Dreams of Spring

“Lachlan! You’ll sleep the day away, boy.”

He cracked green-hazel eyes open from where he sat against the wall, lifting a hand and squinting against the bright light beaming down from the heavens. But it wasn’t the voice of an angel that woke him, more of an old bald man with a thin moustache and a greying beard. He cracked a lazy smile. “Ojii-san.”

A long bamboo pole rapped him on the head in response. “Don’t you grandfather me, Roku-kun. Show your respect by working instead of lazing away the sun’s blessed hours.” Another rap he failed to avoid. “Your pale skin will crack and peel like pork fat if you’re left to bake in her loving smile.”

Evidently that wasn’t a problem for the wrinkly old raisin, he thought fondly. Despite the obvioiusly inferior tan he’d gained, they all feared he’d burn up after a minute or two in the sun. He yawned, batting the rod away, and rubbed up from his slightly stiff neck to the sore spot on the side of his head where he’d propped it against the drainage pipe. “Ayuh, I finished your nets. Take it up with your wife if you have a problem with me taking a break— she must’ve dragged Aiko and Tobira away, or I’d be playing target practice right now. As the target.”

“The people of Wilind must wither away from laziness.”

Lachlan snorted quietly as he pushed himself up to his feet, dusting off his loose pants. “Don’t let my grandma’s spirit hear you say that.”

“I’ll try not to invite her wrath.”

“No, she’d agree with you. And I’d never hear the end of it.” He yawned again, idly following Oji’s movements as the old man bent down and inspected the repaired net.

“Hm, the more I hear of this woman, the more I respect her.” Satisfied, Oji threw the net over his shoulder. “Just as I respect your skill with the net. Your glove must lend you the ability of an old fisherman.”

Ah, the old man had mastered the art of flattery to keep his slaves from getting disgruntled. Stretching his arms over his head, he tugged said leather glove off his left hand. It was too warm to keep it on, and the skin would start getting itchy if he left it there. Some rogue patches stuck, and he winced at the tug he couldn’t properly feel, throwing a quick glance over the rough, ropey surface in case he’d managed to damage something, but it didn’t seem any worse than usual. At least he couldn’t work up enough of a sweat on that hand for it to peel straight off. That had to be somebody’s muddled idea of a blessing.

He used it to shade his eyes as he peered down the dusty street towards the shore, the glint of the ocean visible past the coastal rushes at the edge of the village, a couple of colourful sails catching the wind. “You must’ve finished early.”

“My old back said that without my faithful assistant’s help, I must finish with my large catch or not fish at all tomorrow.” The man eyed him with no subtlety at all, tapping him lightly on the back with his pole. “Your shoulder is doing well, hm? Perhaps tomorrow you can help me and leave the odd jobs to Tsuma and the children?”

“Mm.” He rolled the shoulder in question that he’d injured by falling spectacularly and messily off Sangoro-san’s roof while trying to fix the village’s only television-set aerial in the rain, a couple days ago. “Maybe I enjoy the lazy life too much, Ojii-san senpai.”

The old man shook his head. “You have no respect.”

He hummed. “Less than Haruki-san?”

“Hm, perhaps not. He did abandon me entirely, after all.”

“Lucky man.”

That earned him a beating from the rod. “At least his mouth treated me more kindly than yours, Roku-kun!”

He barely fended off a grin as he rubbed at his back, bowing deeply. “My apologies, Oji-san.”

“Hmph, go inside and distract the children from Tsuma. I would like a good dinner, not one of boiled frogs and sand! They need it early if they’re going with you to town, anyway.”

He bowed amiably, turning towards the house’s entrance. “You aren’t going?”

“Hm. Not tonight.”

“Ousuke trying to collect on his debts again?” He paused with his hand on the doorjamb, eyeing Oji’s silhouette as the old man regarded the sky.

“Hm, perhaps.”

“You lost to him again, eh?”

“It won’t be a problem. The catch was good today.” The old man tapped the pole against his shoulder, and turned to shoo him off. “Now go. I can sense their mischief from here.”

