Praise for
The Village Beyond the Mist

“Kashiwaba’s novel is indeed transporting. . . . Pick up this book and be spirited away.”

Gregory Maguire, the New York Times

“Teetering on the edge of absurdity, the tale reads like a parable, simultaneously simple and profound, infused with a timeless message about the importance of community.”

Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review

“Filled with whimsy, wonder, and wisdom, Lina’s journey will have all of us looking for magical villages just a step away.”

Wendy Mass, Author of The Candymakers

“Ten minutes after closing the book, I was already wishing to return to the delightful Absurd Avenue in Misty Valley. This is a small, bright gem of a tale about bravery, kindness, care, and community, and wonder after wonder, in the very kind of magical town I adore. May we all, like Lina, be ready to follow when magic beckons, and take a chance on adventure. (Even—especially?—when we have to earn it!)”

Kate Milford, Author of Greenglass House

“The mist of enchantment hangs in the air on every page as Lina discovers Absurd Avenue’s many wonders. A true celebration of the magic to be found in community.”

Kate Albus, Author of A Place to Hang the Moon

“A delightful, cozy, and whimsical story of meeting new people, enjoying the simple things in life, and showing kindness. Its otherworldly liminal space, odd inhabitants, and curious magic shows why this book inspired the film Spirited Away.”

Youth Services Book Review

“Kashiwaba’s beloved novel, seamlessly translated from Japanese to English by Udagawa and complemented by Satake’s intricate illustrations, invites young readers into a world filled with delightful whimsy, profound moments of self-discovery, and gentle reminders of the power of community.”

The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books

“A delightful, multigenerational fantasy.”

Nanette Mcguinness, Global Literature in Libraries Initiative

“A truly delightful middle grade novel that reminded me, in the best possible way, of how I would get lost in the magic of Narnia as a kid. A pure wonderous delight!”

Caleb Masters, Bookmarks

“A lovely book about making your way in a very strange place and the unexpected friendships and inner strength that are gained.”

Suzanne Morgan, Politics and Prose

“You can feel the whimsical energy that inspired Miyazaki’s Spirited Away, but this short fable is a masterpiece on its own.”

Ashlee Null, Vroman’s Bookstore

“A charming and achingly nostalgic story—like stepping back into a (decidedly quirky) summer vacation . . . This one would be a great read-aloud!”

Abby Nissen, Brookline Booksmith

“The type of whimsical story that you read as a child, remember as an adult, and find yourself frantically searching for again. Perfect for fans of Diana Wynne Jones, Eva Ibbotson, and Patricia C. Wrede.”

Katherine Nazzaro, Porter Square Books

“Images from this book will stick with readers over their lives like a misty memory.”

Robin Stern, Books Inc.

Also by Sachiko Kashiwaba in English

The House of the Lost on the Cape

Temple Alley Summer

Contents

1 · Lina Finds Misty Valley

2 · Boarding at Picotto Hall

3 · Lina Goes to Work

4 · Thomas and Dummy’s Store

5 · Lina Helps Make Magic

6 · Dealing with a Prince

7 · The Boy Who Would Not Remove His Mask

8 · Parting Gifts

The Village Beyond the Mist

‌1

Lina Finds Misty Valley

“Excuse me, how can I get to Misty Valley?” Lina called to a woman passing by.

Lina had been waiting at the empty train station for what felt like hours, but no one had come to meet her. Everything she could see, from the station building behind her to the weeds that lined the unpaved road out front, was thick with dust.

The woman, who wore a faded dress and traditional geta on her feet, cocked her head. “Misty Valley? Hmm. Can’t say I’ve heard of it. What you see is what you get with this town: it goes in a straight line from the station.”

Lina wanted to cry. The train station had only a single platform with two wooden benches on it. In the town, a lone car and two or three people moved about slowly, but the only thing really making headway was the sun. Before she could stop them, tears squeezed from Lina’s eyes.

Surprised, the woman put an arm around Lina’s shoulders and led her to the neighboring police station.

“Hello, Officer?” she yelled through the door. “This child seems lost.”

A police officer stepped outside flapping a round paper fan at his face, his collar open in the heat. “A lost child? Well, doesn’t that beat all!” He peered at Lina, who clutched a red bag and an umbrella. “This one could be a runaway,” he observed.

Lina raised her head and looked right at him. “I am not running away. Or lost,” she said.

But the bleary-eyed officer only motioned as if to calm her before beckoning both her and the woman inside the station.

Seating himself at a desk, the officer asked, “What’s your name, Miss?”

“Lina Uesugi,” she said curtly.

“And how do you write ‘Lina’?”

“Katakana.”

“Oh, a newfangled name—isn’t that fancy!”

Lina said nothing.

“What grade are you in at school?”

“Sixth.”

“Where did you travel from?”

“Shizuoka.”

“From Shizuoka, all by yourself?” the woman asked in surprise.

Lina took some pride in this. It was her first trip on her own—and she had changed trains twice, at Tokyo and Sendai, before disembarking exactly where her father had instructed.

When he had seen her off on the night train, he said, “I’ll call ahead, so when you get there, you’ll be set.” It was the train changes that he’d seemed most worried about, repeating them to her several times.

So Lina had been certain that someone would meet her when she arrived. But no one had come. At first she’d felt frightened and overwhelmed, but now, having been mistaken for lost, she was plain angry.

The police officer opened a logbook and painstakingly wrote down all that she had said.

“I am really not lost or running away,” she insisted. “I only need directions!”

The woman smiled at her. “Just humor him a minute, honey. He doesn’t have a thing to do but patrol this little town with its buildings all in a line!”

The officer paused his writing. “Let’s see. We had a fight at the festival on May second. That was three months ago. This is the first time I’ve had something to write in the log since then, other than ‘Nothing amiss’! I suppose ‘Nothing amiss’ is best, but still.” He scratched his head. “Now, where are you going?”

Finally, they were making progress. “I want to go to Misty Valley,” Lina replied.

The officer tilted his head as if puzzled. Then, noticing the anxious look on Lina’s face, he said kindly, “Let me look it up for you.” He pulled out an enormous directory covered in dust. “It’s been an awful long time since someone asked for directions,” he explained, wiping the book clean.

He turned the pages for a while and then stopped on one.

“Seems you’re looking for Silver Mountain Village.”

“What’s that you say?” The woman looked at the officer, and then both of them looked back at Lina with odd expressions.

Lina grew worried again. “Is something … wrong with that village?” she asked.

“Not ‘wrong,’” the officer said uncertainly. “There was a silver mine in those parts, but they closed it almost thirty years ago, and folks moved away from the village one and two at a time, or so I hear. I wonder how many people still live there? It’s outside my jurisdiction …”

“Honey, are you really going to Silver Mountain Village?” the woman asked.

Lina knew nothing about a Silver Mountain Village. Her father had said he knew someone in Misty Valley, and from his tone, she assumed that once she got here, she would have no trouble finding it. Well, if Silver Mountain Village was all there was in Misty Valley, then that must be the place.

“I’m not sure, but that’s probably it,” Lina answered. “My father knows someone there, and I’m going to stay for summer vacation.” Her voice grew smaller and smaller.

“Hmm,” the officer and the woman intoned together.

“But maybe I should head back home,” Lina went on. “My father’s friend might not be there anymore.”

“Even if you want to go back, there’s no train until evening,” the police officer pointed out. “It’s still before noon. How about if you go to Silver Mountain Village and just see? We don’t know for sure that your father’s acquaintance is gone.”

Lina realized the officer was right. Her father was always busy and never troubled himself about where Lina spent vacation, but for some reason, this year he had urged her to go to Misty Valley instead of her grandma’s in Nagano, where she normally spent summers. He’d said, “Visiting someplace different now and then is a good thing.”

And now that she had come all the way here, it seemed silly to turn right back around. She could just go take a look.

“Okay,” she said crisply. “I’ll go see.”

“Well then, I’ll draw you a map. But it’s a mountain trail, mind you, and there aren’t really any landmarks …” The police officer muttered to himself as he examined the ancient directory and drew with effort.

At last, he handed a sheet of paper to Lina.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to give directions. It’s a shame I can’t do a better job,” he said.

The woman peered at the map and exclaimed, “That’s in the middle of the mountains! True, there was a road long ago … but you could end up going nowhere and coming right back here! I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“Is it a long way into the mountains?” Lina asked, a little concerned.

“That depends,” the officer said. “See, you take the road by the Shinto shrine on the outskirts of town, and you climb on from there. In this heat, it’s a job just getting to the shrine.”

“Then I’ll take a bus partway,” Lina said.

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid there are no buses or taxis here,” she said. “The folks who live far from the station use bicycles.”

“I understand,” Lina replied. Holding the map in one hand, she picked up her umbrella and red suitcase with the other and stepped outside. Surveying the town again, she could see what the woman meant.

After thanking the two adults for their help, Lina began to walk, but the police officer called out and told her to wait.

“Mr. Gen!” He waved to a man on a small tractor with a cart hitched to the back, and the tractor pulled over.

“You’re headed home, right?” the officer asked. “Sorry to trouble you, but could you take this young ’un as far as the shrine?”

The old farmer was deeply suntanned and wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. He glanced at Lina and motioned to the cart behind him. “Sure! Hop on.”

The officer helped Lina up. “It’s better than walking!” he whispered with a grin.

Before Lina could thank him again, the tractor began to move.

With a deafening roar, the tractor rumbled down the town’s one street, throwing up a great cloud of dust. Behind the houses to her left and right, Lina could see rice paddies stretching all the way to the foot of the mountains, interrupted only by the occasional farmhouse.

“Heading home for lunch are you, Mr. Gen?” someone called from a bicycle.

They passed houses with low eaves and tile roofs, one after the next. Lina had never ridden in a cart pulled by a tractor before and found she enjoyed it, but she still felt self-conscious when the occasional passerby saw her. She wanted to get out of town quickly. Unfortunately, the tractor was slower than a bicycle. It seemed the dusty buildings would never end.

And then finally the paddy fields were all around, and she felt better. They chugged along between lush green rice stalks, the motor thundering and dirt from the road rising behind them.

“So you’re goin’ to Misty Valley?” Mr. Gen shouted over the motor.

The shock of being addressed so suddenly—and with the words “Misty Valley”—almost tipped Lina out of the cart.

“How did you know?” she yelled back. Her mouth filled with dust the moment she opened it, but she had to ask. The police officer had only told Mr. Gen to take her to the shrine.

“I was just rememberin’ how, a long time ago, someone else asked me to drop ’im off near the shrine,” Mr. Gen yelled.

Lina wanted to ask him more about Misty Valley, but the swirling grit from the road and the earsplitting noise made conversation impossible.

They finally stopped in front of a dense forest. When the engine noise died down, Lina heard cicadas.

“There y’ go, Miss. Head up that way, and you’ll get to Misty Valley.” Mr. Gen pointed to a red torii gate that arched over a path.

Lina climbed down from the cart and was about to thank Mr. Gen when he spoke again. “That umbrella of yours …”

They both looked at Lina’s umbrella. It was white with red polka dots, and the end of its handle was fashioned into a clown’s smiling face. Lina loved the umbrella and took good care of it.

“That umbrella was what reminded me o’ bringin’ someone here before,” Mr. Gen said. “That was back when the mine in Misty Valley started runnin’ out of silver, so it must have been thirty years ago. I gave a boy about your age a ride in my horse cart. He had that same red and white umbrella, and I remember thinkin’ it was unusual.”

Mr. Gen looked from the umbrella back to Lina, remembering. “Yep, it was a healthy young ’un just like you,” he said. “Seems like his face even favored yours.”

“He looked like me?” Lina said. “Oh, maybe it was my dad!” She made a mental note to ask her father if he had ridden in Mr. Gen’s cart.

“Is the umbrella his?” Mr. Gen asked.

“No, someone he knows gave it to me,” Lina replied.

Mr. Gen nodded and fired up his motor again. “Well, you take care!” he shouted.

Lina hurriedly bowed to thank him.

Smiling, the farmer headed back into the rice paddies, a cloud of dirt rising behind him.

Lina stuck her umbrella through the handle of her bag. Taking care not to let the umbrella slip through onto the ground, she began to climb the gentle slope by the shrine. The cicadas carried on, and the sharp smell of grass filled the air.

As she climbed, the vegetation on both sides of Lina grew thicker. The path narrowed, and small stones here and there made it harder to walk. With trees around, one might expect the air to be cool, but there was no breeze; instead, the branches seemed to close in, making the woods hot and stuffy. Lina’s steps slowed as her breathing became labored. Somewhere along the way, the slope had grown steep.

What a trail! Lina thought. I didn’t think I’d be climbing a mountain. It was so hot, and her luggage was growing so heavy … she wished she hadn’t brought her summer homework.

Lina frowned at her bag and jumped in surprise. Her umbrella was gone! She must have dropped it, though she had been paying such close attention a moment ago.

Turning to look behind her, she saw something red and white on the path a short way down. Phew. She hurried to the umbrella, tossed her bag on the ground, and sat down with a plop.

She could feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She pulled out a handkerchief to blot it, and then she took out the map. The police officer had drawn an arrow by the shrine and written that she should climb up from there. That was it. Did she need to climb farther? Looking up at the path, she noticed a weathered board nailed to a cedar tree right next to her. Squinting, she saw that it read MISTY VALLEY.

She peered around the cedar but could only see more trees, thick and still.

Maybe I’ll head back. I never asked to come here anyway … she thought. She got to her feet, still unsure of what to do.

Whoosh! A sudden wind set the whole forest rustling. Lina’s umbrella popped open and lifted into the air. She tried to grab it, but it slipped between two Himalayan cedar trees and disappeared. Lina seized her bag and raced into the space between the two trunks.

She could just make out a spot of white against the dimness of the forest with its towering trees. The umbrella was safe! But when she drew near it, it blew a few steps away. This happened several times. Lina chased the umbrella all around, forgetting everything else. Above her head, the treetops tossed as if mocking her.

Suddenly, Lina noticed something thick and cool flowing all around her. By the time she realized it was mist, even the area a meter ahead of her had begun to blur.

She went pale and froze. It was still hours before sundown, and she had not climbed all that high. Frantic, she tried to reassure herself that the mist would clear before long. It would not do to walk around in circles. She fought back tears as she stood, waiting.

She had been sweating a moment ago, but now she felt cold. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms. She decided to warm up with some exercise, and, rallying her spirits, began to march in place. One, two, one, two!

Then she noticed something else strange. The ground beneath her didn’t feel like dirt anymore. She thought she heard a tap sound when she stepped. Squatting down, she looked closely: her left foot was in the underbrush, but her right foot rested on a stone. A flat one. She decided to take one more step into the mist.

Her white shoe landed with a tap on another stone. She kept going, taking one careful step at a time and listening for the same sound. Then the mist vanished, like a curtain rising.

Lina’s jaw dropped as she looked around. Before her stood a village. Was this the village the police officer had mentioned? It certainly wasn’t the group of low, dark buildings huddled on reddish-brown dirt that she had imagined. Here in the deep green of the forest stood cottages of scarlet and cream, along a cobblestone road that shone as if rain had just fallen. There were only six buildings in all. No one was outside, and the area was completely still. Lina felt as if she had arrived in a new country.

She collected her bag and walked forward along the cobblestone street, hearing nothing but the sound of her footsteps. Even that seemed to be swallowed by the forest.

