CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“THE ENEMY HAS USED A NEW BOMB IN IHE ATTACK OF HIROSHIMA. DETAILS ARE STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION.”

Showa 20 August 10 edition

Aunt Kimiko and Sumiyo set up cots for our family along with two other families in the basement of an undamaged school a few miles away. Even though there were fifteen of us in the small space, it wasn’t noisy. I had lost Papa and Machiko. The others had lost family members as well. Our homes and the lives that we once led were decimated. There was nothing to talk about. Even Genji was silent—he had not spoken since the bomb dropped. I felt so guilty for all the times I wished he would stop talking to me.

We did not have running water for the first day after the bomb fell. We could not even use the river for washing. The water rippled with burnt corpses. Relief workers brought notices that the water company’s treatment plant, which was located about two miles away, was thankfully operational. Some boys from the neighborhood left to bring back containers of water for us to drink and cook with.

Food was scarce. Aunt Kimiko and one of our neighbor’s older sons walked to a farmhouse a few miles up the road to bring back some rice and vegetables. Each person was allotted a small amount of food. We didn’t know how long we had to make the food last. Aunt Kimiko gave half of her allotment to Genji, and sometimes I did as well.

I do not know where someone got a radio, but one appeared a few days after the bombing. That was how we found out that the United States had used a special type of bomb on us for the first time. They called it “the atomic bomb” and it was the weapon that had killed the people I loved and had taken away my home. We referred to it as pika don, bright light and thunderous noise. We learned that the same type of bomb was also dropped on the city of Nagasaki three days after Hiroshima was destroyed.

One week later, I, along with everyone left on our street, gathered around the radio to listen to our Emperor’s voice: “We have endured hardships and sadness, but we have been defeated by that atomic bomb, and all Japanese could be injured or killed. It is too pitiful for even one of my dear subjects to be killed. I do not care what happens to me.”

The war was over, and we had lost. The Japanese people finally heard what our Emperor’s voice sounded like and it was to announce Japan’s defeat in the Greater East Asian War. After his speech, people in the room began to chatter and to express their relief at finally having peace. They could begin rebuilding their homes and, perhaps, their lives.

I did not care about rebuilding my life without Papa or Machiko. How could I rebuild something I could never get back?

A few days after the broadcast of Japan’s surrender, a telegram arrived for Aunt Kimiko. We held our breath, knowing it was about Akira-san. Please let him only be injured, I thought, squeezing my eyes shut as she read the telegram. She began to cry as she crumpled the paper and let it fall to the floor. She turned to go lay near Genji, who was napping. I scooped up the paper and smoothed it out as best as I could. Akira-san was dead. He died in the Philippines at the beginning of August before the pika don was dropped.

I could feel nothing. I did love Akira-san—not as my papa, but as an uncle or older brother. But I still couldn’t cry. I looked over at Aunt Kimiko, who wept while rubbing Genji’s back. Even though I had never gotten along with Aunt Kimiko, my heart ached for her and her loss, too.

•••

Our neighbors, who had lived at the far end of our street, left the school’s basement within a couple weeks. They were carpenters and had built a temporary home on their former property. When their home was done, they began to work on building an interim shelter for us where our house had once stood. Once they cleared the land of debris, they stumbled upon the one salvageable item: Papa’s safe. It was melted but still intact. It had been forced open and emptied. People were desperate and robberies were common. We weren’t surprised, but still, I felt even more defeated.

Fragments of metal, cement pieces, and wood debris were removed from our yard. The neighbors dug a foundation for us. Aunt Kimiko, Sumiyo, and I took turns helping them dig. But today there were enough men, and they let me rest. I sat and watched them the entire time—not because I was that interested, but because it stopped me from thinking about the fact that Papa and Machiko were gone and I was still alive. It was easier than having a conversation with anyone.

It was while I was watching that I heard the clink of metal hitting metal and went to see what the shovels had found. A man continued to dig the dirt that surrounded what looked like a black piece of metal. Once he dug away enough dirt, he bent over and pushed away the remaining dirt with his hands.

“It looks like part of an iron gate,” he said.

I moved forward and started to move the dirt myself. “It is our front gate!” I exclaimed. “How did it get here? I thought the NA took it down to melt so it could be used to build planes. Why is it where the shrubs were planted?” Thoughts flooded back to me of that night I went out on the veranda and saw workmen digging. Papa said it was for new shrubs, but he had actually had other plans. I smiled. Even if he was not here physically, a piece of his stubborn personality endured in the form of our front gate.

One of the workers spoke. “Well, Yuriko-chan, that is definitely not the roots of a shrub!” The man chuckled and looked at me. That face looked so familiar. It dawned on me—it was the same Korean man who had been in my kitchen not so long ago.

“It’s you—hello again!” I said, cracking my first smile since the bomb dropped.

“Hello, Yuriko-chan. I had much respect for your papa. He gave me a place to sleep that night and a job in the mail room at the newspaper, and now I have my own painting company. It is an honor to help rebuild your home. It appears that Ishikawa-san did not like the idea of donating all the iron, metal, and gold he owned.”

I nodded with enthusiasm and picked up a shovel. “Please keep digging so we can see what else might be buried!”

After a few minutes of digging and scraping, I spotted a box wrapped with a red calico print furoshiki. I knelt down and pulled it from the dirt. Unwrapping the cloth and opening the wooden box, I saw that it held a silver frame with a picture of Papa and me on Children’s Day when I was four, Papa’s wedding ring, and gold earrings that had belonged to my mama—well, the woman that I knew as my mother. Nothing else. It wasn’t much, but it was all the possessions my family had left. I clutched them to my chest and a deep sob escaped my lips.