CHAPTER 51

HANA

A toy Japanese Mitsubishi A6M Zero Fighter Plane

There are no miracles. No fat fireflies bumbling into the barracks. No ghostly violin.

When I go home that night, I play my father’s koto until my fingers are sore. I play as if each note is a knot in the thin barbed wire that is holding me together.

My mother listens in another room, so I cannot see her weeping.