After eating, Shin put on his sandals without much hurry.
Ryo was already on his feet, arranging his things near the door. The knife strapped to his belt, the cloth bag folded the right way. He always did everything the same. Shin thought that was good. When his father changed something, it was because he had to.
— Going to the river? — Ryo asked.
— I am.
— Don't go past the big rock.
Shin nodded. He didn't ask why. That rule had existed since before he could remember existing.
He ran out of the house, feeling the cold air hit his face. The sky was still pale, undecided about whether it wanted to turn blue or stay gray. The ground was damp, and the dirt stuck easily to the soles of his feet.
The path to the river was too familiar to require any thought. The trees were where they had always been. The stones too. Shin liked that. When something changed, he noticed quickly. But there, everything seemed in its place.
The river ran low, as usual for that time of year. The water made a calm sound, the kind that doesn't call attention to itself, but that you miss when it isn't there.
Shin crouched near the bank and began throwing small stones, one by one. He tried to always hit the same spot, a small whirlpool that formed near an exposed root. When he hit it, he felt satisfied for about two seconds. Then he threw another.
He stayed there for a good while.
He saw a small fish pass by quickly. Then another. He thought about trying to catch one, but gave up. He didn't feel like getting wet.
While he played, he noticed something different.
He couldn't say what.
He stopped throwing stones and stared at the water. It was clear. The sound was the same. Nothing seemed wrong. Even so, he stood there, with that annoying feeling you get when you forget something but can't remember what it is.
He looked around.
Was the forest too quiet? No. It was always like that in the morning.
Maybe it was just hunger again. Or cold.
He shrugged and went back to playing.
When the sun began to rise a little higher, Shin stood up. It was probably time to go back. His mother didn't like it when he took too long.
On the way back, he met Ryo.
His father was coming from the opposite direction, steps firm, alert to his surroundings. He stopped when he saw his son.
— Heading back already?
— Yeah.
Ryo looked at the trail behind him. Then at the river. Then back at Shin.
— See anything different? — he asked.
Shin thought for a moment.
— No.
Ryo nodded.
— Alright then.
He didn't say anything else. He passed by his son and continued on. Shin watched him for a few seconds, then turned and kept walking.
When he got home, Hana was already stirring something in a pot.
— Took a while — she said, without scolding.
— I was throwing stones.
— You always are.
She smiled. Shin sat near the door, leaning against the wall, watching the house fully wake up.
Everything went on as normal.
Even so, that annoying feeling hadn't gone away.
It was like stepping on solid ground, but feeling your foot sink a little more than you expected.
Nothing serious.
Just strange.