“Or fall off,” Yukiko said with a straight face.
“Really?” Pam was startled.
“No, silly.” Yukiko shook her head and squinted an eye at Pam. “Then again, I’ve never smelled such a disgusting river, so who knows?”
“What about the Plastron-Zet-whatever?” Pam nudged her father’s arm. “Can we try it?”
“Let’s hold off a while longer.” He lifted the P Z to make sure all its pieces were still attached. “It consumes a lot of power. And since we have only one battery, we’ve got to make it count. Besides, Pam, if we track down Inari-san, he may be able to recommend the perfect place to press this button.”
* * *
They pushed onward and the air became cooler and the trees taller and older. The ground was slick in areas, and both Digger and Corliss slipped on mossy rocks. Pam tripped over one of the various tree roots that bulged like humps out of the earth.
Digger’s walking stick proved useful when he stumbled over a clump of tangled-up river reeds. As he lost his footing, he jammed the stick-end into a rotted-out stump, saving himself from tumbling into some river gunk.
For most of the trek, no one spoke. The river kept winding, the water constantly gurgling at their side. Every once in a while, Professor Satori would tell them “just a little further” or “Inari-san’s hut must be after the next turn.” But on and on they went, the village now a day’s walk behind them.
As that distance grew, so too did a sense of remoteness. It felt to Digger like being lost. Nobody in the world knew exactly where they were. Did they even know where they were? The map was so small compared to the zillion footsteps they’d taken.
Also, the river had been playing tricks on Digger’s ears. He heard a fat PLOP in the water and flinched. A frog leaping in, he told himself. A fish swishing its tail. All he could see was a dragonfly, which flitted dizzily over the water.
Professor Satori’s camera hung from his neck at the ready. “Best to be prepared,” he told no one in particular. “Kappas are said to be as swift as lizards. We wouldn’t want to miss our chance. If anyone spots one, try not to startle it. So it doesn’t dive into the wat—”
“There’s one! There’s one over there.” Corliss was pointing at what was obviously a thick branch jutting out of the river.
Yukiko moaned. “You forget your glasses on that strange boat?”
“Oh, come on. I’m only having some fun.” He snickered and tossed a chunky rock at the branch, knocking off a withered leaf.
“Hey, look.” Digger had found a messy ball of string on a mound of pinecones.
“Well done, Digger. Fishing line.” The professor took the ball of string in his hand. “I was worried we might have gone right past Inari-san’s hut. But he’s been fishing here, so his hut could be very close by.”
And, sure enough, it was. A small hut, up on a hill, barely noticeable through the trees, overlooked the river. Rickety and ramshackle, the hut leaned at a dubious angle. “That place is going to collapse,” Corliss said. “Can a person really live in there?”
The door was open and they peeked inside. Nails stuck out of the back wall—fishing lures hanging from all but one. A cracked plate and dusty bowl were on a wooden shelf. On the floor in a corner slouched an unopened bag of rice.
“No fishing rod,” Mr. Happer noted.
“Then he must still be out fishing.” The professor peered down toward the river.
“What should we do?” Pam gave the hut a sideways glance. “Wait here?”
“We have no idea when he’ll be back,” the professor said, “or if he’ll be back at all. In any case, we have to set up our tents.” He looked over at the next hill, separated from Inari’s by a shallow valley and thicket of trees. “Inari-san is a hermit. Since he prefers not being around people, why don’t we put up the tents over there?”
Mr. Happer took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a forearm. “Sounds good to me. Digger, Corliss, Yukiko, why don’t you go catch us a fish? Pam, Professor Satori and I will go prepare the campsite—if you don’t mind helping. How’s that sound to everyone?”
“C’mon, Dig,” said Corliss. “Let’s get some dinner . . . Out of that gross river.”
“Or a Kappa,” Pam said.
“Yeah, right.” Corliss sniggered. “How do they taste?”
Yukiko ignored him and walked off, back down the hill. As Digger and Corliss followed, they pulled the foldable fishing rods out of their rucksacks.