Each of the cottages faced the road and had large windows that had been polished to a high shine. The first building appeared to be a bookstore, its windows revealing rows and rows of books. Across the street stood another shop, this one displaying supplies for boats. The building next to the bookstore sold ceramics, and across from that, a bright red door led to a delightful-looking toy shop. The store beside it had to be a sweet shop; even its pink front door looked sugary.

Only the house across the street from the sweet shop had a yard in front. It was larger than the other buildings and constructed of red brick, with great windows set in white frames. As she stood at its front gate—an archway covered in climbing roses—Lina realized why something seemed off about the place: it had too many chimneys.

“This is definitely not a normal mountain village,” she said to herself as she gazed in wonder at the scene.

Then she caught sight of her umbrella—leaning right next to the redbrick house’s front door! The clown face seemed to be grinning at her. Lina raced beneath the rose archway to retrieve it.

‌2

Boarding at Picotto Hall

The moment Lina reached for her umbrella, the front door opened with a squeak.

“You must be Lina,” a husky voice called from inside. “I thought you might arrive about now. Come in.”

For the first time, Lina considered that this house might be her destination.

The aroma of bread baking wafted over the threshold. It was nearly lunchtime, and Lina suddenly felt hungry. As she squinted into the house, she noticed that just inside the entryway, a door stood open to a room on the right.

“Why do you dawdle? I detest dawdling.” The same voice spoke again. It sounded annoyed.

Lina stepped tentatively inside the house and into the room on the right. Beside the window sat a sofa with a large floral pattern. Interrupting it like a stain was a small, elderly woman dressed all in black.

The woman made no effort to look at Lina. Instead, she took a bite of a cookie and drank some tea. She acted as if she knew without a glance just what sort of child Lina was.

Lina had no idea what to do, and stood staring.

Eventually, the woman spoke again. “Can it be that you’re in the sixth grade already, but you can’t offer a proper greeting?”

Lina instinctively bowed. “Hello, my name is Lina Uesugi. Thank you for hosting me,” she said.

“Who said anything about hosting you?” the woman replied. Even then, she did not look at Lina.

Lina was shocked. “But my father said—”

“What exactly did your father say?” the woman cut in, drawing out the end of her question, the pitch of her voice rising.

Lina’s father had only said, “Go to Misty Valley. There’s a person there who was good to me years ago.” When Lina asked why she should go, he had only said that going someplace besides Nagano for a change was a good idea. And then no one had come to meet her to show her the way. Now that she had found her destination, her host was as cold as ice. Never in her life had Lina been treated like this.

Her grandma in Nagano would always say, “Well, look who’s here! You made it!” and greet her with a warm smile. Thinking of that made Lina want to turn on her heel and leave. This was all too much. She didn’t want to cry in front of the woman, but tears were threatening. She felt even lonelier here than she had at the station.

The woman carried on crunching her cookie, unmoved.

“I’ll be on my way then,” Lina said. Those words were all she could manage.

“Who said that you should go?” the woman replied curtly.

“You just said—”

“What exactly did I say?” the woman cut in, truly obnoxious now.

Tears began pouring from Lina’s eyes. The woman finally glanced at her.

“Lina, it seems you don’t know about our arrangement here,” she said. “Picotto Hall is a boardinghouse. It has been so for generations here in Misty Valley.” She slurped her tea. “Here, boarders earn their keep. In today’s words, that means …”

She paused a moment.

“Yes, yes. Making a living. You make your living here by working. So, no one is ‘hosting’ you. What is it they say?” She paused again to search for words. “‘He who does not work shall not eat.’ That’s the one. Yes.” The woman nodded at her own speech.

“Oh! If it’s money you need, I brought some with me,” Lina said, relieved. But a glare from the woman stopped her short.

“Is it your own money?” the woman asked, as if to confirm an important point.

Lina nodded.

“You earned it yourself?” the woman pressed.

Lina slowly shook her head no. Her money was an allowance her father had given her for the vacation.

“Unless you earned it, it’s no good here. You heard me just now. You have to work,” the woman said.

“But I don’t have any work skills,” Lina replied.

Lina knew this to be true. Her handwriting was messy, and she was all thumbs with the abacus. Her days were filled with school and cram school, so she never had time for chores at home. She didn’t know how to do laundry or cook. She had learned to plan and budget for a meal, but actually making food taste delicious was beyond her.

As she dwelled on all of this, the woman asked, “You have arms and legs, don’t you? You have eyes, a nose, ears—from the look of you, everything’s in working order! Who told you that you have no skills?”

By this point, all Lina wanted to do was flee far, far from the woman like a stain on the sofa.

But the woman paid Lina’s feelings no mind. “Place your umbrella in the umbrella stand, please,” she instructed, as though to hurry Lina along. “Your room is on the second floor, second from the right. Please leave your luggage there and then come to the dining room, because lunch is ready.”

Lina remained standing in place, unsure what to do. This woman seemed to have no doubt she was going to stay at Picotto Hall.

“Scat! Off you go!” the woman said sharply. Lina scurried from the room. In a doorway across the hall, she thought she saw three heads peeking out at her, but the moment she appeared, the door slammed shut.

“Ow!” someone screamed. “My nose!”

Voices clamored. “Bring some ointment, quick!”

It occurred to Lina that she might stay and see how this went. Apparently, she and the old woman were not the only ones here. And there was something about this place that intrigued her. Her father had talked about going “someplace different”—and it certainly was.

Lina stood outside the room the woman had described. In the center of the door was an old-fashioned knocker in the shape of a clown’s smiling face.

Opening the door, Lina saw even more that made her want to stay: soft, pink curtains made of delicate fabric; a bedcover of the same color; and a tiny desk, chair, and bureau, all with the clown’s face carved into them. Opening another door to her right, Lina found a private bathroom with a tub, toilet, and pink towels lined up by the sink.

Lina fell completely in love. She had never had her own bedroom, not to mention her own bathroom; her family had always lived in an apartment where everyone slept in the same room at night. If I get to stay in this room, she thought, I can put up with that cranky old woman.

She placed her books and notebooks on the desk and put her clothing away in the bureau. Looking out the window, she saw a flowering tree that grew close enough to touch; its bright pink blossoms looked as if they’d been made of crepe paper. She recognized it from home as a crepe myrtle. “How do you do?” Lina called to it. She felt unsettled again, keenly recalling that she was alone.

She went to the sink, washed the sweat off her face, and redid her ponytail. Since her mother always did her hair, she had some trouble with this. She divided the ponytail into halves and yanked them to get rid of the slack.

Nervous, she headed back downstairs.

“Lina, please come here,” the woman called from the sitting room. “I will show you to the dining hall.

“And I have not yet introduced myself,” she added. “My name is Pippity Picotto.” With that, the woman rose.

When Ms. Picotto stood up, Lina found, the two of them stood eye to eye. The woman’s silver hair was plaited in braids that wound around her head, which made her head look terribly large. Her black dress covered her body to the wrists and ankles, even though it was summertime.

She stepped closer to Lina and looked her over.

“Nearsighted, aren’t you?” she observed. “You ought to wear glasses. If you scrunch up your face to squint at everything, you’ll get wrinkles. And what is this hairstyle?” she went on. “You have a plain face, so if you don’t take care with your hair, where will people look? What an utterly unremarkable child!”

With that, Ms. Picotto strode away.

Lina could not have been more shocked if the devil himself had spoken to her. How dare someone who had just met her appraise her so openly, leaving her self-respect in tatters?

I really hate you, Lina thought. She stared with tear-filled eyes at Ms. Picotto’s back.

At the doorway to the dining hall, Ms. Picotto stopped and, without turning, spoke again. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Downcast, Lina went and sat where she was told to sit. She did not want anyone to see that she had cried, so she kept her face down.

“This is Lina, everyone. Starting today, she’ll be in the clown room,” Ms. Picotto announced.

Lina lowered her face even more and swiped at her tears.

“To your left is Icchan, an inventor,” Ms. Picotto went on.

Lina peeked at the person beside her and saw a head of salt-and-pepper hair. The head’s owner turned to her and smiled. “Hello,” he said.

Looking up at Icchan, Lina surprised herself by giggling. Icchan had a spectacularly large, round, and red nose. He must be the one who had gotten his nose slammed in the door earlier. Lina couldn’t seem to stop giggling, and the others around the table joined in. Eventually, even Icchan chuckled along.

“See, I was trying to get a look at you earlier when Kinu-san shut the door on me!” he said. He scratched his head shyly. Lina thought that Icchan looked like an older person, but his voice and way of speaking were youthful.

“The one across from Icchan is Kinu-san. She takes care of our washing and cleaning right now,” Ms. Picotto said.

A woman with large black eyes, who wore a crisp white coverall apron, smiled at Lina. She reminded Lina of her mother back in Shizuoka.

“And next to Kinu-san is John, our famous cook.”

John gave Lina a brief nod before complaining, “If we don’t get a move on, this soup will be cold!” He would have gone on, but a look from Ms. Picotto silenced him.

“Finally, we have Gentleman.” Ms. Picotto turned to the chair on her left. An enormous cat with golden fur sat there silently.

Gentleman stared at Lina. She thought she might drown in the depths of the cat’s green eyes.

During lunch, Lina avoided looking at Ms. Picotto and Gentleman as much as possible. The food did taste delicious, and Icchan kindly passed sauce and bread to her. John seemed delighted by her healthy appetite.

After lunch, Lina returned to her room and gazed at the crepe myrtle tree. She felt anew that this was a boardinghouse, not a home; while everyone had gathered for the meal, they’d shut themselves up in their own rooms afterward. She wondered why they had not sat together and talked after the meal, like her family did at home or at her grandmother’s house in Nagano. Lina’s resolve to stay and see how this went began to crumble.

I wonder what Mom is doing right now. The moment this question occurred to her, Lina began to miss her mother, and teared up. All I do today is cry! she thought. I didn’t think I was such a baby.

“I’m not usually like this,” she said aloud to the crepe myrtle tree.

At that very moment, she heard a knock at the door and nearly jumped out of her skin. Wiping her eyes in a hurry, she opened the door with caution.

Icchan stood outside. “Hello, Lina. If you stay cooped up in your room like this, it won’t be any fun,” he said. “Come—I’ll show you around the house.” He smiled.

Grateful for the invitation, Lina nodded.

The second floor had six rooms. While the knocker on the door to Lina’s room was a clown, the knockers on the other doors looked like a lily, a lighthouse, a pumpkin, and a squirrel with a bushy tail. The rooms seemed to differ in size. The door at the end of the hall had a knocker shaped like a hammer.

“That one’s mine. It’s the largest,” Icchan said, pointing to the hammer room. “You’ll work out soon who’s in the other rooms.” He smiled.

The first floor held the sitting room where Lina had first met Ms. Picotto, the dining room, and a large kitchen. There was also a room with a door knocker shaped like a lion. Lina knew without Icchan telling her that it was Ms. Picotto’s.

Following after Icchan, she decided to ask a question that had been on her mind. “Are we in Silver Mountain Village, or someplace else?” she inquired.

Icchan looked back at her in surprise. “Didn’t you know?” he said. “Of course this isn’t Silver Mountain Village. Officially, it’s the town of Misty Valley, but we all call it Absurd Avenue, because we like to joke.”

“‘Absurd Avenue’?!” Lina repeated, more loudly than she intended. What a name! Silver Mountain Village seemed far better. But Icchan beamed at her with a face that said Isn’t it a great name?, so she kept the thought to herself.

After showing her around the inside of the house, Icchan suggested that they chat with John, so they went to the kitchen. But John was not there.

“He must be in the vegetable garden,” Icchan said.

Outside, they followed a path through the dim forest until they came to a clearing where everything seemed to brighten. A patchwork of garden plots spread before them. And there, in the middle of the lettuce plot, stood John, looking like the king of lettuce.

“Hello, John!” Icchan called.

Seeing Icchan and Lina, John raised a hand. “Ho there!” he called back. “I could use two carrots, a large cabbage, and a basket o’ grapes. Could you grab ’em?”

“Sure!” Icchan replied. Before long, he was pulling carrots out of the ground.

Many kinds of vegetables grew in the different plots. To the right of the garden, Lina saw a small pasture for livestock and a fruit orchard. Icchan handed a basket to Lina and showed her how to twist bunches of grapes from their vines. When the harvest was ready, Lina carried the basket of grapes as John somehow balanced the lettuce and cabbage in his short arms, and Icchan held the carrots, green onions, and spinach at his sides.

While they walked, Lina asked, “Do the pasture and gardens belong to the boardinghouse?”

“Nah, they’re for everyone on Absurd Avenue,” John replied.

“People take only as much as they need, when they need it,” Icchan explained.

“Planting is done by all,” John said. “Then we take turns with the upkeep.”

“Everyone does the planting?” Lina asked. “Even Ms. Picotto?” She thought of the woman interrupting the sofa like a stain.

“She does come out,” Icchan affirmed. “She’s the one with the motto ‘He who does not work shall not eat,’ after all. But she’s not so useful.”

“She is too!” John put in. “When Ms. Picotto comes out, not a crow or a sparrow bothers us. She’s a good scarecrow.”

Icchan laughed at John’s words, but it didn’t sound like a joke to Lina. When Ms. Picotto appeared, she herself wanted to run away.

Over the next day or two, going back and forth helping her two new friends kept Lina so busy, she no longer wondered if she should go home. As the name Absurd Avenue suggested, she met with constant surprises.

For example, Icchan always smelled of chemicals, flowers, and oil. Lina had begun visiting Icchan’s workshop after supper to chat, but the first time she went, she wondered if she could endure it for even thirty minutes. For though it was high summer, Icchan had round coal-burning stoves in all four corners of the room and kept them blazing!

Dumbfounded, Lina had asked, “Icchan, do you get cold easily? Why burn so many stoves?”

“It’s my job,” was all he would say.

Chef John called Icchan’s workshop “South of the Equator.” Though John had never been to the equator, he told Lina he believed the heat there must be exactly like it was in Icchan’s room.

Lina had figured out the coolest spot in “South of the Equator” and could now sit comfortably there. Besides the four stoves, the workshop had a printing press and various pots, flasks, beakers, and many books and notebooks all crammed into it. The workroom did have a bed, but it was occupied by large bottles of chemicals, so Icchan slept in a hammock.

In that cluttered space, oblivious to the heat, Icchan would go about tapping and mixing things Lina could not even begin to identify. As he worked, Icchan would often forget a nut or bolt here, or a wrench or hammer there, so Lina would hunt for his tools while she chatted with him.

John could always be found in the kitchen, which he kept polished and gleaming. He left the kitchen only to sleep.

Everyone gathered for tea each day at three p.m., but John also arranged snacks for Lina and Gentleman at ten a.m. daily. Gentleman would get a cube of butter, and Lina would get a glass of cold milk and a sweet.

John talked a lot and laughed more. When his stout body shook with laughter, his pots and pans rattled too. As if the whole kitchen were laughing with him, Lina thought.

“I bow to no one when it comes to cooking,” John said. “But with sweets, to be honest, I can’t hold a candle to Toké.”

“Who’s Toké?”

“The sweets seller across the road. Her treats are so good, you can’t stop eatin’ ’em. You never get tired of ’em,” John said. “Those fruit jellies you’re eatin’ now are good, right?”

“Yes!” Lina said.

“They’re from Toké’s place. Just eat and enjoy,” John said with a wink. “Only don’t get so full that you won’t have room for my lunch!” he warned. “Toké’s jellies are special, but my sandwiches are out of this world!”

John spoke the truth. His food was amazing. Even when it filled the table to overflowing, the boarders somehow ate up every bite.

