Kappa by Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, Foreword

FOREWORD

At a certain asylum there is a patient, number twenty-three, who will tell his story to anyone. He's at least thirty, but no one appears so youthful as a madman. His experiences the first half of his life -- well, that's not important. These days he just sits, arms around his knees, sometimes glancing out the window. Outside the iron bars is a single oak tree without leaves and the snow-clouded sky.

He told his long story to the director, Dr. S, and myself. He was expressionless for the most part, but if saying "I was surprised," for example, his head would jerk up.

I believe I’ve recorded his story accurately. If you'd like to know more, ask at S--- Institution in ---- neighborhood of Tokyo. Patient twenty-three will greet you politely, direct you to a wooden chair, and with a melancholy smile repeat his tale in a soft voice. When he finishes -- how his face changed is still stuck in my memory -- he leaps to his feet, hands in fists, shouting, "Get out, you villain! You're a stupid, jealous, shameless, stuck-up, cruel, selfish animal, aren't you? Get out of here!"

Kappa by Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Three summers ago, rucksack on my back, I decided to hike from Kamikouchi hot springs resort up to Mt. Hotaka. As you know, the only way is along the Azusa River. Since I'd climbed the mountain before, as well as Yariga Peak, I set out without a guide in the morning fog. If it didn’t clear up, I would have been blinded to the scenery around me. It seemed to grow thicker. I’d only walked an hour before I thought about returning to the hot springs resort in Kamikouchi. But I thought if I reached a higher altitude, the fog would lift.

It deepened every minute. "If I just climb a bit more!" I thought, and breaking away from the river, started through a bamboo grove.

All I could see was the dense fog, at times broken by a fluttering moth or drooping fir tree branch. Grazing horses and cows appeared and disappeared in a heartbeat. I started to become tired and hungry, and even worse my clothes were heavy with dampness. Finally I gave up, and following the sound of trickling water, felt my way down into the valley.

I sat on a rock to have some food. It took about ten minutes to open a can of corned beef, and make a fire from twigs. In the meantime the fog was steadily clearing, as though proving it had beaten me. Gnawing a piece of bread, I glanced at my watch. Already twenty minutes past one. What shocked me more, however, was the reflection in its crystal of a strange face. I looked over my shoulder, and saw for the first time ever a kappa. Perched on a rock behind me, it had one arm around the white trunk of a birch, the other hand shielding its eyes. It stared back at me with a curious expression.

I was so taken aback, I couldn't move. The kappa also seemed to be astonished, and froze, hand still upraised. Then I jumped up and towards the kappa, who fled in the same instant. Well, I thought it did -- it certainly disappeared. I looked around and through the tall grass, and spotted it a ways off, poised to flee. I couldn't blame it.

What truly surprised me was its color. Before, when it had stood on the rock, it was gray -- now, from head to toe, it was green.

"Damn it," I said, and again leapt for it, and of course it ran away. For over thirty minutes I chased it headlong through the tall grass and over rocks.

The kappa could run quite fast, even more than a monkey. Often, as though in a dream, I thought I'd lost it, or slipped and fell down. But then we ran into a massive chestnut tree, under which an ox with fearful horns and red eyes was grazing. The kappa let out a strange cry and dove for a patch of tall grass.

"I’ve got it, " I said to myself, and jumped after. There was some kind of unseen hole there. My fingers just brushed the smooth shell of the kappa as I fell headlong into profound darkness.

At such a terrible moment, the brain takes refuge in trivial thoughts. I thought of Kappa-bashi, a bridge near the Kamikouchi resort. I'm not sure what happened then -- I glimpsed a brilliant flash like lightning, and blacked out.

Kappa by Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

When I regained consciousness, I was lying face up surrounded by kappa. One, kneeling beside me, was pressing a stethoscope to my chest, a pair of pince-nez on his beak. Meeting my eyes, he gestured for there to be quiet, then made a quack quack noise to someone behind him. Two kappa came up carrying a stretcher. Lifting me onto it, they bore me through the middle of a great crowd of kappa and into some kind of village. To either side of me the street could hardly be distinguished from the Ginza. There were rows of beech trees, and in their shade various stores, with vehicles passing between them.

Before long, the stretcher carrying me turned onto a narrow lane, and we entered a house. I later learned this belonged to the pince-nez wearing kappa from before, who turned out to be a doctor named Chak. He put me in a tidy bed and gave me a dose of clear medicine. I let him do whatever he wanted, for my joints hurt so much I was unable to move.

Every day Chak gave me a medical examination two or three times. Then on the third day, the very first kappa I had seen -- a fisher named Bagg -- came to ask how I was. Kappa know more about us humans than we do about them. That's because they are more likely to capture us than we are to catch one of them. Capture isn't quite the right word, but I was far from the first human to enter the land of kappa. Some even spent their whole lives there. I asked why this was. In the country of kappa, a human being is such a marvel that they don't have to work but can simply enjoy life. Actually, according to Bagg, a sailor had once come and taken a female kappa as his wife. Apparently she was not only quite good-looking for her species, but also had bewitched him.

After resting there about a week, it was decided that I would be allowed as a protected resident to live next door to Chak. My house was small in comparison, but quite elegant. There wasn't actually a great difference between this country's civilization and the land of human's civilization -- or at least Japanese civilization. In a parlor facing the main street, there was a small piano in the corner, and framed paintings hung on the wall. As all houses must have, there was a table and chairs but they were made for kappa proportions, so it was like entering a child's room and a bit awkward for me.

When dusk fell, Chak and Bagg would visit me in this room and teach me the kappa language. Not just the two of them -- every kappa who was curious about me came to call. One, named Gael, was the president of a glass making factory, and visited Chak every day to have his blood pressure checked. But the first half month, the  one I came to know most intimately was Bagg.

One warm, humid day, I was sitting at the table chatting with Bagg. Suddenly he fell quiet, and he stared at me, his big eyes growing even larger.

I said to him, "Quack, Bagg, quo quel quan?" In Japanese this would be translated as, "Oi, Bagg, what's wrong?"

He was silent for a moment. Then he stood abruptly, and his tongue flicked out, exactly as a frog's does. Feeling uneasy, I also stood, and thought about fleeing from the room. Fortunately, just at that moment the doctor Chak showed up.

