The Crossing of the Kalavinka Fledgling (Part 9/Final)

Far from the city of Lhasa, about five thousand ri* west along the Yarlung Tsangpo River. And, five ri to the southern shore.
The journey along the jade-colored great river that cleaves the plateau was finally coming to an end.

"Heave-ho, there."

Oto, leaning out from the coracle that had reached the shore, jumped triumphantly onto the dry, white sandy ground.
Yoshitsugu followed, taking a step out of the boat. The boat, which had been gasping under the weight of his seven-and-a-half-shaku frame and the cargo, immediately rose and swayed violently.
The pack frame on Yoshitsugu's back was piled high with minimal essentials, such as a dismantled small tent and food consisting only of dried goods. The young boatman stared up at Yoshitsugu with a look of utter astonishment plastered on his face.

"You, are you really human...?"
"I-idiot! If I weren't human, what would I be!"

At the young man's joking remark, Oto instinctively hunched over and reacted.
The young man's stunned expression immediately changed to one of suspicion.

"Don't shout so loud every time, I wasn't talking to you."
"...Ah, yeah, my bad, my bad. This big guy has been mistaken for a bear a few times. Can't blame them, really."

The wings on his back and the talons on his feet that make Oto a Kalavinka were still wrapped and hidden inside his cloak.
Trying to mask his impatience, Oto turned back to the young man on the boat and thumped his chest vigorously with a hand protruding from his cloak.

"Come to think of it, we never introduced ourselves! I'm called Oto. And this big guy here is—"
"Yoshitsugu. My surname is Kashihara. And you are—"
"Does it matter what our names are now? We'll never meet again, and you'd forget them anyway."
"Don't be so cynical. We should at least remember the names of the people who caused us trouble. Right?"

At Oto's smile, which mixed irony with innocence, the young man was drawn in and responded.

"...Dawa. I don't have a family name, just Dawa."

The two of them knew well the meaning of the Tibetan word indicated by the name he had modestly given.
Behind Yoshitsugu's eyelids appeared the moonlit desert night reflecting in the spring that Oto had spoken of so fluently last night. The brilliance of the two moons and the stars, which had been beckoned by a wondrous voice, revived in Yoshitsugu's mind with even greater vividness.

"Moon (Dawa)..."
"That's a good name, isn't it?"
"Shut up! You're done here, so go wherever you want."

The young man who called himself Dawa handled his oar skillfully and turned the bow toward the village on the opposite shore. Dawa's back as he steered the boat gradually grew smaller, melting into the morning mist.
Oto waved his hand, which was sticking out of his cloak, vigorously above his head. Even at the shout of "Thanks!", the boat did not slow down.
Without caring that the cargo on his pack frame was swaying, Yoshitsugu bowed deeply toward the departing shadow.

"...I see. So you knew that man's name."

Lifting his head and watching Dawa's figure go, Yoshitsugu muttered in a tone of realization.
Oto tilted his head for a moment, then immediately gave a wheezing laugh in response.

"Kee-hee-hee-hee! No way, how could I know it when he hadn't even introduced himself! What do you take me for? You're giving me too much credit."
"Then, that story about the two moons—"
"You said something about killing time, so I just told a story to kill time too. I don't care about his name or anything."
"So you didn't have a plan to convince him?"
"No, nothing like that!"
"..."

Yoshitsugu, whose blood had run cold, silently pinched the bridge of his nose hard. The natural wrinkles etched there deepened even further.
As if to say it was none of his business, Oto thrust his right fist toward the cloudy sky.

"What's done is done, let's get going! We can't go back now that we've come this far, we have to keep moving forward, right?"

After readjusting the small pack he was carrying, Oto started walking ahead of everyone else. The footprints of his talons increased on the dry, white sandy ground.
Yoshitsugu, who had been standing still watching the proof of the Kalavinka fledgling, came to his senses and called out to stop Oto.

"Wait."
"Hmm, what's wrong?"
"No... aren't you going to ride?"

Yoshitsugu placed a hand on his left shoulder, where the strap of the carrying frame dug in hard. Yoshitsugu's shoulder, sturdy enough for a young child to sit on, was the place Oto preferred to perch, even when they were riding camels or yaks.
Ignoring Yoshitsugu's bewilderment, Oto answered in an open, carefree tone.

"Dawa said earlier, 'Use your own feet,' didn't he? If I keep relying on you, I feel like he'll make fun of me. ...Ah, but if I get tired, I'm going to have you carry me! So make sure you keep that seat open for me."

Without waiting for Yoshitsugu to reply that no one else would ever sit there, Oto began walking south again.
As usual, Yoshitsugu tried to fix his sharp gaze on their destination. The ridgeline of Chomolungma, which should have been towering deep beyond the many mountains on the pathless road, was hidden by white clouds and had vanished from sight.
Following the claw marks clearly etched into the earth, Yoshitsugu took a step forward. At the very end of that path was the back of Oto, who was walking ahead gallantly with her cloak fluttering. Seeing that small back, which reminded him of a sturdy traveler, the corners of Yoshitsugu's mouth relaxed just a little.

"The Crossing of the Kalavinka's Child" End

To be continued