Gentleman, for his part, sat straight in his chair, and when John spoke, the cat watched him with his deep green eyes. When Lina spoke, he looked at Lina. Sometimes Gentleman would nod, as if he understood the entire conversation.

John and Gentleman got on well, so Gentleman could go in and out of the kitchen freely. Everyone else—even Ms. Picotto—had to get permission, because the kitchen was John’s domain. If he caught anyone sneaking food between meals, Lina was told, he would turn bright red with indignation.

Gentleman wandered the entire boardinghouse as he pleased. John told Lina, “Don’t pay him any mind. He likes to be by himself. If you bother him too much, you’ll get a scratch on the nose for your trouble.

“Icchan got scratched once, and his nose was already big and red,” John added. “When it puffed up, he looked like he had a ripe apple hanging from his face. Normally, it’s more like a plum.”

John looked at a pile of bright red Japanese plums that he planned to serve with supper. His belly shook with another laugh.

Icchan’s nose does look kind of like those plums, Lina thought.

A few evenings after Lina arrived, Ms. Picotto again called her into the sitting room.

“Tomorrow is Monday,” she said. “Starting tomorrow, we will have you work. You will go to Nata’s shop, the local bookstore. You must have seen it on the way here.”

Lina nodded. The bookstore was the cream-colored cottage. “What will I do there?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Ms. Picotto said, “Good night, Lina.”

‌3

Lina Goes to Work

The next day, Lina put on the white dress she had worn when she first arrived, and she went down to breakfast.

A bookstore sells books. That means interacting with customers, so I should dress nicely, she had concluded the night before. Normally, her mother would pull out her clothes, saying that today would be cold or they would be meeting so-and-so, and therefore she should wear certain things. But here, Lina had to decide on her own. She had asked Icchan’s advice, but he had been so absorbed in mixing chemicals together that he would only say, “Anything should do.”

Until now, Lina had only exchanged morning and evening greetings with Kinu-san, so she had felt it would be awkward to consult her, even though Kinu-san reminded Lina of her mother. Little did Lina know that she would soon regret not asking Kinu-san.

As soon as she arrived at breakfast, Lina could feel Ms. Picotto’s stern gaze.

“What on earth are those sleeves?” the woman said. “They’re round as pumpkins! That dress is far too fancy. Who told you to dress for a party today?”

“I’ll go change,” Lina said.

“But you must be at Nata’s by nine. Who told you to go change?” Ms. Picotto asked.

“You just said—”

“What exactly did I say?” Ms. Picotto retorted, in her way.

Lina did not know what to do now. Should I change, or should I not?

“Come, the food’ll get cold,” John said, ushering her to her seat.

After Lina ate, John handed her a lunch basket with a hearty-looking sandwich inside, and Kinu-san placed a white napkin on top, which made Lina feel well cared for.

“I’m off then,” Lina said.

“Good luck!” Icchan said, while Kinu-san smiled kindly.

“I’ll make you the best supper ever!” John added with a knowing grin.

Gentleman meowed, “Nyaa!” Lina had never heard him meow before. This meant he was definitely a house cat; he was so big, she had begun to think he might be a lion cub.

Thanking everyone in her heart, she left cheerfully through the archway of roses.

Walking along, Lina decided that Absurd Avenue was the perfect name for this place.

Six grand cottages stood here, right in the middle of the mountains. Picotto Hall had six chimneys sticking out of its roof: Ms. Picotto’s and the kitchen’s, plus one for each of Icchan’s stoves. Camellias, daffodils, and violets all bloomed, even though it was midsummer; the ginkgo trees sported yellow leaves and the maple trees red ones, as if it were fall. The cobblestone street glistened all the time, though it hadn’t rained. And the people living here had strange names—Nata, Toké—whose countries of origin Lina could only guess at.

When Lina reached the cream-colored bookstore, she divided her ponytail in half and pulled. If her hair felt right, surely her nerves would settle.

She opened the door. This bookstore smells like a library, she thought. She had always had the impression that bookstores smelled only of paper and ink, while libraries also smelled of old books and real life.

Inside the store, she was surprised to find that far from being stacked neatly, the books were scattered and piled everywhere on the floor—as though they had flooded off the shelves.

Lina didn’t see anyone, so she called, “Hello?”

“Come in!” a lively voice responded. A young woman appeared from the back of the shop. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of extremely thick glasses. She gripped a pen in one hand and some bread in the other.

Lina soon saw that the woman’s eyes were red, and she blinked in the bright light as she looked at Lina.

“Sorry, but as you see, we have a real mess here right now. I wonder what kind of book you need. A mystery novel? No. A philosophy book? Surely not. Anne of Green Gables? Hmm, you look like you’ve mined that vein already … Aha! Jane Eyre, right? Everyone your age wants to read that one. I’m sorry for the hassle, but I’m sure it’s in this area, so could you dig it out? When you find it, give me a holler. Okay then, I’d better get busy.”

The woman went on, speaking a mile a minute, and then—having pointed at one particular mountain of books with her pen—started off again for the back room.

Though Lina had attempted to interrupt several times, it was no use. Seeing the woman about to leave, she blurted out, “I’m not here for a book!”

The woman had just taken a bite of her bread, and Lina’s voice startled her as she tried to swallow. She began to gag and sputter. Lina raced over, pushing through the piles of books, and whacked the woman’s back for her as she explained herself. If she didn’t speak before the woman swallowed, she might not get a turn.

“My name is Lina,” she said. “I’m boarding at Picotto Hall. I understand that you’ve hired me to work here, starting today. I did not come to look for Jane Eyre. I’ve read it already.”

Having gotten that much out, Lina finally took a deep breath.

The woman’s bread seemed to have passed safely down her throat, because she started talking again.

“Ah, I see! Sorry about that. I always jump to conclusions. I’m Nata. When the books in my store get dusty, they all sulk and slide down to sleep on the floor like this. So I was looking for someone to help me dust them and line them back up on the shelves. Last night, I was making a list of the books, and I ended up working through the night. I just finished.

“Now then, that was the last of my breakfast, so let’s get started, shall we? Ah—this won’t work with your clothes. I’ll loan you an apron.” She went to fetch one and handed it to Lina.

As Lina put on the apron, Nata opened the windows and brought out a feather duster and a box of note cards. She pulled out the first card and read, “The Great Dictionary of the Great Encyclopedias of the Great World, Volume One.”

Great labors followed. Lina and Nata crawled all around on their hands and knees, trying to find that one title in the dusty mountain ranges of books. Nata had terribly poor vision; even with glasses on, she practically had to get close enough to lick each book to read its title. Lina had poor eyesight herself, but she was still much faster at spotting the books.

“Really, if I’d had to do this alone, it would have taken me two or three months!” Nata puffed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“These are used books, aren’t they?” Lina asked.

“That’s right. All my books are,” Nata replied. “As they age, their charm gets stronger.”

“Their charm?”

“That’s right,” Nata said. “You know how books have the power to attract people and even influence them? That’s the charm I mean.”

“I thought this place smelled like a library when I came in,” Lina mused.

“It does. Long-used books take on the smells of their readers,” Nata said. “Those are the only kinds of books that interest me.” She grinned.

At noon, Lina went with Nata to the back room. Its windows facing the forest were open wide, and a cool breeze drifted inside. Even here, many books lined the walls. As Lina looked at them, Nata explained, “These are my treasures. The books I love best.” She cleared space for Lina and herself at the table.

“I brought my own lunch,” Lina said, opening her basket to show Nata.

“Is that so? From John, no doubt,” Nata said. “Well, I can’t imagine many people want to eat my cooking.” She vanished into her kitchen.

Many of the books Nata called her treasures seemed to come from overseas; Lina couldn’t even tell which countries. Mixed in with the titles from Japan that Lina knew were others such as Chemical Analysis of Flying Brooms, General Principles of Disappearance, and The Complete Collection of Spells.

As Lina puzzled over them, Nata returned and peered over her shoulder. “I bet you’ve never seen books like these before,” she said. “Around here, we’re all descendants of sorcerers. Did Ms. Picotto tell you? Have you noticed this place is a bit strange? Did you know it’s called Absurd Avenue? From a regular human’s perspective, it certainly must seem absurd.”

Lina thought hard and responded one by one to the questions Nata had fired off. “I know it’s called Absurd Avenue, and I did think it was unusual,” she said. “But this is the first time I’ve heard the wild story about sorcerers’ descendants.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wild about it. It’s true,” Nata replied, with a face that said she was stating the obvious.

Now that she mentions it, Ms. Picotto does seem just like a witch, Lina thought. It’s weird that there are spring and fall flowers in bloom even though it’s summertime. Magical powers really might be at work in this town.

Then again, if what Nata had said were true, then why was Lina here? Magic would go a long way to explain the oddities she had seen, but she still couldn’t fully believe it.

“You’ll understand after you’re here awhile. I wouldn’t expect you to believe just because I told you,” Nata said, patting a chair so Lina would sit.

As Lina ate the lunch that John had sent with her, she wondered if she should ask Icchan or John about what Nata had said. Thinking back to Nata’s expression, though, she had the feeling they might just make the same straight face and say, “Of course we’re descended from sorcerers.”

Lina decided she would just have to keep an eye on things for a while, as Nata had suggested.

The sandwich from John was delicious, but watching Nata eat her own meal put a damper on Lina’s appetite. Nata’s sandwich consisted of pickled daikon radish in a giant hunk of rye bread. After taking a bite of it, she turned straight to some hijiki seaweed boiled with fishcake, and then she guzzled down black tea sweetened with jam—and popped a sour pickled plum in her mouth! As Lina folded her napkin, she spotted mayonnaise in Nata’s sandwich, which made for an even stranger mix. Lina silently thanked John for preparing her lunch.

When Lina returned her lunch basket to John at the end of the day, he grinned and said, “What would you like to do for lunch tomorrow? Surely Nata can feed you at her place.”

Lina’s face turned white. “Please, John, keep sending your food with me. Please, please?”

“Haha, don’t worry. I was only teasing. No one would make you eat Nata’s food.” John laughed merrily.

“Oh, thank you,” Lina said. “Nata is a great person, and I like her a lot. I just don’t think I can eat pickled daikon with mayonnaise …”

“Cooking is not her strong suit,” John observed. “She jumps to conclusions, too, but she’s been working hard on that, so we won’t count it against her.”

Lina told John how much trouble she’d had that morning getting Nata to see she wasn’t a customer.

“That sounds like Nata,” John said. “But nothing would be more boring than someone who is perfect all the time.” He nodded for emphasis.

Gentleman, who had slipped in to sit at Lina’s feet, nodded in agreement.

“Hello, Gentleman!” Lina said.

“Nyaa!” he meowed affably.

Perhaps because it had been Lina’s first day at her new job, the dinner table was livelier than usual.

“So, how was it?” Icchan asked. “Did you get tired? Maybe I’ll develop a medicine that takes your tiredness away with one swallow.”

“I’ve developed that remedy already,” John said, going around the table to place a sizzling steak on each plate. “What do you think of it, Lina?”

With her mouth stuffed full of steak drizzled in a sweet and tangy sauce, Lina exclaimed, “Mmm!”

“Oh, I see you do have the remedy, John.” Icchan sighed. “Do you have the patent as well?”

Icchan looked so crestfallen, wrinkling his red nose in disappointment, that Lina struggled to swallow.

Kinu-san was smiling, but then she said to Lina, “You’ve gotten your dress dusty, I see. I’ll wash it out, so leave it for me after you change into your pajamas.”

Lina knew that Ms. Picotto was watching sternly, so she said, “Thank you, but I think I can wash it myself.”

She actually wasn’t confident that she could, without smooshing the puffed sleeves.

“Nonsense, you’ll struggle with the sleeves. You’re not ready for this yet,” Kinu-san argued. Icchan poked at Lina to accept.

“All right then, yes please,” Lina amended, bowing her head in thanks.

Ms. Picotto pretended not to hear.

The next morning, Lina put on a T-shirt and jeans. Basket in hand, she strode out of Picotto Hall.

At the same time, a young boy came out of the sweet shop across the road. Wearing nothing more than a pair of swim trunks, he was carrying an armload of bags full of candies and cookies. When he saw Lina, his freckled face broke into a smile. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone on this street, Lina thought, as she fell into step with the boy.

When Lina stopped walking in front of Nata’s store, the boy stopped too. Opening one of his bags, he held it out to Lina. “I’ll give you just one,” he said, placing special weight on the word just.

When Lina hesitated, he tossed his flaming red hair and pushed the bag at her. “Take one,” he urged.

“Thank you,” Lina replied. She took a chocolate-colored candy out of the bag.

“When you put that one in your mouth, some sweet cream shoots out. Pu-choo!” the boy said. He grinned again.

A gust of wind blew. The boy took off running toward the forest, but something caught Lina’s eye as she stared after him.

“What’s up, Lina?” Nata asked, coming out of the store.

“A boy just gave me some candy,” Lina said.

“Well, that’s nice!” Nata replied.

“But …” Lina swallowed hard before going on. “When the wind blew, his hair parted, and I thought I saw yellow horns on his head. Yes, I’m sure that’s what they were. They were pointy.”

“This is Absurd Avenue, Lina,” Nata said, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “Come on, we’ve got another pile of work to do today.”

With that, Nata nudged Lina toward the store.

By Lina’s fourth day of work, the sea of books on the floor had shrunk to more of a lake.

As Lina and Nata crawled around the lake, getting sweaty and dirty, a high school student appeared. He was carrying a heavy-looking schoolbag and seemed mystified as he looked around.

“What can I help you with?” Nata asked. “I bet there’s so much you want to read, you don’t know where to start. It must be hard for you, studying for your exams in this heat. How about a pirate story? Too childish? Well, how about a spine-tingling thriller with murder cases one after the next? Huh, not your thing …”

Nata went on in her usual way.

The student seemed not to hear a word she said, but stood gazing at the books.

“How odd,” he muttered to himself. “I thought if I made that turn, I’d find the usual secondhand bookstore. Was this one here before?” He frowned. “How does this person know I’m preparing for exams over summer vacation? We’ve never even met. And I was looking for a study guide for math, but wait … There’s that poetry collection I wanted to read.”

The student strode forward and carefully pulled a book from the bottom of a pile. He flipped through the pages. The small book fit snugly in his palm, as though it did not want to be put down.

“I’d like this one, please,” he said. He pulled his wallet from his pocket.

Nata watched him closely. “It’s yours,” she told him. “Take it.”

Then, as if no one else had ever been there, she said to Lina, “Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes is next. The cover has a big illustration of a duck, so you should be able to spot it quickly.”

The student left, still reading the poetry book.

“Shouldn’t he have paid?” Lina asked.

“It’s fine,” Nata said. “Right now, that student is deep in his book, without another thought in his head. Those are the only people I sell books to.” Her eyes sparkled.

“You call that selling?” Lina asked.

“When people immerse themselves in books and take great care of them, that’s my payment.” Nata smiled.

“That student’s not from around here, is he?” Lina wondered aloud. She remembered the nearby town with its small train station and single street. She wasn’t sure there were even children there, let alone a high school.

“No, he’s not from here,” Nata said. “Misty Valley connects with many other places. Distance means nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Lina asked. She looked at Nata.

Nata scrunched her face. “Um, it’s like this: people who really need to can come here. The village is choosy that way.”

“So, that student needed this village,” Lina said.

“That’s right. It must be,” Nata said, “because he came. What do you think, Lina?”

Lina thought that the student had needed the book of poems far more than any math guide. He had seemed rather joyless to her.

“But what do you mean by ‘distance means nothing’?” Lina asked. “I still don’t understand.”