"Well, Bagg, what are you doing?

Chak glared at Bagg over the top of his glasses, and Bagg looked remorseful, touched his head several times while apologizing: "I am extremely sorry. I only meant to play a little prank on the master of the house. Please excuse my behavior."

Then he turned to me, and begged my pardon as well.

“Nicknames is short for Nicholas-names, right?”

As the second-years are studying the “(person) calls (person/thing) (name)” format, we are teaching them about nicknames. I’m sure you can already guess, the results are hilarious since English nicknames are nonsensical even to native speakers. I remember being hugely confused in the third grade by a teacher, first name of Margaret, referring to herself as Peggy. As Flight of the Conchords would say, “Why? Why? Why, exactly? What, why?”

We give them two lists – the nicknames from which they had to guess the full name, and vice versa. They answered creatively, to say the least:

Bob: Bobbob, Bobilion, Spongebob, Obobma, Bobson, Hairbob

Joe: Jojo, Johnnydepp, Joyful, George, John, Jousou (a train line)

Tom: Tomcruise, Tomato, Takara Tommy (a toy company)

Meg: Megawatt, Megmilk (obv. a milk company), Magazine

Giving them full names and asking them to guess the nicknames was only slightly more successful. I’ve always thought naming a child Elizabeth would be nice because she’d have so many nicknames to chose from – now I clearly need to do it so I can call her Zabe, or Izabet, the only nicknames that have not previously been derived.

"It seems so unlikely in this day and age."

I don’t think it’s the best idea to listen to what other people say about a country without a pinch of salt. Well, that could be said about anything – and I don’t just think so because I love salt and think therefore EVERYTHING should be taken with a pinch of it from media to medicine. There is a long list of “Things I heard about Japan before I came that I haven’t found to be true at all” and an even longer list of “Things I heard about Japan that I’ve found to only be slightly true in certain limited circumstances.” (And then I’ve had to counter many a “things we’ve heard about America, is it true?” with a baffled, “Well, maybe in some part of the country but not one that I’ve ever met.)

Take the left-over Christmas cake metaphor. This was told me as an example of Japan’s extreme sexism. A woman was supposedly called this after her 26th birthday – as in the day after Christmas, she was no longer “edible.” She became “stale” – and it was such a horrific image that it stayed strongly in my mind. It could easily be possible – Japan does have a strong tradition of eating cake on Christmas, which is a romantic holiday more than the family or religious event we have in America. And there is a cultural tendency to disdain unmarried women of a certain age, at least until they get old enough to be revered as “aunts.”

But as to whether that particular phrase was in common usage… I’ve brought it up in casual conversation with a few female Japanese friends, and they’d never heard of it. Perhaps it is used “in some part of the country” but not, evidently, theirs. I imagine a touchy expat like myself heard it, and was so struck that they spread it around as a regularly spoken metaphor, even they only heard it from the lips of some particularly sexist Japanese person.

So let’s set it aside, out of the ranking of “things not good about Japan.” It’s not that I don’t know Japan has issues, but I don’t believe in making it seem worse than it actually is.

 

And on that note, have some Lily Allen:

“Do you have any other skills? Like typing.”

One of the Japanese phrases that always strikes me as extremely apt is –gari, which indicates the hunting or gathering of something. It can be affixed to a variety of things that can be harvested: usagigari is rabbit-hunting, ichigogari is strawberry-picking, and so on. It seems to sum up the rather innocent point of view to food here. In English terms, hunting small animals is inherently violent. In Japanese, it is merely another sort of harvest. (I’ve several times had to justify why I don’t like eating the tiny whole fish that are often sprinkled on dishes here like bacon bits. “They’re looking at me,” I said, “Like they’re saying, ‘Don’t eat us!’” This is bizarre to the Japanese. “No, they’re saying, ‘We’re delicious, eat us! Eat us!’”)

Regardless of the etymological similiarities, however, I much prefer the fruit-and-veggies style of –gari, so when I was invited to go takenokogari – bamboo shoot gathering – I was delighted. I’d bought bamboo shoots on some of my early adventurous supermarket visits and had to do some research on how to even get it open. It’s about as accessible a vegetable as an artichoke – and oddly, has a similar texture to that exotic dish. The flavor is – it’s hard to describe. I want to say sweet, but that’s not it – the word “sweet” comes to mind because it tastes almost floral, and we’re used to things with floral overtones (tea, etc.) as being sweet. But that’s not it either – it’s the bitter edge of floral. This spring I realized exactly what it reminded me of – takenoko tastes the way azaleas smell, and coincidentally one is sprouting right at this time of year when the other is in full bloom. Though the supermarket takenoko comes with just the soft, inner part packaged, the peel of the intact shoot has a texture and a scent like a thick corn husk.

Which is all to say, takenoko (literally, child of bamboo) is a wonderfully complex and unique food that I wish I could share with all of you – but until you come and visit at that time of year, I shall have to be satisfied with a visual representation.

Ten of us set off in two cars, and as must happen on every car trip, the one in the back started putting out smoke and had to be left at a service station. We in the front car continued on, while one of the others caught a train back to get another car and pick up the others. It was a good time of year to be waiting on the side of the road, though, as everyone was taking Golden Week as an opportunity to plant their rice fields.

The grove we were to be harvesting from was on land belonging to a friend of a friend – in my research on takenoko I’d learned that one shouldn’t just dig up the shoots from the side of the road as tempting as they may be as they may also have been sprayed with chemicals.

I’d also learned that really hard-core enthusiasts believed the best shoots could only be harvested just at daybreak, as soon as they poked up from the earth. Any longer than that, and they would be too tough to be truly delectable. By the time we got the car thing sorted, reached our goal, got suited up and got digging, it was past eleven. We were not nearly so discriminating, however.

You know, I had this vague image of bamboo-shoot-hunting as being to flora what wild-boar-hunting is to fauna. It would be this dangerous adventure in the early morning light, where we would leap on the first hint of green poking out, and wrestle it to our will, risking our lives from getting gored to death by the pointy bits. I’m pretty sure that episode of “Man from U.N.C.L.E.” where someone is tortured by being strapped above a bed of growing bamboo is to blame for that bit of wild fancy. The reality, while no less exciting, was far less dangerous.

