~~ • ~~

Breakfast was over. The coffee was gone.

Now, it was time to work.

The kitchen had grown quiet. Mother was washing dishes in the back. My younger

siblings had gone off somewhere.

The only ones left were me, Father, and Yuna.

Father sat relaxed near his low table. A cigarette tucked between his fingers.

Thin smoke rising slowly.

_

"Which part is leaking?" I asked, rolling up my sleeves.

Father looked up slowly.

He raised a hand.

"Over there."

I followed the direction of his finger.

The wooden kitchen ceiling looked old. Some parts had grown dull from years of

smoke from the stove.

Yuna looked up beside me.

"Which one?" I squinted. "I don’t see it yet."

"See that slightly darker wooden beam?" Father said casually.

I looked more closely.

Among the wooden supports, there was one section that was blacker and slightly

rotted.

Right above it...

"Oh."

I finally saw it.

A small crack in a roof tile. Thin.

Sunlight was entering through the narrow gap.

"Yeah, I see it."

Father lowered his hand.

Yuna was still staring up.

"Which one, Papa...?"

She took a step forward.

Moving her head to the right. Then to the left.

She couldn’t find it.

I raised my hand, pointing.

"Follow my finger."

Yuna followed the direction of my hand.

Still confused.

"I still can’t see it."

"Never mind, then."

_

I started to turn around.

My hand was immediately tugged.

"Come on, Papa..." Yuna drew out her words. "I want to see..."

"Haa..."

I stepped back closer.

Grabbed her waist with both hands.

Then lifted her small body up high.

"Can you see it now?"

Yuna squinted, looking more seriously.

Still nothing.

I lifted her even higher.

Her head was now higher than mine.

"Now?"

"Mmm..."

Her eyes darted around.

Then stopped.

_

"OOOH!" Her face instantly brightened. "I see it!" "That cracked one, right,

Pa!"

"Yeah."

I lowered her slowly.

Her feet touched the floor again.

"Are you nearsighted or just not paying attention?"

"I’m not nearsighted!" she argued quickly. "I just couldn’t see it earlier."

"Yeah, yeah..."

I walked out of the kitchen.

Yuna followed behind me, continuously looking up at the ceiling as if every

crack in the world had suddenly become interesting to her.

_

We reached the family room.

Father was already standing there, waiting.

"What took you so long?" he said flatly.

"Nothing."

Father raised his hand again, pointing at the ceiling.

"See that one?"

I looked up again.

Between the roof tiles, a thin line of light slanted down to the floor.

A small crack.

Around the edges, there were stains from dried rainwater.

"Yeah."

_

Beside me, Yuna was also staring up.

This time, she found it much faster.

"Ooo..."

She nodded slightly to herself.

"That one is leaking too, huh..."

"Yeah."

Father’s hand shifted again.

"And over there."

I stepped forward a little.

On the side near the wall, one of the roof tiles looked slightly shifted. Not

perfectly sealed.

There was a thin gap.

"Yeah, I see it."

Father started walking again.

"And there’s one in your room, too."

I followed behind him.

Yuna tugged on the hem of my shirt again.

I turned.

"What."

"Why are all the roof tiles leaking?"

"Ask Grandpa."

Yuna immediately turned to look at Father.

Father stopped walking for a moment.

"Maybe it’s just time to replace them."

Then he added, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Part of it is also because of the kids."

"Huh?" Yuna looked confused.

"Paper planes getting stuck on the roof," I explained as we walked. "Then trying

to get them down with a stick."

"Pushing too hard," I continued. "And ending up shifting the tiles."

"Ooo..." Yuna looked like she half-understood.

_

We arrived at my old room.

The room was exactly the same as last night.

Empty. Quiet. Slightly cold.

Sunlight fell at a slant onto the wooden floor.

I stopped.

"Hm..."

A small reflection of light was visible on the floor.

I looked up.

"Ooh..."

There was a tiny hole. Truly tiny.

A speck of light was coming in right from there.

_

Yuna stepped closer. Looking.

"If it rains hard..." she said quietly. "Everything will get wet."

"Yeah."

"I feel bad..."

I glanced at Yuna for a moment.

"Feel bad for who?"

"Grandpa... Grandma..." "Their house getting flooded because the roof is

leaking."

A brief silence.

Father was standing in the doorway.

"That’s why," he said casually. "I told Itsuki to fix it."

__

Father started walking again.

I followed behind him.

And like a tiny shadow refusing to be left behind, Yuna followed behind me.

We went outside and walked around to the side of the house.

Finally, we reached the garage.

Or rather—a garage that doubled as a shed.

The wide wooden doors were pulled open.

