Chapter 8
Kito's Foolish Plan?
Kito, trying to process the Rooster's words and his own fear, blurts out a seemingly foolish idea to fight the fire. The Performer listens intently, sensing a hidden logic beneath the boy's words.
Kito’s mind whirled like a dust devil caught in a sudden gust. The Rooster’s words, usually as comforting as the warm earth beneath his bare feet, had spun into a knot of confusion. “The fire is not born of anger, but of forgetting,” the old bird had clucked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo from the very stones of the village. Forgetting? How could forgetting start a fire? Kito’s brow furrowed, the smooth skin of his forehead creasing with bewilderment. He looked from the flickering orange glow that still painted the night sky, to the Performer, whose usual sparkle seemed dulled by a shadow of worry.
“Forgetting?” Kito blurted out, the word escaping his lips before he could even grasp its meaning. He felt a flush creep up his neck, the familiar heat of embarrassment. He was the foolish boy, after all. His thoughts always tumbled out, uninvited and often nonsensical. “But… how do you fight forgetting? Do we… do we tell it stories? Sing it songs until it remembers what it’s supposed to be?” He gestured wildly with his hands, as if trying to physically push the abstract concept of forgetting away.
The Performer, who had been standing stoically beside Kito, his gaze fixed on the distant flames, turned his head slowly. His eyes, usually dancing with amusement, were now serious, but there was a flicker of something else there, too – a keen curiosity. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t chide Kito for his wild pronouncements. Instead, he tilted his head, his elaborate costume rustling softly.
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