Nozomi quickly plunged his hand into the large, burlap bag he was carrying and presented the Sparrow with a handful of rice. The Sparrow's attitude immediately changed at the sight of the grains, and he moved a little closer, gathering his hair gracefully to the side. The boy could not take his eyes off the creature, and at that very moment, what he thought was a spark ignited inside him. Like a clear sky in the middle of summer, the Sparrow appeared to him like the bright light of a radiant sun, overwhelming the poor man that he was.

As the Divine being began to peck the cereal in Nozomi’s hand with his lips, the long lashes of the bird gently tickled his palm, amusing him, and this simple encounter awakened something very precious in them both.

From then on, every morning was filled with happiness for the boy who enjoyed finding his new friend perched on his roof. The Sparrow returned his greeting, flying with him to the rice fields, watching him at length, as the sun descended in the sky. Day after day, their conversations punctuated Nozomi's daily life. At first, simple subjects, such as rain and good weather. Then, week after week, becoming a pleasant little routine, the Sparrow knocked on the young man's window before singing, waiting to accompany him to the fields, walking beside him while taunting the scarecrows he loathed. Bent and arched, bending under the weight of work, Nozomi’s days were punctuated by the melodious voice of the bird. Soon, the whole village spoke of him as the boy who had tamed the Sparrow, yet no one had been able to see this fact with their own eyes.

Nozomi was only being followed by a soft song and traces very common to birds.

Human customs were of great interest to the Sparrow, who never ceased to be amazed at the practices that were, to say the least, strange, in his opinion, of the Men and Mortals inhabiting the world. The bird often spoke of the sound of the temple bell resonating in the valley. He liked this sound, which reached easily to his sanctuary in the mountains.

This place, hidden from human eyes, fueled delirious rumors of pilgrims being guided by beautiful, feathered hybrids, leaving behind them the footprints of birds. The Sparrow said that this tinkling seemed to call him.

Nozomi loved to talk to him about the lives of his fellow men, attracting the attention of the Divine, who always ended up singing, giving thanks to Heaven. One thing led to another, and a strong bond developed between the two beings. Curiosity gave way to little games of glances, at first furtive and mischievous, but becoming more intense and more insistent. For a handful of rice, Nozomi had the pleasure of discovering, season after season, other horizons in the company of this beautiful angel.

One evening, after another day among many they spent together, the bird became strangely silent. Nozomi, a little embarrassed, was afraid to annoy his friend with his clumsiness or simplicity, but, in the midst of his confused thoughts, it was the Divine who gave him a tender gift. On that summer day, with his sleeves rolled up, and his forearms burned by the sun of his afternoon's work, in the shade of the great maple tree of their meeting, the young man received a kiss as delicate as the caress of a feather. Almost a year to the day since they had met, and between their lips, the warm breath of the Sparrow whispered to him:

“Suzume.”  

His heart missed a beat. The young man knew, at last, the name of the one who occupied his thoughts day and night. The Sparrow laughed at him a little as he saw his blissful smile and red face. For a moment, the Divine was so close that Nozomi couldn't help but notice that he was carrying the smell of Heaven.