The air inside was slightly damp. The smell of iron. Dust. Old wood. And oil,

all mixed into one.

_

An Avanza was parked inside.

It was silver.

Not new. But it didn’t look old, either.

A thin layer of dust coated its side.

Father walked straight to the corner of the room.

There.

A pile of tools practically covered the wall.

Wrenches. Spanners. A car jack. A drill. Saws. Hammers. Hoes. Hoses.

Screwdrivers. Cables. There were even a few sacks of fertilizer leaning against

the wall.

_

I stepped forward. Crouched down.

My hands started moving some of the tools aside.

Clink. Clang.

The sound of metal striking metal.

Thin dust rose into the air.

My hands were getting a little dirty.

I found a hammer.

Then a box of nails.

Medium size. About an inch long.

_

On the other side—

Yuna was standing next to the car.

Quiet.

She raised her index finger.

The tip of her fingernail touched the dust on the car’s body.

Then, she started moving it.

The first line.

Curved.

Two small bumps.

Mountains.

Then a long, straight line underneath.

A road.

Her hand moved up again.

Drawing a circle. It looked a bit oval.

The sun.

Yuna took a small step back. Admiring her own drawing.

_

Clang. She turned her head quickly.

I was still digging through the tools.

"Here," Father’s voice spoke up.

I looked over.

In his hand was a short rope with iron hooks at both ends.

I understood immediately.

A safety line.

I gave a small nod.

I took the rope. And gave it a quick check.

Still sturdy.

"There are so many tools..." Yuna muttered, looking at the pile.

"Yeah."

"Can Papa use all of them?"

"Grandpa can."

"What about Papa?"

"Some of them."

We stepped out of the garage.

The morning sun was climbing higher.

The village air was still cool. But the sunlight was starting to feel warm on

the skin.

"Dad," I turned to him. "Where’s the ladder?"

"Beside the house."

_

Father led the way again.

We followed him.

Until we reached the side of the house.

There was a large blue tarp covering something.

Father grabbed the edge.

And lifted it.

Whoosh.

Thin dust scattered into the air.

Beneath it lay a stack of wooden beams, neatly arranged.

Long. Dry. Cut to almost identical sizes.

Below the wood were long bamboo poles.

And on top of it all—

A bamboo ladder.

"Ooh..." I looked at the pile of wood. "Where did you get all this?"

"From our land," Father answered casually. "I chopped them down last year."

He patted one of the wooden beams.

"Turned them into these."

"Hm..." I observed the texture of the wood. "What are you going to build?"

"Don’t know yet."

"But it’s good enough to build a house with," Father explained. "Or to sell."

"Hm..."

Beside me, Yuna watched everything in silence.

Her eyes studied the wood. The bamboo. The ladder.

As if stepping into a brand-new world she had never seen before.

_

I looked up.

Staring at the roof. Briefly.

I stepped forward. Bent down.

My hands grabbed the bamboo ladder.

It was long.

Pretty heavy.

Just as I started to lift it—

Yuna was standing right in front of me.

Unwittingly blocking the way.

"Yuna," I said flatly. "Move."

Yuna immediately stepped to the side without asking.

I turned my body slowly.

Carefully.

Making sure the end of the ladder didn’t hit the wall. Didn’t catch on any

cables. Or hit anyone’s head.

_

I walked, carrying the ladder.

The old bamboo creaked softly against my shoulder.

Stopped.

I carefully leaned the top end against the very edge of the roof.

Creak.

The ladder wobbled slightly.

Too steep.

I pulled the bottom part back a little.

Shifting its legs onto flatter ground.

Now it was more stable.

_

"Is Papa going up?" Yuna asked.

"Yeah."

My foot stepped onto the first rung.

The old bamboo made a soft noise.

"Be careful..." Yuna’s voice sounded smaller than usual.

I didn’t look back.

I took one last, long drag of my cigarette.

Smoke exhaled slowly from my nose.

Then I tossed the butt to the ground.

My hands checked my gear one more time.

Nails in my pocket.

Hammer tucked into my waistband.

Safety line in my hand.

_

I started climbing.

Creak...

The bamboo ladder let out a soft groan beneath my weight.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

My hands gripped the bamboo rails tightly.

Down below, Father stepped up to the ladder.

He grabbed both sides to steady it.

Yuna watched him.

Then, without saying a word, she stepped closer and held onto it too.

Her small hands pressed against the bamboo.

Looking utterly serious.

Father glanced at her for a moment.

Then, he reached out.

And gently patted Yuna’s head.

Yuna briefly closed her eyes.

The corners of her lips turning up in a tiny smile.

_