And of course, the gorgeous location was enough to make anyone calm. The grove was big enough that one could wander a ways without seeing the other members of the party. The men carried full-size shovels or a kind of heavy hoe. I was handed a child’s shovel – I’m not sure if it was a sign of their confidence in me or lack thereof, but I was glad of its size since it was a lot easier to handle. The other women didn’t do much digging, but would look at the ground with sharp eyes, and clear away the leaves to mark a place for us diggers to do our business.

The others were operating on a “leave no prisoners” basis – I would have left the bigger of these two behind, as I figured if it was almost up to my waist it would probably be too tough to eat and had rather earned the right to keep growing. But only minutes later I saw one of the other men take it down:

Proudly displaying my kill:

If you hacked a shoot off low enough, there were these fascinatingly pomegranate-esque growths at the base. I was told to cut these all off before eating, as they were bitter. I was rather disappointed, as it would have been interesting experimenting with them otherwise:

The grove continued across a street, so when one side was picked clean we migrated over.

It’s incredible how fast the bamboo can grow – below you can see the remains of the husk that once protected the sprout, now clinging to the base of the full-grown tree. Before it’s even rotted away the bamboo is towering above:

Japanese women are terrified of getting even the slightest amount of sunlight on their skin, so they all wore brimmed-hats even though we were in the shade.

Bamboo being hollow makes for all kinds of hiding places:

In a place where the undergrowth thickened around a small clearing, I pushed my way in and found a tiny shrine to, I assume, the god of the bamboo forest. There were a couple of ripe takenoko there, but it seemed sacrilegious to dig them up so I left them to continue growing up into a protective wall:

In the end, we made an impressive haul:

The others were couples with families, so they filled bags evenly for each. As a single person, I know my limit in how much plant life I can eat, so I picked out one medium sized shoot and bore it proudly home:

First I peeled off the outer husk, and cut into it. There is a fascinating series of chambers inside, like some long, crisp creature’s heart.

I’m sure if I was Japanese – or even less of a couldn’t-care-less cook – I would have made some effort to cut it in a beautiful way:

It should be boiled in rice bran to cut the bitterness – needless to say, being not-Japanese, I had none, and so I made do with washing a pot of rice and using the white water leftover to boil them:

Then, following a method we are sometimes served in school lunch, I cut up half of the shoot into bite-sized pieces, and mixed it into the rice in the rice cooker. The epitome of simple but delicious:

The next day I made a stir fry with takenoko, thin slices of daikon, garlic and soy sauce. It was delicious, but not so pretty.

 

And that was the great Takenoko Hunting Adventure of 2011! I hope I will be invited again, because how often do you get to do some healthy labor in a beautiful place and get delicious food to boot? I feel like we don’t get our hands dirty on things like this nearly enough in this day and age.

“Under the Cherry Trees” translation

It’s a bit late to post this, as the cherry blossom season has pretty much wrapped up here. However, I just remembered today that I’d started to try translating this short story a couple of years ago. It caught my attention because it has one of the best opening lines ever. I quickly gave up in frustration because my comprehension level was still too low. It’s extremely rewarding to have tangible proof of my improvement – this time I finished it up in a couple of hours.

 

~~~

 

Under the Cherry Trees (1928) by Kajii Motojirou (1901-1932)

桜の樹の下には ~ 梶井基次郎 英語 翻訳

There are bodies buried under the cherry trees!

This is something that I definitely believe. How else could those flowers bloom so magnificently? Because of that unbelievable beauty, I’d been uneasy for two or three days. But now, understanding has finally come to me. There are bodies buried under the cherry trees. This is something I believe.

For some reason, on the road I walk home every evening, something appeared clearly in my mind. Out of all the implements in my room, it had to be very tiny and flimsy, like the edge of a safety razor or something like that. You say you don’t understand – and after all, I don’t either. But there’s no doubt that all of this is related.

No matter what kind of flower a tree bears, when it reaches the state known as full bloom, a mysterious kind of atmosphere spreads in the air around it. It is like a top that spins so well it appears to be completely still, or the way a skillful musical performance always seems to be accompanied by an illusion. It is like the afterglow from being given a vision of incandescent reproduction. Unless it is striking at a person’s heart, it is a wondrous, vivid beauty.

But yesterday or the day before, it was just that which brought a terrible gloom into my heart. I felt that such a beauty was something unbelievable. On the contrary, I became anxious, and depressed. I felt empty. But now I understand at last.

You, try to imagine that beneath this glorious profusion of blossoms, a dead body is buried under each tree. I wonder if you can understand, then, why I am so ill at ease.

Horse-like corpses, dog- and cat-like corpses, as well as human-like corpses. All of them decomposing and filled with maggots, making an unbearable stench. And yet, a crystal-like liquid is also trickling out. The cherry tree’s roots, like a greedy octopus, holding them while its hair roots, like a sea anemone, soak up the liquid.

I can see it as though in a dream. The crystal liquid being sucked in and making a quiet procession through the plant tissues, somehow creating petals such as those, stamen such as those.

Why are you making that troubled face? Isn’t it a beautiful insight? It is as though with my gaze fixed I can finally see the cherry blossoms. Yesterday or the day before, I became free of the mystery that haunted me.

Two or three days ago, I climbed down into the valley, holding onto rocks as I went. Here and there mayflies were given birth from within the spray of water like Aphrodite, and I saw them soar into the valley’s sky. As you know, that is how they exquisitely wed. After walking a little while, I came across something strange. The water in the valley had dried up to form a small beach, except for a small puddle left behind. It was there, floating on the surface with a shimmer like accidentally spilled oil. What do you think was there? There were countless thousands of dead mayflies. They covered every inch of the water's surface, their wings overlapping each other. That was what was displaying the shimmer like light reflecting off oil. It was their graveyard after they finished spawning.

When I saw that, it felt as though something had struck my heart. Discovering that graveyard, I savored my cruel delight like a degenerate with an interest in dead bodies.

There was nothing else in that ravine that could give me pleasure. The warbler and the tit, the bright sunlight on the fresh buds, none of it was more than a vague impression. For me, tragedy is something essential. For the first time I feel clearly that there is equilibrium. My heart has a devilish thirst for gloom. My heart can only be calm when it has achieved complete melancholy.

You’re dabbing at your armpits – you’ve broken into a cold sweat. I am in the same state. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it as being just like the stickiness after climax, as our melancholy achieves completion.

Ah, there are bodies buried under the cherry trees!

I haven’t the slightest idea where this daydream of corpses came from, but now no matter how I shake my head it will not leave me, it has become one with the cherry trees.

Now is the time when, just as the village people have the right to spread a feast under the cherry trees, I am also in the mood to drink while looking up at the blossoms.

 

