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The pond in the park is a magic mirror that changes colour with the time of year. It reflects back a different sunset every day. Yotsuba has never been able to see to the very bottom, until one time when she chases a ball too far and her dad has to fish her out.
She mostly glimpses water and mud and bubbles. But there are also webbed feet paddling just under the surface, and long necks dipping into the waving weeds. Ducks are diving for their dinner, peering curiously at the human.
Then steady hands lift her up and out. She lands on the bank, spluttering and surprised, strands of green weeds sticking to her.
Her dad looks at her dripping clothes. "What on earth will I do with you?"
At least she found the ball. "Catch!"
It bounces satisfyingly off his head and splashes into the pond again. Yotsuba lurches towards it, but her dad hooks onto her shirt collar. "You're not falling in a second time."
Yotsuba flails her arms. "What about the ball?"
"Maybe you'll learn not to throw it near the pond. It belongs to the ducks now."
She watches the shiny yellow ball bob around, drifting away to the centre of the pond, while the ducks swim past, occasionally bumping into it.
That night, she dreams the ducks take the ball away to a hidden underwater cave, where they add it to their collection of treasures other people have dropped into the pond.
***
The eggs of the ducks are smaller than the chicken eggs Yotsuba eats for breakfast. She catches glimpses of them when the mother duck shifts her seat. They are brown and gold and speckled. Yotsuba watches and watches, waiting for something to happen.
("It might take a while," her dad says. He said the same thing when they planted tomato seeds in the garden. "Watching it won't make it happen faster.")
Back home, Yotsuba unrolls the futon and drags it to the middle of the room. It's bigger than she is. She piles blankets on it. She does her best to shape them into a circle. It ends up a bit lopsided, but that's okay. She fills it with all the pillows.
Yotsuba regards the result. Hmm. Nests are lined with feathers, right? There are feathers in the pillows. She finds a loose seam. Aha! She shakes out downy bits of fluff onto the futon. They make satisfactory decorations. Now it looks more like a proper nest.
(Later that night, her dad finds a trail of stray feathers across the floor. "What's this?")
Yotsuba rolls around in the nest. Very good. It could be a nest of clouds. Cosy, like a warm hug. She snuggles down deep, pulling a pillow over her like a roof, only her eyes peeking out. And she waits.
It takes a while for her dad to notice. His footsteps go up and down the corridor a few times, as he visits the kitchen, the bathroom, and the study. Finally, exasperated, Yotsuba shouts, "Cheep cheep!"
Footsteps approach. "What on earth--"
"I'm not Yotsuba, I'm an egg!" She flings the pillows off and somersaults out of the nest. "I'm hatching! I'm a baby duck!"
"Congratulations on your hatching," her dad says solemnly. "Welcome. It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," she says in response, bowing. "Now feed me."
"We already gave all the old bread to the ducks…"
"Feed me cake!"
His mouth twitches. "I'm not sure cake is good for ducks."
She relents. It was worth a try. "Pretend cake is fine."
Her dad scatters pretend cake, pretend riceballs, and pretend pizza. "Actually, I came to ask what you wanted for dinner tonight."
She takes a moment to think about it. "Omelettes!"
***
The baby ducks are fluffy yellow puffballs, soft and fuzzy. Yotsuba crouches on the edge of the pond, watching them chirping for food, and their parents flying to fetch it.
She looks up at her dad. "Why do baby ducks look so different from big ducks? Am I going to grow up to look like you? Why can't people fly?"
"You sure have a lot of questions today."
"I want to be a bird!" Yotsuba declares. She stands with her hands on her hips, her feet planted in front of him. "It's not fair I can't fly."
"And this is my fault how?" Her dad sighs. "All right."
He lifts her under the arms and whirls her through the air. "Look out, it's the Yotsubird!"
"Ahahaha!" she shouts. "I'm flying higher than you! Run faster, Daddy!" The park zooms by, a blur of pond and trees and playground. She wants to fly faster than a duck, faster than an eagle, faster than a rocketship.
After five minutes, her dad puts her down. He flops onto the grass, a hand over his eyes. "Whew. Flying is hard work."
"Again!"
"Maybe tomorrow. Be a not-flying bird for now. Like a penguin."
That's okay. She can be more than one kind of bird.
They penguin walk together all the way home.
***
The ducks know when Yotsuba has bread to feed them. They arrow towards shore and climb out of the water, converging on her expectantly. The bold ones come right up to her feet. They waddle with purpose.
They grow sleek and plump and well padded. Even the baby ducks have turned into big ducks now.
One day, Yotsuba brings bread but no ducks come. "Hello!" she calls. Only the wind answers, swirling red and orange leaves onto the pond. "Where is everyone?"
"Up there," her dad says, pointing.
A flight of ducks is flung across the sky, swooping in great arcs, in their dozens, in their hundreds. Yotsuba never knew there could be so many ducks. She stares up at them in wonder. Swimming through the clouds. Another world above the earth.
"What are they doing?"
"Going south, for the winter."
"Where's south?"
"Uh, I don't know exactly. That way somewhere."
"As far as Grandma's house?"
"Even further."
Yotsuba has never been further than Grandma's house. Except when she was a baby on the island. She wonders if the ducks go to the island. "Will they come back?"
They look at the empty pond, with its bare banks and brown reeds.
"In spring," her dad says, decisively. "They'll be back for sure in spring."
Yotsuba is relieved. The ducks will come home again. Maybe she can ask them then, where they went and what they saw. "That's okay then."
Her dad lifts her up on his shoulders. She waves her arms at the sky. "See you later, ducks! Bring back souvenirs!"