[Okada Goro]

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Into the Pits

He found that the daydreams took over more often than they used to. His mother chalked it down to Goro’s age–kids will be kids, she’d say as she’d wipe the leftover droplets of water from the ceramic bowl she’s just rinsed. It was sand-colored with a decent white chip on its rim from where Goro had dropped it years ago. He’d felt bad about it then and felt bad about it now as he watched the water soak into the chipped piece, turning the usually white inside darker like rain on concrete.

Goro felt sore, achy in the calves. It wasn’t a promising way to feel just before leaving for a mission.

Where were they going, again? He’d forgotten. Still wet yellow tufts of hairs hung over his blue eyes. He tried to blow air upward to move them out of the way, but their weight rebelled. The boy attempted it once or twice more before giving in and moving it away with his hand instead.

"Moooommm,” he’d say with a sigh heavy inside his chest.

"Mm?” She didn’t bother to look over from the sink, but when a response didn’t come, she paused to take a look at her only son. He was smiling brightly. "Oh, right–” she rushed over to the counter opposite her, tidying up a small bag she'd prepared for Goro earlier that morning. "It’s just here–” she said, plopping it in front of him at the table.

"Thanksss!” Goro snagged the back at the bow-tied end with a rustle and scurried out the door and into the bright light of the village.

"Be safe!” the words echoed behind him, but Goro was already too ready to leave. He was always careful, right? Right.

It didn’t take him long to reach the village gates where he was to meet with his temporary teammate for this mission. His mother had started packing a shared bag to treat Goro and others on their journeys. What was inside was always a mystery to him, but it allowed the young boy to have a piece of home to go. He clawed it tight in his small hands, waiting impatiently at the tip of his toes.

Okami Shizuka