I was startled. The child was only about ten years old. Wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and barefoot in rubber sandals, his unrefined appearance clearly didn’t mark him as a city kid visiting for the summer. Yet, he wasn’t a disheveled, runny-nosed country kid, either. His hair was neatly combed, and his face looked freshly washed.
“Hey, are you a local kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Is your house around here?”
“Just up ahead.”
“A little while ago, did a man—someone a bit older than me—go that way on a motorcycle?”
“Nope.” If they had passed each other, he surely would have known. Did the man take a different path?
“Is there a place to stay where you live?”
“A place to stay?”
“Like an inn or a hotel. Any house in the business of lodging guests?”
“We don’t have any houses like that.”
“Somewhere a traveler could sleep? A community center, a youth center, a meeting hall? Or maybe a mountain hut or an emergency shelter.”
“None.”
“Where’s the nearest town hall or elementary school?”
“There’s one over that mountain.” Damn. If I have to cross that mountain now, I’d rather just turn back.
“I wonder if I could stay at your house.”
The boy remained silent for a moment, then said, “I can’t decide that on my own.”
“No, I suppose you couldn’t.” I wavered. Should I try negotiating a place to stay here? Or should I just head home immediately?
A group of children came running down the gravel road in ones and twos.
“Hey, Shinjiro! What are you doing?”
“Someone from outside came.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mister, what did you come here for?” a girl asked.
“I’m just passing through.”
“Are you a traveler, big brother? If you’re looking for the hot spring town, it’s just past this ridge.” The girl pointed far down the gravel road.
“Does this gravel road cross the ridge and connect to the hot spring town on the other side?”
“That’s right.”
“I came from over that way, but if I keep going straight down this road, what’s ahead?”
“Nothing. Just forest, forever.” Again, I wavered. If only I were riding an off-road bike. I’d screw up my courage and ride through the mountain path to the hot springs. But if I broke my bike in the mountains and got stranded, I’d be helpless. I didn’t even know if I could call for roadside assistance. For the time being, thinking I might at least get a map of the area, I parked my bike at the abandoned post office and decided to go with the children to see the village where they lived.