The First Voice

The night Nono came home from the festival, a small voice drifted in from outside the window. "Together…" It was the very word Nono had swallowed that afternoon — wanting to join the dancing circle, and not being able to. "…Who was that?" Outside, only quiet dark. The voice alone lingered.

When Nono opened the window, there it was — a bird the color of lapis, soaked with rain. So as not to startle it, Nono set down a dry cloth and some water, a little way apart. And waiting, quite still — the bird itself took a step. Hop. Right up close to Nono's fingers.

The clouds parted, and moonlight settled on the bird's feathers. The bird came one step more. And then — the rest of the voice reached them. "Together… I want to dance." Nono whispered, soft. "Did you hear?" The bird answered. "Rrru." Nono named the bird Ruri. And together — "Let's go and deliver it."

Nono went to their grown-up. Their heart thumped. Still — "I want to go back to the festival." The words were small, but they came out. For the first time, Nono had taken that step alone. The grown-up nodded and picked up an umbrella. Two people and one bird followed the lantern light back down the road.

A little apart from the festival circle, in a lantern's shadow, stood a child about Nono's age, with their grown-up nearby. Their feet tapped with the music — tap, tap. But they could not step into the circle. Nono caught their breath. The child looked just like Nono had that afternoon.

The last song of the night began. The lantern child turned — spun around to head home. And Nono's throat clenched tight; no voice would come. Just then, Ruri drifted down. Landing between Nono and the child — and simply waiting there. Not rushing. Quiet.

In the circle, one person's place stood open. Should Nono invite the child with words — "Dance with me"? Or leave the space open and wait, without hurrying the words? Nono recognized that stuck feeling from the afternoon. — What will Nono do?