“No matter where you are, all you need to do is take one step and you’ll be at Absurd Avenue,” Nata said matter-of-factly.

Lina turned all of this over in her mind. Then she realized something. “Did I come to this village because I needed it? Maybe so—but for me, it was a long trip!” she exclaimed.

“In your case, you came by invitation, so you used regular routes. A guide was sent to meet you,” Nata said.

“But no one came to meet me at all!”

“No one? Really?” Nata asked, looking mischievous.

No one at all! Lina repeated to herself. But just then, a drawing of a yellow duck caught her eye. “There are the nursery rhymes.” She pointed.

“I wonder what they were doing there? I like this collection, you know,” Nata said happily.

‌4

Thomas and Dummy’s Store

The next day, Lina saw a centaur running off down Absurd Avenue. After that, she saw six gnomes tottering out of the shop across from Nata’s, carrying a boat over their heads. Between these and the cute little imp that had given Lina candy a few days before, so many surprising people were appearing that Lina forgot to be surprised.

“Lina, we need six books about the sea that I loaned to Thomas. Could you go tell him I’m doing inventory and bring the books back from his shop?” Nata requested.

“Who’s Thomas?” Lina asked.

“The owner of the marine store across the road. When I talk to him, we always get in a fight, so it’s better if you go.”

“A fight?” Lina asked.

“It’s fine,” Nata said. “You’ll get the easy treatment. He’s just a bit odd, that’s all.”

Encouraged by Nata, Lina crossed the street and approached Thomas’s store.

Even before she went through the door, Linda could smell the sea. Once inside, she saw nets, ropes, lengths of chain, a rusty ship’s anchor, knives, and other supplies placed all around in the dimness. Dusty buoys hung from the ceiling.

“Hello?” Lina called.

A tall man stepped out of the shadows behind some netting. Lina looked up at him, and he looked down at her. He had kind brown eyes and a head of flaxen blond hair. Beneath a long nose, his mouth was pursed around a pipe. Puffs of purple smoke began to fill the air. The smells of sea and smoke somehow put Lina at ease.

Just as she was about to speak, another man walked in. “Since when has a ship chandler been here? I don’t seem to recall this establishment in this port.” He looked at Thomas, puzzled.

The man wore a white cap and a white suit with gold braiding on the shoulders, and he, too, had a pipe in his mouth. A ship’s captain, Lina thought.

“I am a man of the sea, always have been,” he said. “My father and his father before him were the same. Never could get enough of the ocean. Now, my lifelong wish has come true, and I captain my own ship. She’s not large, but she’s strong and skips like a dream. She is my dream. My father and grandfather both died before they could captain their own vessels, but my grandfather kept a lantern that he always said he would light in his ship’s cabin when he became a captain. He left that lantern to my father without being able to fulfill his dream. Then, without being able to light the lantern himself, my father left it to me. But I lost it in a storm at sea, and my ship just does not feel right without that lantern. It won’t do.” He rubbed his beard with one hand. “I know it sounds strange for a grown man to go on about such a thing, but that lantern was a treasure to me. It’s the only one of its kind.” He paused again. “Say, I wound up in here today, but this is not a lantern store. Why am I talking so much?” The captain shook his head several times as if to clear it.“I’ll take your leave now,” he said, preparing to go.

Then Thomas spoke for the first time. “If it’s a lantern you’re looking for, I’ve got just one,” he said. His voice was raspy but had a softness to it.

The captain turned. Seeing the lantern Thomas held out, he raced over as if pulled by a magnet. “This is the one! The very one. It hasn’t changed at all. It has a figurine of Neptune just here. This is it!” He took it in his hands and gazed at it joyously. “How much do you want for it?” he asked, as he turned it this way and that, caressing it.

“Nothing,” Thomas said. “It’s yours, after all.” His brown eyes sparkled. They looked just like Nata’s.

“Thank you,” the captain said. Cradling the lantern, he left the store.

Lina had already forgotten to be nervous around Thomas. “I’ve come from the bookstore,” she told him. “Nata’s doing inventory, so she asked if you could give back the six books she loaned you.”

“Ah,” Thomas said, nodding. He disappeared into the back. After a while, he returned empty-handed. “Sorry, but could you find them yourself?” he asked brusquely.

Walking into the back room, Lina tripped on something and fell to her hands and knees. The room was a mess! Chair covers had slipped off, and cushions were strewn every which way. A small silver tray heaped with ashes from Thomas’s pipe had been left under a chair, and another ashtray sat on a chess table. A different table held a shaky stack of cups stained with coffee dregs. Lina soon saw that finding six books in this place would be harder than fishing them out of the sea of books at Nata’s.

Scooping up the cups and ashtrays, Lina went to the kitchen, where yet another shock awaited her: this room was worse. Giving up all hope of finding the books quickly, Lina rounded up all the dirty dishes and began washing them with a clatter.

Hearing this, Thomas rushed in. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You only have to find the books and go!” He sounded fierce.

Lina was surprised to find that she was not frightened. Next to Ms. Picotto’s prickles and stings, his temper was nothing. “I can’t just leave things in this state, now, can I?” she cried.

“Why do you have to move things around in the kitchen?” he blustered.

Lina deliberately dried her hands on her apron and, from beneath a dirty dish on the table, pulled one of the books Nata had loaned to Thomas. “Without cleaning, there’s no way to find these,” she told him.

Thomas blushed a little. “Well, I guess I can take it, but don’t come running to me if Dummy minds this,” he muttered, fleeing the kitchen.

Who’s going to go running to anybody? Lina thought. She cleaned the kitchen until it was spick-and-span, partly to do her job and partly out of sheer stubbornness.

Lina’s work in the kitchen took all morning and yielded three of the six missing books. At lunchtime, she avoided Thomas’s scowl and hurried back to Nata’s store.

She found Nata chewing her pickled daikon smothered in mayonnaise, looking content.

“Thomas doesn’t seem to like other people interfering in his ways,” Nata explained. “Sometimes I go over and clean too, and he carries on like a tempest at sea. Give in to him then and you’re done for. But Thomas I can handle, even if we do fight. It’s Dummy who’s the problem,” she said.

“Now that you mention it, Thomas did say something about a Dummy,” Lina replied.

“Dummy’s a bird,” Nata said. “A parrot who always runs his mouth. When I go in there, Dummy and I inevitably end up in a war of insults—and I always lose.”

Seeing Nata’s annoyed look, Lina wondered how she herself would deal with a bird that talked more than the bookseller.

“I’m not so good with birds,” Lina confessed. “I think they’re pretty, but I don’t like to touch them.”

“He won’t peck at you or anything. It’s just his mouth that’s a problem,” Nata replied.

After lunch, Lina took a bucket and mop and made straight for Thomas’s back room. He gave her a resigned glance from a chair as she passed through the store.

In the back, Lina gathered up the cushions from the floor and took them to a window to shake out.

“Oh, would you stop! This is my nap time. I can’t sleep with all that racket!”

The high-pitched voice was coming from a corner of the room. Moving closer, Lina saw a large, round object covered by a black cloth, which she gingerly removed.

“Who are you?!” screamed a pure white parrot in a big cage. “You’re not that blabbermouth from across the street, I see. She cleans a little more quietly. You clatter and rattle and scuttle all around, but look! That cushion’s still dusty! You don’t know much about cleaning, do you? You have to wring your cloth out harder, you know. You look strong enough. Thomas! Thomas! Who is this noisy girl? Did you tell her to come in and make such a racket?”

The parrot talked incessantly, and he voiced his own thoughts just like a human. No wonder he wore Nata out! His insults made Lina angry, but she decided she would just have to ignore them. Humming a tune, she called him a birdbrain to herself and wrung out her cleaning cloth with all her might, pretending it was him.

“That’s the spirit!” he squawked. “See? If you use your muscles, they’ll work, by golly!”

“Dummy!” Thomas yelled from the store.

“Humph! ‘Dummy,’ that’s all Thomas knows how to say. So Dummy became my name, it did. But how about you, noisy girl? Your cleaning is terrible, but you know what? Your voice is worse! And you can’t carry a tune either!”

That was the last straw. Lina put her hands on her hips, turned, and shot back, “You let me be! You’re the noisy one. All you do is talk, talk, talk!”

“What? All I do is talk, you say? Pardon me, but I’ll have you know I sing far better than you do.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Lina demanded, her voice louder than before. “Show me how great a singer you are!” She fixed the parrot with a steely gaze.

“All right, then. Listen up,” the parrot said. He made a show of clearing his throat, and then he began to sing. It was a song in another language that Lina did not understand, but it was plain and beautiful. Lina forgot the anger she’d felt a moment before and sank into a chair, spellbound.

When the parrot finished, she couldn’t help but clap. “What a pretty song!” she said. “Your singing is gorgeous. I imagined a ship sailing away on the open sea toward the sunset.”

As Lina praised him, the parrot looked around the room uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. “Well. Now you know how it’s supposed to be done,” he said, and he fell silent.

While cleaning the back room, Lina found two more of Nata’s books, but no matter how hard she searched, she could not find the sixth one, even inside the trash can. She sighed heavily. When she looked up, she happened to glance inside the birdcage, which was at eye level.

There, nearly hidden among breadcrumbs and wilted vegetables, sat a small book.

Lina forced a smile and approached the cage. “Um, Mr. Parrot?” she called.

“The name is Dummy,” the bird corrected her. “What’s this ‘Mr. Parrot’ business? What a laugh! The day I answer to that name will be a sad day indeed.”

“Mr. Dummy—” Lina tried again.

“Now it’s ‘Mr. Dummy,’ is it? It’s only Dummy, Miss Noisy.”

“And my name is Lina, Dummy,” Lina said, forgetting herself and calling him Dummy, like Thomas did.

“What is it, Lina?” he answered, unexpectedly obliging.

“A book I need is in your cage. May I take it out?” Lina asked.

“Oh, go ahead, take it. Take it right on out,” the parrot said. He left the cage through its broken door, spread his great white wings, and flew into the store. Lina could hear Thomas exclaiming, “Ahoy, Dummy. Did you lose the battle too? I didn’t expect that of you!”

Lina cleaned the birdcage, and then she looked around. Everything had been set right, and the room looked tidy and pleasant. But another thought struck her. The people who lived here—no, the person and the bird who lived here—seemed unsettled. Maybe she had done something she had no business doing. She looked again at the starkly clean cage. I’d better put some food in there, at least, she thought to herself.

Lina dashed out the back door of Thomas’s shop and around to Picotto Hall, where she explained her predicament to John.

“It’s all right,” John reassured her. “You worked hard and did what you thought was best. Lots of people have ideas but don’t take action. Let’s see if we have something that stubborn bird will eat.” John rummaged around the kitchen and produced some lettuce and crackers.

Lina went back, put the food in the birdcage, grabbed the three books, and returned to the front of the marine store. She found Thomas carving a block of wood while Dummy looked on from his perch on Thomas’s head.

“You’d better make it a mermaid,” the parrot was coaching. “I like Medusa myself, because she’s different. For the girl, a mermaid or Venus. No question.”

“I did too much. I’m sorry!” Lina bowed her head and hurried back to Nata’s store.

“She returns in victory!” Nata cried in delight, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I’m amazed that you brought back all six books … I think you’re the first to get the better of Dummy that way.

“This copy of Robinson Crusoe is Dummy’s favorite,” Nata went on. “Whenever I ask him to return it, he plants his feet on it and says, ‘Why would there be a book in my cage? Do you think birds read books? In your store, do you put books in cages to sell?’ On and on!”

Nata sounded so much like Dummy that Lina laughed.

“And when I ask Thomas to get it back for me, he only says, ‘The bird’s cage is the bird’s territory. You two work it out,’” Nata harrumphed.

“Dummy can speak just like a human,” Lina said. “Maybe he reads books too.”

“Well, Dummy speaks more than a human, but he doesn’t read,” Nata said. “He likes the parrot on the cover of Robinson Crusoe.” She took the book in her hands to show Lina. “See? It has the same pretty white feathers as him. Dummy loves his plumage, and he makes a huge fuss if even one feather falls out.”

“Why don’t you sell him the book, then?” Lina asked. “Dummy can definitely pay what you’re asking.”

“I know,” Nata said. “But he’ll never come out and say he wants it. He’s too proud to admit it, seeing as how he and I fight whenever we’re together. You should have heard him when I said I would just give it to him. ‘I have no reason to accept something like that from you,’ he huffed, even though he wanted it. It was ridiculous.

“Since then, I’ve been trying to forget about this book,” Nata added. “Even if I put it on display, I wouldn’t feel right selling it to anyone else, because it feels like Dummy’s.”

Nata heaved a sigh. “Anyway, it’s been a long day and you must be tired. It’s almost closing time, so why don’t you head home?”

At supper that night, Lina couldn’t get Dummy off her mind. Why had he let her take the book without a fight? Would Thomas arrange to borrow it again? Why didn’t Thomas buy it for Dummy? Then again, Nata would probably never sell books to Thomas, because she knows he doesn’t take care of them, Lina thought. She could imagine Dummy right now, restless in his too-clean cage without his book.

As Lina stewed, Ms. Picotto’s voice came flying. “Lina, tomorrow will be your final day working at Nata’s.”

“You mean I don’t have to go anymore?” Lina asked.

“That’s right,” came the curt reply.

“But you told me I have to work,” Lina protested.

“Who told you that you don’t have to work?” Ms. Picotto asked.

“But you just said …”

“What exactly did I say?” Ms. Picotto retorted.

Lina bit her lip.

“There are plenty of places for you to work!” Ms. Picotto snapped.

Afterward, Lina trudged to Icchan’s workshop.

“What did you get up to today?” Icchan asked, looking at her with worry as he added coal to a stove. “You don’t seem your usual self.”

Lina sat at the coolest window facing Absurd Avenue. She told Icchan all about her work that day at Thomas’s shop.

“Well, I’ll be—so that grouch let you go into his back room and clean, eh?” Icchan said, looking up at Lina with surprise. “I thought Nata was the only one allowed back there, and only when she stared down the owner.”

“So Thomas isn’t friendly with people?” Lina asked.

“Not normally. He’s a bit odd, that one. I think everyone is scared of him,” Icchan said.

“Really?” Lina said. “He does yell, but his eyes are as kind as can be.” She thought of Thomas’s brown eyes sparkling as he handed the lantern to the captain. Then she added, “I yelled too, you know.”

“Maybe we’re all just skittish because we don’t know each other as well as we might,” Icchan said. “We don’t deal with each other face-to-face; we only watch from a distance. Maybe it’s better to leap into the fray, as you did, shouting and yelling just like Thomas.” Icchan looked at Lina with a grin.

“Maybe,” Lina agreed shyly. She, Thomas, and Dummy had all yelled plenty today.

“But even after you fought, you praised Dummy when he sang, right?” Icchan went on. “I bet that made Dummy happy. I bet he’s never been praised before. Thomas is so quiet. Even when he does open his mouth, he never says more than a few words unless he’s upset about something.”

“I think his shouting is easier to take than Ms. Picotto’s barbs, though,” Lina said.

“That’s true.” Icchan nodded. “You got another working-over from her tonight, didn’t you?”

“‘What exactly did I say?’” Icchan and Lina both imitated Ms. Picotto’s rising tone, and they dissolved in laughter.

The thought of Thomas and Dummy niggled at Lina, though, and she found herself glancing out the window toward Thomas’s store again and again. I wonder if Thomas and Dummy are having trouble settling down tonight, she thought.

“Lina, have you seen the knife for sharpening pastel crayons? Apparently I left it somewhere. Could you help me find it?”

