there’s hope for us after all.” She bent over the winking dragon to retie the line.

  Hiroshi looked for the girls with the blue kite. He spotted them off behind the tents, kneeling on the grass.

  Skye stood. “What are they up to?”

  Hiroshi watched as the girls slipped their reel into a backpack and pulled out another one. Skye shrugged, turning her attention back to the winking dragon. Hiroshi was about to say it was time to go when something caught his eye.

  “Skye, look.” She turned, and Hiroshi nodded toward the girls.

  “What is it?”

  He switched to Japanese. “Were they wearing gloves before?”

  Skye looked at the girls again and her eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Because they just switched reels, and now they’re wearing gloves. Something isn’t right.”

  “But you said some people wear gloves. Most of the fliers last round had gloves on.”

  Hiroshi pointed to the sign: No Manja! No Cutting Line!

  Skye gasped. “Do you really think—?”

  Hiroshi put his finger to his lips. “It’s hard to tell from here; the line doesn’t look any different. But I won’t know until I see it unrolled.”

  “We have to tell someone! The judges should know about this.”

  “We can’t—we don’t have any proof.”

  “Well, when will you know for sure?”

  The loudspeaker crackled, then
a voice announced, “Fliers, five minutes to launch time.”

  Hiroshi’s stomach flip-flopped as he picked up the winking dragon. “We have to go.”

  Skye grabbed the reel. “But won’t it be obvious to the judges? If you can see the difference in their line, won’t they be able to tell, too?”

  Hiroshi thought for a moment and then relaxed. She had a point. “Unless—” he began.

  “What? Unless what?”

  Hiroshi looked back at the girls, but they seemed absorbed in inspecting their blue kite. “Unless they only coated it farther up, near the kite.”

  Skye nodded. “Then no one would know since that part would be way up in the sky.”

  “Except at launch time.”

  “Right. So you just get a look at the line when they launch, then if you see that it’s coated, we tell the judges, and then they’ll be out. We’ve already beaten the other kites, and we can do it again!” Skye smiled, like it would really be that easy.

  “Even if I can see it up that close, there won’t be time to tell the judges before the launch. And if we’re wrong, we’re out of the competition.”

  “Well, if they cut down our kite, we’ll tell the judges then. After it’s over. We’ll win because they’ll be disqualified.”

  Hiroshi frowned. “Then we’ll look like sore losers. Besides, it would take us a few minutes to reach the judges and explain, giving the girls plenty of time to switch reels. It won’t work, Skye.”

  “So what’s the plan, then?”

  “To win.”

  Hiroshi and Skye joined the fliers spread out on the field. Seven kites from the last round had been damaged beyond repair, leaving five teams now on the field.

  “One minute to launch time.”

  Skye looked panicked. The girls with the blue kite had let out some line and looked ready to go.

  Then Hiroshi had an idea. He handed the winking dragon to Skye. “Here, hold this. I’m going to wish them luck.”

  Skye looked surprised and then grinned. “Nice plan.”

  Hiroshi jogged over to where the girls stood, well away from the other fliers. The one holding the kite made a move as if she wanted to hide the kite behind her back. Instead she handed it to her partner and stepped forward. She did not look pleased.

  “Thirty seconds to launch time,” the loudspeaker announced.

  “I wanted to wish you luck.” Hiroshi held out his hand.

  The girl looked wary. She stuck out her hand and shook his. “Yeah, um, good luck.”

  He offered his hand to the other girl. She had to shift the kite to the other hand to shake his, and that’s when he saw it: the glint off the section of the line nearest the kite.

  It was coated.

  He didn’t let his gaze rest on the line more than half a second. He shook her hand, then jogged back to Skye.

  “Ten seconds!”

  “Hiroshi!” Skye squeaked and handed him the kite, her line already unrolled for the launch.

  Hiroshi nodded. “It’s manja, up at the top.”

  “Launch!”

  Hiroshi ran with the winking dragon, and up it went, anxious to begin.

  “What do we do?” Skye’s voice came from beside him.

  “We have to knock it from the sky. We can’t let their line touch ours, because I’m not sure how far down the coating runs.”

  “Maybe one of the other kites will knock it down first.”

  Hiroshi doubted it, but before he had a chance to say so, he saw the hawk kite hovering near the winking dragon. He didn’t hesitate. With a few tugs of his line, he guided the winking dragon closer and closer. As soon as he felt his line cross the hawk’s line, he began sawing, faster and faster, until he felt the break. The hawk sailed to the ground, a tendril of cut line trailing behind it like a tail.

  “On your left.”

  Hiroshi spotted the lightning-bolt kite just as it snapped the line of another kite. Before the lightning bolt’s flier had time to savor the victory, the winking dragon knocked it to the side, pushing it downward. But the lightning bolt recovered, and Hiroshi’s hands hummed when the lines crossed. He immediately pulled in some line, then released it. Pull, release, pull, release as the lines rubbed against each other. His opponent did the same, but Hiroshi moved faster. Within a few minutes Hiroshi felt the familiar snap as the lightning bolt headed straight for the ground.