~~~

 

Haha. Oh, Japan… I don’t think I’ve felt so sorry for the referred-to recipient of a story since Rime of the Ancient Mariner or maybe Saki’s The Open Window. I can’t help but imagine this narrator cornering some terrified young guy on his tarp at a hanami party, and not letting him go until he hears the whole morbid theory. Eventually he’ll wander away, only to burst out in the occasional drunken refrain, “There are bodies buried beneath the cherry trees!” while everyone else gives him a wide berth.

“In order to be beautiful” – Domoto Tsuyoshi

Someone tears this body to pieces again.
Located in the dead center of a dark forest,
I am heading for the lake.
I should still be on time. My heartbeat confirms it.

How long? It's as though I lost consciousness.
Beside the stillness, I am aware of sorrow flowing.
I look for the source.
Honestly, I'm weak. I'm still a tender color.

I won't let you say I'm to blame.
I can't say that you are hateful.
People are selfish,
Always are selfish,
In order to be beautiful, they are selfish.

Not everything is cold.
Not everything is warm.

That time I fell down, at once I tried pushing myself up.
I noticed a strange pain in my wrist,
An unknown internal damage.
Honestly, I'm weak. I'm still a tender color.

If I give up, I'll have to go away,
To meet the me who is once again strong.
This body trembles,
Its heart laid bare.
I'm all right, I'm still a tender color

After this, will I walk the same way?
That's right, I will walk the same way.
The flower of greed won't bloom.
The flower of greed is withering.
I'll face something wonderful and consume it.

We are connected by the power of belief.
We are connected by a noble resistance.

(It will surely come true.
I am fine. It will come true.)

Not that I'm biased or anything, but I believe if this song does not move you, you may want to get your doctor to check whether or not you have a heart.

Our Courage, Chapter Eight

That night, Yamato couldn’t sleep.

Yuuri’s hand had been cold? Impossible...

Images from the day he had met Yuuri until now flashed through his head. At a time when everything in Less-Than city had taken Yamato aback, Yuuri had been the boss. Having the only gun, she’d been in control.

But Yuuri hadn’t been doing it only for herself. She’d used the deliveries she took to take care of the smaller children who couldn’t get any supplies for themselves.

That was the kind of person Yuuri was. Seemingly gruff and nihilistic, but in truth more gentle than anyone, more wounded than anyone, and more concerned about everyone in this village. That was the Yuuri that Yamato wanted to see smile again.

That guy Reiji had died two days after his hands turned cold. Did that mean Yuuri only had two days left?

It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be -

He couldn’t quench the fear, and a sorrow began to spread in Yamato’s chest.

*

In the Headquarters, a tape was playing of a DJ’s cheerful voice being interrupted by a desperate cry. It was a recording of Yamato’s attempt to contact the outside world. But -

“There were some inquiries about the message, but we explained it as a prank.”

“This has gone too far,” the vice-minister’s eyes glittered.

A secretary stood and began to read a report.

“The Makuhara T-virus is caused by an organism, that causes death by preventing cell regeneration in the human body.”

“If that’s so, why is it only children can survive it?”

“There is an area of the DNA called Telomere that calculates age. As it replicates, the count becomes shorter. Our hypothesis is that the Telomere causes so much cell death that the infected person dies around the age of twenty.”

“Have you found a cure?”

“... No, not yet.”

As the other members of the board lowered their heads, there was a razor-edged gleam in the vice-minister’s eyes.

*

A cold north wind blew in that felt like it could peel your skin off.

Mori and Takeru stood by the school’s play equipment, unsmiling.

“Hey, Takeru, is Yuuri going to die? Is there anyway we can stop it? What should we do?”

Looking at Mori as he thought for a moment, Takeru finally opened his mouth. “Act normal, just keep doing what you always do.”

“I don’t know if I can...” Mori muttered.

Takeru didn’t know either. His heart was filled with worry, he wanted someone he could rely on.

But... Takeru corrected himself

That couldn’t be his biggest concern right now. More than that, he needed to be someone Yuuri herself could depend on. She couldn’t have the slightest idea of their concern. They had to show her that everything was normal. If that was the only thing he could do for her...

He entered the music room with heavy tread. Yuuri was alone, lying on the sofa and staring at a point in space.

“What is it?” she said, looking at his trying-to-look-natural expression.

“No-nothing, really, I was just wondering how you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you know, your condition...”

“I’m so-so,” she said, with the same expression as always.

Yamato also came in, seeming as if he also was worried about her.

“What is it?” she looked at both of them.

“Nothing in particular, just wondering how you were doing,” Yamato said, before Takeru dragged him away.

He muttered in the hallway, “Stop acting so strange!”

“Huh?” Yamato responded, looking at Takeru askance.

“Don’t come talking to her without any reason.”

“You did it, too.”

“Yeah, but...” Takeru said, and fell silent. He looked straight at Yamato as though deciding something. “Yamato?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you notice?” Yamato stared back, not getting Takeru’s meaning, and Takeru smiled bitterly. “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re too thick.”

*

When Yamato walked out into the schoolyard, he saw Suzuko doing laundry by herself. She smiled when she saw him.

“It’s going to be Christmas soon. Do you remember last year?”

Christmas? It was that season already... Yamato had totally forgotten. In this town, they were literally trying to survive day to day. Things like Christmas and New Year’s had nothing to do with survival.

But Yuuri might never see another Christmas.

Unaware of Yamato’s dark thoughts, Suzuko kept chattering.

“I was late for my curfew when we missed the last train, and my dad got so angry, yelling, “What time do you think it is!?” and you told him, “I don’t have a watch so I don’t know.” And he said, “Stop kidding around!”

Just then, Yuuri wandered by them with an vague air. She carried a white plastic bag, and her steps were uneven, as though each took all of her strength.

Yamato looked after her as she went, and Suzuko watched him do so.

