Shoba POV

Shoba concluded without a shadow of a doubt that after living in his Mother's country of birth for most of his adolescent life, the summers here were almost ten times better than those in Europe.

The festive season felt like a grand celebration, from the olive grove streets and the winding roads cutting through emerald sparse green meadows framed beneath liquid gold, but also because it marked the beginning of a joyous festive period. And festivals were always a fun occasion.

They tended to remind Shoba of this lovely island's vibrancy and rich culture. Although they lived 20 minutes from the city, small rural towns like this tended to spurn bursts of creative warmth within his young heart. The lively green village was filled with countless folk adorned in fancy wear, costumes, and colourful dresses.

Shoba scanned his surroundings. His statue-like eyes gleamed beneath the sunlight, golden brown with flakes of curious amber dancing around the iris. They were filled with a whimsical glare as he imprinted everything into his mind. Towards the westward way, the streets were alive, with people wearing colourful masks and performing ceremonial dances in preparation for the festival. Beneath the meadowy hills, he saw little children filling between the groves and chasing butterflies or stray white-tailed foxes.

All in all, the air was lovely to Shoba. He heard the playful chimes of toiling bells rung by elders in crimson and orange kimonos. Stray dogs sought refuge from the intense heat by seeking the shadows cast by the giant-sized floats passing along the streets. Locals would stop beside these estranged pups and gently feed them.

Shoba loved this lovely island. And couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be.

Today, he was dressed in light attire—brightly washed shorts, a clean, freshly washed salmon-coloured shirt, and comfortable sandals. The sounds of his bike wheels squealed along as he rode it through the bustling streets with a cheerful demeanour.

Having been born and raised in Europe, Shoba easily stood out among the locals. His father, a property developer of African descent, and his Mother, an Osaka native and neuroscientist, had relocated to this island when Shoba was just ten. His younger sister was born when he was just four years old, so her life was spent on this vibrant island.

Shoba had grown to love this island for its dynamic energy and unmatched culinary delights. On this particular day, he made a deliberate detour through Mount Takao, eager to witness the breathtaking spectacle of the Sakura blossoms in full bloom.

The beautiful pink petals shone brilliantly under the sun's gaze; the wind carried loose sakura petals around the air and framed the scenery in a majestic canvas fitting for such a magical place. Shoba's attention shifted from the towering oaks covered in pink bushes to the vendors aligned along the winding, thin road. A childishly broad smile appeared across his features. He noticed her from afar, his favourite street vendor tending to her stall, a woman he knew very well as Old Lady Ma.

And her expertise just so happened to be one of his favourite delicacies—freshly made Dango.

Bringing his bike to a gentle skid near her stall, Shoba greeted her with a broad smile. His white teeth gleamed beneath the sunlight. He didn't have much money, so he hoped his boyish charm would earn him something delicious. He warmly addressed the elderly vendor, a loving and familiar figure he had passed by and interacted with many times.

"Good morning, Ma-San", He sang in his rehearsed pleasant voice.

The old lady finally realized who the young brown-faced boy was. Her previously still eyes were instantly warmed, and she saw his broad smile spread warmly.

"Shoba, you're late! Come, come, my dango won't eat itself. How are your parents, and how's sweet little Ringo doing?"

Shoba unhesitatingly accepted the four skewers with seasonal pink, white, and green balls of goodness. He devoured the delicacies, relishing the burst of sweet flavours in his mouth. He felt his body almost ascending into a glorious state of happiness, resembling someone intoxicated with delight.

"Mmm-hmm... all good. Ringo's not so little anymore, by the way, but it's all good the same... GULP These are incredible, Ma got any more?" He grumbled with two round cheeks filled with doughballs like a chipmunk

Old Lady Ma chuckled at his enthusiasm and offered him more laded neatly against her heated silver steam bowl.

Shoba caught the older woman staring dreamily. "Ho-ho, you remind me of my son," she remarked, gazing lovingly into his youthful, bright eyes. Shoba was unable to stay still for a single moment; his attention was constantly tugging at the bustling atmosphere around him.

"When he was young, he too couldn't get enough dango. You have the same energetic spirit as him," Old Ma reminisced.

While the frail, short older woman was lost in her memories, Shoba, still enjoying the sweets, noticed a large gathering nearby across the field.