Lina was startled to realize that Icchan was addressing her. “Sure,” she said, and hopped off the windowsill.

At the bookstore the next day, Lina and Nata were close to finishing the final pile of books.

“The Adventures of Dunno and His Friends,” Nata called out.

The moment Lina spotted the cover, she recognized it. She had borrowed this book from the library once and enjoyed it. She had wanted to buy a copy, in fact, but the version at her local bookstore had different illustrations. I want this, Lina thought. When Nata called out the next title, Lina caressed Dunno for a moment before shelving it. She didn’t want to let it go.

At last, they put the final volume on the shelf.

“We did it! That’s the lot, Lina. You have definitely earned your keep, as Ms. Picotto would say. I’m really grateful to you.” Nata beamed.

“I wish I could keep working here!” Lina replied.

“I want you to stay too, but I can’t just keep you all to myself,” Nata said. “All right, Lina, the time has come. Please choose a book. I’ll be happy to give you one as a gift.”

“Really?” Lina said.

“Really. Any title,” Nata replied.

Lina glanced furtively at Dunno, but she selected a different book instead.

“Are you sure?” Nata asked, doubtful.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thank you so much, Nata!” And holding the book, Lina waved goodbye and crossed the street to Thomas’s store.

“Hello?” Lina yelled. Somehow, just coming in here made her voice louder.

Thomas appeared silently from the shadows, much as he had before.

“Would you give this to Dummy please?” Lina asked him. “It’s to thank him for singing me that song.” She pushed Robinson Crusoe into Thomas’s hands. Then she zoomed out of the store.

Lina felt relieved, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her heart. And she was glad, because Dummy and Nata would never have to fight about that book again.

When Ms. Picotto saw Lina, she asked, “Who is this child? Your face looks about to split in two with that smile. Are you that happy to be done at Nata’s?”

“Not at all!” Lina huffed.

“The day after tomorrow, you’ll start work at Shikka’s place,” Ms. Picotto said sharply.

‌5

Lina Helps Make Magic

Before noon on Sunday, after doing some summer homework, Lina went into Icchan’s workshop. Icchan had placed a pot on one of his stoves and was hard at work stirring a thick mixture with a long-handled spatula. Sweat beaded below his nose and on his forehead.

“It’s so hot in here!” Lina exclaimed, stepping over large bottles and stacks of books to reach the coolest place by the window. “I bet this really is what the equator feels like.”

“Is it truly that hot? I guess I’m used to it,” Icchan replied. “But I do get sweaty. Lina, your timing is perfect. Could you please look around for my handkerchief? I can’t leave this pot unattended, and my face is dripping like a faucet.”

While Lina hunted through the piles of supplies and instruments that seemed to cover every surface, she asked, “Icchan, you said once that keeping the stoves burning is your job. Is that true?”

“It certainly is,” Icchan said. “This is how I pay my room and board.”

“By tending stoves in the summertime?” Lina asked, spotting the handkerchief between a pair of pliers and a lamp and handing it to him.

“Have you ever thought it strange that flowers from all four seasons bloom at the same time here on Absurd Avenue?” Icchan asked.

“I have.” Lina nodded.

“That’s my doing,” Icchan explained. “Each of these stoves keeps one of the seasons running. This one’s spring. That one’s summer.” He pointed at each of the potbelly stoves in turn.

“Can that really keep all the flowers in bloom?” Lina asked incredulously, eyeing the different stoves as they glowed red.

Icchan stopped stirring for a moment and looked at Lina. “I am an inventor, Lina, and a cracking good one,” he said, sounding offended. “If I need flowers to bloom, then I can make them bloom.”

Lina felt guilty for doubting him.“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right,” Icchan replied. “I wouldn’t expect you to believe something just because someone told you it was true.” He gave a sad smile and went back to stirring.

“I actually love that flowers bloom in their seasons, in order,” Icchan mused. “But Ms. Picotto always wants to see crepe myrtle blooming outside the living room window, and azaleas on the west side of the house during her walk, and daffodils out back like a yellow carpet. And she refuses to do without roses in all the vases in the house … Golly, a job can take it out of a person! You must know what I mean, what with having to change jobs just after you got used to Nata’s.” He spoke quietly as he watched his pot.

That afternoon, Lina took a gourmet sandwich-making lesson from John in the kitchen. If she spent all her time in Icchan’s workshop, John would get out of sorts.

“Now, how about that?” John said with satisfaction, tasting Lina’s newly
built sandwich. “Icchan may be an inventor, but only I can teach you to make sandwiches as good as this!”

On Monday morning, rain was falling, but Lina opened her umbrella and marched to the shop next door to Nata’s, as if shooing the clouds away. “Good morning! I’m Lina from Picotto Hall,” she called.

A slight older man appeared. “I am Shikka,” he said. “Please kindly dust the items on display in the store. When you have finished, you can go home for the day.”

Having said this much in his small voice, he disappeared into the next room as soundlessly as he had come.

Lina had arrived full of energy, but now she too used a small voice to answer, “Yes, sir,” to an empty store.

Picking up a cloth that had been laid out for her, she began dusting the pottery arranged neatly in the dim space. Other than the sound of rain falling, all was quiet. Lina completed her task as quickly as she could.

Back at Picotto Hall, she went straight to Icchan’s workshop. “It’s good to be back!” she sighed. “The owner of the ceramics shop is like a ghost, and the store is so gloomy!”

“Shikka is a quiet type. He’s probably unsure how to approach you,” Icchan said. “He’s a good person though. It’s unlike you to be shy around someone. Just speak to him directly, like you did Thomas.”

“But Shikka says something and then disappears!” Lina protested. “I wonder if I have an easier time with yellers.” She grimaced, stumped, as Icchan chuckled.

That day, Lina and Icchan loaded all four of Icchan’s stoves with coal. Dripping with sweat, they plopped down in an open spot to rest, agreeing that even Ms. Picotto could find no fault with their work today.

“If I’m not mistaken, she enjoys needling people,” Icchan said.

“She probably always grins after she picks on me,” Lina agreed.

“Let’s leave her with nothing to gloat about,” Icchan said.

“Yes—let’s do it,” Lina replied.

By the end, there were four red-hot stoves and two spent people determined to get the better of Ms. Picotto.

As Lina got used to working in Shikka’s store, Shikka grew more comfortable interacting with Lina. Since her work consisted mainly of dusting the ceramics, all she really had to be careful about was not breaking them. Eventually, everything was spotless, and Lina began spending more of her time in Shikka’s sitting room watching the world go by.

It was another rainy day. Lina watched from Shikka’s window as a large, chatty group of gnomes made their way down Absurd Avenue. They sported whiskers in a variety of styles and held tiny umbrellas. One of them spotted Lina in the window and called out, “Hi!”

“Hello!” Lina called back. “Where are you off to?”

Shikka had come into the room with a tea set and was watching this exchange. “Don’t such sights surprise you?” he asked.

The occupants of both Picotto Hall and the bookstore drank black tea or coffee, but Shikka preferred green tea. Lina looked forward to teatime: she liked green tea, and—this being a ceramics shop—Shikka had a whole selection of teapots, teacups, and tea bowls that were Kiyomizu ware, Shino ware, and more, which he used to serve it.

Lina replied, “Oh no, I’m not surprised by gnomes! The first time I saw an imp, I did go quiet for a moment … but I guess you could say I’ve gotten used to things. Even when I met Dummy, I got angry at his wisecracks first, and then I remembered to be surprised by a parrot who speaks like a human.

“I get along with Dummy now, and I know that everyone here is good,” Lina went on. Except for Ms. Picotto, she was about to add, but then Shikka spoke.

“We’re all descended from sorcerers, you know,” he told her.

“Yes, I heard that from Nata,” Lina replied.

“Do you believe it?” he asked.

“I do,” Lina answered.

She was telling the truth. Anywhere else, you would run to the doctor if you thought you saw a centaur cantering away; and if someone told you their ancestors were sorcerers, you would think they were dreaming. But here, Lina no longer found anything strange. Misty Valley seemed exactly the sort of place where people born with magic would live.

Shikka seemed relieved to see Lina smiling. “We were all excited to have a human child come,” he said. “There was one a long time long ago, too …”

He suddenly fell quiet as he listened hard to something. A crashing sound could be heard coming from far away.

It grew nearer and louder, and before long, the store was shaking as though there was an earthquake! The vessels on the shelves began to tap and jostle each other, and Shikka and Lina raced to the windowsill to look outside.

A great gray elephant as large as the store was barreling toward them from the forest. It stopped suddenly out front, all but squealing its brakes. A woman slid down from its damp back and raced into the store.

“Shikka, please save my son!” the woman wailed. “I beg you! Save my son!” She shook the storekeeper’s shoulders as tears gushed down her face.

It was all Shikka could do to say, “All right, settle down and tell me the problem.”

Lina prepared tea for the woman as Shikka gently extricated himself from her grasp and showed her to an easy chair. He handed her the tea Lina had poured. Holding the cup and saucer with trembling hands, the woman gulped down the tea.

Her tearstained face was flushed, and her hair was plastered down by the rain, but she was beautiful. She wore a white top with billowy pants that reminded Lina of pajamas. Lina thought she looked just like a princess in The Arabian Nights.

After finishing her tea, the woman seemed to settle a bit. She looked up at Shikka with teary eyes.

“What on earth has happened?” he asked her.

“It’s the mountain wizard’s doing. Thanks to him, my son—my son—!” she gasped.

“Now, now, take a deep breath,” Shikka said.

The woman tried to tell her story in an orderly fashion, but she was in terrible distress. “My son has been changed into a piece of pottery! Into some kind of vase or dish. And Shikka, he seems to be here in your store! If he does not change back today, he will have to take that form forever!” she said.

“How did this happen?” Shikka asked.

“My son was selfish and wild, so his father the king sent him to the wizard’s mountain as punishment,” the woman said. “When we decided it was time to let him come home, the wizard was gone! I searched high and low and finally learned that the wizard had moved from his mountain pass to a plateau. He likes myōga ginger, and he says more of it grows there than up in the mountains. He eats it constantly, and you know what people say about myōga making you forgetful. When I went to fetch my son, the wizard told me that he had never seen or heard of such a boy. Really, he did!” The woman’s eyes filled with pain at the memory.

“What happened next?” Shikka asked quietly.

“Well, I finally got the wizard to remember,” the woman went on. “He said my son had been too wild, even up on the mountain, so he’d turned him into pottery! Not only that, but he thought he might have sold the pottery to a secondhand shop when he moved. Before I left to look for the shop, the wizard said that since nearly half a year had passed, it might no longer be possible to reverse the spell, and he didn’t recall how to do it either. I consulted a fortune teller at the castle who said my son was here, and that the spell must be undone by five p.m. today. We only have a few hours!” The woman began weeping again.

“So you’re saying this pot or dish is in my store,” Shikka confirmed.

The woman nodded. “The fortune teller said the item is not broken. It should be here,” she said. “For half a year, my son has been unable to move, getting coated in dust …”

“He’s not dusty. Lina here has been dusting all the pieces nicely,” Shikka said. “Now then, what would you have me do?”

“The wizard has been eating too much myōga up on his plateau and can’t say what to do. But Shikka, everyone says you know more about pottery than any wizard,” the woman said. “I’ve come to ask for your assistance. Please, I beg you! You are now the only one who can save my son.” She buried her face in the arm of the chair, sobbing.

Shikka wore a perplexed, even troubled expression, but said, “Very well. I will try my best.” He sounded determined, and then his face softened. “You have not slept. Lina, please take our visitor back to her elephant, so she can go home and rest.”

Lina took the woman’s arm, even though she was much taller than Lina, and helped her outside.

“Will my son be all right?” the woman asked sadly. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep before I see his face. If he can’t come back by five p.m… .” She looked with tearful eyes toward the store.

“No need to worry,” Lina reassured her. “Shikka is reliable.”

“He is, isn’t he?” the woman said. “The pottery coming here is the one bright spot in all this.

“Thank you for your help,” she added. “Tomorrow, a government minister will arrive from our neighboring country, so I cannot return until the evening.” Shoulders slumped, she climbed back on the elephant and rode away through the rain.

Watching her go, Lina longed to help her.

Back in the shop, she found Shikka copying something by hand from a thick, black book. The tome looked familiar. Something with “Spells” in the title, I think it was, Lina thought to herself.

“Who was she?” Lina asked Shikka.

“The queen of a certain country, here in the realm of sorcery,” he answered. “She’s typically very calm.”

“Now then. Lina, please gather the items I tell you to,” he instructed. “Three candles. They’ll be in the cupboard drawer. A black cloth—we can use my lap blanket.” He paused. “And powder. Do you see the small bottles over there on the desk? Please bring the ones that contain black powder and purple powder.”

Lina hurried about and collected the items, which she placed on a table.

“Next, we need a human,” Shikka said. He looked around the room, thinking. “What shall we do? There aren’t any humans I can possibly ask to help with something like this. I should check a different method.” He opened his black book again.

“Wait! What about me?” Lina asked.

“Oh, yes!” Shikka exclaimed. “That’s right, you’re human. Forgive me, I’d been thinking you were like us.”

“A sorcerer’s descendant?” she asked.

“That’s right,” he replied, smiling.

“Tell me what to do,” Lina said eagerly.

“In my store, there are two kinds of pottery,” Shikka said. “One kind is pottery that wizards or magicians turned people into, just as the queen described. The other kind is … let’s see, I’m sure you remember the cream pitcher with the sunflower design. If it were a person, what sort of person do you think it would be?” he asked.

Lina pictured the little creamer in her head. “A young woman who works on a farm, healthy and tanned from the sun, wearing a yellow skirt,” she said.

Shikka nodded, pleased. “That’s right, Lina! The creamer will become just that sort of girl.”

“What?” Lina exclaimed. “Pottery can turn into people?”

“That’s right,” Shikka said again. “When a vessel has been lovingly used for many years, its personality grows right into a person—though it does require a pinch of magic powder as well.

“Anyway, those are the two kinds of pottery in my shop. Lina, would you please look around and choose just three pieces that seem like they will answer when you talk to them?” Shikka asked. “I have a limited supply of powder. I could ask Icchan for more, but it has to be cooked over a low flame for a month, and even a brilliant inventor can’t get around that.”

Lina suddenly felt a terrible responsibility. What would happen if the pot or plate they needed was not among the three she chose? Everything depends on me, she thought. Whether the queen rejoices or despairs depends on me! I don’t think I can do this! She looked at Shikka in alarm. He was bent over his table, carefully combining the black and purple powders while repeating how grateful he was to have her there. Lina found that she was unable to protest. All she could do was try.

Dividing her ponytail in two, Lina yanked hard to tighten it.

Lina paced up and down the shelves, scanning everything inside the store. All of the ceramics seemed as though they might reply if spoken to, but three in particular stood out no matter how many times she looked: a white pitcher with a long spout, a dish with a cat design, and a roughly textured vase with green glaze artfully dripped from its mouth down the sides.

After she brought these pieces carefully to Shikka’s table, he placed the three candles in a holder mounted on the wall to the west, and lit them. Then he handed the powder he had mixed to Lina and asked her to sprinkle it on each of the three pieces in turn. He himself picked up the lap blanket and went to stand by the candles.

First, Lina sprinkled powder on the water pitcher. A purple flame burst forth, gradually taking the shape of a standing figure.

