“That’s why I want you there, to keep me careful, yeah, like always,” Razor added. “You can’t keep standing on the sidelines. I won’t take no for an answer this time.”

Koji looked away before Razor saw the quick flicker of guilt he felt. He was right: Koji had run out of excuses.

“What time?” Koji asked.

“Seven p.m. At the cabin.”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Promise me.”

And there was young Razor again, that kid always trying to coerce him to play one more game of baseball, even when it was almost dark and the lunas would eventually come out and chase them back to Kazoku village.

“I promise,” he said.

Razor smiled. Only then did he let him go.

* * *

They drove down the road in silence until Daniel braked to slow down as they turned off the main road.

“When did you tell my mother that my father had returned?” Daniel asked, his voice calm.

Koji inhaled and took his time. He was going to tell the story only once. What Daniel did with it was up to him. He didn’t need to protect either of them any longer.

“When I came back down to visit the following Sunday,” Koji answered.

“What did she say?”

“She was hurt, yeah. And angry, but not as surprised as I thought she would be. As if she knew he’d be back one day.” Koji glanced at him, adding, “Your father came back because he was in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Daniel asked. He slowed down as they bounced over the rutted dirt road.

“He’d been gambling in Honolulu, owed a lot of money. He came back because he needed money from your mother.”

Daniel looked over at him, surprised. “She didn’t have any money,” he said, quiet and filled with emotion.

Koji paused, swallowed, and kept talking. “I told him I’d get him the money if he would leave you and your mother alone, yeah. We agreed to meet again down at the beach early the next morning. That was when Mama saw us, when she was out early collecting shells.”

“You had the money?”

“Most. I’ve never needed much. Borrowed the rest.”

Daniel turned down another road that led directly to the beach, and Koji rolled down his window. It was windier down by the water, the air cooler, smelling briny and reminding him of the sea urchins they used to catch when they were young on the rougher, wilder north side of the beach, where the currents ran stronger.

“He never asked about my mother?” Daniel asked.

The truck bumped and squeaked.

“No.”

The word fell flat and hard, like a rock hitting water.

“Did he ask about me?”

“No,” Koji said again.

“You never saw him again?”

Koji shook his head. “No.”