Buns can Fly

~~~☁️~~~

The bustling Kyoto, imperial capital of Meiji-era Japan, never truly slept, not even at night. Its electric lanterns flickered among the shadows, as if trying to replace the dormant spirits of the citizens, and the air smelled of coal and damp wood.

Textile factories, gas lamp workshops, and freight rail depots were going to sleep, but one could still hear the distant squeak of a bicycle, the whistle of a kettle in some nearby house, or the echo of footsteps on the uneven tiles of the harbor district.

And also see a teenager, a boy, and a bag of rice balls flying across the sky.

"Faaaster, big brooo!" Yūta shouted, laughing.

Rei held onto his retractable hook pistol with one hand, anchored to a public lantern, while the other arm kept Yūta close, who was clutching the bag of buns like his life depended on it. The taut rope hummed as it skimmed across metal, their feet lifting high above the sloped rooftops.

"Hold on tight, Yūta!"

All Rei needed to do was squeeze the trigger with his index finger, and the hook would shoot out, propelled by steam pressure, flying dozens of meters to latch onto a secure anchor. Whether it caught in a crevice or wrapped around a pole, it never missed. Then it was only a matter of shifting the side lever and firing again, to be pulled toward the anchor with the same mechanism.

Both let out a cry of exhilaration as the device launched them toward a balcony overlooking an intersection. Rei had taken many hits while testing the invention, but by now he knew exactly how to jump before launching, so the hook would swing them in a pendulum motion instead of crashing them into a wall.

"Let’s go!"

Bang. The hook retracted while they were still midair.

Bang. It latched once again to a lamp post, and both landed smoothly on the other side of the empty street.

"Hmm... I still need to work on the swing. Damn pulse."

"Yay! Again!" his little brother begged, cutting short his reflection.

Rei quickly silenced him with a gesture.

"Quiet, Yūta. We’re almost there. Come on."

"Okay" he followed obediently.

Rei holstered the retractable hook in the leather case tied to his belt, patting it gently, as if to say good job after the dozens of times it had been used that night. With that touch, he felt his entire body vibrating with a kind of energy more addictive than the harbor coffee he was sometimes offered when delivering his projects.

He felt alive. That sense of speed, of vertigo, of perfect control over something he had built himself. The absolute certainty that they were flying thanks to a creation born of his mind, his hands, his genius, after reading thousands of English manuals and spending countless hours assembling and disassembling parts.

His chest swelled with pride and euphoria, and it made him look up at the starry sky, a firelit smile spreading across his face while repeating his prayer.

"Someday," he thought, clenching his fists."Someday, everyone will know my name. Kashiwa Rei, the greatest inventor in Japan."

~~~🔥~~~

The market stall was as modest as it was lonely. One of those foldable wooden carts, with a cream-colored canvas roof already faded by time and grease stains on its sides. Two paper lanterns hung above it, one of them extinguished, illuminating the discount signs.

There was no more smell of buns, as the old man was collecting the last steaming trays while pulling down the rear canvas. Just as he turned to grab a bamboo box, he heard a dry, calculated throat-clearing to his right.

"Ahem."

Rei stood there with a half-ironic smile, arms crossed, wearing the look of someone who had arrived knowing what he wanted. Beside him, Yūta waved innocently, holding the bun bag under his arm.

"Hi there!" the boy chirped.

The old man blinked, clearly feigning surprise and calm.

"Oh... my! You boys startled me," the old man said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "Back again, huh?"

"Right? We're practically regulars now. Just kidding, ha," Rei raised a brow in his most cynical tone, then tilted his head toward his little brother, whose forehead barely reached the counter. "Seems the rascal here forgot to buy an extra bag of rice buns."

"Is that so?" the vendor scratched his neck, already sweating. "But he was just here a few hours ago. I remember!"

"Exactly," Rei stepped closer, letting the steam from the last open pot fog up his round work goggles now resting on his forehead. "Funny thing is, he also seems to have forgotten the money here, since he came back empty-handed."

The vendor adjusted his cap, stalling.

"Eh, maybe it was a miscalculation. You know—heat, rush..."

"Sure," Rei smiled without warmth. "Strange how it’s always your miscalculation. And strange," he added, lowering his voice with theatrical flair, "that you never forget when Mr. Gorō comes by. Or when I come by. Just when it’s my little siblings."

Yūta looked at the vendor in confusion, unsure of the situation.

"Are you implying I'm a swindler?" the old man asked with fake indignation. His voice stayed smooth and polite, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Implying would be impolite. I'm saying it quite clearly," Rei stepped forward, still keeping his voice calm. "Though if you'd prefer a more elegant title, we could find a fair solution."

