The Christmas party had succeeded in not only cheering the locals, but also the restless dockworkers, the new young teacher and his wife from Texas who lived above the Kilauea café down the street, and all the other shop owners and their families in the surrounding blocks of Kamehameha. No one spoke of the flow, and when the dancing began, Koji watched from the sidelines, happy to see Daniel and Maile together most of the night. Whatever had happened to her in Honolulu had left her jumpy, always looking over her shoulder. He hoped that being home again would help her to relax, that Daniel would be able to see her through whatever trouble she was having. Koji touched the bandage that covered his forehead, his stitches itching more than anything else. He pressed against it gently, trying not to scratch.

“It means you’re healing,” Daniel said, walking over to him. “Just leave it alone,” he scolded with a smile. “You’ll be as good as new in a few days.”

Koji lifted his beer in a toast, happy to get on with his life, and drank. He looked again to see Daniel’s gaze lingering on him until he began to feel uncomfortable.

“You didn’t tell me the knife wound was so bad you had to quit cutting cane,” he said, his voice low and serious.

Koji didn’t have to guess. “You talked to Nori.”

Daniel nodded.

“It was time anyway, yeah,” Koji said. “I was in my thirties, middle-aged. Most cutters already retired, finding easier work planting or milling or moving down to town to work as mechanics or knife sharpeners, like Uncle Chigo. Others just simplifying, yeah, living off the land, eh.”

Daniel shook his head. “What about Uncle Razor?”

Koji swallowed. Suddenly the room seemed to shift and the Christmas music blared too loudly from the radio. “It wasn’t his time.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Daniel said.

Koji steadied himself. No one would ever be able to convince him he couldn’t have saved Razor’s life had he been at the meeting that night. It would always be his burden to carry, something he sensed Daniel knew all about.

Koji leaned in closer. “It wasn’t your fault either,” he said.

* * *

Koji lay in Mano’s cramped twin bed; thankful he was so tired, he closed his eyes and fell immediately into a dream. He was back near his train cottage perched above the cane fields. It was windy as he stood outside looking down at the distant lights flickering from the other villages scattered around the plantation, each celebrating Christmas in their own way. As a boy, Christmas was simply a rare day off, while all the families at Kazoku village prepared and gathered for the New Year, bringing food to share. It was always his favorite time of the year.