CHAPTER TWELVE

“WITH THE COOPERATION OF JAPAN, CHINA, AND MANCHUKO, THE WORLD CAN BE AT PEACE.”

Showa 19 November 12, Propaganda poster

I closed my book and turned off my lamp. I snuggled under the covers and heard muted voices coming from Genji’s room. Akira-san was reading to Genji and something must have been funny, because I heard Aunt Kimiko’s laughter, too. It had been a strange couple of weeks with two extra people in the house. As an only child, I hated sharing, especially my time with my papa. However, I found that the extra hushed voices and laughter comforted me most of the time.

I woke in the middle of the night. On my way to the bathroom I heard hushed voices again, but this time it was not Akira-san and Aunt Kimiko. I had never heard Sumiyo-san raise her voice to Papa, but tonight she was loudly whispering to him. I pressed my ear against the closed shoji and could barely make out her words.

“What are you doing? Where did you find him? And why would you bring him home?”

“I was walking back from the train station and found him on the side of the road. He was vomiting and coughing. I told him that he should go home. He told me he did not have one. I could not leave him there so sick. That would not be right.”

“Where is he?” Sumiyo-san asked, and her voice faltered.

“He is in the kitchen eating some dinner. Afterwards, he will have a bath and sleep in the guest room.”

“But the government says—”

“The government does not rule this household—I do.” At that, I heard footsteps approach. I quickly ducked out of the way as Sumiyo-san emerged, walking to her bedroom, muttering about the stubborn man she had married.

I was curious, so I crept down the stairs and peered into the kitchen where I saw a young man’s profile. He turned, and I saw why Sumiyo had been concerned—the young man was Korean.

My eyes opened wide and my cheeks burned, but I managed to say, “Hello. I am Yuriko.”

“Hello, Yuriko-chan. It is nice to meet you. Your father is a very nice man. I am honored to be a guest in his home.”

“Welcome to our house. You can have all the miso soup you want. That way I do not have to have it in the morning.” I smiled at him, and he shot me a smile back in return.

I turned to go to my room but ran straight into Papa.

“Joya, a person of means has responsibility to others. Remember that.” His hands rested on my shoulders.

“Yes, Papa, I will.” My heart pounded in my chest. I did not expect to get caught spying.

“Good night, Joya.” He turned my body in the direction of the stairs.

“Good night, Papa.” I headed back to my bedroom. Once in bed, I remembered what woke me up in the first place and got up again to go to the bathroom.

Once back in my room, as I tried to fall back asleep, I could not stop thinking about our visitor in the kitchen. He looked kind to me. I was proud of my papa for not acting the same as everyone else. I’m not sure why Japan annexed Korea and used them as laborers in the deplorable conditions of the coal mines. Some kids in my class would speak as if the Koreans should be outcasts. I couldn’t understand why Japanese people were considered better than Koreans. Weren’t we all fighting on the same side in this never-ending war?

The next morning, when I went to wash my face, I noticed that our visitor was gone. It was also very quiet in the house. I put on some monpe pants and a shirt made from old kimonos. Aunt Kimiko made this shirt at one of her last neighborhood meetings. The government wanted women to wear monpe pants so they could run faster to the bomb shelters or to help maneuver pails of water in case of fire caused by bombs. Pants were much easier to move in than kimonos or western skirts, and I liked them because they were comfortable. Anything was better than the uniforms I had to wear during the week.

I went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast and found Sumiyo there, drinking her tea.

“Ohayo, Sumiyo-san.”

“Ohayo. Yuriko, now that I am your papa’s wife, please call me Sumiyo.”

“Yes, of course, Sumiyo.” I was pleasantly surprised.

Sumiyo smiled and squeezed my hand. I squeezed and smiled back.

“So, Yuriko-chan, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did, thank you.” I could tell that she had not slept well, due to the dark circles under her eyes.

We ate our breakfast in silence. Well, it was silent until Genji came running through the dining room wearing a toy samurai helmet and singing, “Tenno heika banzai, Long live the Emperor!” He ran right past us and out the kitchen door into the garden.

Sumiyo attempted to muffle her laughter and said, “Yuriko, please excuse me. I need to go into town to do some shopping. I will see you when I return.”

“Have a wonderful morning, Sumiyo.” I was glad to see her smile again. I finished my breakfast and decided to read one of my books in the sunroom. As I settled into the wicker chair, Aunt Kimiko entered.

“Yuriko-chan, my NA meeting will be starting soon. Remember, you are to help with assembling the care packages today.”