“Oh, this one is purple,” Shikka said regretfully. “It’s a pitcher that has been developing a personality.” The flame disappeared, and a person stood in its place. Draped in clothing of pale, light blue, she had snow-white skin and long hair, and gazed at them coolly. “Well. This is a surprise,” she said. “So I’m alive? I think I’ll go buy a bright red dress.” She strode out of the shop.

Shikka watched her go, pondering, but then the first candle began to sputter behind him, and he quickly used the lap blanket to extinguish it.

Next, Lina sprinkled powder over the dish. A puff of dark smoke rose.

“This one is black. That’s a good sign,” Shikka observed, but his voice was tense. This smoke was taking a shape that was far too long, flat, and low to the ground to be a person. Lina and Shikka held their breath. When they saw what the shape was, they both yelped, “Aah!”

It was a full-grown tiger! If it had roared, it would have been magnificent, but it only curled its long body into a ball and sat looking down, as if embarrassed.

“Is your name Tama, by chance?” Shikka asked.

The tiger nodded.

“So, you were here all this time. Lina, there’s no need to be frightened. Tama is so gentle and bashful that he was dismissed from the circus.”

Shikka turned back to Tama. “So you were turned into a dish. This could be the work of the mountain wizard too.”

The tiger shook his head.

“The circus magician then?” Shikka asked.

The tiger nodded glumly.

“Tama, would you like to stay here and live with me?” Shikka asked.

Tama nodded more briskly and wagged his long tail.

“Very well,” Shikka said. “Poor thing. There’s nothing wrong with a gentle tiger. Humans should know better than to force their agendas on animals. Lina, after we’re done here, could you please find Tama something to eat?”

Shikka gave Tama’s thick neck a squeeze and patted the tiger’s head. Then he blew out the second candle.

‌6

Dealing with a Prince

All that remained now was the green-glazed vase. Lina could barely stand the suspense.

“What happens if this isn’t the prince?” she asked Shikka. “It’ll be my fault—my responsibility. Both the time and the powder will have run out!”

“There’s nothing to do but try,” Shikka told her. “If this is not the prince, then surely he’s not in this store. You chose seriously and to the best of your ability.”

Shikka spoke kindly, but Lina could not forget the sight of the dejected queen as she rode away on the elephant. Lina sprinkled the rest of the powder on the vase while trying with all her heart to will a prince to life.

Black smoke appeared. A person began taking shape.

Lina shut her eyes tight and balled her hands into fists.

She heard a voice say “Uggghh,” as if yawning, followed by Shikka sighing, “Thank goodness.”

When Lina opened her eyes, she saw a boy taller than herself who wore the same white top and billowy pants as the queen. He also wore a beautiful jeweled turban on his head. As the boy stretched his limbs, Shikka put out the third candle.

Lina’s body went limp with relief, and she dropped into a chair. No sooner did she sit, however, than the chair cried “Gyaah!” and bucked her off. She had accidentally sat on the tiger.

“I’m sorry!” Lina mumbled, barely able to move her lips from fear.

Tama looked at Lina as if to say Humph!

“Haha! If that big backside landed on me, I’d be annoyed too,” said the boy from the vase, hooting with laughter. Then he grumbled, “What a pain! I was so cramped in there. Now I’m starving.” He yawned again.

Shikka pointedly ignored him and went about putting the candles and lap blanket away. Lina chose not to bother with the boy either and decided to take Tama to Picotto Hall for some food. As the two of them were about to step outside, the boy blocked their way.

“The royal prince has said he is hungry!” he fumed.

“I am not your servant, and you are not the prince here,” Lina snapped, and she strode away with Tama behind her.

How rude! Lina thought in disgust. After Shikka and I worried so … When she thought of how anxious she had been just moments ago, she felt sorry for her prior self.

John gave Tama a generous hunk of meat on the bone. But when Tama tried to sit in Gentleman’s chair to eat it, the cat jumped on the table and clawed Tama’s nose.

“Fugyaaah!” Tama screamed, surprising Icchan and also Kinu-san, who had been ironing. Both of them raced into the kitchen; even Ms. Picotto came scrambling, with her long skirt hiked up. They found the cat seated properly at the table next to Lina, and the tiger curled on the floor licking a bone.

“One must defend one’s territory. Isn’t that true, Gentleman?” John said.

“Nyaa!” Gentleman declared loudly, causing Tama to curl up tighter.

Later, as Lina walked Tama back to Shikka’s, she patted his head. “Today was a hard day for you, wasn’t it?” she said. “First I sat on you, and then Gentleman scratched you.”

For some reason, Lina always hesitated to pet Gentleman, but she found that she could pet Tama.

Back at the store, Shikka was nowhere to be seen, while the tall boy sat lolling in a chair. “Make me some tea!” he ordered as soon as he saw Lina.

Lina said nothing and began preparing Tama a place to sleep in the corner.

“Oi. I said make tea!” The boy walked over to Lina and poked her.

“I told you, I am not your servant,” Lina said icily. “In this village, people do their work themselves.” As a matter of fact, Lina had begun doing her own work, even if it was with the help of the people around her. So she knew an older boy could do the same.

“‘He who does not work, shall not eat,’” Lina went on, quoting Ms. Picotto. “Be grateful you’re even here, with your attitude.”

“Did you just tell me to work? I am the prince!” the boy scoffed. “A prince doesn’t have to work.”

“The rules are different here. If you don’t want to work, then don’t eat,” Lina said.

“WHAT?!” The boy raised a hand as though to strike her.

“Really? You’re going to hit me?” Lina challenged, keeping calm. “That’s all a prince can do, I see. We’d better rewrite all those stories about dashing, kind princes to say that they are rude, and do nothing but yell, and hit the ones who save them!”

Lina packed all of her ire into these words, but as she uttered them, she wondered if she was starting to become a bit like Ms. Picotto, and she shivered.

The prince froze with his fist in the air. Then he muttered, “Cheeky brat!” and began fumbling around, trying to make tea himself. He must have been very thirsty. He stood staring for a while at Shikka’s tea set, apparently not knowing what to do, and then he reached a hand toward the teakettle. The second he lifted it, he yelped “Ouch!” and dropped it again; the kettle went clattering across the floor, spewing hot water.

Lina picked up the kettle, careful not to touch the hot sides. She wiped the floor. Then she took a look at the boy’s hand and confirmed he was unhurt.

She boiled new water and made the tea while the prince watched, curious.

“Why did you make it this time?” he asked. “You wouldn’t do it before, no matter what I said!” He drank thirstily and held his cup out for more.

“Before, you wouldn’t lift a finger. I wouldn’t have made it for anything,” Lina said. “I made it this time because I wanted to,” she added.

“Also, if you’d kept going, Shikka’s tea things would have been ruined. He may own a ceramics shop, but there’s a limit to the number of replacements he has.”

Lina poured another serving.

The prince reached for the tea, but Lina made him wait. “What about ‘Thank you’?” she said.

“Why would I need to say that?” he groused.

“You wouldn’t want someone to help you without thanks, surely?” Lina said. “Otherwise, we’ll have to rewrite the stories and say princes don’t know how to say ‘Thank you’ …”

“Aargh, fine! Thank you,” the prince mumbled, glaring daggers at her.

Shikka came in from the kitchen. He had apparently been to the garden plots; his hands were muddy.

“Lina, could you please help me make today’s supper?” he asked. “The prince seems very hungry, and I’m not able to feed him well by myself.”

As Shikka and Lina worked in the kitchen, chatting pleasantly, the prince came in and paced around them. He must have gotten tired of sitting alone, Lina thought.

She shoved some napkins, knives, and forks into his hands. “Put these out on the table, will you?” she said.

The prince grimaced, but he clumsily took the items in his hands and carried them to the table. Shikka’s mouth opened in surprise.

When Lina took some food to the table, she noticed that all the knives were lined up together in the center, as were the forks. “That isn’t how you set the table,” she said. “You put the utensils for one person in front of each seat. You can’t do anything by yourself, can you?”

Hearing Lina chide the prince, Shikka seemed to take pity on him.

“Lina, I think he might be out of his element here,” Shikka said. “Maybe we have something else he can do.”

The prince looked at Lina in triumph.

“He looks strong,” Shikka continued. “I think splitting wood might be better.” He led the prince outside.

Soon, Lina heard a satisfying whack, whack sound from outdoors. Having finished the cooking, she looked out the window and saw the prince raising an ax above his head. He seemed to have sensed her gaze, because he glanced her way and showed his white teeth in a proud grin. Lina found herself smiling back. He had worked up a sweat, so she took him a towel.

“He did well, especially for his first time,” Shikka said.

Lina chose to eat at Shikka’s that night before returning to Picotto Hall. The prince’s appetite was insatiable—he stuffed his mouth with food and swallowed without even seeming to chew.

After eating enough for five people, the prince leaned back and sighed. “Aah, that was good. Working hard makes the food taste amazing. Right, Lina?”

The next day, when Lina went to Shikka’s store, she found Tama and the prince sweeping. Tama would scoot a chair aside with his large body, and the prince would sweep that spot, making awkward movements with the broom. Tama also moved rugs by grasping them in his teeth, making himself useful indeed.

At teatime, Shikka took Tama for a walk outside. Indoors with Lina, the prince stood and sat and stood again, unable to settle himself.

“You must be excited to go home again, after so long,” Lina said.

“Yes, I am,” the prince said. “But once I’m there, I’ll have nothing to do but make small talk with fussy courtiers, or listen to boring lectures while trying not to yawn.

“I really like it here,” he added. “This place has good people, and I can tell when I’ve actually helped someone.”

“If you become a good king, you can help many more people,” Lina pointed out.

“That’s true, but there’s no one like you to order me around or stand up to me,” the prince said. “Before now, everything I’ve commanded has been done instantly.”

“You’re not the only one to blame, then,” Lina said. “That’s how your world works. I didn’t realize that when I was criticizing you. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” the prince said. “You irritated me a bit, but I was happy to have you scold me without holding back. By the way, your cooking was delicious. Not even the chefs in my country could make what you did.”

Lina beamed. “Thank you,” she said. “John at Picotto Hall taught me. When I tell him you said that, he’ll be thrilled.”

Shikka and Tama returned from their walk, making the group livelier, but the prince often fell quiet.

Soon they could hear the approach of earth-shaking footsteps, and moments later the queen hopped off her elephant in front of the store and sprinted in. When she saw her son, she cried out and embraced him. Lina felt truly glad then that she had chosen the green vase the day before.

The queen thanked Shikka again and again. The prince looked at Lina and seemed to want to say something before leaving, but instead he plucked a green gem from his turban and handed it to her, closing her fingers around it. Then he kissed her roughly on the cheek! She got the feeling he even told her I like you, but afterward she thought it might have been the wind.

When it was time to go home that day, Lina and Shikka almost got into a pushing match over the gem.

“He left it with you as a thank-you. You should take it,” Shikka said.

“But you’re the one who deserves thanks,” Lina said.

“I received a gift from the queen already, and I couldn’t have brought the prince back alone,” Shikka said. “Besides, he was sweet on you.”

Shikka said this with a twinkle in his eye. Lina turned bright red, all but flung the gem on the table, and fled.

That evening, Ms. Picotto said, “The day after tomorrow, you’ll start work at Monday’s place.”

Lina was upset. She had finally started getting along with Shikka!

“Do you have a complaint to voice?” Ms. Picotto asked.

“No, I have nothing to say,” Lina replied evenly.

Ms. Picotto had been waiting open-mouthed to pounce on an impropriety, but she could no longer say a word. Icchan and John dissolved into silent fits of laughter.

On Sunday, Lina had a good guffaw with Icchan about how Ms. Picotto had looked exactly like a goldfish the day before, with her mouth opening and closing.

“I almost feel I haven’t truly spoken with Ms. Picotto unless I’ve heard, ‘What exactly did I say?’” Lina said.

“I know what you mean. I got an earful just this morning,” Icchan said, scratching his head. “She told me the early-summer flowers aren’t blooming properly.”

After that, Lina and Icchan got soaked in sweat again, stoking all of the stoves.

‌7

The Boy Who Would Not Remove His Mask

As Lina headed out on Monday morning, Kinu-san seemed worried. “This next shop may be a challenge,” she murmured.

Lina paid her words no mind as she opened the bright red door to the toy shop. Inside, she was captivated by the toys she found neatly arranged on the shelves.

A tall man approached from the back of the store, wearing a leather apron and holding a lollipop. “You must be Lina,” he said warmly.

“That’s right,” she answered.

“Oh, good,” he said. “My name is Monday. I’m buried in orders for kendama toys, and I wasn’t making any progress by myself.” He stopped abruptly and turned to look around. “Oi, Sunday, where are you?”

Out from behind Monday’s apron peeked a Hyottoko mask. The mask looked like a comical man with his mouth puckered. No sooner had the mask appeared than it vanished again.

“Now, don’t be bashful,” Monday said. He scooted the masked child toward Lina.

The child, dressed in jean shorts and a jacket, clasped both hands behind his back and squirmed. A five-year-old? Lina suppressed a smile at seeing how much father and son resembled one another. Each of them had flaming red hair that was completely disheveled.

“This is my son, Sunday,” Monday said. “He’s a shy one, as you see. We’re glad to have you.”

Monday looked at his son with loving blue eyes. Placing a hand on Sunday’s head—Monday’s hand was large enough to cover it entirely—he nudged his son to bow.

A kettle whistle sounded in the back, signaling that water was boiling.

“Ah, I forgot!” Monday ran to turn off the heat, leaving Lina and Sunday alone with the toys.

Sunday looked down timidly while sneaking glances at Lina through his mask.

“I’m happy to meet you, Sunday,” Lina said, looking into the eyeholes.

Sunday slid his hand into hers and began showing her the toys. “This is Bear,” he said. “Big, right? As big as me! Next to Bear is Cat. Cat looks like Gentleman at Picotto Hall, don’t you think? Next is Tiger. There used to be a big one and a small one, but the big one got sold. I liked the big one better, but Daddy said we can’t keep the merchandise.”

Sunday stood still in front of the stuffed animals, looking wistful.

“Sometime I’ll bring Tama over to visit from Shikka’s place,” Lina said. “Tama’s a real tiger.”

Sunday’s mask turned to her. “Really? A real tiger? You’ll bring him here? Is he your friend?”

Lina nodded.

“Will he let me ride on his back?” Sunday asked. “He won’t bite me, will he?”

Sunday began to ask question after question. If Monday had not called Sunday to lunch a while later, he might not have let Lina go all day.

When Lina returned to Picotto Hall, lunch was proceeding as usual, with John gravely watching the flame under the soup and Icchan getting scolded by Ms. Picotto about the stoves. Kinu-san was gazing out the window at Absurd Avenue; Lina reflected that Kinu-san often did this when she had a moment to spare. When Kinu-san saw Lina, she seemed to want to say something, but she kept quiet.

On the way back to Monday’s after lunch, Lina stopped by Shikka’s store and got permission to take Tama out the following day. When she arrived at the toy shop and reported this to Sunday, he whooped in delight and jumped up and down all over the store. When the romping wore him out, he took Lina’s hand again and showed her more toys.

“What do you think these are?” Sunday asked, pointing out a matchbox-sized car, house, and piano. They were music boxes! He wound them up and started them one after the next, and the air soon filled with their soft, sweet melodies.

“My daddy’s really a music-box specialist. Isn’t that amazing?” Sunday said, looking proudly at all the cute boxes playing their tunes.

