"Lesson number one, "Tora told the boy outside, "never insult a man you want a favor from. Insult him after you get what you want."

"Sorry. He made me angry."

"You liked the ugly student?"

The boy nodded. "He's one of the few who talked to me. Besides, I watched him. He is a kind and gentle person."

When they reached the veranda again, they settled down to the building of the kites. Tora showed the boy how to split bamboo into thin, flexible lengths and tie them with hemp into an oddly shaped framework of lightweight, strong "bones." "For the spine, always point the bamboo downward so the heavy end is on top," he explained, "and the ribs at the top are heavier, too." Together, they built two bamboo skeletons. Next Tora cut sheets of the paper to cover the two frames, overlapping them slightly. The outlines now resembled those of soaring birds of prey.

"Night hawks," said the boy, studying the shapes critically, "or rather kites. They are large but much too plain. Can't we paint the paper?"

"We've got no paint! Besides I'm not much of an artist," said Tora. "Never mind! As long as they climb higher than anyone else's." He shot a pointed glance at a gaggle of boys who had gathered at a distance and were watching them.

"I have paints and ink," said the boy. "And I can paint bird feathers. Wait!"

He dashed off and returned with two brushes, water, ink and a box of paints. He rubbed the ink with a little water and mixed some red powder into a paste. Then he began to paint two round ferocious eyes and tinted them bright red. The small body feathers followed, scalelike, black on the brown paper, with a few red dots here and there. The wing and tail feathers were last, broad and boldly striped. After watching him for a while, Tora took up the other brush and began to paint, glancing over at the boy's paper from time to time to compare. He sighed with pleasure as he saw eyes, beak, wing and tail feathers take shape on his own kite. "Very realistic," he said. "I bet they'll scare the little birds away."

"How did you meet your master?" the boy asked.

Tora told of their encounter with highway robbers and how Akitada had subsequently rescued him from a murder charge. The boy stopped painting, engrossed in the story.

"That's what I was talking about earlier," said Tora. "I thought my master was one of those tax-grabbing officials from the capital, but it turned out he was on the way to uncover a vicious crime. He's good at that. And now he's going to help Rabbit too."

That, of course, raised more questions and produced more tales, and the sun was already low before the kites were finished, the ends of the framework inserted through the slots in the paper and secured with string, the wing tips and tail feathers cut out, the beaks sharpened and the bridles carefully measured, fastened and attached to the lines.

The moment of trial had arrived. They walked away from the buildings into the large open area between the dormitory and the stand of pines. "A mountaintop or a beach would be better," said Tora. "But this will do for practice." He explained, then demonstrated, and his kite rose sharply and triumphantly on the breeze as he let out the cord on its spool.

Lord Minamoto laughed aloud at the sight and clapped his hands. "Look at it soar!" he cried. "It looks exactly like a giant kite. Oh, it is beautiful!"

Tora grinned, then tied his string to a sturdy shrub. "Now you," he said. "Here, hold it like this. Heavens! It's taller than you! Are you sure you can run with it?" The boy nodded, his teeth catching his lower lip, and his free hand clutching the spool of string. "All right! Run that way, as fast as you can. When you feel the kite pulling, start releasing the cord."

The first try ended in failure. Boy and kite took a hard fall. But Lord Minamoto was back on his feet instantly, brushed away dirt and blood from a nasty scratch on his cheek, and took off again, short legs flying. This time the kite rose, jerkily at first, then more smoothly, when Tora rushed up to lend a helping hand. Cheers and applause rose from the group of watching youngsters, but neither man nor boy heard them. Their eyes were on the soaring paper bird high above them, rising ever higher with every tug on the line. Together, their fingers touching, Tora's large dark hands next to the boy's small pale ones, they felt the power of the kite as it rose on the wind, the pull upward, skyward. They sensed its thrill of flight, the utter freedom from the human condition.

"Oh, it is so strong," cried the boy. "Can it lift me up? Could it carry me over the trees? All the way to the mountains?"

Tora laughed with joy. "Never! Too dangerous! I'd not let it happen. Besides you're stronger than your kite. Here, you try." He released the line.

The kite swooped up, performed a perfect arc, and dove steeply earthward.

"Oh!" cried the boy and instinctively pulled in the line. The kite leveled, completed the circle and rose again. "Did you see what I made it do?"

"Yes. And I haven't even had time to show you that trick. Let me get my kite, and we'll make them chase each other!"

This involved the finer points of maneuvering and steering their kites. As Tora demonstrated attack and evasion, the paper birds swooped at each other, passed and soared apart again. The boy's face was flushed, and his eyes shone with excitement.

"Did you know that you can have a contest?" asked Tora.

"How? Please show me how!"

"You cross strings with your opponent, and then pull back hard to make his kite tumble."

The boy eyed the soaring kites and quickly moved behind Tora and past him. "Like this?" he cried when the lines touched.

Tora grinned. "Right! Now jerk hard!"

The little lord pulled back so hard that he sat down, and Tora's kite made a sudden dive.

"Careful! It'll go into the trees!" shouted Tora, reeling in line frantically. His kite struggled and began to rise a little again. Behind him he heard a loud giggle, and then he saw the boy out of the corner of his eye, up and running with all his might back toward the dormitory. The lines snagged again, and this time Tora's kite plummeted to earth.

"I won! I won!" cried Lord Minamoto, jumping up and down.

"So you did," said Tora, grinning broadly as he went to pick up his kite.

It was getting dark. They had not noticed the sunset, and dusk had fallen swiftly. Above, the sky was still bright and the boy's kite caught the last golden rays on the tips of its wings, but down below all was getting dark. "Better bring it in," cried Tora. "It's getting late."

To his surprise the boy obeyed without argument. "You will come back tomorrow?" he asked, when he had reeled in his kite.

"I doubt I'll have the time," said Tora, winding up string. They carried their kites back to the veranda. There a small huddle of boys awaited them.

"Can we see your kites?" asked the biggest one.

"You'll have to ask Sadamu," said Tora. "They're his."

They clustered around Lord Minamoto, looking and admiring. "Would you teach us, Sadamu?" asked another boy shyly. Tora watched with a fatherly grin. When the discussion became technical, he interrupted. "I've got to go now," he said.

The little lord came to him immediately and they walked a few steps. "Thank you for your help, Tora," said the boy, making a little bow. "I would consider it a great honor if you would come to visit me again when you have time."