* * *
Digger’s casts didn’t always send his bait where he wanted it to go, but this time, his shiny purple lure pierced the surface smack-dab in the middle of the river. He’d aimed carefully to avoid a big tree, which was casting a shadow over a sharp crook in the river, its branches overhanging the water. Yukiko’s feisty red lure shot out then nosedived, and Corliss’s chubby rubber frog made a splash.
“If Kappas exist, what do you figure they eat?” Digger asked. “There can’t be many—or any—cucumbers growing around here, right? Fish maybe?”
“That makes sense,” Yukiko said. “And toads . . . Bugs, perhaps.”
“Sounds delicious,” Corliss joked.
Just then Digger felt something tug his lure. His wrists snapped back to hook it.
With a soft voice—Corliss didn’t want to scare off the fish—he asked, “Fish on, Dig?”
“I thought so, for a second. But now it feels like the hook’s snagged on a rock.”
Corliss’s voice returned to normal with a tinge of disappointment. “I can’t imagine fish living in this rank water anyway.”
As rivers go, this one wasn’t so wide. But it seemed deep. The water was too cloudy to see through to the bottom. And Digger wondered what was down there. If Kappas had ever come this way, they hadn’t left a trace. Not a footprint in the mud along the banks. Not the butt end of a cucumber. Not a gnawed-at fish bone, or any bones, for that matter.
Another tug. He jerked the rod back for the second time.
“Are you kidding me, Dig? Again?”
“It’s not a nibble.” As Digger pulled, the rod suddenly bent like an upside-down U. Whatever was at the end of his line was making it almost impossible for him to turn the reel.
Yukiko let out a gasp as the line briskly stretched downstream. The lure was being taken for a fast ride. For a moment they were certain the rod would snap in two.
Then Digger spotted something. Not in the river but on land. A flash of movement. By the big tree. “Someone’s over there,” he said, struggling with both his rod and his reel. His eyes whipped back and forth between the tree and his strained line.
“Fish on,” Corliss shouted. Digger pulled the rod back again. He brought in the line with one slow turn of the reel at a time, as his other hand, white-knuckled, gripped the rod’s handle.
Yukiko quickly brought in her own line and knelt down at the bank, eager to see what Digger had caught.
Digger checked over his shoulder. He could swear they weren’t alone. Did someone’s head just peek out from behind that tree? “Corliss, I think Pam might be sneaking up on us again.”
“Never mind her, Dig.” Corliss had reeled in his own lure. Now he was bent over the river trying to see through the dull water. “Don’t lose the fish!”
“I saw it.” Yukiko pointed.
Corliss nearly tripped over his pole. “Me too—it’s a beauty.”
A long, glossy back surfaced. Then, with all its might, the fish jumped and dived.
Digger too had to use all of his strength, to bring in the rest of the line. He heaved and reeled, heaved and reeled. The fish never once gave up.
When Digger lifted the heavy fish out of the water, its glistening body twisted in the cool air. “Take it off the hook, Corliss. I can’t hold it up much longer.” He dangled the fish in front of Corliss, who then unhooked it and, by its mouth, lifted it up high, as if the fish was his own trophy.
“It’s huge,” Yukiko said, standing up. “What are we going to do
with it?”
Right then Corliss thought Yukiko was crazy. “Eat it, of course. What else?”
“It’s big enough for all of us,” Digger added.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t taste like rotten eggs.” Corliss sniffed at the fish, then stared beyond Digger and Yukiko. Something had grabbed his attention, and Yukiko and Digger turned instantly to find out what it was.
Two unblinking eyes were gazing at them. Tufted eyebrows. Shifting ears. A little man, half-hidden behind the tree. His shirt stained and ragged, his floppy fisherman’s hat the color of green olives.
But it wasn’t the sight of Inari-san that shocked them. It was what he was holding in his arms—the limp, dead body of a furless creature, about the size of a monkey.
Chapter 12—Dead and Alive
As timid as a chipmunk, the little fisherman combed the area with his skittish eyes. Then he stared at the fish dangling from Corliss’s thumb.
