The pride of our town is that nobody who comes here ever leaves. So the morning a young stranger showed up walking with a stride I’d never seen before, I — Hana, head of the Welcoming Committee — felt my hands start to itch.
Our town sits on a small star drifting in some corner of space. The star turns lazily, and anyone passing by usually gets caught in its gentle pull — after that, they stop wanting to leave. Mind you, the pull is a soft one. It only catches people who arrive slow. Still, fifty years, and the record’s never once been broken. Something to be a little proud of.
“Hana, whose kid is that?” “No idea. Sure walks fast, though.”
Fast, no question. People who come to this star usually get caught by the pull and curve in slowly. But this one came straight. Right at the middle of town, driving forward with purpose. I had a hunch. Must be someone who’d left town long ago, come back — no, wait, nobody’s ever left. Anyway, had to be somebody returning.
“Welcome back!” I threw my arms wide. “So glad you made it home. Come on, come on in.”
The traveler blinked, wide-eyed, then gave a polite little bow.
From there, it was showtime. I brought out dumplings, Goro-san brought out his prized moon-viewing sake, old Ume brought out photos of her granddaughter. We even offered up an empty house, rent-free. Whatever it took — get them settled. That’s this town’s finest hospitality.
The traveler ate the dumplings, sipped the sake, looked at the photos, bowing politely each time. But never once sat down.
“So,” I finally asked, “where are you from, anyway?”
”…Far,” the traveler said. “Very far.”
“Well, all the more reason to take your time.”
“No.” The traveler stood up. “I can’t stop. I’m going too fast.”
With that, the traveler drifted out into the square, circled once around the dance ring — and shot off past the edge of town, faster than they’d arrived. In no time at all, they’d shrunk to a single point of light.
The whole town just stood there, stunned. Fifty years of record, broken.
…Except it wasn’t. I’m the chairwoman. I don’t get to stand around stunned. I cleared my throat and told everyone —
“Did you see that speed? That’s how good our send-off was. We gave that kid such a solid push, they took off like that.”
The mayor nodded, and that year he gave me a commendation. “An Outstanding Send-off.” It still hangs on the best wall in the community hall.
Still, ever since that morning, this star turns just half a beat slower than it used to. So does the dance ring. Nobody’s noticed. That kid must have quietly taken it with them, somewhere in that one lap around.