So long as he was sure he could pay off that fancy new freezer-refrigerator, along with the electric fan Lachlan had a vague suspicion he still hadn’t paid for, not to mention the motorbike he’d had before Lachlan even arrived, and who knew what else besides the social gambling. Either Ousuke always cheated like he claimed, or Oji just had terrible luck.

He shook his head, stepping past the old shoe-box filled with neatly-paired sandals on his already-bare feet, through the narrow hallway into the crowded main room. It wasn’t hard to sense mischief—he’d heard the kids’ chatter from outside.

When he poked his head into the little kitchen with its tiny window hemmed in by shelves and worn cupboards, the mother of the house looked up from cutting vegetables, and the children immediately found a new target.

“Onii-san!”

He was immediately hit with the weight of a little girl and boy trying to drag him down like anchors on a fishing trap. “Hey, hey, kore! Easy!”

“Onii-sannnnn.” Aiko beamed up at him from where she clung to his left pant-leg. “You’re awake! Kaasan said we should let you sleep and help make dinner. It’s not ready yet!”

“No dinner for you!” Tobira chimed in.

“Ah? You’re trying to keep me out of the way?” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “What if I want to taste it?”

“Nooo! You can’t steal any! It’s not ready yet!”

“No?” He hummed, heaving his right leg forward and making Tobira shriek, little fingers digging into the back of his knee. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone to stop me....”

The twin howls could’ve deafened him. “Stay back! You can’t!”

“Speak quietly now! The soup will curdle if you yell.” Their mother cut in, rapping the back of her knife against the sink’s tap to cut through the noise. “Now take Roku-san outside before he inhales my food.”

“Hai Mama!” Both children loosened their grip on him for a moment.

“Well,” Lachlan sighed, “if I can’t have the food, I guess I’ll have to settle for a snack.”

Tobira’s unholy shriek rang in his ear as he snatched the boy up and ran off with him, deftly slipping out of Aiko’s loose hold. Her warcry followed him right through the back hallway and out the door. Between the five-year-old wriggling like an eel in his arms and the rocky ground, he almost didn’t have to slow down for her to catch up.

Tobira yanking out the tie holding his hair loosely back and blinding him with bangs he should’ve cut a month ago didn’t help.

And Aiko’s little body full-on tackling him hammered in the final nail.

“Oof!” He went down, twisting to take the impact on his good shoulder and curling around Tobira. The little menace flopped full on his chest the instant he tumbled out on his back, making him choke on what little breath he still had in his lungs as he squinted woozily up at the boy’s grinning face.

“Got you!” Little fists pummelled his collarbone triumphantly, and that was just foul play.

“Oh?” Rearing up, he wrestled the little hellion, mercilessly tickling him under the armpits. At this point it was a given that he’d be too deaf to hear a word by the time they made it to town, but his bleeding ears would heal. “Who’s got who?”

“I’ll save you, Otouto!” Aiko lunged for his left arm, holding it captive, and just as he was about to take on two at once, she abruptly let it go, her eyes wide. “Onii-san, is your hand hurt?”

He paused. She’d seen the scars a hundred times, but now she was holding his hand gently, turning it over with a little worried frown on her round face. “Your bumpy skin is all red....”

“Ah.” He smiled as Tobira joined in at looking at it, touching the dark, raised scars on the back curiously. “That’s because it’s been in a glove all afternoon. It gets hot, and when that happens it turns red. Yours would, too, if your skin was paler.”

Of course, it looked worse with the scarring, and the skin tended to get tight and itchy when it swelled with the heat. Not something most people had to deal with, paler skin or not.

Her dark eyes looked up at him, her mouth set in a worried little moue. “It doesn’t hurt?”

He shook his head, watching her turn it over to trace the lighter marks on the paler, blotchy underside. “No, it doesn’t.” To prove it, he wriggled his fingers in her grip, making her giggle. “And it’s still good for fishing, fixing nets... and tickling.”

Her giggle turned into a shrieking laugh as he twisted the hand in her grip and poked at her side, only for her to evade him and grab his right, catching it firmly and stroking at the fainter scars there. “And this one?”

“Doesn’t hurt at all,” he reassured her, flexing and wiggling the fingers easily. “That’s my good hand, don’t steal it away, now.”