*

Yamato caught up to Yuuri and took the bag from her. Inside were several glass bottles filled with gas.

“I’m going to burn it down, everything,” Yuuri muttered.

“If you start a fire, you’ll get shot at.”

“Don’t care. I’m going to die anyways. Doesn’t matter if it happens fast or slow.”

“Yuuri... you know?”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t figure it out I thought about what I could do for everyone, and this was the only thing.” She looked straight ahead, and spoke matter-of-factly.

“Why are you talking about this kind of thing?”

“Isn’t it hard for you? You were betrayed, isn’t it painful?”

“I guess, yeah, it was hard.”

“So that’s why, if I stayed silent and did nothing, it would be painful.”

Her tone and expression were gentle, but Yamato thought there must be a fire burning inside her.

“I’m not going to let you go through with something this dangerous.”

She said firmly, “There’s something I have to do.”

“What is it?”

“Get revenge on my mother’s enemy. She was killed... by Shibasaki...”

“Huh?” Yamato gasped. Yuuri’s enemy... was Shibasaki himself?

But suddenly, all the power left Yuuri’s body, and she swayed as though she were about to collapse. Without thinking, Yamato put an arm around her and held her up. She was freezing against his fingertips.

“I can’t let it go any more... I can’t die leaving it like this...” Yuuri murmured as though delirious to a stunned Yamato.

*

“Yuuri’s mother’s enemy?” Takeru’s voice raised in surprise.

Yamato, looking at Yuuri as she lay unconscious on the music room’s sofa, nodded. “I’d been thinking what to do to help Yuuri.”

“But talking about revenge...”

“It’s not like I’m going to kill Shibasaki. I couldn’t.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll get him to apologize to her,” Yamato said as though he’d been thinking hard, and Takeru scoffed.

“They’re not little kids, here.”

“It’s all I can do. I can’t let her do anything dangerous, so I’ll go.”

Saying this Yamato started to leave, but Takeru called him back.

“Wait a minute.”

“What for?”

“There is something else you can do for Yuuri.”

At Takeru’s words, Yamato looked back at him questioningly.

“Yuuri... likes you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yamato said with a small laugh.

“It’s not a joke, it’s the truth,” Takeru said, and took hold of Yamato’s shoulder with a serious expression. For a second, Yamato stood still as though struck by lightning. He remembered the day he’d first met Yuuri. That was right, he’d thought she was a woman until her words, “I’m not a girl,” and rewrote her representation of herself, and from those words until now he’d accepted that as the reality, but...

Knowing Yuuri’s hidden feelings for the first time, Yamato could only be silent.

“So because of that, if you could stay with her. And... if you could like her back. I’m asking you,” Takeru spoke as though the words were painful.

Troubled with his own thoughts, Yamato shook his head firmly. “I can’t do it.”

“Even if you have to lie, it’s fine,” Takeru said.

With a troubled expression, Yamato answered him, “Yuuri wouldn’t be happy if I did something like that. If that’s how she really feels.”

“I get it. But at least, could you stay with her?” Takeru’s voice was pleading. But Yamato only shook his head once more.

“I have to do this the only way I can.”

*

That night.

Yuuri regained consciousness, and found Suzuko sitting next to her.

“I guess you’re feeling sick?”

Suzuko didn’t know about Yuuri’s fate yet.

“No, it’s nothing,” Yuuri answered.

Suzuko showed her a bracelet she was wearing. “Yamato gave this to me, last Christmas.”

Yuuri looked at it without words. Suzuko kept talking as though she didn’t know what else to do.

“I gave him a sweater. Then, on his birthday - “

“Why are you telling me about this?”

At Yuuri’s question, Suzuko looked at her with steady eyes.

“I like him, Yamato,” Suzuko said, biting her lip, and looked up at the ceiling for an instant. “I don’t want to lose him to you.”

Suzuko had figured it out, that Yuuri was a girl the same as her, that she also had fallen in love with Yamato -

Yuuri stared at the ceiling silently, but a cynical smile flickered on her mouth.

“Have you got the wrong idea about something? I have no interest in Yamato.”

“Really?” Suzuko’s face grew bright.

“I don’t have the same tastes as you,” Yuuri said, and smiled again. But this time it came from deeper within her, and Suzuko returned it.

*

As Suzuko left the music room, Takeru entered carrying a blanket.

Yuuri was trying to lit up a cigarette, but her hands trembled so much she couldn’t hold the match.

Takeru took it from her hand, and went to lit it for her. But suddenly, she threw the cigarette away, and pulled the bandana from her head. Her long hair tumbled down.

She was clearly upset. The feelings as a girl that she’d kept secret, the desperate feeling of one’s own body falling apart, they were eating at her.

Takeru looked at her like this, and couldn’t find the words to say.

She noticed his unhappy expression, and gave him her best effort at a smile. “Don’t give me that look. You don’t get it? When we become adults, we die. I understand that. It’s okay, it’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Yuuri...” Her smile now was the cruelest thing he’d ever seen. At a time like, she was still thinking of others, even though she should be wanting to scream out loud. When she should really be the most concerned...

Before he realized it, he had pulled her close to him, tightly wrapping his arms around her.

He’d wanted to do this for the longest time. But he couldn’t have...

Against his chest Yuuri tensed, startled. He held her like a delicate glass ornament, as though she’d crumble into dust the second he took his hands away. The emotions welled up inside him with her pulled so close.

He loved her.

He loved Yuuri.

He didn’t want to lose her.

He couldn’t believe that she was going to die.

He hugged her closer and closer, as tight as he could, as though unless he held her as close as possible he was afraid she would go somewhere far, far away.

“If it’s me... is that no good? If I’m the one who stays with you until the end... am I not good enough?” Before he realized it, he was murmuring his deeply hidden emotions into her ear.

At Takeru’s unplanned confession, Yuuri stiffened. But even though she was confused, she entrusted herself to Takeru’s embrace.

There was no other sound outside the two of them. Nestled close together, neither moved an inch. Inside the world that was only theirs, the night that was only theirs passed quietly.

*

At the same time, there was an uproar starting near the gate. Yamato, Akira, Makoto and Kiichi were throwing burning bottles, and had a single guard held hostage.