  He looked for the next kite. For a moment he didn’t see any others. Where was the blue kite?

  “Behind you, Hiroshi!”

  Hiroshi had almost mistaken it for a piece of sky.

  “This is it, Hiroshi!” Skye called. Hiroshi nodded. This was their chance.

  Keeping his eyes on his line, Hiroshi guided the winking dragon closer to the blue kite. The cheers and the announcer’s voice grew louder and louder, buoying the kites as they shot higher into the sky. The blue kite raced ahead, then stalled and dropped below the dragon. Its line rubbed against the dragon’s line, but only for a moment. Hiroshi broke contact and led the winking dragon out of danger.

  The blue kite hit a spot of windless sky and began to drop. The girl let out more line, allowing the kite to find the wind, giving Hiroshi a few seconds to think.

  What would Grandfather do?

  Read the wind, that’s what he’d do. Hiroshi had been so focused on the blue kite that he hadn’t been paying attention to the wind.

  He heard a thud followed by Skye’s voice saying, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” When he turned, Skye was on the ground, the reel holder from the other team helping her up. Skye scowled. “You did that on purpose!”

  The other girl grinned. “Maybe.” The judges were too far away to hear. The girl helped Skye up—probably to make it look like it’d been an accident.

  Hiroshi was about to ask Skye if she was okay when her mouth opened and she pointed. “Look out!”

  He felt it before he saw it. His line buzzed with the friction from the other line as they crossed. Hiroshi led the winking dragon away, pulling it lower than the blue kite. He knew the blue kite would come after him, and it did. As the blue kite crept lower, Hiroshi forced himself to be patient. Just wait for it; let it come to you.

  The two lines formed a triangle with the ground, and the gap between the kites was closing at the top. A little bit more …

  When the blue kite was almost on top of the winking dragon, Hiroshi let the line go. The winking dragon shot up, slamming into a corner of the blue kite like an uppercut punch. The blue kite tipped and spun and headed straight for the ground. The girls began to shout something and tried unwinding their reel, letting out more line, their hands a blur. Their kite finally found a low spot in the sky where it hovered.

  Hiroshi raced in the direction of the girls, Skye at his side.

  “We’re going to cut the line.”

  “What?” Skye sounded horrified. “But the coating—”

  “Is up at the top. They’re focused on getting their kite back up. We’ll slice the line down low.”

  Hiroshi pulled on his line, leading it to the blue kite’s line. When the blue kite started to climb, the lines clashed. As soon as he felt the tingle, Hiroshi started sawing the line back and forth, back and forth.

  “No! He’s too low on the line!” one girl shouted to the other. Hiroshi understood her words. His arms burned, but he couldn’t stop now. Within a few seconds he felt the pop of the line. His heart flew as the blue kite flipped and fluttered its way out of the sky, and the crowd roared its approval.

  The winking dragon had won.

  41

  Hiroshi and Sorano

  Hiroshi and Skye stood in the middle of the field, stunned. Their parents rushed over, talking and smiling and hugging all at once. Skye and Hiroshi grinned at each other.

  “Excuse me, may I have a word with the winners?” someone said.

  “Do you mind if we snap a quick photo?” said another. Hiroshi and Skye turned to see a group with badges that read Press Pass.

  One
man stepped forward. “I’m with the Washington Post. I’d love to get a photo of you two for our online Metro section.”

  Skye and Hiroshi looked at their parents, who nodded their approval. The reporter backed up and focused his camera lens while others did the same.

  “Which camera are we supposed to look at?” Skye said out of the side of her mouth.

  “I’m not sure,” Hiroshi whispered back.

  A woman gestured to Hiroshi. “Do you mind holding the kite up a bit more?” Hiroshi raised the kite, Skye held up the reel, and the cameras all seemed to go off at once.

  “The judge said this kite is one-of-a-kind,” one reporter said. “Can you tell us a little about it?”

  Before either Hiroshi or Skye could answer, a smiling man came up from behind them, holding two shiny trophies. He stepped in front of the reporters. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Mr. Takumi Sato, president of the National Cherry Blossom Festival. I would like to be among the first to congratulate our winners today.” The reporters tucked their notebooks under their arms and clapped along with the crowd that had gathered around them.

  Mr. Sato turned to Hiroshi. “Omedetou gozaimasu.” He then turned to Skye and repeated in English: “Congratulations.”

  Skye bowed. “Arigato gozaimasu, Sato-san.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Sato,” Hiroshi added in English.

  Mr. Sato looked from Hiroshi to Skye, then back again. “I apologize to you both.” He looked at Hiroshi. “Your registration form was filled out in Japanese”—he turned to Skye—“and yours in English.”

  Hiroshi and Skye looked at each other and laughed.