This was Pod's hole.
The gate to his castle, the front door to his home.
The small tunnel behind the kitchen ornament was only a side entrance.
The true main way began behind the upstairs clock, down a long, dusty, dark passage.
There stood wooden and iron doors to keep out rats and insects.
Ingenious Pod had fashioned locks from cheese-tin scraps, pull-rings, and wire mesh—traps only he and his family knew how to open.
His wife Homily maintained that Pod's terror of mice had driven him to become a Master craftsman.
Pod flatly denied it.
He carried a tiny pack made from a scrap of sheepskin glove, passed through the corridor whose doors bore intricate clasps made from hairpins and safety pins.
Past the air vent he could still glimpse the gravel path outside and its clumps of azaleas.
At the far end, behind a great iron door, stood a small wooden one.
Pod deftly lifted the needle latch and stepped inside.
His wife was slicing potatoes with a kitchen knife fashioned from half a pair of scissors; behind her, Arrietty in bright red kicked potatoes across the floor. The grown girl had not inherited her mother's cautious nature.
Instead she grew wilder by the day, a regular tomboy.
'I'm home.' Pod eased the pack off his back, letting it slide down the wall while he mopped the sweat from his round face.
His dark-haired wife, yellow apron at her chest, set down her knife.
'Oh, Pod!' She hurried across the blotting-paper carpet and fetched a chair made from a medicine-bottle cap.
'I brought it back.' Pod sat on the cap, pulled off his shoes, and snapped the pack's elastic; the handle of a shiny new fork appeared. 'Here.'
'Are you all right?' Homily's eyes stayed on his round face; she took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed his sweat, asking about his day.
Pod took it with a proud grin and wiped himself. 'Fine. The girl was out. I climbed the curtain onto the counter, snapped the drawer open with the elastic, and "borrowed" it easy as you please.
Who am I? Pod the Borrower, finest handyman there is!'
Homily rolled her eyes, crouched, and caressed the silver fork in delight, brushing aside the 'rapier'—a sewing needle—her husband offered. Cradling the fork, she bustled indoors.
At the bottom of the pack lay two white sugar cubes.
Pod lifted them and tucked them into the cupboard.
Arrietty looked at her father—he made a funny face back at her and beckoned her over.
The girl returned the face with a look of boredom and turned away, her coral-colored hair flowing as she went back to her small room.
In the living room, a thumbtack lay flat on the table, serving as a candlestick.
Various 'weapons' hung on the wall:
A rapier made from a sewing needle, a dagger made from a pin, and several darts made from sharpened bits of wire were strung together and hung on the side.
The girl pulled up her pant legs and sat on the bed, her feet resting boldly on the tabletop.
Reflecting the candlelight, her fair and slender feet wiggled slightly as she held a large notebook, head bowed while writing in her diary.
「Today, it bloomed.」
「Is that girl the Queen we've been waiting for?」
「Grandpa's words were true after all, weren't they?」
"Arrietty! Time to eat!"
The sound of thumping knocks came from outside the door.
Judging by the weight of the knocks, it was definitely her mother.
Arrietty pouted, gave a little heave as she jumped nimbly off the bed, hid her diary, and hummed a song as she happily pulled open the door.
"What are we eating today?" she asked.
"Potatoes and onion rings. Also, your father went to great lengths to 'borrow' all of this, so if you're like yesterday and refuse to eat this or that, you can go right back to your room!"
The girl's eyes drooped. Behind her mother, Pod puffed out his round face and made faces at his daughter, looking like he was just enjoying the show—it was absolutely annoying.
Arrietty pointed at her father: "Mama, look at him!"
Homily turned around in confusion.
Her husband was sitting upright and formally at the dining table, with a small cut-off bandage pinned to his chest as a napkin.
He looked at the food before him with a serious face, then looked up, looking completely bewildered.
"Is something wrong?" The man had a completely clueless expression.
"Papa!" The girl bypassed her mother and sat down on her cushion with a huff, crossing her arms and refusing to look at him.
"Alright, alright, let's eat." Pod greeted his wife with a smile as she sat down, his eyes crinkling into slits.
"The tenant this time is a young lady; what a pity.
If it were an old gentleman, I might have been able to make another living room for my treasures," Pod chatted with his wife while eating his potato.
The place where Arrietty lived now was made by Pod using two cigar boxes.
A lovely woman in a gauzy dress playing a trombone was carved into the ceiling.
Below was a landscape of forests and beaches, the scenery vivid and exquisite.
Homily didn't think so; a hint of greed appeared on the woman's face: "I saw jewels! That sparkling green one, and—"
"Homily."
Pod called his wife's name seriously, interrupting her.
"I recall we have rules."
The frown lines on Homily's face instantly slumped as she muttered, "I know, I know. Maybe she'll leave one day and forget that string of jewelry in a drawer..."
The Tontatta Tribe has its own rules; they are not allowed to take things that the giants care about.
Even when conditions allow, they usually maintain a simple lifestyle.
Examples include jewelry, gold, silver, and the like.
And once they attract the attention of the giants, the consequence of being discovered... at best they move, at worst they 'disappear'.
Even moving was something they could hardly afford.
Although Homily, like other women, had a nature that loved jewelry and gold and silver ornaments, she understood the gravity of the situation.
—It was fine before; the one living here was a musician who sat in front of the piano and the sheet music desk all day, making borrowing quite safe.
Now, the homeowner had changed to a girl, a young girl.
Young people are curious, reckless, sensitive, and suspicious.
This caused the risk of her husband's borrowing to rise sharply.
Although she liked those shiny things, she couldn't let her husband face danger and toil for them.
Homily sighed.
"Fortunately, this girl's daily routine is very regular. Balcony, morning tea, then out with her easel, only returning at night."
Pod wiped his mouth and said, "I could dance a waltz on the carpet and she wouldn't even notice!"
Arrietty curled her lip. "Mr. Pod..."
"Ouch!"
Homily picked up a small spoon and rapped her daughter on the head. "Call him Papa!"
Arrietty rubbed her head. "Father, my dear My Lord Father, Master Craftsman Mr. Pod. She won't notice?"
"Did you borrow some Sugar cubes today?"
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