Tobira giggled, miming cutting at it with the side of his own hand. “Chop chop!”

“No! That’s bad! He needs that hand, his other one doesn’t work so well!” Aiko shoved at her brother, and Lachlan rested back on his freed hands, watching in amusement as Tobira turned his chopping on her.

“Alright,” he said once it’d gone far enough, “who wants to play in the river? Should be plenty of little fish awake to look at.”

Aiko lit up, Tobira distracted from his attempts to cut off her arm, and then oddly enough sat back again, her back straight. “But you said you’d show us shooting.”

...Shooting?

...When did I—? Ah, that morning, when they’d been bothering Oji and gotten the idea in their heads that they could help him while Lachlan was out of action. It’d worked as a distraction at the time. He sighed, blowing a golden-brown lock of hair out of his face. Children really didn’t forget a promise, did they?

Well, it would be something to keep them occupied until dinner was ready. And it should be safe enough....

“Alright.” They squealed and jumped up to their feet ahead of him. Rolling up onto his own, he caught them with a look, cutting over the celebrations. “But, you have to listen to what I tell you, and do exactly what I say. Understand? You shoot someone or hurt yourself because you didn’t do what I told you, and I’ll be thrown out. No more Onii-san.”

Wide eyes stared up at him, and both of them straightened into slightly clumsy bows. “Hai, Onii-san! We will!”

“Good.” He started back to the house, snatching up the discarded hairtie as he went and dragging it back into a loose ponytail instead of hanging all over his shoulders. It took him a moment to realise they were filing obediently after him. “No, wait here. Tell me how many fish are in the river when I come back.”

Better not to let them know where he kept it. Not that there were many places it could be hidden, if they really tried to look, he admitted to himself as he rooted out the old bolt-action rifle from its case hidden at the back of the tiny space crammed under the top steps where the rickety wood met the second floor’s wall. He ignored the little pistol and old hunting knife crammed in with it. Not a good idea to give those to children.

It didn’t take long for him to wander back with the rifle slung over his shoulder, whistling a nonsense tune. He trailed off when he spotted the two squatting by the river’s edge just past the back of the house, padding silently up to watch over their shoulders as they chattered about the fish; actually attempting to count them, to his amusement.

“I thought there’d be more than twenty,” he mused. “Must be taking a while to wake up from the morning frosts.”

They jumped, and he neatly saved Tobira from slipping into the water.

“Onii-sannnn, you’re too quiet!” Aiko wailed.

He shook his head. A bear could’ve shambled up to them and they wouldn’t have noticed. “Ai ai, you weren’t listening. C’mon, let’s go.”

He lead them to his little improvised shooting range—a mostly flat space dotted with bushes, with a little hillock standing sentinel behind a series of makeshift targets. It wasn’t as long as he’d like for distance shooting, but he didn’t usually use the rifle here, anyway. For a couple kids playing around with target practice, it’d do just fine. Setting it up with the old bipod firmly planted on an old log, he lined it up on the closest target and beckoned Aiko over.

“I want to shoot it too!” Tobira complained as his sister knelt down next to Lachlan, her gaze practically riveted on the firearm.

“You’ll get the next shot.” He shifted away from the stock and beckoned Aiko to kneel behind the gun, guiding her small hands to cradle it under the forestock and set her finger against the trigger guard. “This is the boring part where I explain everything, so if you’re good and you listen now, you won’t have to wait as long to try it out.”

The sun dipped in and out behind the clouds, beating down on his head as he guided them through the important points. Both of them proved surprisingly attentive, barely fidgeting through the whole thing, and Aiko only nearly dropped the gun once when a dragonfly buzzed past her ear and she jumped.

He laughed as he reset it and helped her settle it properly against her shoulder again. “He’s telling you not to shoot him.”

“But I couldn’t shoot a dragonfly. Could I?”

He hummed, checking the chamber and the single bullet he’d loaded a moment ago just in case. Wouldn’t want it to jam. “If you practised you might get good enough.”

“Can you shoot a dragonfly, Onii-san?”

