The sun had risen, but the kitchen still smelled of burnt silk when a brisk knock sounded on our door. I dropped my scrubber and a dish in the sink. In the parlor, where she was sewing, Kiki stood. She reached over to the humming console radio and snapped it off.

Dad, still in his pajamas, and Charlie, dressed but with his hair uncombed, were down the stairs in seconds. Dad gestured, and Kiki and I found our spots behind him. There was one more brisk knock, and Charlie opened the door. The dark frames of two men made silhouettes in the bright morning light. My whole body went numb as I recognized the men I’d seen at the Omuras’.

“Mr. S-Sakamoto?” one said, reading from a clipboard. He was tall and sallow-faced, and he opened his jacket just enough to show the badge pinned on the inside. “My name is Frank Judd. My partner Boggs and I are federal agents. You met some of our colleagues last night?”

Dad nodded. “I was released.”

“Yes, well, we’ve been ordered to search every Japanese house for contraband.” The agent pushed into the entry. He would have run into Charlie if Charlie hadn’t stepped aside.

“Contraband?” Dad repeated.

“Do you have a warrant?” Charlie asked.

The man pulled a light-blue document out of his inside pocket and absently slapped it in Charlie’s outstretched palm. He sauntered forward, his shoes tapping loudly. Agent Boggs, a mustached man with squinty eyes and a cigar between his teeth, followed.

“Is there anything you’re looking for specifically?” asked Dad. “We’d be happy to help.”

Neither agent answered, and neither removed their hats. Instead, they wordlessly strode to the kitchen. I had to back up when Boggs walked past. His cigar dropped ash on the freshly swept linoleum.

Judd, smelling strongly of aftershave, made his way to the counter and opened the drawers next to the sink, while Boggs flipped through a pile of mail on the kitchen table. When he stopped and smelled the air, I froze. Would the smell of the burnt silk make them suspicious?

But Boggs only took another draft from his cigar. The smoke he blew was cloying—sweeter and thicker than the smell of Okaasan’s kimono.

“If there’s anything we can help you find …” Dad began again.

“Look, we’ve just got to search the house,” Judd said. “Then we can talk. I’ll take the other room,” he said to his partner. Dousing us in his cologne, he wandered back across the entry and into the parlor. Dad followed.

Kiki folded her arms tightly across her ribs. “Why are they searching us? Shouldn’t they be looking for real spies?” I drew my lips together. Charlie came over and put his thin right hand on my shoulder.

“Radio,” Boggs called, staring dully at the radio on the kitchen table.

“One in here, too,” Judd called. Through the entry, I saw him slip a yellow tag onto Dad’s console. “Radios are contraband,” he explained to Dad. “They’ll have to come with us.”

Kiki took a sharp breath, but Dad nodded. Judd lugged the console to the entryway, and a few moments later, Boggs set the tagged kitchen radio on top of it.

“What do they think we’re going to do?” Charlie asked, loud enough for the agents to hear. “Tune in to some broadcast from the emperor? They’re one-way radios.”

“Charlie.” I slid my arm around his waist. “Please.”

Boggs returned to the kitchen. He gave the stove a long look, and I again worried about the smell of burnt silk. But Boggs took another puff from his cigar and made his way out to the entry. “Kitchen’s clear.”

“Let’s check upstairs,” Judd answered. “You stay here,” he added, looking at Dad.

The four of us waited in the kitchen, standing awkwardly at attention.

“When will we get the radios back?” Kiki asked.

Dad shrugged, and when his shoulders fell, his face fell with them. “I know as little as you.”

Kiki huffed. “How are we supposed to live without a radio?” I gave her a look, and her eyes narrowed. “Not just for my music, though I don’t see what’s so wrong with that. But what about the news, for hearing about things like blackouts and bomb drills?”

“We will have to make do,” Dad said.

But next to him, Charlie shook his head. “She’s right. This is wrong. We shouldn’t let this happen.”

“Behave, Charlie,” Dad said. “Shikata ga nai.” Nothing to be done. He whispered the words, but I was shocked that he would use Japanese while the agents were in the house.

When the agents returned to the kitchen, Judd held Dad’s rifle, and Agent Boggs was holding the old Brownie. It had been in my drawer, next to my only pair of pantyhose, and a sticky, hot feeling surged through my chest. Had they gone through everything? What else had they touched?

“We’ll have to take the gun and the camera,” said Agent Judd, pulling a paper tag and a pencil out of his pocket.

I burst forward. “No!” The camera was battered and leaked light, but I needed it.

“Hush, Samantha!” Dad ordered. Judd gave me a cold look as Boggs set the camera on the radios.

“Sir, the camera is my little sister’s,” Charlie said, stepping forward. “It’s so old. What harm could it be?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s on the list.” Judd attached a paper tag to the rifle. “Can’t have the enemy getting photographs of our geography.”

Charlie strangled a snort. “We’re not taking photos for the enemy with a beat-up old Brownie.”

Agent Judd shrugged. “You’ll get it back eventually.”

“When?” The edge in Charlie’s voice was growing.

Judd ignored him.

“Soon? After the war?”

“Look, kid. I don’t know. I just write your name on this tag and take it in.”

“The war could go on for years.” Charlie nearly shouted. “How do we know you’ll ever give it back?”

“Let it be, Charlie!” Dad said.

Judd raised his eyebrows. “That’s not my concern.”

Charlie’s nostrils flared. “Then what is your concern?”

“Step aside, boy,” Judd hissed. He stood like a guard, holding the rifle with both hands, as Boggs gathered up a load of our things. Together, the two agents took our belongings to the car.

I ran up to my dad. “Can’t we do something?” Dad didn’t know how I’d planned to enter the contest and help with the mortgage. But couldn’t he hear in my voice how important this was?

“Cut it out,” Dad hissed. “Both of you. This is something we just have to accept.”

“How can you say that?” Charlie asked.

“But, Dad, please!” I said.

Dad’s eyes widened. “We’ve already lost one family member. Do you really need there to be more?”

I felt like I’d been slapped. The weight of everything hit me—the threat from McClatchy, the arrest of Mr. Omura. Now the kimono and the camera. There were too many losses. And while losing the camera was losing a dream, when I looked at my Dad’s face, tight and filled with shadows, my heart was filled with an even deeper fear. I couldn’t lose my family.

I turned to Charlie. “He’s right. There’s nothing we can do.”

Charlie glared at Dad. His shoulders rose and fell with each huffing breath. My hands were shaking.

While Judd finished searching the house, Boggs asked me to show him the barn. Relief trickled through me. I’d made the right decision about the kimono. He would find nothing.

Coatless, Kiki and I walked the agent out to the barn. Its worn wood shone silver in the bright sunlight. As Boggs opened the barn door, I sighed. This, at least, would be safe.

Boggs peeked inside, then wrinkled his nose at the smell of the chickens. He shut the door.

Something curdled in my chest. That was it? He wasn’t even going to search?

He took a long drag on his cigar, then threw it on the ground, snuffing it with his heel. He leaned one way, then the other, stretching, and then headed back to the house.

He hadn’t even gone inside the barn.

I had lost a piece of Okaasan for nothing.