Actual concentration on her work was nearly impossible, but Tsukiko made an effort to look like she was concentrating. Mother had been working alongside her since dawn and already the heat was so unbearable, they were both covered in a glowing sheen of moisture. Their cotton yukata were more like gloves than robes, clinging to their skin persistently. Halfway through the morning, Tsukiko became distracted by her mother’s coughing. It had worsened further in the night and had persisted throughout their work. Again she hoped it wasn’t something serious. Perhaps the dust from cleaning out the storage room a few days ago had caused the malady.

Well before lunch, though, it had grown into a rasping convulsion that had Tsukiko so frightened that she went and escorted her mother to the bench that Granny often sat on to sort vegetables. Mother waved her off insisting she was fine, but Tsukiko confessed that she had heard her coughing all night.

“It sometimes comes upon me suddenly when the magnolias are blooming,” Mother said, trying to suppress another spell.

“Mother…” Tsukiko frowned. All thoughts about their impending conversation evaporated.

“I’m fine, Tsuki’chan,” Mother promised, patting her daughter’s cheek.

But Mother was not fine. Tsukiko could detect differences in her mother’s scent. She didn’t even spend time thinking about how strange that was. The plain fact was that it had changed. It smelled strongly of wrongness. She was startled when her mother reached down and took both of her hands in a loving, soft grip.

“Tsukiko, there is something I need to talk to you about,” her speech was interrupted by a series of coughs.

“Yes?” Tsukiko’s heart pounded.

“It’s about your father—” Mother covered her mouth, but Tsukiko knew the smell of blood—even if she had not had an increase in sensitivity. Blood had always held the same faint, metallic odor.

“I’m getting Granny,” Tsukiko announced, standing up and making to leave.

“No, I… we need to talk about this, Tsuki’chan.”

“It can wait.”

Tsukiko ran into the house and called for Granny who was cleaning out the hearth. When the two of them returned to the bench in the garden, Mother’s head rested in her worn hands.

Granny immediately placed a matronly, withered hand on her daughter’s forehead and grimaced. “You’re as hot as a kiln furnace, Eri.”

“I just need to rest a little. I’m sure it’s nothing; some sleep and a kettle of hot tea will do the trick,” Mother mumbled, hazily. “Just my allergies.”

Tsukiko helped her mother back into the house. Within minutes, she and Granny had lain out Mother’s mat and had her resting in her room. The kettle was hung over the hearth and tea was brought. By lunchtime, the cough was easier, but her fever was worse. Her eyes held a glazed quality that frightened both Granny and Tsukiko.

“She needs strong medicine, Tsuki’chan.”

“Do you know what she has, Granny?”

“I’m not sure, but I heard that Kimura’s daughter came down with similar symptoms the other morning, all of a sudden just like with Eri here.” Granny’s face took on an expression of anxiety. “That little girl isn’t doing well, either. Truth be told, I don’t feel that well.”

Tsukiko frowned. Standing, she crossed the house to the storage room and dug out their small medicine chest. Inside, a thin veneer of dust covered the glass bottles. Tsukiko had no idea which bottles were the important ones, so she brought the box over to Granny.

Granny nodded her thanks and looked inside. “I haven’t been keeping this stocked like I should have,” she sighed. “We’re all out of Heaven’s Flower.”

Tsukiko vaguely remembered Granny using the herb in the past when she caught a terrible flu.

“The nearest healer is over is two villages away, but Heaven’s Flower grows nearer than that. It’s up on the mountain to the north of us. I should have restocked after using it last time, but it’s a long journey and I didn’t think we’d need it. You’ll have to go upthere to get it, Tsukiko. When you return, we can make tea with it.”

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“What does it look like?” Tsukiko couldn’t remember, it was so long ago.

“It has a tall stem and small blue flowers shaped like miniature fans. No other plant around it will look like that. Go ahead and leave now. I’ll watch over Eri, I still feel well enough for that. Pack only what you need and please be careful, Tsukiko. I believe I can lower the fever, but we must break this cough or she’ll only worsen,” Granny informed her.

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” Tsukiko squeezed her hand.

Granny’s face grew very serious as she looked at her daughter and this made Tsukiko nervous.