"What's that about?" he inquired, looking over towards the formation of monks gently walking through the street.

"Hm? Oh, they're preparing for the Yule festivities. We'll be seeing the azure and crimson dragons again this year."

"Two dragons?" Shoba asked, puzzled.

Old Lady Ma nodded, her mouth forming a distant smile. Shoba didn't miss it; her gaze was strange and complicated as she watched the monks.

"Once every hundred or so years, the people celebrate the birth of the twin dragons, destined to spend an eternity in each other's embrace while providing us with abundant, bountiful riches and peace for the next hundred years."

Shoba found the tale a bit cliché for his taste, but he enjoyed watching the floats' construction of his third dango. Suddenly he felt his phone vibrating against his thigh. Pulling it out, he saw "Mom" on the caller ID, but the call ended before he could answer.

An expected text soon followed:

'Hey Shoba, don't forget we're having a family dinner today before the festival. Try not to detour before coming home...oh! And thank Grandma Ma for the dango,

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I'll be paying her back tomorrow :)..'

Shoba grinned crookedly,

'When did I become so predictable?' he thought wryly to himself

Remembering the family dinner, he quickly realized he needed to leave.

"Ahh, Ma-san, I've got to—"

"Head home? ho-ho-That's quite alright." She half-cackled and laughed

"Oh, tell your father to stop hiding money in my wicker baskets! Feeding his children isn't that difficult. Tsk, I don't need the money," the old lady added with a faux anger.

"Children?" Shoba was a little confused hearing that. Old Lady Ma chuckled to herself before she answered.

"Oh, right. Did you think you were the only one who enjoyed my dango so much? (Chuckles) Ringo may seem serious and shy on the outside, but her appetite almost rivals yours, Shoba."

He shivered, picturing Ringo stuffing her face with his favourite sweet. Shoba creased a tight-lipped smile and nodded in response.

'Shy? More like cold-hearted,' he thought inwardly. He found it amusing that somehow everyone else who knew Ringo saw her as a quiet and sweet little girl. However, he remembered those cold, almost forever indifferent eyes plastered against his exceptionally talented sister's face.

He couldn't imagine her with a mouthful of dough balls, but once he did picture her, the floodgates opened, and his childish laughter broke free from his lips.

Knowing his family was doting on him right now. He didn't waste any more time and quickly said his goodbyes.

Strangely enough, Shoba caught the older woman staring at him with a profoundly saddened look for some weird reason.

"Hm? What's the matter, Old Ma?

Shoba stood still, visibly disturbed by the face Old Ma was making right now. He reached out his hand and wrapped his arm around her frail back, tucking her delicate body warmly and securely in his hold. He tapped his lips against her forehead and smiled.

"I'll pay you another visit tomorrow, Ma. Don't you worry?"

He raised his thumb and gave her a wink for good measure; his handsome, youthful face beamed with delight. Soon enough, Shoba was mounted on his bike again, spearheading down the winding road while the wind brushed past his frame. In these moments, he was as happy as could be.

As he rode away, he failed to notice the older woman's lingering gaze, which never trailed away from his back until he vanished from the street.

Unbeknownst to him, a mysterious glint remained concealed within her Old gaze

"Be strong...Shoba," she said softly beneath her breath. Tucked within the safe confinements of Old Ma's loose sleeves, she pulled free a weathered, palm-sized badge engraved with strange letterings and characters, almost like an RPG sheet. Her gaze filled with a complex wonder. She stared at the badge for some moments in silence, then took a deep breath and quietly walked away.

***

Shoba arrived at his familiar neighbourhood; he slightly raised his chin, gazing towards the azure skies where the sun hung at its peak this late afternoon. The homes and apartment complexes aligned majestically beneath the rays of golden light, bathing their cream and limestone exteriors

Once he entered his home, the light echo of his footsteps on the hardwood floor brought him back to the present.

"Oops, forgot to take off my shoes," he mumbled, realizing his oversight.

Halfway along the corridor, Shoba caught the scent of a delicious aroma filling his nostrils. In time, spurning his stomach to yearn in response with a soft growl licking his lips, he continued towards the dining area at the far end of the corridor. The medium-sized room was filled with bookcases and a large square table with a glass finish surrounded by five mahogany chairs.