"Ha! This is ridiculous! I've never met anyone so shameless as to call me a—

Without anyone noticing, Rei discreetly activated his hook launcher.

CLANG! The old man ducked instinctively as a few hanging pots crashed to the floor at the back of the stall. Rei quickly retracted the hook, watching how the vendor’s smug face had been completely unsettled.

"Oops, need to recalibrate that," he said, clearing his throat in mock embarrassment. "As I was saying, I usually don’t mind when people fail on tricking me. But when it happens to my siblings... I don’t like it so much. So, can you help me out?"

The man knew Rei well enough to understand he couldn’t be moved—but also that he would never lose his manners. Behind those smart eyes was a will forged from the same steel as his machines.

"Bah. Let’s make a deal. How about you take double the buns this time? For the trouble, of course..."

Rei stared him down, locking eyes.

"For the last trouble," he repeated, accepting the buns, emphasizing the word last. "Take them, Yū—"

But the little one was mesmerized by something else: a chocolate bar. It was too expensive for them, but Rei managed to give the vendor a subtle nod. A gesture that said without saying: 'for what you tried, make up for it.' The old man grumbled under his breath.

"Ugh," he muttered as he grabbed the bar, then said in a sweet voice, "Here you go, kid. For being good."

Yūta received it like a one-of-a-kind prize, barely understanding what was happening.

"Thanks, mister seller! Rei’s not that mean!" he said innocently.

"Yūta, please... don't stain my dignity like that," Rei sighed, placing a hand on his forehead and turning away.

As they walked off, the old man muttered under his breath with bitter nostalgia:

"Just like Gorō, back when he was young..."

Rei stopped calmly at those words, then glanced over his shoulder with a laugh that was half genuine, half mocking.

"Thanks for the compliment, old man. Let’s go, Yūta."

"Bye-bye, grandpa!" the boy waved, holding up a bun like a victory flag.

With their mission complete, they walked a few more steps to the corner, where Rei pulled out his hook for the trip home.

"Can I eat my chocolate now?" Yūta asked.

"Hey, you’re carrying the bag," Rei handed him the buns. "Besides, it’s almost dinner time."

"Mmm... then can I save it for later?"

Rei paused for a second before firing the hook toward a rooftop.

"Just don’t tell your siblings."

"Okay! WHEEEE!"

Yūta’s cry of joy marked the start of their flight toward the workshop door.

~~~⚙️~~~

The door was locked.

Rei frowned for only a second as Yūta tugged on his sleeve.

"It’s closed? Did Gorō leave?"

"Bloody old man..." Rei muttered, tilting his head and pushing his shoulder against the door again—no luck. "Relax, he probably went to bed. It’s late, after all."

"But he said he’d wait for us..."

"And he never sleeps without his cup of tea. But hey, there’s a first time for everything." Rei raised an eyebrow mischievously and drew his hook gun. "Besides, we’ve got this. Through the window it is."

Yūta’s eyes sparkled with excitement, no words needed.

With the ease of someone who had done it dozens of times, Rei raised his arm and aimed the launcher at the half-open window of his room on the second floor. Tchak! The hook shot with a crisp snap, winding itself around the wooden rod he used to hang his coat, and the taut rope hummed as it lifted them quickly.

They landed softly on the window ledge. Rei nudged it open with his shoulder, helped his brother slip inside first, then followed, landing perfectly on the ragged mat he used as a rug.

"And we’re back!" Rei announced in a theatrical, high-pitched voice, raising one arm like a circus act as Yūta slid down his side. "We’ve got the buns—"

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw no one in the room. Or so he thought—until he spotted his three siblings huddled in the left corner, wrapped in a blanket and trembling.

"Rei?" Kaede said in a shaky voice. "We heard loud noises downstairs."

Rei blinked, still smiling.

"Loud noises? Come on, that must’ve been Gorō dropping something again. You know how he is."

"Not just that," Mei added, hugging a pillow. "We also heard voices, like someone else was here."

Rei narrowed his eyes. His smile faltered just a bit, but his voice stayed gentle.

"Ah, that’s probably why he locked the door. Maybe a client came by. Nothing strange."

He knelt down, gently adjusting the blanket over them, brushing a hand over their heads.

"Get back to bed. I’ll go leave the buns for him and be right back. Don’t worry, okay?"

The kids nodded, reassured by the one who always took care of them. Rei winked, stood up, and stepped out the door—

Unaware that he was walking straight into danger.