Through the piercing sound of a siren, Yamato yelled at the guards, "No violence! Listen to me - I want to talk to Shibasaki!"

"With Shibasaki?" a security guard responded.

"Call him. If you do, we'll let this guy go right away."

Just then, a man stepped from behind the guard. He had a wide forehead and thin cheeks, and looked cool-headed.

"I am the new head of the bureau for preventative measures, Morioka. Shibasaki has been dismissed. You are the person known as Yamato?"

Shibasaki... was gone? The new chief was this Morioka...?!

"I gather you've made light of us in the past, but now that I am in charge, don't think that will be tolerated anymore."

He made eye contact with the guard. "Shoot them."

Guards began to pour out of the gate. All of them held guns, and they began to fire without mercy. It was clear they intended to kill the four boys, who quickly ducked behind cover.

At that moment, the gunfire suddenly stopped. The guards stepped aside, and someone walked through gate.

It was Shibasaki!

He wore neither protective gear nor a mask, and was empty-handed. Morioka called to him.

"Shibasaki - what do you think you're doing!"

Shibasaki ignored the voice, and kept walking.

Finally speaking to the Shibasaki right in front of him, Yamato said, "Will you come with us? There's someone who wants to meet you."

"There is someone I also would like to meet," was Shibasaki's surprising reply.

"Who is it?" Yamato asked.

Shibasaki handed him a photograph. It showed a girl in a school uniform - it was unmistakably Yuuri!

"My daughter," Shibasaki said. Everyone gasped.

Yuuri... was Shibasaki's child?

*

"You're not cold?"

Mori placed a blanket at Shibasaki's feet. The man was waiting in the gym for Yuuri to wake up. Makoto and Akira sat nearby, watching with bitter eyes.

"Don't bother being nice to a guy like that!"

"That's right, he's the jerk who threw us away like garbage."

Kiichi chided them, "Hey, he's Yuuri's father."

Makoto burst out, "Which makes it all the worse, right?"

Shibasaki stood. He turned towards them. "It is just as you say. I must apologize to all of you. I'm sorry I broke my promise." He bowed his head low.

Yamato spoke hesitantly, "This is about Yuuri..." When Shibasaki turned to him, Yamato met his gaze steadily. "Maybe only a day left..."

Shibasaki's expression changed. She... only had a day to live?

At this, Suzuko also looked shocked. She hadn't known - all this time, she'd been thinking only of herself...

*

Morning came. When Takeru woke up, Shibasaki was sitting in front of him.

"What are you doing here...?" He asked, surprised. Yuuri was lying with her head in his lap.

Shibasaki looked at her breathing slowly, and murmured, "Even someone like me wants to be near their child..."

Takeru gaped at him. Child? Yuuri was Shibasaki's daughter?

At that moment Yuuri also opened her eyes.

Shibasaki stood up. "Yuri..."

But looking at him, Yuuri's eyes glittered with hatred. "Don't call me by name. I'm not your daughter Yuri anymore."

"I was told you wanted to see me."

"...I did - "

She stood unsteadily, and moved closer to Shibasaki.

"So that we could die together!"

Without thinking Takeru stepped between them. Yamato ran into the room.

"Stop it, Yuuri!"

"Let me go!"

Takeru and Yamato held back a struggling Yuuri, but Shibasaki stood unmoved.

"It's fine. I don't mind. I killed your mother."

Takeru and Yamato looked at each other, startled. Shibasaki began to tell the story haltingly.

The story of that day... the day that thing fell from the sky...

*

"I was the one who ordered the road between Tokyo and Makuhara barricaded. I didn't know the reason, but we couldn't let even one person out of Makuhara, or all of Japan - no, all of the world - would fall into a panic. Not only that - everyone would be in danger. That is what I was told, so I had the entrance blocked, and guards placed there. It wasn't my decision, but they were to shoot anyone who tried to escape.

But somehow, my wife and daughter had also gotten trapped in the city. I didn't learn this until it was too late. By the time I heard Yuri's voice calling to me, it was too late. I told the guards, "Don't shoot!" But my wife put her body between them and Yuri, and took a rain of bullets in the back.

No matter the reason, because of my order my wife is dead. I can never change that. The one who killed Yuri's mother... is me."

*

"Get out," Yuuri said to Shibasaki in a choked voice. "I won't forgive you - I can't. I don't even want to see your face."

"I understand," Shibasaki said, and walked out, his shoulders slumped with the loneliness of having been rejected by his only child.

Yamato followed him into the hallway, but stopped when Suzuko called him quietly.

"I want you to stay with Yuuri. That's the only thing that can still be done for her..."

*

Yamato entered the music room. Yuuri and Takeru were sitting silently on the sofa.

"I'll go look for something to eat," Takeru said, standing abruptly. Left alone in the room, Yuuri and Yamato were silent for a moment.

"Did Takeru tell you? To stay near me."

"That's not it. I'd be here even if no one told me to be... because you're my friend. The kind I'll never forget my entire life."

Yuuri gave a small smile. "A friend... I was thinking the same thing, about you."

But as she said those words, Yuuri's expression grew lonely.

"Isn't it enough, already? With Shibasaki." Yamato said. "Just forgive him. It's been as hard for him as it has been for you. We didn't call him here. He came on his own. Because he's your father. He came here because he wanted to see you again. If you leave it like this... it might be the end for him."

But as he spoke, Yuuri's eyes closed without him noticing. He looked over to see her slumped on the sofa as though dead.

Startled, he shook her. "Yuuri? Yuuri!"

At his yelling, her eyes fluttered open. "I'm fine. Don't shout like that," she said in a weak voice. "Can we just stay like this for a minute?"

As she spoke, her trembling hand gripped Yamato's. As though finally being relieved, she closed her eyes again.

*

Takeru stood in front of the closed door to the music room as though he couldn't decide whether or not to go in. His chest was filled with a turmoil of emotions. Finally steeling up his resolve, he opened the door.

Yamato and Yuuri were nestled close together on the sofa, her hand tightly held in his.

For an instant, Takeru's heart ached. But he had also come to an understanding. After quietly calling Yamato over, he gave him a clear declaration.

"I'm going to take care of Yuuri from now."

"Takeru, you...

"I love her. She's troubled now, but I want to do something to put her at ease. I want her to forget the bad stuff, and smile. Maybe you're thinking there's nothing to be done now, but go along with me, ok?"