He showed Lina wooden train sets, building blocks, kendama, and glass jars full of marbles. The shop really had all kinds of toys. As Sunday finished showing Lina the doll section, he motioned to one corner. “These dolls are ‘articles not for sale,’” he informed her. “It means that we can’t sell them to anybody. Daddy says they’re old, and we don’t know what powers they have. Anyway …” Sunday pointed to one. “This is Mrs. Confedrin. She has a funny hat, doesn’t she? Daddy says no one will want her, but I like her. I like her big mouth, and I like her pig nose.”

“You mean pug nose,” Lina corrected.

“Right! That’s it,” Sunday said. “I always mess that up.

“This one is Witch,” the boy went on. “She has scary eyes, right? That’s because she’s a villain. She can cast real spells with her wand, I bet.

“And this one is Bride. Mommy likes her a lot.” As Sunday pointed to the doll most hidden in the corner, the music boxes all stopped playing at once.

Lina looked at the dolls not for sale. And she looked back at Sunday’s masked face.

As if announcing that their tour was over, Sunday pulled on her hand and said, “Let’s go help make the kendama toys!”

Lina looked back at the bride doll, which had been dressed in a white wedding kimono. The doll looked as if someone had played far too roughly with it—its head nearly rested on its shoulder. Its pale face and dark eyes peered sorrowfully up at Lina.

“Is Bride all right?” Lina asked uncertainly, but Sunday just shrugged as he yanked her along. With his mask on, his expression was invisible.

Still wondering if it was all right to leave Bride in this state, Lina let herself be pulled away.

The next day, Lina took Tama to Monday’s store. Sunday, who was somehow licking a lollipop from beneath his mask, inched close to the tiger.

Lina recalled how Sunday had kept his mask on the whole previous day.

“Wouldn’t you like to take that off?” she asked.

“Nope! My mommy told me she would take it off for me. I’m going to have her do it. So don’t touch it!” Sunday jumped backward when Lina reached for the mask.

Sunday made friends with Tama quickly. Soon, the boy was leaning against the tiger, pulling candies and chocolates from his pockets and chewing them as he chatted away. “Tama, you sure have a peg nose, don’t you? Wait, was it pug nose? What’s that? You like vanilla, you say? My favorite is strawberry …”

Like his son, Monday had a sweet tooth. Every morning he would heap candies and chocolates on a large plate and wolf them down as he worked. Lina kept reaching for the sweets too, knowing they were from Toké’s shop. She was helping the toymaker paint different colors on the kendama: toys with wooden spheres on strings, which children would try to swing into place.

At Monday’s, Lina was discovering many new colors, with names like June Wind, November Sea, Hearth Flames, Sun Setting in the West, and Mountain Lake.

Back at Picotto Hall, Lina tried to describe these new colors to Icchan. “I love Sun Setting in the West,” she told him. “It’s fiery and also lonely somehow.”

“I thought you liked pink?” Icchan said.

“That’s because my drawing set doesn’t have the sunset color,” Lina said.

Icchan smiled. “Maybe you never thought to look so closely at the sunset before.”

“You’re probably right,” Lina acknowledged.

“Well then, I think I’ll make my candle for you in that color,” Icchan said.

“You’re making me a candle?” Lina exclaimed in delight.

“I am,” Icchan confirmed. “A first-rate candle that lets you see people you miss in the flame, and hear sounds you miss in its flickering.”

“Wow … but then again, you are an inventor, after all,” Lina said, smiling too.

Icchan did not miss a beat. “And a cracking good one!” he reminded her.

On the morning of Lina’s third day at the toy shop, she remembered that Monday had asked her to stop by Toké’s sweet shop on her way to work. She decided to leave Picotto Hall through a wooden gate to the west that she normally did not use.

If Lina left through the rose archway in front, she would have to receive a morning greeting from Tama, who would be in the yard by Shikka’s store. Tama liked to greet her by placing both front paws on her shoulders and giving her cheek a lick with his big, rough tongue. The feel of it gave her the willies. Maybe she would give Tama a puzzle to ponder by not appearing as she usually did. Tama thought Lina always came from the same place, and no doubt he was already outside, sprawled on the ground, his eyes open just enough to look out for her through the flowers.

Lina approached the wooden gate, which had been set into the hedge, with curiosity. The moment she passed through it, she stopped, so enchanted by the sight before her that she did not want to move.

The hedge was made up of azaleas, whose bright blossoms reminded Lina of butterfly wings opening and closing. From the Picotto Hall side, only the branches of the shrubs were visible, with just a flower or two peeking through, but outside the gate, azaleas in white, orange, scarlet, and purple were blooming in a glorious circular mandala design. There were so many blossoms that together they appeared almost like a single, rippling length of cloth. Lina knew she had found another wonder of Absurd Avenue.

Full of the joy that comes from seeing something unexpected and beautiful, Lina stepped into another place that had already made her happy: the sweet shop. There, she saw the imp who had given her candy before, standing with a woman as round as a freshly baked loaf of bread. The two of them looked up as Lina entered, and the imp grinned. His hands were already full of chocolates and cookies.

Lina asked to have Monday’s order packed up.

“I am Toké,” the woman told her as she worked. “You must be Lina. I hear you’re helping at Monday’s store these days.” She interrupted herself to call to the back. “Hey you, new customer!”

A flour-covered man as tall and skinny as a rolling pin came out.

“Hiya, glad you’re here,” the man said. “I’m softening butter for cake now. In the summer, we have to do these tasks in the morning, before it’s too hot …” Even while saying this, he glanced back to the kitchen several times. Then he cried, “Oh no, it’s going to melt all the way!” and hurried back.

“Sorry about that,” Toké said. “Once he starts cooking, he forgets his manners and everything else. Lina, I heard from John that you like the sweets from our store.” She was smiling.

“Yes!” Lina nodded.

“To celebrate our acquaintance, would you like to select some treats for just you?” Toké offered.

Everything looked so delicious, Lina wasn’t sure how she would choose.

Then the imp spoke up. “You can’t go wrong with the rainbow candies, a serving of honey pie, and a chocolate éclair,” he said, pointing each one out.

Toké looked at Lina to see if she wanted those things.

“Yes, please!” Lina said.

Toké placed the items in a separate bag from Monday’s and tied it with a rainbow ribbon.

Lina and the imp left Toké’s at the same time and walked as far as the toy shop together.

“Say, does Monday still sell a tiny tea set for children who play house?” the imp asked before they parted.

“Yes, he does,” Lina said. “You mean the one with a rose pattern on the teapot and sugar bowl, right? Do you like to play house?” she asked him.

“No!” he replied. “A gnome I know—she’s the smallest of the gnomes I know, and she drinks her tea out of walnut shells. I want to get her the set for her birthday.”

“You really are kind,” Lina said, hoping she hadn’t offended him, and the imp grinned shyly. When his freckly face scrunched into a smile, he was adorable.

Lina told Monday about the imp and asked to have the rose tea set put on hold for him. Monday agreed.

“That gnome he mentioned is less than twenty centimeters tall,” Monday told Lina. “As far as I know, she’s not only the smallest gnome, but also the smartest.”

Lina gave Sunday a few of the candies she’d received, and then she told him he could bring Tama over from Shikka’s store himself. Sunday whooped in delight and ran off.

That day, the job at hand was attaching string to all of the new kendama. Both Sunday and Monday popped candies into their mouths constantly. The mountain of sweets that Lina had brought in the morning dwindled in a flash. Even Tama joined in the feasting, getting sticky around his muzzle as he tagged along with Sunday.

By the afternoon, Lina felt they had gorged too much. “These sweets are delicious,” she said to Monday, “but I think we’ve gone overboard. There are so many other good things to eat. Shall we have John make us some of his special sandwiches?”

The others ignored her and kept eating. Finally, Lina decided to hide the plate.

“Lina, when we make toys, we have to get into a child’s frame of mind, or the toys won’t be fun,” Monday said. “That’s why I eat sweets along with Sunday.”

Following this strange reasoning, Monday made an afternoon trip to Toké’s shop himself and brought back heaps more sweets. Lina tried to at least limit the amount that Sunday ate, first lecturing him and then ignoring him when he wailed, but it was no use. He too went to Toké’s store, and came back with so many sweets that he could hardly hold them.

Later, Lina told Icchan about the father-and-son addiction to sweets, and asked him to help her think of solutions. She pitched all sorts of ideas to him, including explaining the dilemma to Toké so she would sell fewer sweets to the toy shop.

But Icchan only borrowed John’s turn of phrase, saying, “Resisting sweets is not their strong suit, that’s certain.”

Changing the subject, Lina told him about the amazing azaleas.

“Those are my problem now, as a matter of fact,” Icchan said. “Ms. Picotto told me again today that the early-summer flowers could be better.” He glared at one stove.

Lina told him passionately how very beautiful the shrubbery was, so much so that she, too, hoped it would bloom all year round.

“My, my, what do we have here? A young Ms. Picotto?” Icchan remarked, looking her way. But his eyes showed he was pleased.

The next morning, Lina headed out earlier than usual. As she strolled along—slowly, to enjoy the glorious azaleas—she ran into Ms. Picotto on her morning walk.

“Who is this child, out and about so early?” Ms. Picotto said. “This is new for you.”

“Yes, I wanted to leave time to look at these azaleas before I went to work,” Lina replied.

They said no more as they passed each other. Lina did not see Ms. Picotto look back as she reached the gate, murmuring, “That child likes this hedge too, then. Hmm.” She smiled.

When Lina arrived at Monday’s place, a shock awaited her: Monday and Sunday were both lying on the floor holding their jaws and moaning. They had terrible toothaches! Lina raced back to Picotto Hall to get ice from John, medicine from Icchan, and lengths of cloth from Kinu-san, who looked worried.

Lina applied a poultice to Monday’s jaw, winding the cloth around his face and tying it on top of his head so that the treatment stayed against his cheeks. He looked extremely strange—a full-grown man with a big white bow tied in his flaming hair, groaning and thrashing. If John had seen this sight, he would have laughed the day away.

The harder case was Sunday, who still refused to remove his mask. He would lift it to show his mouth, but Lina needed more space than that to apply medicine to either his cheeks or his teeth. No matter how much she soothed and coaxed, he kept the mask on—even while crying and yelping in pain. Lina wanted to cry with him.

“What will make you take off this mask?” Lina asked Sunday. She was beginning to detest the silly Hyottoko face.

“My mommy said she would take it off for me,” Sunday said. “She’s the one I want to do it. Mommy!” He began crying even harder.

“Could you call his mother?” Lina took a chance and asked Monday. “Where is she?”

Monday looked torn. “You’re right, he really wants to see her,” he said. “But where could she be …”

As he muttered to himself, Monday seemed to change his mind, and he shook his head firmly. “No. I can take care of Sunday on my own,” he said. “Please don’t worry about us. There’s no need for you to come into the back today.” He picked up Sunday and walked away.

Lina sat glumly in the front of the store. She could still hear Sunday wailing. She wished he had listened to her warnings about sweets—she could not bear for him to suffer. If his mother was nearby, why couldn’t Monday contact her? As she wondered this, Lina’s eyes fell on the bride doll tucked away in the corner.

Since Monday would not let her help with Sunday, she decided to take care of other matters. She had been wanting to see if she could do something about Bride for a while. Knowing that she might be scolded, Lina picked up the doll. Disheveled hair covered its large, dark eyes, making it look sorrowful indeed. She got the feeling that she had met someone with those eyes.

Lina went back to the boardinghouse to borrow art supplies from Icchan and a mending kit from Kinu-san. Looking worried again, Kinu-san asked about the patients. When Lina described how Sunday refused to have anyone remove his mask except his mother, Kinu-san said “I see” and looked toward the store.

Lina thoroughly dusted the bride doll, which alone brightened it so much that it began to look like a different doll. She reset its head, and she attempted to fix its hair, but it had been arranged in a Japanese bridal style and she could not tell how it had originally looked. Replacing its ornamental hairpins and tsunokakushi headdress helped. She painted the doll’s lips red and added a touch of light pink to its cheeks. With those finishing touches in place, its formerly sad eyes seemed to twinkle.

Lina returned the doll to its corner of the store at the end of the day, still troubled by the sound of Sunday’s cries.

As she left the empty shop, she thought she heard someone tsk and say “Meddler!” in a scratchy voice.

‌8

Parting Gifts

When Lina returned to Picotto Hall, Kinu-san asked after Monday and Sunday again. Lina reported that Sunday was still crying. Kinu-san seemed restless after that.

At dinnertime, everyone gathered as normal; though they waited, Kinu-san did not appear. As Lina was about to go and look for her, Icchan and John said to let her be, which struck Lina as oddly cold. Ms. Picotto told everyone, with her usual sternness, “Let’s eat.”

The next morning, Kinu-san did not come to breakfast either. No one but Lina seemed to be paying her any mind.

Then Ms. Picotto told Lina, “Starting today, you will not work at Monday’s again.”

“But who will take care of Monday and Sunday, with their toothaches?” Lina asked.

“Sunday’s mother has returned,” Ms. Picotto replied. “So there’s no need for you to go.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Lina said. “Sunday will be over the moon!”

Lina was happy to hear it, too. She had begun to sense that the problems at the toy shop were more than she could solve herself.

Later that day, when Lina was outdoors cutting roses for the dining table, Shikka called to her over the hedge. “Lina, could you please ask Icchan for enough pain medicine for—let’s see, three people?” he asked. “No, make that five people.”

“Are you okay?” Lina asked. “Do you have a headache? Why do you need enough for five—is it that bad?” She looked at Shikka with concern, but to her eyes he appeared normal.

“It’s not for me,” Shikka explained. “That silly Tama’s gotten into some sweets somehow. For a few days I noticed the fur was sticky around his mouth, and now it seems he’s got a cavity. He’s in such pain, and I feel bad for him.”

Tama ate too many sweets at Monday’s, Lina thought. She felt partly responsible for this, having obliged Tama to spend time with Sunday.

Lina collected a generous supply of pain reliever from Icchan and hurried to Shikka’s. One of Tama’s right teeth seemed to be the problem; he lay on the floor with a paw on that part of his face, tilting his head to the right and moaning. When Lina came in, he looked at her in abject misery. She applied Icchan’s medicine, wound a cloth around Tama’s face, and tied a bow on top of his head.

The next day, Tama was a new tiger. When he spotted Lina picking flowers, he gave her his customary greeting: a lick on the cheek with his big sandpaper tongue. Shikka followed him with droopy, red eyes, telling Lina he had stayed up all night to apply cold compresses.

“You have a good master,” Lina told Tama.

Tama roared, like the tiger he was, in proud agreement.

After somehow fitting all the flowers Ms. Picotto had requested into a vase, Lina asked John to put a chair and table out in the back, beneath the pergola with hanging wisteria. She had decided to finish her summer homework today, starting with the math problems. Gentleman came and sat below the blooming wisteria with her.

But right away, Lina hit a snag. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t get one of her answers to match the key. “Ugh, I don’t get it!” she said. “I wish I could ask the gnome who Monday said was so smart.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched.

Gentleman leaped onto the table soundlessly.

“No, Gentleman! I’m studying here,” Lina protested, cross.

Paying her no mind, Gentleman strolled onto her notes and examined her long series of calculations. His green eyes flashed, and he placed his forepaw on one spot in the middle.

Lina looked at him wonderingly. As she watched, he tapped the spot several times. He seemed to be saying, Here it is. I’ve found your error.

“Are you telling me this is incorrect?” Lina asked, chuckling.

He nodded.

“But that has to be 312,” she said. “I’ve done it three times. And besides, I can’t possibly have gotten tripped up someplace this simple.”

But Gentleman shook his head. He hit the table with his tail three times, and then one time, and then five times.