Without any further talk, Tsukiko fled the house. She didn’t even bother to pack anything. She had not slept in days and there was no way she would sleep while her mother was that ill. There was no need for food either. Her appetite had steadily waned as the year had worn on. It would be easy to go without food or sleep for two days. Within minutes, she had entered the forest. The trees blurred in her peripheral vision as she sped toward the high mountain that loomed over their village. Even though it appeared to be close, it was so large that it would take hours to get near its base and hours more to reach higher altitudes.

Sprinting with tireless determination, she spent her time thinking about her mother and grandmother. She was so different from them both. Mother and Granny were like two sides of the same coin: warm, gentle, kind, able to talk so easily and present themselves to others in a friendly way. Tsukiko was the opposite: quiet and cautious; detached. There was a cold and unapproachable wall to her personality that was regrettable. It was not her intention to be that way, but it came naturally to her just as her mother’s and grandmother’s warmth came so naturally to them. Not for the first time, she wondered if she took after the father she had never met.

Her introspection kept her apprehension at bay, but an intense anxiety hovered about the edges of her mind in a way that confused Tsukiko. Her mother and grandmother had both been sick many times and had always gotten better. Never had she worried. This time felt different somehow. They had grown sick so suddenly and Mother had worsened to a terrible degree. Perhaps it was Granny’s obvious concern over the situation. Perhaps it was because her Mother’s scent had so drastically changed. Tsukiko wasn’t sure. She kept running, astonished at her own speed. No effort was required on her part to dash through the trees. Branches, leaves, and underbrush flew past in a colorful mirage of green, brown, and gray. A frown painted itself on her lips. The pace was too fast.

As she reached the base of the mountain and picked her way through the rocks and paths towards the higher peaks, her mind returned to thoughts of her elusive father. She wondered where he was, why he had left her mother years ago, why they had never met. Not once had her mother or grandmother told her his name, and yet Tsukiko knew it was impossible that he did not exist. It would have been easier if they had just told her he was dead—even if it was not the truth. At least that way, there wouldn’t have been the yawning chasm of uncertainty that stood between her and knowledge of him.

The three suns reclined high in the sky when Tsukiko stepped onto a grassy terrace several thousand feet below the summit. She saw no blue-fanned flowers here and had seen none on her way up. Granny had told her to look near the top, but surely she couldn’t have meant the actual summit. Tsukiko’s heart plummeted and sweat broke out on her forehead. If she could not find the Heaven's Flower, she was afraid to think of the consequences. For an hour, she scoured every inch of the plateau for the blooms, thinking that perhaps they grew below the tall grasses. Nothing.

She moved on—searching areas further up the slopes to no avail. Unwelcome tears interfered with her sight and she sank to her knees on the fourth area she had searched. The suns were getting low over the ocean to her back and panic set in anew. Please help me, she whispered to any god that might be listening.

Knowing it wouldn’t help her task to go to pieces, she stilled her nerves and breathed deeply. As she breathed, she took in many scents—those that she was familiar with and many that were new to her. Her trepidation was momentarily forgotten when she discerned an odd odor.

It smelled like a dog sort of— there were many of them in the village and she was familiar with all of their scents— but this one was slightly variant; wilder and old. She sniffed again. An underlying fragrance peppered the overall lupine odor and she found it difficult to form connections with it… the breeze in springtime

Opening her eyes, she scanned the tree line near the slope and saw a gray wolf sitting on his hind legs, staring at her. He was huge—almost bear-sized—and intimidating. The beast cocked its head and flicked its enormous tail up and down. Tsukiko shuddered just looking at him. He rose onto his legs and stole towards her through the swaying grasses. Tsukiko’s rational mind told her to run, but she didn’t. For some reason, his frightening presence soothed her even as every muscle grew alert and taught; alive.

The wolf stopped his advance when he neared Tsukiko’s body. She was kneeling and his head came level with hers. His eyes were the strangest green color—like the waters of the creek that meandered through the forest behind her family’s house. Black fur rimmed his striking eyes, making them even more brilliant. He stared at her as though he wanted to tell her something. They simply regarded one another for several minutes until he finally turned his head and crept away toward the trees. Something within Tsukiko told her to follow him. She was too desperate to find the flowers to be embarrassed by her inclination, so she sprang up and trailed after the wolf.