Perhaps my bloodline was always infatuated with the sky.

Every year, to see the harvest moon, the entire family would sit outside and admire the round thing. Tsukimi, it's called.
But what I admired was a little different. I rarely saw the expansiveness of the sky, and on those clear, peaceful nights, I could open my eyes to the neverending blankness that is the night sky.

Seeing the birds in the morning sky fluttering around freely made me intruigued in the phenomenon of flight. As a young child, I'd perk up at the sound or sight of an airplane. It seemed to unnatural for such a heavy thing to ride upon air.

I have to say, it became a borderline obcession. I attended many air shows, amazed at not only the acrobatics, but the physics and technicality the pilots had to master. I built model airplanes, then remote-controlled airplanes from kits, then RC planes from stratch. My peak achievement was creating a working model of a floatplane. It took many hours of work, and when it finally worked, I was excited to show my relatives.

I remember the day clearly. It was the 27th of July, 2004. Out by the pond near our house, I set down the floatplane. My parents seemed uncomfortable, but they pulled a smile and a thumbs up.
The test flight went without any hitches. After landing smoothly back in the pond, my father waked to my side and whispered that he wished to talk to me in private. His mouth was drawn in a thin, grim frown, and his words had a finality to them. This was no joking matter.

That evening, I sat across a table from my father. We locked eyes, but both averted our gazes.
"I'm sure that you're unsure of why we have to talk. There's no easy way of telling you, so I'll give it to you straight."

He then started to lay out our family history. My great-great-great-great-uncle was a merchant in Nagasaki, trading with the Dutch to get his hands on European texts. My great-grandfather was born in the 1920s, which means that he was prime material for the drafts in the '40s. He, as it were, proved to be amazing in his piloting skill and was selected to lead a squadron during one of the high points of the war.

The Battle of Midway.

He went missing in action.

It was a devastating blow to our family. My father explained how his grandmother, my great-grandmother, reacted to this news. She was broken, and she could be heard sobbing well into the night.
From this experience, she made her children vow to never take part in anything related to taking to the skies. Her children did the same to their children, but then there's me.

I defied my ancestor's wishes. Albeit unknowingly since my parents wished to see me happy more than anything. They encouraged my learning. They put up with my shenangans.

But something about seeing that floatplane set something off in their minds. Maybe it was too closely connected to the sea over which my great-grandfather was shot down. Maybe the rising sun bore painful thorns radiating from a central loss.

"Father... what is your wish? Do you want me to continue...?"
He sighed and rubbed his temples. Under the weight of generations of precedent, he had to make a final decision.
"I can't decide," he decided, "but whatever course you take, I will support you all the way."

Shoot, he just shifted it to me. I guess I will have to go with my gut...
"I do not wish to give up my planes."

"Is that so?" my father asked. After a nod, his expression relaxed, and his arms fell to his side.

I had to reverse the curse cast upon my lineage. I had to right a wrong.

"So be it," he proclaimed with a smirk. "Go, Hinata, and make the Tomonaga family proud."

My mother slid open the door, and my father stood to greet her. He looked back and quipped, "No pressure."