“So you’re saying it should be 315?” Lina asked.

He nodded again.

“Well then, shall I try this part again, honorable Gentleman-sensei?” Lina said. She was teasing, but she tried again and found that she had subtracted incorrectly before. The answer really was 315! She raised her head in surprise.

Gentleman had vanished.

Lina sat dumbfounded in the cloud of wisteria scent, which had grown cloying in the heat. She heard a sound and turned to see that Shikka and Tama had returned.

“Sunday won’t play, so Tama seems lonely,” Shikka explained. “Tama’s always content when he’s with you, so I sent him over, but I found him pacing around the entrance to the yard just now, not able to go in by himself. He’s uneasy with Gentleman, it appears.” Shikka patted Tama’s head.

“Gentleman … is an incredible cat,” Lina said. “He found a mistake in my calculations for me.”

“That is incredible,” Shikka agreed.

“But this is Absurd Avenue,” they both murmured at once, and laughed.

Lina hurried to finish the rest of her homework, and then she took Tama for a walk in the yard. “Sunday must need to be with his mother instead of playing,” Lina told the tiger, trying to comfort him.

From the kitchen, John called out, “Lina, Monday is asking you to come to the toy store!”

Lina sent Tama home and headed out through the wooden west gate. These days, she was using that gate all the time, never knowing that Ms. Picotto watched her with a smile. Indeed, Lina did not know that Ms. Picotto could smile.

When Lina entered the toy store, Monday came from the back. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

“Lina! We’re celebrating my wife’s homecoming,” he said. “Please come into the back and have lunch with us. This is all because of you. We don’t know how to thank you.”

Lina followed Monday without understanding what he was talking about. Then she saw Sunday with his arms around his mother, who was seated in a chair, beaming: Kinu-san.

“Sunday’s mother is …” Lina fell speechless.

“Sunday was playing ball inside our store recently and broke the bride doll by accident,” Monday explained. “His mother tried to get him to apologize, but he refused. Then I tried to get him to say sorry, but with both of us telling him that, he wanted to do anything but …” Monday sighed.

“Sunday knew that I had brought Bride to the household when Monday and I were married, and that she is precious to me,” Kinu-san said. “I got angry, and I said I wouldn’t come home until Bride was fixed! I would normally never say such a thing, but it turns out I was under a spell.” Kinu-san heaved a sigh even deeper than Monday’s.

“So I truly couldn’t come home until the doll was mended,” Kinu-san went on. “But my family weighed on my mind, and I couldn’t make it any farther away than Picotto Hall.”

“We had no idea she was there, did we?” Monday said, looking at Sunday.

“I had everyone at Picotto Hall keep it quiet, and I never took a step outside,” Kinu-san said. “Icchan and John must have thought I was taking things too far. But when I couldn’t wait a second longer and ventured back here, the doll was fixed up beautifully. I could stay!” Kinu-san gave Sunday another squeeze. She looked at Lina as if to add It was all thanks to you, because you mended Bride.

“The yucky spell on Mommy was Witch’s fault,” Sunday said softly, hugging his mother.

“It was my fault too,” Monday said, looking at the witch doll. “I disliked Witch’s eyes, and it seems she got fed up and decided to become the wicked witch I imagined her to be. So she cast the spell on my wife.”

“She even made it so Daddy and I thought Bride was repaired already. So we never fixed her!” Sunday puffed out his cheeks as if to say Horrible, right?

“Oh, so when I asked if Bride was okay, you didn’t know what I meant!” Lina nodded, understanding at last. Then she added, “The day I fixed Bride, I thought I heard a voice say, ‘Meddler!’”

“That would have been Witch. Because you broke her spell,” Monday replied. “She was cared for by generations of real witches, and her wand belonged to one of them.” Monday looked at Witch. “What I said about her eyes made her feel bad. I am really sorry,” he said.

The witch doll sniffed dismissively, or so it seemed. But Lina noticed that her eyes looked kinder.

“Thank you, Lina-chan,” Sunday said. “Daddy said you helped my mommy come back.”

Lina gazed at Sunday’s face, which she was seeing for the first time. His large, dark eyes looked just like Kinu-san’s. If he hadn’t worn the mask, I would have known right away, Lina thought. She understood now why she had often seen Kinu-san at the window—she had been hoping to glimpse her son.

When Lina returned to Picotto Hall, she grilled Icchan and John about why they had never told her Kinu-san’s story.

“Because Ms. Picotto told us not to!” they exclaimed as one. At the boardinghouse, Ms. Picotto’s word was law.

That evening at dinner, the residents of Picotto Hall toasted Kinu-san’s family with wine. Even Lina took a tiny sip, as Ms. Picotto did not say not to.

After the meal, Lina was summoned to Ms. Picotto’s sitting room.

“Here is a ticket for tomorrow’s six o’clock train,” Ms. Picotto said to Lina. “Please pack your things tonight. You won’t make the train unless you leave early in the morning.”

Ms. Picotto spoke bluntly. Lina’s heart pounded at this sudden news. “I have to go home tomorrow?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Ms. Picotto replied.

“There’s still a week left of summer vacation,” Lina pointed out.

“But there’s no place left in Misty Valley that needs you to work,” Ms. Picotto said. “We can’t have you stay here for free.”

The woman spoke with finality. Lina’s mind raced to come up with proposals of work she could do. She realized no one was around to do the work that Kinu-san had been doing. But when she was about to say that, Ms. Picotto spoke again.

“I almost forgot to mention it, but please leave the umbrella here when you go,” she said.

“The umbrella?”

“Yes,” Ms. Picotto said. “I sent it to meet you, remember? The one with the clown handle.”

“Sent it to meet me …” Lina repeated the words, unable to make sense of them.

“I sent it six whole months in advance, did I not?” Ms. Picotto said. “That umbrella is mine, you know.”

Seeing that Lina was still confused, Ms. Picotto went on in an aggravated tone, “Your father was like this, taking ages to catch on, and he gave me such trouble—but you’re worse!”

“So my father did come here,” Lina said.

“That’s right,” Ms. Picotto answered. “I sent the umbrella to meet him, too—in fact I loaned it to him for three years. He was a little quicker on the uptake, you know.”

“But … why?” Lina asked.

“Your grandfather was an acquaintance of mine,” Ms. Picotto said. “He was a fine person.”

Ms. Picotto had gotten a faraway look in her eyes, but she came back to herself as Lina was about to ask more questions. “Good night, Lina,” she said, pushing Lina out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Lina had learned so many things at once that she felt dazed. She wondered if the drop of wine had gone to her head. She no longer had any energy to plead for a longer stay. If Ms. Picotto said it was time to go home … then she had to go home.

Lina went to the kitchen to tell Icchan and John the news. It put them in such low spirits that she had to comfort them, rather than the other way around. “I’ll come again next year!” she said, as if trying to convince herself too.

“We can see her next year, right?” Icchan said to John.

“Yes, we can,” John said to Icchan.

They nodded to reassure each other.

As Lina packed her things in her room, she thought bit by bit about the information Ms. Picotto had shared.

The umbrella had appeared in Lina’s house six months ago, sent by a friend of her father’s, he told her. Lina’s father had gazed at it with a far-off look, and then told Lina again and again not to lose it.

That’s right … When Lina had come to Misty Valley, the umbrella had shown her the way into the village! It had blown this way, leading her to Picotto Hall. She had thought that no one was sent to meet her, but her guide had in fact arrived months before …

Dad knew what sort of place this village is. That’s why he told me so many times to go and see, Lina thought.

She did not know what sort of person her father’s father had been. Her grandfather had died before she was old enough to remember him. She decided that when she got home, she would ask her father to tell her more about him.

At five o’clock the next morning, Lina picked up her luggage and went downstairs. Ms. Picotto handed her a large bag.

“Parting gifts from all the villagers of Misty Valley are packed up in here,” Ms. Picotto said. “Everyone wanted to come say goodbye, but I told them not to because of the hour.”

Lina wished she could have seen the residents of Absurd Avenue just one more time, to etch them in her memory.

She said goodbye to Gentleman, John, and Icchan, who were waiting for her outside Ms. Picotto’s sitting room. Icchan blinked his eyes repeatedly before yelping, “The stoves!” and running back up to his workshop. John kept bringing his apron to his eyes, then said, “The soup will overcook!” and fled to the kitchen.

So it happened that Gentleman and Ms. Picotto were the only ones to see Lina off.

“Thank you very much for everything,” she said to Ms. Picotto. “I truly enjoyed staying here. I look forward to seeing you next year.”

“Who said anything about next year?” Ms. Picotto asked, badgering Lina until the end.

Lina hurriedly opened her mouth to request another invitation, but then she remembered that Ms. Picotto had asked her to return the umbrella. That meant she would not be inviting Lina back.

Lina’s heart sank. But Ms. Picotto loaned the umbrella to Dad for three years …

“Goodbye,” Ms. Picotto said.

Just as it had been when she arrived, the air was misty.

Lina did not feel that she had walked a long time. Her heart was full as she brooded over how she would never return to Absurd Avenue. Before she knew it, she reached the entrance in the forest where the umbrella had guided her the first day.

Lina sank to the ground. Where are those six lovely cottages now? she wondered. She peered back between the two Himalayan cedars, but she saw nothing except more trees, dense and lush.

Lina’s mind whirled with different scenes from her time in Misty Valley. It was there that she had come to love the color of the sun setting in the west. It had been far prettier when she saw it on Absurd Avenue, she reflected now, watching the sun slant toward the horizon. Then she yelped in surprise: But I thought it was early morning! She tried to calm herself as she looked around. The evening cicadas were crying on and on, and the western sky was red; soon, night would fall.

It’s only been a few hours since I first arrived, before noon today, Lina thought. Could the many days I spent at Picotto Hall have been a dream?

Then again, the large bag from Ms. Picotto lay at her feet. So she had definitely gone to Absurd Avenue.

Sighing, she pulled the bag to her chest and looked at her train ticket, the first item she had received before her departure. Ms. Picotto had told her six o’clock, so Lina had assumed she meant six a.m., but the ticket said 18:00. I see, it’s for the six o’clock train tonight, Lina thought.

She reached into the bag and pulled out its contents. There was a parcel wrapped in paper that smelled of bacon: a meal packed by John. There was Bavarian cream from Toké’s shop, in a container shaped like a flower petal; Lina wondered if the imp had chosen it. Next was Sunday’s Hyottoko mask, which she had begun to resent when he refused to take it off but now found dear. She found the special candle Icchan had promised her. I’ll be lighting this all the time, Lina thought. And then she found the prince’s green gem that she had tried to give Shikka.

The next item she touched was bumpy. Taking it out, she saw that it was a carved wooden boat. At its prow stood a girl who looked exactly like Lina, with her hands on her hips and her mouth open in a shout. This must be what Thomas was carving the day I finished work at his shop, Lina thought. She remembered how Dummy had told Thomas to carve a mermaid or Venus.

When Lina shook the bag a bit, The Adventures of Dunno and His Friends tumbled out, and a pure white feather that had been stuck between its pages fluttered into her lap. From Nata and Dummy! Dummy had plucked a feather for her, even though he took such pride in his plumage.

Lina was so grateful that she teared up. She had done that when Ms. Picotto needled her, too, she thought, as she examined the objects one by one.

As she began putting them back, Lina realized there was something else in the bag. She reached all the way in and carefully pulled out something that seemed to have caught in the side.

The umbrella with the clown handle.

Ms. Picotto had sent it to meet her again.

Lina gripped the handle with all her might. Ms. Picotto’s parting gift had turned out to be the very best of all.

Rising to her feet, Lina began to consider what she would tell the police officer if she met him again on her way to the station.“There was no one I knew in Silver Mountain Village, but they treated me well,” she decided to say.

When she got home, Lina knew her father would see the clown umbrella and know exactly what it meant.

A Note to Readers

from the 1975 Japanese Edition

When I was in elementary school, I read a Mary Poppins book. I thought I could meet Mary Poppins if only I went to England. When I was in middle school, I read The Chronicles of Narnia, and I wanted to go to Narnia too; I thought up all sorts of ways.

Every time I read a book, I would wish that I could somehow enter its world.

It’s only recently that I’ve come to see how all sorts of people are living in my world. My wonderful friends, my elders, my teachers, and all the people alive in my heart are there. Even the stuffed teddy bear I lost as a child is there.

What kinds of people live in your world?

This story is Lina’s and my dream world. I wonder if the residents of Absurd Avenue will find a place in your dream world too. I’m so worried about this that I can’t sit still, as this is the first book I have published.

If you enjoyed reading it, that would make me happy …

In closing, I wish to thank Satoru Sato, for teaching me what matters about fantasy.

Sachiko Kashiwaba

About the Author

Sachiko Kashiwaba is a prolific writer of children’s and young adult fantasy whose career spans five decades. In Japan, her works have garnered the prestigious Sankei, Shogakukan, and Noma children’s literature awards. Her books have also been animated as the films The Wonderland and The House of the Lost on the Cape, among others, and her 1975 novel The Village Beyond the Mist—published in English in 2025—inspired Hayao Miyazaki’s film Spirited Away. Her novel Temple Alley Summer, illustrated by Miho Satake and translated by Avery Fischer Udagawa, won the American Library Association’s 2022 Mildred L. Batchelder Award, and her novel The House of the Lost on the Cape, translated by Fischer Udagawa and illustrated by Yukiko Saito, was named a 2024 Batchelder Honor Book. She lives in Morioka, Iwate.

About the Illustrator

Miho Satake is an artist and illustrator based in Tokyo. She is best known for illustrating the Japanese editions of many classic children’s and young adult books, including Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, Rowan of Rinn by Emily Rodda, Dragon Sword and Wind Child by Noriko Ogiwara, the Moribito series by Nahoko Uehashi, and several books in the Kiki’s Delivery Service series by Eiko Kadono. In addition to illustrating classic children’s literature, her work spans a wide range of genres, including fantasy and realism.

About the Translator

Avery Fischer Udagawa grew up in Kansas and studied English and Asian Studies at St. Olaf College in Minnesota. She holds an MA in Advanced Japanese Studies from the University of Sheffield. She has studied at Nanzan University, Nagoya, on a Fulbright Fellowship, and at the Inter-University Center for Japanese Language Studies, Yokohama. She writes, translates, and works in international education near Bangkok, where she lives with her bicultural family. Her translations include Sachiko Kashiwaba’s middle grade novels Temple Alley Summer and The House of the Lost on the Cape, which garnered the 2022 Mildred L. Batchelder Award and a 2024 Batchelder Honor, respectively. She serves as Global Translator Coordinator in the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. In 2024, she was named the SCBWI Stephen Mooser Member of the Year.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents herein are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

霧のむこうのふしぎな町 (Kiri no mukou no fushigi na machi)
Copyright © 2024 Sachiko Kashiwaba
Illustration copyright © 2025 Miho Satake
Translation copyright © 2025 Avery Fischer Udagawa

All rights reserved.

Publication rights for this English edition arranged through Kodansha Ltd., Tokyo.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Restless Books and the R colophon are registered trademarks of Restless Books, Inc.

First Restless Books hardcover edition May 2025

Hardcover ISBN: 9781632063922
ebook ISBN: 9781632063939
Library of Congress Control Number: 2024953050

This book is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

This book has been translated and published with support from the Japan Foundation.

This book is also made possible by the generous support of the Henri and Tomoye Takahashi Charitable Foundation of the Marin Community Foundation (MCF).

Cover illustration by Miho Satake
Cover design by Keenan
Text design and typesetting by Tetragon, London

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