Yuuri lay on the sofa, breathing peacefully. Looking over at her, Yamato gave a small nod.

*

Everyone had gathered in the gym.

Yuuri was in the middle of a circle. Takeru sat on the stage, singing the song Reiji had written before his death.

Yuuri was listening but her eyes watched a point in space. Yamato looked at her face, full of calm and dignity.

After Takeru, the other kids got up on stage to perform various routines and tricks. Before long the gym was filled with bright laughter. Even Makoto and Akira were smiling, even Suzuko, even Mori and Kiichi and Yamato and Takeru...

Even Yuuri was smiling.

But before they knew it, their time of fun had passed. The gym grew silent. Tears rolled down Suzuko's cheeks, and then Mori's, and even Makoto's and Akira's.

"What's with you guys?" Takeru said with exaggerated annoyance.

"Because - " Suzuko choked out.

"We don't want Yuuri to die," Mori said, shaking fiercely. Yuuri gave him a gentle smile.

"Thank you. That's enough. I'm happy that everyone did all this for me." As she said that, the smile disappeard from her face.

A heavy silence fell. Then, bang! Yamato jumped up and ran out of the room.

Watching him go, Yuuri muttered, "I'm sorry, but could I be alone now? Please..."

Looking at each other, they left the gym. The last to move was Takeru, but he finally pulled himself away.

When she was alone, Yuuri drew a knife from her pocket and stood silently.

One thought had never left her mind.

She had to revenge her mother's death.

*

Takeru was running around desperately. In the blink of an eye Yuuri had disappeared, and in her condition... He had no idea where she could be. If by some chance he couldn't find her before something happened...

Then he spotted a haggard figure collapsed next to one of the storage containers in the city center. As he helped her up, Yuuri muttered, "I couldn't forgive him after all. I can't give up until I kill him..."

*

That night. Yuuri had been brought back to the gym. But she couldn't even sit up on her own anymore. She lay sideways on the sofa, eyes closed.

Yamato had also returned. After he'd run out, he'd been searching for Shibasaki. He was Yuuri's only blood relative. She couldn't just die like this with that hatred still between them.

Shibasaki started to move towards her, but Takeru stepped between them. "Wait a minute. Please get out."

"Takeru," Yamato started to say, but Takeru interrupted him.

"Isn't this enough? Just let her forget the difficult things."

"It's all right to let it continue being painful? Aren't they family? Aren't they father and child? Letting her keep hating him like this... that's too painful."

Yuuri's eyes had opened. Glaring at Shibasaki, she raised her hand as though the knife was still clutched in it. It was no longer there, and she struggled in frustration against her body's weakness.

"Stop it. I don't want to see you like this," Yamato said with a sorrowful expression, and shook his head slightly.

"I won't forgive you. No matter what. I don't think of you as a father," she muttered painfully.

Suddenly, Shibasaki moved forward and embraced her. Everyone present was shocked, including Yuuri.

Hugging her, the organism would enter Shibasaki's body... but he didn't seem to care about that. He continued to hold his struggling daughter tighter and tighter.

"Yuri... I'm sorry. I've never done anything for you as a father. So... at least, we can die together. Forgive me."

Tears began to fall from Yuuri's eyes. "If that's how you feel, help everyone here. Save them. Because they're my dear friends. I've lived until today because they've been with me. Friends like that shouldn't be betrayed by my father. Please, dad."

Listening to her faltering words, the others began to cry. Yuuri's warm, gentle, kind words slowly entered each of their hearts. Finally, the last moment had come. They gathered close around her. She looked affectionately at each of their faces.

"Mori, thank you. It was fun always being with you."

Mori nodded several times, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Makoto, Akira, we fought a lot, didn't we. but I think you turned out to be decent guys." The two shook their heads.

"Kiichi, I hope you get out of here soon." Kiichi was struggling fiercely against the tears.

"Suzuko, get along well with Yamato." Suzuko started crying harder at Yuuri's gentle words.

She spoke as though they were parting, but now there was a smile on her face. She looked towards Takeru.

"Takeru, if I'd actually been a boy, I think you would have been my best friend. Don't die in here." A tear fell from her eye, and one as well from his.

Last she turned to Yamato.

"Yamato, thank you for your courage. If you hadn't been here, if I hadn't seem your smile, I wouldn't have realized how good other people can be."

A smile spread on her face again. "I'm so thankful I was able to meet all of you."

And her eyes closed.

That was it.

*

That night, a quiet snow started to fall on Makuhara in the middle of the night.

"Look at this." It was just the two of them in the music room. Takeru pointed a finger at the desk. On top of it was carved, COURAGE. Yuuri's final message.

"I couldn't do anything for her in the end. If it hadn't been you, if you weren't the one she liked, maybe I could have been more of a support to her..." He couldn't get any more words out.

Yamato looked out the window. The snow was falling heavily. It covered everything, the dirty earth, and made it pure white. Yamato thought, that is what she left behind.

*

The next day, the children and Shibasaki dug a grave in the schoolyard. They covered it with the desk with COURAGE written on it.

Shibasaki said a prayer, then stood to face all of them. "Thank you for being with her, for being her friends. I don't have long either, but as she said, I want to help you. It would be a shame if I died without doing anything."

"Shibasaki," Yamato said, and the man looked at him. "There's just one thing I want to ask you. We're stronger than you think, so you can tell us. What is the government keeping hidden?"

For a second Shibasaki kept his mouth shut. Finally he drew a breath with resolve, and looking at everyone's face, he began to talk.

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

(Phew, glad that one's over! Sorry it took so long but it was so sickeningly sappy that I kept putting it aside. Hopefully I'll be able to finish up the last two chapters with less delay.)

“Making a Connection” – Domoto Tsuyoshi

The lovely thing about having a favorite artist with a birthday less than two weeks before your own, is that when he releases a new single on his special day it’s like it’s really a present especially for you.

Lovely images from his hometown, Nara, as expected of the honorary cultural ambassador.

Also, check out the hypnotic revamp of his website, and click on profile for another view of this strange little world.

This flower blossoms red,
In Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter,
Lighting up love with a brief flash.

Like a spider's thread,
Frail and strong,
Anyone and everyone,
From the first cry to now.

