I am Karen Minakawa.
Actually, I had a strange dream.
In a corner of a dark, narrow apartment room, I turned on an LED light and used a loom to make an indigo-dyed yukata.
Right next to me, Popporo happily made a sound and looked at something with eyes that seemed to have discovered something.
“Peep?”
It seems the chick has woken up.
The awakened chick will not sleep, so I feed it.
Does the chick want to be loved? It always keeps its beak open and chirps constantly.
In this closed space, while giving it tiny drops of water, I open its food pouch and stroke its soft, tiny down feathers while saying, “There, there.” Of course, the loom does not move.
I murmur, “Someone, please watch this little one.”
In the cold room, wearing a thick coat to block out the cold–
Then, another pigeon came over.
It happened all of a sudden.
Like a spy, the pigeon entered the room.
I do not know where he suddenly appeared from, but didn’t he bring one more, and then another?
The mystery deepens even further as to how things ended up this way.
So, since it would be a problem if they ran wild right next to where I am weaving, I decided to spray a mild, scent-eliminating deodorant around the loom.
It is okay.
It is sunflower pollen soaked in mint leaves and water.
There is no harm.
I weave the indigo-dyed yukata bit by bit, making a clacking sound.
The gears and foot pedals work together and play a nice sound.
It is as if the loom is moving like my own hands and feet.
The pigeons around me come to my feet and look at me with curious eyes.
And of all things, the pigeons spread their wings and start running around in circles.
Do they see me as a mother? Or as a creature they are connected to–?
There were a few little ones I cared about, but right now, I am living in a same-sex marriage with Kanade Harui, the director of the animal hospital.
Coincidentally, she is sleeping in the room right next to mine, behind the sliding paper door.
What is more, she is sleeping on top of a bed.
When I told the pigeons to be very careful so that she would not wake up, they became quiet.
It seems human words can be understood by them after all.
“Coo, coo, coo…”
Somehow, the pigeons seem excited, matching the sound of the gears.
I thought to myself, why would they get excited in the middle of the night like this? Could they be hungry for something?
The yukata is still halfway done, but it is also necessary to calm down their excitement.
–That is right!
I lay down right next to them.
Even though the floor mat is covered in feathers, it has just the right amount of softness.
When I secretly stroked the lower belly of a pigeon, didn’t an egg come out?
I see. It seems they are females.
Did they like the way I touched them? One by one, they line up next to me, lift up their hips, turn their heads toward me, and shake their hips with round, innocent eyes.
It cannot be helped. I will stroke them one by one.
Does it feel good? I also stroked the shoulders of the ones I liked.
It is fine. Just as I was about to fall into a doze.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Kanade woke up.
And she looked to be in a good mood.
Popporo and the pigeons that were next to me shook their hips and started dancing.
Kanade and I did indeed submit our marriage registration.
We were not congratulated by others, but having them–no, having the female pigeons support and bless us makes me feel a bit shy and happy.
Perhaps because of that, Kanade and I hugged each other and slept on the feathers on the floor.
Even though the yukata is still not finished yet–…
—Morning 7:00
We woke up.
We wake up while muttering sleepy words.
What about the pigeons–? They are gone…
Huh?? The yukata is finished? That is strange…
And, there is a piece of paper dropped inside the room?
I take a quiet look at it.
“Thank you very much for last night. We will come to pick up Popporo and the chick someday.”
I rubbed my eyes many times.
I rubbed them, but it does not seem to be a dream.
Our Popporo and the chick were sleeping soundly.
Kanade laughed and said, “It is just like a pigeon’s gratitude,” but the window of the room had been closed the entire time.
What was that voice?
Could the legend of a pigeon’s gratitude be an urban legend that does not even exist in old folk tales?