It is our duty to remember. But we must also look forward.

Hotaka stares at his words. They are from an essay he wrote about the 3/11 tsunami. Last year there was a competition and schools from all over the area entered. His essay won and he was asked to read it aloud at that year’s memorial ceremony in Rikuzentakata.

People cried as he read. They stood and clapped when he finished, and after the ceremony many thanked him. Some said his words spoke to them personally. Others could only shake his hand in silence and bow; he could feel their emotion. In that moment Hotaka realised the importance of hope in people’s lives. So when Miss Abe came to him bubbling excitedly about her idea, he was glad to listen.

Miss Abe had retrained to become a junior high school teacher. After the 3/11 tsunami she found it impossible to return to the elementary school; it held too many bad personal memories from the tsunami. So she took time off to gain higher qualifications. Much to Hotaka’s delight she became his class teacher on returning to her teaching career last year. He is glad of that. Young and alive, Miss Abe’s eyes shine and her laugh is infectious; she makes school worthwhile.

‘I’ve had a brainwave,’ she told him the day after he gave his speech in Rikuzentakata. ‘It’s obvious what we have to do.’

Hotaka stared blankly. ‘Do, Abe-sensei? We?’

‘Yes, we. You, me, all of us, the school.’ She spread her arms wide. ‘Get this. Next year the school holds a 3/11 memorial ceremony that’s a celebration of Tōhoku culture – singing, dancing, mysticism, music, everything. Let’s showcase our richness, all those things we should be remembering, and kick out the shadows. It’s time we moved on. Forward!’

Hotaka loved the idea.

‘Of course we’ll have to persuade Principal Hashimoto and others.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But I think I can manage it.’ She gave Hotaka the sweetest of smiles, leaving him in no doubt that she’d manage it. ‘Most of all, though, I’ll need your help to make it happen. Say yes?’ She flashed that smile again.

‘I’d be honoured, Abe-sensei,’ Hotaka replied. ‘Arigatō gozaimasu – thank you for asking me.’

She shook his hand vigorously. ‘No. I should be thanking you: for saying yes and for giving me the idea in the first place. After your reading yesterday, I knew you’d be perfect.’ She stood back, her eyes sparkling more than ever. ‘There’ll be a lot to do, you know, but we’ll have the whole year to do it in. Let’s give them something they’ll never forget.’

Hotaka puts down the essay, picks up a sheet of paper and crosses to his bedroom window. It’s about an hour until sunrise, the sky smudged with muted pastels. He glances at the paper – the program for the school’s Memorial Concert – and smiles.

Principal Hashimoto and the School Board loved Miss Abe’s idea. So with help from some teachers and students – especially Hotaka – she has spent much of the year lining up events and performers. She sweet-talked and cajoled a whole range of people to be part of the show, creating an exciting program for the Omori-wan Junior High School Memorial Concert.

Now with about a fortnight before the concert, Hotaka’s job is to confirm that the main presenters are all fully prepared and happy with their place in the program. He’s already contacted a few, like Abbot Etsudo, but there are still plenty to get in touch with: the Puppet People; the old geisha; the poets; and of course the Shaman Lady. Hotaka is visiting her this morning. He hopes she’ll remember.

There’s a soft knock at his door, and his mother pokes her head into the room.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘We’re a good pair, aren’t we, Okāsan? I suppose you have something on today?’

‘Always busy,’ she replies. ‘Yes, an important luncheon.’

Since 3/11 Hotaka’s mother has devoted herself to fundraising for the needy throughout the Tōhoku region. On the very first day after the tsunami she opened her house to as many as she could fit – sixteen at one stage – housing and feeding them for well over a month until relief accommodation was organised. She’s been active in the role ever since, often to the point of exhaustion. Omori-wan missed out on much of the foreign aid that flowed into the region, leaving the little town dependent on government aid and the selfless work of people like Hotaka’s mother.

‘What’s the luncheon in aid of?’ Hotaka asks.

‘A shelter for the truly desperate,’ she replies. ‘There are still many forgotten people in the area. The shelter will be somewhere they can go and know there’ll be help. We’ve collected two-thirds of the funds. This luncheon should guarantee the rest.’

As she speaks, the sun peeps over the horizon, its soft rays highlighting the side of her face. Hotaka can’t help noticing her features – high forehead, petite nose, strong jaw – struck by what a proud woman she is. She turns to him.

‘And you, my son?’

‘I’m visiting the Shaman Lady first thing this morning.’

‘Fox Woman? How come?’

‘She’s in the Memorial Concert.’

‘Wow! She’s nuts, you know?’

‘Maybe, but Abe-sensei wants her in the show because she represents the power of our Tōhoku myths and legends better than anyone.’

‘True, and she is a respected figure among the older people. Your Memorial Concert sounds good. Are you seeing Fox Woman on your own?’

‘No. Osamu’s coming, if he manages to wake up.’

‘How is Osamu? I haven’t seen him in weeks.’

‘He’s okay. He’s really too full on and in your face these days, but he’s okay.’

‘Glad to hear it. I’ll never forget what a broken little boy he was after the wave. You were such a good friend to him in that early difficult time. I think that’s what got him through. That plus his grandmother, of course, who looks after him and feeds him so well.’

Hotaka nods. He remembers that time just after the tsunami, and how hard it was for Osamu. But the weird geeky guy gradually grew on Hotaka. He now considers Osamu his best friend. Along with Sakura, that is.

‘Sakura’s coming too.’

‘Really?’ His mother raises her eyebrows. ‘I like that girl. She’s smart.’

Hotaka smiles. Smart? What an understatement. He recalls the first time he met Sakura. She simply turned up at school one day about a year ago, a refugee from who knows where. There was nothing unusual in that; the social dislocation after 3/11 had strewn people throughout the Tōhoku region and beyond. She was alone, too, no adult in tow. That wasn’t unusual either. But her small solitary figure made her seem vulnerable.

Maybe that’s why Hotaka and Osamu walked up and spoke to her. They soon discovered she was in fact far from vulnerable. That very first morning she corrected Mr Tamura in Maths. In after-school activities she beat the school chess champ, and she even sorted a coding problem for Osamu. The geek was smitten – and Hotaka was definitely interested.

‘Oh well, you’ll have company,’ his mother continues. ‘Should be fun.’

Hotaka shakes his head. ‘Not necessarily. Those two can be tough work.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘At each other’s throats.’

‘But I thought they were friends. You three spend a lot of time together.’

‘Oh yeah, they’re friends. You just wouldn’t know it sometimes. They argue heaps, always winding each other up. It gets hard to take after a while.’

His mother laughs. ‘They sound like great company.’ She hugs him. ‘Have fun.’

‘You, too, Okāsan.’