Desperation drove Seita to do the unthinkable. In the middle of the night, while Setsuko slept under a canopy of broad leaves, Seita crept into a farmer's rice paddy. The water was cool against his feverish legs. He began to pull the young stalks, his hands trembling.
Suddenly, a flashlight beam cut through the dark.
"Thief!" a voice boomed.
Seita didn't run. He dropped to his knees in the mud, bowing so low his forehead touched the water. "Kill me if you want! But please, my sister... she's all I have left."
The farmer, an old man with a hunched back, lowered the light. He saw the boy's ribs, the way his collarbones stuck out like wings. He didn't call the police. He reached into his pocket and threw a small bundle of dried daikon radish at Seita's feet.
"Get out," the old man whispered. "And don't come back. If the neighbors see me helping a city-stray, they'll burn my barn." Seita scrambled away, clutching the radish like a holy relic.