Digger had focused on the dead animal in the man’s arms. Its smooth flesh was stained with blood, and its limbs and tail were limp and lifeless. It made Digger feel very uneasy.
This must be the fisherman, he thought. The hut on the hill was a perfect fit for someone so small. “What is your name?” Digger asked, and the fisherman uttered “yamame,” his eyes still fixed on the fish.
“Ya-ma-me?” Corliss repeated, turning to Yukiko for an explanation. “Is that the guy’s name?”
“No, that’s a yamame.” Yukiko gestured at the twisting fish.
The fisherman looked as if he was going to hide behind the tree again. Their presence was obviously troubling him. He’d probably never seen kids fishing so deep in the forest. Digger put down his fishing rod.
“Let me speak with him—he can’t speak English,” Yukiko said.
But the fisherman could speak English, although not perfectly . . . “I am Inari. Please, who are you?”
“We’ve come to talk to you.” Yukiko approached him slowly. “To ask you some questions. My name is Yukiko. And this is Digger. And Corliss.”
“You take from the river. Why? These days—not enough for me.” Inari-san seemed to have forgotten he was holding a dead animal. He came closer.
Yukiko said a few words to the fisherman in Japanese. She then bowed, and Digger thought she must have apologized for the fish. “You can have it,” he said. “We didn’t know this fish was yours. Go on, Corliss, give it to him.”
“But Digger . . .” Corliss complained. He eyeballed the man. “He can’t have every fish, right? You caught it—fair and square.”
Digger didn’t want to make Inari-san angry. “Just give it to him, Corliss. We brought our own food.”
The fish bent sideways then straightened out again. Inari-san watched it with concern. As the fisherman walked up to them, Digger saw the dead animal was a reddish brown with splotches of grey. It had four stubby legs. And its head was flat and about as wide as its body. “What is that?” Digger asked.
The fisherman’s eyes saddened. “Ō–san–shō–uo.”
Yukiko was astonished. “Is it? I’ve never seen one in real life. That’s a giant salamander. They get big in Japan, but finding one that size is almost impossible. Inari-san, where did you get it?”
“It was on a rock. By the river. Dead,” he said sadly. “The water took its life.” Inari-san then spoke to Yukiko in Japanese.
“What did he say?” Digger asked. Corliss was lowering the fish into the water so that it could breathe.
“He said that finding a dead ōsanshōuo is a bad sign. It’s bad for him, for us, for the whole woods.”
“Does he think a Kappa killed it?”
“No Kappas. No, no. Kappas do not eat ōsanshōuo. Water killed it . . . Yes, this water.” Inari-san gazed upriver. “She poisons the river because she is mad?” he asked softly.
“Huh, poisons? Who’s she?” Corliss asked, but Inari-san didn’t reply.
“I will return ōsanshōuo to the river. To its home. Water cannot hurt ōsanshōuo anymore.”
Inari-san walked between Digger and Yukiko and stood next to Corliss at the river’s bank. Kneeling down, he gently lowered the giant salamander. The water streamed around the animal’s flowing curves. When he let go, the ōsanshōuo soon sank from view.
The fisherman had no words. He peered into the river as if trying to penetrate its depths, as if searching for an answer.
“Please take the fish, Inari-san,” Digger said. “It’s yours now.”
“Mine?” Inari-san stood and turned. “Not mine.”
What did he mean? Didn’t Inari-san want the fish?
“That fish is different. It returns to the river.”
“C’mon, Dig. Tell him we’re keeping it. I didn’t walk all day to come here and lose our only fish.”
“Do you know this fish, Inari-san?” Yukiko asked. “Have you seen it before?”
He raised his hand above his head. “I have seen it jump this high. It is strong, fast, powerful . . . It is a king among fish. It survives the death that flows with this water. You must let it go.”
“We’ve got to, Corliss. This man might know something about my dad. We can’t upset him.”
“Oh, all right, then.” Corliss’s shoulders sank.
“With hope, this fish will reach safer waters far from here. If the water sickness goes away, the yamame may return, with others.”
