Flying the Dragon (25 page)

The spectators clapped, then the loudspeaker spat out one word: “Launch!” The fliers came to life, lifting their kites into the air.

At Hiroshi’s nod, Skye let out the line. A second later Hiroshi stood facing the wind, holding the kite’s bridle. He released it, and the winking dragon rose eagerly, climbing higher and higher. Skye backed up and let out more line.

“It’s up! It’s up!” Skye did a few hops, but Hiroshi kept his eyes on the kite as he grabbed the climbing dragon’s line.

“Engage!” boomed the loudspeaker. The battle had begun.

Once the kite was up, Hiroshi felt like he could breathe. Here on the field the kites all spoke the same language. For the first time since moving to America, Hiroshi knew exactly what to do.

Although his focus was on the winking dragon, he could see Skye out of the corner of his eye. Grandfather had once told him that the one who controls the reel must stay invisible to the flier. He wished Grandfather had told Skye, too. At least now she’d stopped hopping around.

He caught sight of a black kite with a white star as it moved in closer to the winking dragon. Time to make a move.

“More line!”

In an instant he felt the slack as Skye let out the reel, and he was grateful for her quick response. The star kite hovered above the winking dragon before charging. Hiroshi pulled in his line, and the dragon rose up and away from danger. Calling for more line, he moved in, guiding his line closer and closer to the other kite’s line. Contact! His hands tingled as the lines hummed. He pulled in his line, then let it out, repeating the motion until his line sawed through his opponent’s with a snap. The black kite plummeted to earth like a shooting star. Its owner sprinted after it to begin repairs.

Skye was hopping again and whooping. Hiroshi grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the dragon.

“Kite with flames behind you!” Skye called.

He whirled around to see a red kite with orange flames charging. Hiroshi moved in for the attack. He maneuvered the winking dragon until it floated level with the fire kite. The other flier knocked the winking dragon out of the way. The dragon fell a few yards, and Hiroshi heard Skye gasp.

“More line!”

Then a puff of wind scooped up the dragon, lifting it above the other kite. Hiroshi guided it closer and closer until it rammed the fire kite, sending it plunging to the ground. A crunching sound announced when it hit the grass. Another whoop from Skye, and more hopping.

Before Hiroshi could count how many kites remained, a plain blue kite the color of the sky slammed into the winking dragon. He called for more line and let the dragon fall, allowing it to find another gust of wind. Once it did he kept the dragon below the blue kite, then guided the line until his fingers told him the two lines had connected. He released some line, then pulled it in—release, pull, release, pull, release—until he lost track of where his hands ended and his line began. The blue kite tried to dodge out of the way, but the winking dragon stalked it relentlessly. Hiroshi played the line like a puppeteer until he saw the blue kite snap free—then twirl, flip, and spin toward the ground. Hiroshi was scanning the skies in search of the next kite when he heard applause from the crowd.

The last kite flying was the winking dragon.

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.

“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?”