At the head of the table sat his father, Mr Thomas, an aged man with a salt-and-pepper goatee and thin-rimmed circular glasses. Despite his middle age, his Dad looked relatively youthful, with a sharp chin and a deep-set jawline.

His deep almond hazelnut eyes briefly shifted from the paper he was perusing to greet Shoba with a warm smile he had never seen before.

"My son has returned," he announced proudly with a hearty laugh. His Dad always laughed, even when Shoba could remember getting in trouble. His laughter was never too far behind his stern telling off. It was his Mom who was the scary one out of the two.

Speaking of who, once he looked across the table. He beheld a gracefully ageing beauty, her raven-coloured hair tumbling past her shoulders. Her intriguing brown eyes shone upon an olive-skinned face, and she smiled cheerfully at him. Shoba creased a warm smile in return, and her delicately poised, veal-colored lips parted, and her soft-spoken voice graced his ears.

"You're just about on time, Shoba. Come, sit down. Ringo is just washing her hands in the bathroom. Oh! and how was your day?" His Mom asked him with an affectionate slight smile.

Shoba sat between his two parents, noticing his Mother's tender gaze and his father's slightly playful one lingering upon him

Patiently seated, Shoba scanned the various trays of food on the table, licking his lips whilst his finger danced rhythmically between the trays, strategizing how to enjoy as much of the delicious food as possible. He was by far too engrossed in his culinary calculations, so he didn't notice when the door to the side of him finally opened. The sound of it breaking the room's calmness caused Mr Thomas to look up briefly from his papers, his brows lifting slightly before resettling into peaceful lines.

Shoba had heard her before he saw her. His little sister had appeared. Ringo.

Ringo, a foot shorter than he was, possessed smooth red sand-like skin and a full head of curly black and light brown hair styled into afro puffs. She had blonde highlights and a nose ring. Her large eyes were cute, but her cold demeanour often quickly fractured that adorable image. She moved swiftly to the seat opposite her brother, dressed in high knee socks, dungarees, and a light white top, a small golden necklace with a striking blue gem of a tiny goddess in the pendant adorning her tall neck. If he remembered correctly, it was a gift to her from their Grandmother.

'And God rest her soul.' Shoba thought, remembering the frail old woman

Shoba awkwardly smiled and scratched his head as their eyes met. His own gaze shuffled around awkwardly; Ringo didn't blink and beheld him with a cold, expressionless mask.

'Jheese, talk about a murderous scowl, ' he said to himself, trying to think of anything to deter him from this awkward situation. Thankfully, his Mom was at hand to take the reins away.

"Ringo, what took you so long?" their Mother asked.

"Ah?" She sounded a little nervous whilst trying to find the right way to gather herself.

"Never mind, the food's almost cold now. Come on, let's say thanks before we eat.

Dear, isn't that enough light reading for now?

And Shoba, take your elbows off the table." Shoba wondered how long it would take her before she put on her sergeant cap. A family dinner wasn't a family dinner without his Mom organizing them all into semi-well-groomed fellows who would do well to respect the cultural dining etiquette.

She led them through a short version of their usual grace, and finally, they all tucked into dinner.

'Ah, it's great to be home', Shoba thought, after a long morning of parkour and judo training. A lovely, warm meal was just what he needed.

The family enjoyed a sumptuous three-course dinner featuring assorted meats and fish, vegetables, rice, peeled pork, and beef. The second course brought sweets and cakes, fruits, and a choice of tea or something more substantial, with bowls of sake reserved for his parents. Time passed pleasantly, and as evening arrived, dinner concluded.

Ringo patted her stomach approvingly and shot her brother a curious scowl.

"I heard you don't plan on taking the top Eastern prefecture's scientific exams. Hmm, could it be Big Brother is scared of showing everyone he's too weak?"

'Ah, here it comes.' Shoba could sense she was getting ready to begin her usual prodding and scrutinizing.

Her smile suggested she was joking around, but her cold, indifferent eyes told Shoba otherwise. After he finished savouring the sweet-tasting mouthful of sweet beef, he picked up the handkerchief and carefully dabbed the corners of his mouth. Purposefully taking his time to answer. Deep down, he knew very well the turn this seamlessly harmless interaction was about to take.