Digger took the fish from Corliss and gradually released it into the rushing water, much in the same way that Inari-san had done with the salamander.
At first, the yamame struggled against the flow. But then, with a snap of its tailfin, it plunged into the deep.
Inari-san smiled—a crooked, teeth-bearing sort of smile—but a smile nonetheless.
“Our fish . . .” Corliss said disappointedly.
“Hai. Indeed. Our fish.” Inari-san nodded, turned, and began making his way up the hill in the direction of his hut.
“Wait, Inari-san. Can we talk to you some more?” Yukiko asked. Inari-san said nothing. “Digger, Corliss, go tell the others we found him.”
“Where are you going?” Corliss asked as he and Digger picked up their rods.
“With Inari-san. He’s not comfortable around us, so if he’s about to run off someplace, I’ll try to get him to stay. It’ll be dark soon, so tell them to hurry, okay?” And as Digger and Corliss hustled up one hill, Yukiko disappeared behind the trees of the other, following the hermit fisherman.
Chapter 13—After the Sun Sets
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, the light in the forest dimmed. From their hilltop campsite, they hurried down, then up, the narrow valley to Inari-san’s hut. At the top of the fisherman’s hill, Yukiko was waiting for them on a stump.
“Is he still here?” the professor asked straight away.
“He’s inside. I think he’s shy.” Yukiko glanced at Digger and Corliss. “Or we seriously spooked him.”
But upon hearing the voices, Inari-san warily slipped out of his tiny home. Professor Satori bowed and introduced himself. Inari-san bowed, too, then his face went blank, as if he didn’t know what to do next.
“Such a pleasant spot,” Mr. Happer remarked. “You must not be accustomed to having visitors.”
Inari-san’s eyes immediately scoured the area for more people.
“Oh, please don’t be alarmed—we’re the only ones here,” said the professor. “Inari-san, won’t you join us for dinner? We’re about to cook a meal on that hill over there.”
Inari-san lowered his chin. And Digger couldn’t tell if that meant he had accepted or declined the invitation.
The professor turned to leave. “I’ll tell you what . . . If you’re hungry, and you would like to join us, you are absolutely welcome to do so. We’ll be at our campsite. And we mean no harm, of course. None at all. Oh . . . And what are these here?” The professor pulled from his pocket a handful of colorfully wrapped candies, which he held out for Inari-san to see. “Ah, yes, a few things for dessert.” Th
e fisherman’s eyes lit up, and his abnormally long tongue nearly fell out of his mouth.
The professor waved for everyone to follow him. “We hope you do come. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Then back they went.
“That wasn’t the right time to ask about your father, Digger,” the professor said. “Inari-san isn’t comfortable with us yet. We’ll give him some time, and hope he joins us this evening.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“In that case, we’ll see him in the morning. He may be willing to talk to us after a night’s sleep.”
“That’s if he’s still there,” Corliss said.
“Well, if he has a sweet tooth, I don’t think he’ll be going far,” Mr. Happer said. “Now let’s get dinner ready before the day’s last light leaves us.”
The blue sky had become smoky grey-pink streaks.
Corliss, at Digger’s side, was shaking his head. “So—this weird woodsman takes our big fish. And now we’ve invited him to eat our dinner? I don’t get it.”
Digger was worried Inari-san wouldn’t come at all. “If he really did see Kappas—or my dad—he might be the only person who can help us.”
“Huh? Help us what? Even if he saw something, it won’t help us find your dad now, right? That was three whole years ago.”
Digger reminded himself, again, not to get his hopes up.
“Anyway, Digger, you’re probably afraid of Kappas—like everything else.”
Yukiko came up from behind. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped. “You’re not supposed to talk to your cousin like that.”
Corliss was silent. Digger too. Both realized the trip was shaping up to be a wild goose chase. Whatever animals had lived in these lifeless woods were likely gone, or dead. Not even a mosquito was on the prowl.
“Look, guys,” Corliss said. “All I’m saying is that nothing really changes if a crazy fisherman tells us he’s seen Kappas. Right? They’re just a made-up story.”
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