"By the end of the year we might have enough to make proper changes."
The thought drifted through my mind while my hands worked.
A small weed came free from the soil with a gentle tug. I tossed it aside. Another followed, then another.
The motion was so familiar that my body barely needed instruction anymore. Bend. Reach. Pull. Move.
Years of working the land had turned certain actions into something closer to breathing.
The winter sun hung overhead without much warmth. It illuminated everything.
It comforted nothing.
Rows of pale crops stretched before me, their leaves shifting whenever a breeze crossed the field. The movement passed through them like ripples across water.
I straightened slowly and pressed a hand against my lower back.
The field looked healthier than it had any right to.
Only a few months ago, I had stood here wondering how I would feed my family.
Now I was wondering how much profit I could make.
The difference still felt unreal.
Maybe that was why part of me kept waiting for something to go wrong.
"Mr. Sada, good morning."
The voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned.
"Ah, Mr. Oyama. How are you?"
My neighbour approached with his usual easy stride.
"I am good. How's the family?"
"They are fine."
The answer came easily.
And for once, it was true.
He nodded, but his attention had already drifted toward the crops. The moment he saw them, his pace slowed.
Again.
People had started doing that.
The plants drew attention whether I wanted them to or not.
"Aether crops?" he asked.
I blinked.
"What?"
He gestured toward the field.
"The crops."
His gaze remained fixed on them.
"They might be aether crops."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"What?"
"I asked a colleague."
He folded his arms.
"That would explain the private collector."
I stared at him for a moment.
The idea sounded ridiculous.
Aether crops were the sort of thing that appeared in newspapers. Government reports. Military discussions.
Things far above the concerns of ordinary farmers.
"I am just a farmer," I said.
"I don't know much about aether plants."
Oyama shrugged.
"Aether plants are said to be metaphorical gold."
The wind brushed through the field, stirring the pale leaves.
"The military controls access to most of them, though."
His expression shifted slightly.
"Still."
He looked over the rows again.
"They certainly don't look ordinary."
I followed his gaze.
The plants did stand out.
Even now.
There was something unusually vivid about them. Something clean. Almost luminous.
Their pale coloration looked touched by frost even when it wasn't.
For a moment I considered asking Yasui about it again.
Then dismissed the thought.
The man paid well.
The crops grew well.
That was enough.
Or at least it should have been.
"I am glad to see you're back on your feet," Oyama said.
His tone softened.
The words lingered between us.
He remembered.
Everyone did.
The loan.
The land.
Hisato's illness.
The quiet desperation.
I smiled.
"Thank you."
The memories felt further away now.
Not gone.
Just no longer sitting at the table with us every night.
He nodded.
"Well, I should get to the market."
"Safe travels."
A few moments later he was already walking down the road.
The conversation remained with me long after he disappeared.
Especially the part about aether crops.
I told myself it was nonsense.
The thought kept returning anyway.
Dinner was simple.
Warm rice.
Vegetables.
Miso soup.
The sort of meal that felt especially satisfying when the air outside was cold.
"Hisato, how are you feeling?"
My son looked up.
"Much better."
The improvement was obvious.
His face carried more colour now. His movements seemed steadier.
Even his appetite had returned.
A sight I had once feared I would never see again.
Something tightened briefly in my chest.
Relief, I think.
"Have you taken your medicine?"
"Not yet."
He smiled.
"I will after dinner."
I nodded.
Across the table, Yu quietly watched the exchange.
She said nothing, yet I knew she was paying attention to every detail.
Every cough.
Every pause.
Every sign of recovery.
Parents did that.
Especially after coming close to losing something.
The habit never really leaves.
The evening passed peacefully.
A rarity I had learned to appreciate.
I hoped that it would only get better from here and with that thought I placed a tofu in his bowl. He looked at me, thanked me and ate it.
That night sleep came easily.
The kind that settled over tired muscles like a blanket.
The kind earned through work.
When I woke the next morning, the sky was still dim.
I dressed quickly.
Breakfast could wait.
The harvest could not.
"I'll be back soon," I called.
Yu emerged from the kitchen.
"At least eat something."
"I'll eat later."
She sighed.
The expression said she disagreed.
The silence said she had already accepted defeat.
For now.
A few moments later I was on my way.
"Good morning, Sada."
Yasui was already waiting.
The man always seemed comfortable no matter where he stood.
Farm.
Road.
Restaurant.
It never appeared to matter.
I found that mildly irritating.
"Good morning."
He smiled.
"It is still a bit early."
"I wanted to hand over the harvest."
"And?"
I hesitated.
"The crops."
His smile widened slightly.
"Ah."
There it was.
The topic.
We loaded the produce first. By the time we finished, the wagon was full.
Yasui reached into his coat and produced a cigarette. He lit it casually.
Smoke drifted upward into the cold morning air.
"You mentioned a neighbour."
"Yes."
"He thinks they are aether crops?"
I nodded.
Yasui exhaled.
"If that is your concern, then you have nothing to fear."
The answer arrived so smoothly that it felt rehearsed.
Something about that bothered me.
Not enough to press the issue.