“I’ve never tried.” He flicked the safety off and rocked back on his heels, pointing down the range. “Okay, you see that little wood circle?”

She peered up over the gun, and he shook his head at her. “Ei ei, through the sights. Look down through the piece I told you about— there. Now line it up on the wood. It should be on it already.”

“I’ve got it!”

“Good, now hold it tight, but not too tight.” She instantly tensed up rock-hard, of course, and he tapped her left arm. “Hold it like you’re hugging Otouto-kun, not trying to strangle him.”

She relaxed a bit, and he hummed in approval. “Now set your finger on the trigger, and pull it gently just when you let out a breath.”

He carefully put a hand on her back to help brace her, only for nothing to happen. She let out a frustrated little sound. “It’s not shooting.”

He peered over her shoulder. “Are you pulling the trigger?”

“I did but it’s not—” She let out a little tch, her finger coming to a stop about halfway.

“It’s just a bit stiff. Keep pulling it until it clicks.” She tensed up again, and he tapped her shoulder. “Just relax. You don’t need to pull with your whole body, just your hand.”

It took a second, but—

BANG!

Aiko shrieked, dropping the rifle to clap her hands over her ears as the retort echoed through the brush, sending a heron crying out of the trees, and he laughed as he steadied the weapon. “Loud, isn’t it?”

She nodded, tapping at her ears and checking her fingers as if she expected them to be bleeding. “It made my ears ring.” Rubbing at her collarbone, she pouted. “And it hit my shoulder.”

“Think you’ve got a bruise?”

She shook her head, and he turned to Tobira, who still had his hands covering his ears, his eyes wide. “Alright, let’s go take a look and see if she hit it, then it’s your turn.”

She hadn’t, but he hadn’t really expected her to on the first try. With Tobira, he had to guide the little boy a lot more, letting him kneel on his lap to reach high enough and putting his hand between the stock and the boy’s smaller shoulder to soften the recoil. He let them go a couple more times, Aiko hitting the target on the second and third tries after he’d made up some makeshift earplugs so he didn’t bring a pair of deaf kids back to their parents.

“Okay, last shot. This is the last bullet.” That he was willing to spend on this, at least. They didn’t exactly come cheap out here.

“But I haven’t hit it....” Tobira complained. “It keeps moving.”

He considered for a moment, half an idea stirring in the back of his head. Aiko was rubbing it in a bit much after that last try. “You want some help?”

The boy nodded, looking up at him. “Mhm.”

“Okay then.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Let’s see if we can bring Ane-chan down a peg. See that tiny target right in front of the hill? We’re hitting that.”

“But it’s so far!”

“It is. But if you look close, it’s got a little hole in the middle. You see that?” A nod. “I made that.”

“Really?!”

“Yep. And we’re going to hit the exact same spot again.” He glanced over his shoulder at where Aiko was poking at something with a reed stem. “Otoumo! Tobira-kun’s going to hit that target at the end. You’d better be watching.”

“Okay, partner?” He murmured as she perked up and ran over, shading her eyes, and Tobira nodded.

“I heard Kaasan call us back,” Aiko chirped, standing up on the log and looking out over the range as he adjusted the rifle, peering from Tobira’s opposite side down the sights. “That one all the way at the end? But he can’t hit that! He hasn’t even hit one yet!”

“He’ll hit it.” Lachlan guided Tobira’s hands to the trigger and forestock, curling his own over top. He wouldn’t be able to shield him from the recoil, but it hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared the last couple times. “It’ll be worth putting off dinner for. Alright, ready?”

“Mhm.”

He took in half a breath, feeling Tobira mimic him, and let it slip out as he pressed the boy’s finger against the trigger. The shot rang out, and the little target jolted like a rabbit, flying off in a faint puff of smoke.

He smiled as Aiko gasped and ran off to retrieve it, leaning back and offering his right hand to Tobira, the little boy gripping it with a wide grin on his face. “Good job.”

“You hit it!” Aiko came sprinting back with the target in her hands, a neat little hole right in the centre, with no trace of the previous one. “It hit it right in the middle!”

“Well.” Lachlan grinned. “I’d call that a perfect shot.”