“Yes, Aunt Kimiko, I remember.” I rolled my eyes. She had only been reminding me about it for days.

I got up from the chair and heard Genji singing at the top of his lungs, “Kushu da, kushu da, air raid, air raid …”

It was such a terrible song, but since the war started, schools had started teaching it in kindergarten classes, to make sure even the youngest kids knew the importance of what they needed to do should the sirens sound.

•••

Our dining room table was covered with magazines, candy, soap, razor blades, cigarettes, copies of my papa’s newspaper, and letters for our troops. When the war started, we hoped these packages would remind the soldiers of home. All these years later, we hoped the soldiers would still be alive to enjoy them.

As I started to set up the boxes, our neighbors arrived, and they brought their own contributions for the war effort.

Machiko walked through the door with her mom, and I greeted them. Machiko pulled me aside and said, “Watanabe-san will be here soon. My mother and I offered to walk with her, but she wanted to wait for the mail to arrive.”

“Ah. How is Jiro-san doing?”

“Well, she is really worried about him. She has not heard from him in a few weeks. That may mean he is on the front lines.” She hesitated, and then said, “I’m worried, too.” Her brow furrowed as she tucked strands of hair behind her ear.

“I feel so bad for her, having her son away at war. Why don’t we make a special card just for Jiro and mail it with a special comfort package?”

Machiko smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea! Oh, look, here she is.”

At that moment Watanabe-san walked in with red eyes that had dark shadows beneath them. She managed a smile when she saw us.

“Konnichiwa, Watanabe-san. Thank you for coming to the meeting. Machiko and I will be making a special card and package for Jiro-san this afternoon.”

Her eyes lit up, and I think I saw some tears pooling in them. She took both Machiko’s and my hand in hers. “Arigato gozaimasu. Such kind girls. He will be so happy knowing people are thinking of him back home. I haven’t heard from him in a while, but I know he will like receiving your package.”

Aunt Kimiko led Watanabe-san to the table with the other women. She gave us both an approving nod and smile. We headed over to our table and began loading up the packages.

While we worked, the older women chatted about upcoming lectures on gas masks and who might have cheated by receiving extra food rations. Machiko and I hummed one of the funny songs we learned at a dance recital we did years ago, which was put on for wounded soldiers. We had looked ridiculous in our samurai makeup and costumes for the recital. Since that day, we hummed this song whenever we wanted to make each other laugh.

We continued to hum and giggle until we had packed the last box, which was for Jiro-san. Sumiyo, who had returned from shopping hours ago, brought out our lunches. While we ate sushi and shrimp tempura, one of the women explained, “The soldiers need to know that they have strong stable families. It’s important that we are frugal and give whatever we can to the military forces.”

As she started to speak about gas masks, I began to daydream. I couldn’t help myself. She was repeating what we had heard daily on the radio, and I was completely bored. I felt myself drifting away, thinking of our dance recital and of seeing my papa later that evening. Suddenly, someone poked my shoulder. It was Aunt Kimiko, and she gave me one of her looks of both anger and embarrassment. Machiko hid a sympathetic grin behind her hands.

Finally, the presentation ended, and I tried to slip out to Machiko’s house with her.

“Yuriko-chan, remember you are to read to Genji before you go,” Aunt Kimiko called after me just as I was exiting the front door.

“I thought I would read to him later tonight. I want to go to Machiko’s house now.”

“You can go afterward. Genji has been really looking forward to reading the latest Norakuro.”

Machiko shot me a smile and said, “I’ll stay with you while you read. I like the Norakuro anyway. Go, and get Genji.”

I walked at a turtle’s pace toward Genji’s room, hoping he was still napping. Instead, I found him holding the comic book about the soldier dog in his hands. He chanted, “Norakuro, Norakuro.”

“Come on. Let’s go to the dining room, and I will read to you there.”

Machiko and I sat on the floor on either side of Genji and began to take turns reading. We tried to see who could make a better dog voice.

“Private second class Norakuro reporting, sir. Woof, woof.” Machiko used her best dog voice while saluting.

“No, I can do better than that!” I exclaimed. “Sir, I am ready to fight. The enemy’s silly bullets won’t hurt me. Rrrrruf!” I stood tall and puffed out my chest.

We were all laughing, and by the comic’s end, I realized how much fun I’d actually had reading to Genji.

As I closed the comic, I patted my cousin on the head. Then Machiko and I snuck out of the house before Aunt Kimiko came up with something else she wanted done.