Enough to notice.
Before I could ask anything else, he changed direction entirely.
"I've actually been thinking about expanding."
I blinked.
"Expanding?"
He nodded.
"How would you like to earn more money?"
That immediately had my attention.
He saw it.
The smile returned.
"You grow the crops."
"Yes."
"You already know how."
Another stream of smoke escaped him.
"So why not sell them as well?"
I stared.
"What?"
He pointed toward a nearby cart.
"You have no transport."
"Correct."
"I solve that problem."
The cart suddenly seemed much more important.
"I'll take you somewhere."
His tone remained casual.
"You sell the harvest yourself."
My mind immediately began calculating.
Transport.
Sales.
Profit margins.
Additional income.
"We split forty-sixty."
The numbers continued moving through my head.
"And the cart?"
"You can pay it off over time."
He shrugged.
"Or return it."
The offer sounded almost absurdly generous.
Too generous.
That thought came first.
The possibility came second.
And unfortunately, the possibility was winning.
Yet I found myself wanting it.
Wanting the chance.
The future it suggested.
"That arrangement seems fine."
Yasui extended a hand.
"Good."
We shook.
His grip was firm.
Confident.
As though he had known my answer before asking.
That part I didn't like.
"End of the week."
He climbed onto his horse.
"Meet me by the restaurant."
Then he rode away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.
"Here's the money."
I placed it on the table.
Yu immediately began counting.
"Did something happen?"
I sat down.
"Yasui offered a new arrangement."
Her eyes lifted.
I explained.
Not every detail.
Just enough.
When I finished, she looked back down at the money.
Even so, I could practically see calculations moving behind her eyes.
"When are you leaving?"
"End of the week."
"I see."
That was all she said.
But her expression had already shifted toward planning.
The future had become something we discussed again.
Not something we avoided.
The week vanished.
Work had a way of doing that.
One day became two.
Two became four.
Then suddenly departure morning had arrived.
"When will you be back?"
Yu stood by the doorway.
"Probably late."
I adjusted my coat.
"Maybe tomorrow."
"Be safe."
I nodded and stepped outside.
For a brief moment I considered turning around and saying something more.
I didn't.
I wasn't very good at those kinds of departures.
I looked to the direction of the field hoping to use that as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Yu but that did not work. I smiled and continued walking.
Breakfast at the restaurant felt strange.
Not because of the food.
Because I could afford it.
Only months ago, such spending would have felt irresponsible.
Now it merely felt practical.
The realization still surprised me.
Afterward, the road stretched ahead of us.
Long.
Cold.
Endless.
The cart rolled steadily onward.
Fields gave way to forests.
Forests opened into stretches of road.
Occasionally another wagon passed.
Sometimes a carriage.
Sometimes nobody at all.
Hours slipped by.
"Have you always been a farmer?"
Yasui's voice broke the monotony.
"Yes."
I adjusted my position.
"My father was a farmer."
The answer felt obvious.
"And you?"
He laughed.
"I am a businessman."
I waited.
"My mother was poor."
That was apparently the entire explanation.
"I didn't like that."
I wasn't sure how to respond.
The bluntness caught me off guard.
Yasui seemed amused by my silence.
"Here."
He handed me a metal container.
"I shouldn't drink while travelling—"
"It's coffee."
I paused.
Then accepted it.
The container was warm.
The first sip was bitter.
Strong.
Much stronger than tea.
I nearly coughed.
Yasui laughed openly.
"Night market."
He took it back.
"Sleeping would be bad for business."
That explanation made enough sense.
The warmth certainly helped against the cold.
As the day continued, the landscape slowly darkened.
The sun sank lower.
Shadows lengthened.
The air became sharper.
Eventually the lantern hanging from the cart became the primary source of light around us.
The road ahead narrowed into darkness.
The rhythmic sound of wheels became strangely hypnotic.
I found myself wondering how much farther we still had to travel.
Then I noticed something.
Light.
Far ahead.
Not one lantern.
Not two.
Many.
Dozens.
Perhaps hundreds.
The glow spread across the darkness as though an entire town had emerged from nowhere.
My eyes widened.
The closer we drew, the clearer it became.
Rows of lanterns.
Stalls.
Movement.
Voices.
Music drifting faintly through the night air.
People.
So many people.
There were people walking about some even had a mask one from a fox to a oni.
A festival in the middle of nowhere.
I stared.
Words failed me.
For a moment I forgot everything else.
Debt.
Harvests.
Medicine.
The endless calculations.
All of it slipped away.
Yasui noticed.
Naturally.
He always seemed to notice.
He gestured toward the glowing sea of lanterns.
A grin appeared beneath the brim of his hat.
"Welcome," he said.
"To the Pilgrim Fair."
The night wind brushed against my face.
The lanterns swayed.
Gold light danced across the darkness.
And despite myself, excitement stirred.
Small.
Unexpected.
But real.
For the first time since leaving home, I forgot entirely about debt.
Forgot about harvests.
Forgot about medicine.
I simply stared.
The wind went through the air and one of the lanterns shook but returning to where it hung, warm, bright and up high.