The roar of the waves filled the truck. Daniel stared straight ahead. There was another moment of silence as he gathered his thoughts and then asked, “What about all the blood Mama mentioned?”

Koji ran his hand over his short hair. “We got into a fight the morning I brought him the money.”

“Were either of you hurt?”

Koji nodded. “We both took a licking. Nothing that didn’t heal, yeah, we’re tough old suckers,” he said.

Daniel parked and turned off the engine. Onekahakaha Beach was right across the road, the rush and roar of the waves as they rose and fell. Koji leaned out the window and breathed in deeply, a dull ache pulsing across his forehead. He looked up at the clouds pushing in, muting the sunlight for just a moment, as if someone had abruptly pulled the curtains closed. Koji turned back to find Daniel watching him.

“Tell me,” Daniel said. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

It was late March. Koji moved quietly through the darkened house, already missing the warmth of Mariko’s body next to his. It was not quite 3:00 a.m. He was careful not to step on eleven-year-old Daniel’s baseball glove and bat lying on the living room floor. In the past year the boy lived and breathed baseball. Koji quietly pulled the front door of the green bungalow closed. He hadn’t planned to stay so late, but it was hard to leave once he’d settled in. At thirty-three, he relished the thought of having a family, but he still had to be back up at the plantation before the cane cutters were out in the fields. He rubbed the stubble on his cheek. Little chance he’d be catching up on sleep. Koji had promised Razor he would attend his union meeting the following evening. He had already missed so many.

It was warm out. The only light came from the moon overhead, a watery glow dulled by the clouds. Koji heard the trees rustling, the cicadas in their nightly chorus. When his family first arrived in Hawai‵i from Japan, he couldn’t sleep with all the noise at night. Now he couldn’t sleep without it.

Just as he opened the door to the truck, Koji heard something move from behind the toolshed. A cat or dog, he thought. But when he turned, he saw a shadow walking toward him, the ghostly orange glow of a cigarette dancing up and down in the darkness. Koji couldn’t imagine who would be out so early in the morning. He reached for the crowbar under the driver’s seat and waited.

“I should have known. You were always panting after her.”

Almost five years had passed, and Franklin’s voice remained unmistakable. Koji turned as he stepped out from the shadows.

“I was wondering if you’d ever come crawling back.” Koji kept his voice a low whisper, hoping not to wake Mariko or Daniel.