‘Prepare to die!’

The young demon-wizard readied himself for combat. His skin flared blood-red and his luminous hair lashed at the air like lightning, as ogres, beasts, ghosts and ghouls hovered menacingly around him. With deadly talons and spiky horns, he kept his foes at bay, waiting for the right moment to attack.

‘You don’t frighten me!’ he snarled. ‘I, mighty Oniwaka, will tear you all to shreds and scatter your scraps to the winds. Your end is nigh, cowardly denizens of the deep!’

Oniwaka gave a howl that echoed right through the puppet theatre and set its audience cheering.

‘Oniwaka! Oniwaka!’ they yelled.

The theatre was packed that afternoon on March 11th for a school matinee, and the air bubbled with excitement as Oniwaka worked himself up for battle. In the front row, Hotaka Yamato was on the edge of his seat. He turned to his best friend, grinning up at him. Takeshi was standing, cheering and shaking his fist at the evil creatures on the screen that made a backdrop to the stage.

Hotaka leapt to his feet as well. ‘Destroy them, Oniwaka,’ he yelled. ‘Destroy the evil ones!’

The bunraku puppet was bigger than most of the young people in the audience, and very lifelike. It even seemed to hear Hotaka, for it leaned over the edge of the stage towards him, shaking a claw-like fist as well and howling the battle cry louder than ever.

The audience loved it. Everyone always loved the shows at the Puppet Palace. They were magical.

The little theatre down by the harbour in the coastal town of Omori-wan was operated by an old couple affectionately known as the Puppet People. Mr and Mrs Suda were famous for their wonderful collection of puppets. He made the faces, bodies, arms and legs, while she sewed the costumes, many of them beautiful pieces of detailed handwork. People came from all over the Tōhoku region to see the Puppet People.

‘Prepare to die!’ Oniwaka screamed, and leapt at his foes.

Drums rolled, horns blared, cymbals rattled and crashed as the bunraku warrior hurled himself at the screen buzzing with beasts. The battle brought the whole audience to their feet – thumping, stamping, jumping up and down.

Hotaka wanted to leap onto the stage to help the young Oniwaka. If Takeshi had done so he would have followed at once. It was just the sort of thing his best friend would do.

But something else happened instead.

Suddenly everyone stopped – audience, puppets, performers, musicians. They stopped because of a sound that was felt more than heard, a sound that moved up through their feet and sent a shudder of dread around the theatre. Could it be? For a second everything hung in complete silence. Everyone held their breath, stock still. Listening. Feeling. Waiting.

The answer came in a long, foreboding groan from somewhere deep within the earth. It surged upwards – screeching, grinding, gouging – erupting in a mighty jolt that made the whole theatre lurch like a doll’s house kicked by a giant.

‘Ji shin, earthquake!’ The cry ricocheted through the room as children and adults alike were thrown to the floor.

Everything was shuddering. Everything – the chairs, the floor, the ceiling, the curtains, the lights, even the air itself. The walls wobbled and warped. Part of the stage crumpled like cardboard and fell in on itself, bringing down several props. Shelves and cupboards broke off the walls and crashed to the floor. Sections of scaffolding buckled and gave way. One part fell among the musicians, scattering them. Another toppled onto the puppeteers, narrowly missing Mr Suda.

The old man scrambled from the wreckage. ‘The doors,’ he shouted to his assistants. ‘Open them at once, in case they jam, and get everyone outside as quickly as possible.’

The exit that followed could have been an uncontrolled rush if panic had taken hold, with over a hundred people crammed into such a tight space, many of them young. There was still screaming and crying among the youngest, especially when the tremors grew most violent. But the children were well rehearsed in earthquake routine and paid strict attention to their teachers, exiting quickly and in as orderly a fashion as possible.

The earthquake continued right through the evacuation, making the climb up the steep, wobbling stairs out of the theatre extremely difficult. The shaking and juddering went on for over three minutes, far longer than most quakes, only easing in the final stage of the evacuation.

Hotaka and Takeshi were among the last students to leave. At the top of the stairs Hotaka called to Mr and Mrs Suda.

‘Thanks for the show,’ he shouted. ‘I only wish we’d got to see Oniwaka smash those bad dudes.’

‘Don’t worry,’ the old man replied. ‘When we’ve cleaned up the mess we’ll have you all back for a replay. Now hurry on!’