You know, when people talked about going to America, they always said how large everything was-- endless cities stretching high into the sky, endless land going beyond the horizon.

Dojima'd thought he could imagine it; he'd been to the ocean plenty of times, after all. Seeing water stretch on forever until the blues of the sky and sea melted together was mindblowing as a kid, and maybe still as an adult if he let himself take it in, but it was something he could picture. Land shouldn't be too different, right?

But standing here, with nothing but fields of corn going for miles and miles...

It was incredible... But...

"Where..."

But he paused when he heard a familiar voice. Mumbled but distinct enough. And it clicked into place-- their conversations before, about home for him--

"...Jack."

Dojima walked over to the other man, not quite catching his face yet, glancing down at the little tapirs nearby.

"...I guess they weren't kidding about them being 'dream eaters', huh? In Japan, they'd be yokai called 'Baku'..."