We are coloring in this country.
Making a connection, we are living.

Of twelve colors, I am one.
Blossoming in every season,
Making a connection.
Follow this path, the white sky.

The essentials - the eye, the skin, the heart -
Each is prepared.
Drawn towards
The sun and the moon,
Past, present, and future seem wonderful.

In this ancient country - the wind, the poem, the rain -
We come to hear them, making a connection.

Only once, I am one color,
Blossoming in every season,
Making a connection,
Follow this path, grateful.

A drop of water
Travels to the sea,
Builds to a crescendo in the heavens,
Falls to the earth,
As a sphere, as a spiral,
Returns to the body in a dance,
The expression of love.

The town flooded with tears
Won't be washed away now.
I want to live with my gaze fixed on love.

I want to give -
I want to grant -

Remembering
The country of beautiful seasons.

lyrics english translation kinki kids eni wo yuite 縁を結いて 堂本剛 英語 翻訳 歌詞

“I‘ll be a killer whale when I grow up.”

I like the sort of teachers who are able to tease their students, just a little. That sounds slightly cruel, but I mean the certain gentle, fond kind that’s impossible to explain but is unmistakable in action. And also universal – I adored the teachers who could do it to me through elementary, even in high school. They’re the ones I’ve stayed in contact with, the ones who – to be a total cliché – are still my friends on Facebook.

We’re teaching the first years basic introductions, including the phrase “Nice to meet you” and “Nice to meet you, too.” The latter is confusing since it contains two to/os, pronounced the same but spelt differently – it will only get worse when we come to that third on the numbers page. My students - even my coworkers - like to complain how confusing English is in that respect, never mind how their entire kanji system is based on dual pronunciations.

So we go over the phrase nice and slow, pronouncing each word, having them repeat, asking if they know the meaning. This is a bright and outgoing group of students, so at least one student will have a guess even if it’s not quite on. I’m assisting K-sensei here. He’s quite laidback so I have to work a bit at him to figure out what his expectations are for me and what his plans are for each day’s class, but he’s got a dryly humorus manner that the kids enjoy.

I asked them, “What does ‘meet’ mean, in Japanese?”

A pause while some look at the vocabulary at the back of the book. Unfortunately the publishers decided to include ‘meet’ only as part of the phrase and not (at the first-year level, at least) its individual meaning. ‘See nice’ it reads.

One student hazards, “meatball?”

“Niku?” in Japanese, meat.

Sensei and I smirk slightly at each other. It’s an understandable mistake, but no less adorable for that.

He writes meet and meat on the board in a column, the way we do when we’re making sure they get the difference between something. The way we did the week earlier with B and V, M and N. So they know this pattern.

“Now listen closely,” he says, and gives me a nod.

I point at meet. “Meet,” I say, and they repeat after me.

I point at meat. “Meat,” I say, and they repeat after me.

“Can you tell the difference?” he asks, and they groan in protest.

“Ehhh? Can’t tell at all!” “One more time!”

“So Emily-sensei will say one, and you guess which it is.” This is a game I’ll love to play when they know enough vocabulary – symbol and simple, so on. We string them on a few more minutes, pretending distress that they can’t hear the ever so obvious difference in pronunciation between meet and meat.

“You don’t get it? Oh no! This is very important! What if you try to say “nice to meet you” to someone, and accidently say, “Nice to meat you”? How embarrassing would that be!”

Finally K-sensei grins so hard his eyes water, and says, “The difference is…” ominous pause. “There is no difference, they sound exactly the same. You don’t need to worry about getting the pronunciation mixed up.”

The students object loudly, I make sure they all note down the different meanings, and we move on. Sure it was a little bit of a detour, but I would bet you that none of these students will get meet and meat confused again. Nothing like seasoning a lesson with some humor to make it memorable.

Sakura no Shiori, AKB48 (english translation)

桜の栞-AKB48 As much as I mock AKB48, I do like this song.

The soft breezes of spring
Blow from somewhere,
Changing the colors
Of this path we often traveled.
This is the season
When both joy and sorrow pass by,
As we begin to walk
On a new road.

The cherry blossom
Is the bookmark of our farewell.
Our friends’ faces as they wave
Rise in our minds.
The cherry blossom
Is a bookmark of tears,
So that we never forget
This important moment.

If we look up at the sky,
Its greatness,
Reaching into infinity,
We realize the length of our road.
Whether it’s fair weather or rain,
Tomorrow will come,
So with a smile,
We take the first step forward.

The cherry blossom
Is a bookmark of our future,
So that we remember
That dream we once saw.
The cherry blossom
Is a bookmark of hope.
Rather than just giving up,
We can open to this page and see it.

The cherry blossom
Is a bookmark of our heart.
Our shining youth,
The radiance of sunlight through trees.
The cherry blossom
Is a bookmark of that day,
So that we don’t forget
When everyone’s dreams
Burst into full bloom.

桜の栞 AKB48 英語 歌詞 翻訳

“And you realize you didn’t know anything.”

Oh, Japanese TV. I can’t tell if the current program is a regularly scheduled one or an emergency, how-to-survive-disaster one.

Two comedians enter a convenience store with two girl-group members. The latter pick out several items, and claim they are going to make lasagna.

Their “ingredients” include:

Hamburger bread: a flat roll with a whole patty baked into the middle. They detach the two parts, put the bread as a bottom “crust”, and crumble the meat on top.

Milk pudding: which they mash together with

Tomato juice: to make a sauce.

Some kind of italian-seasoned crispy cracker-stick: crumbled on top.

Then into the microwave for a minute. They claim it’s delicious but I think I’d have to close my eyes and hold my nose – and possibly remove my sense of texture – before I could enjoy the result.

What is this supposed to prove? That even when all the (admittedly rather tasty) prepared bento lunches and riceballs are sold out of the convenience stores, one can still look like you’ve gone to the effort of a “home-made” “meal”? If that’s the best you can do, I’d prefer to just eat the original packages – at least they make no pretense on being anything other than junk food. This concoction is an insult to the name of lasagna – frankly, it’s an insult to the name of food bought for about a hundred yen at a convenience store.

 

But Japan can never miss out on an educational opportunity – once classes started again, the English teachers taught our students some new words.

“Does anyone know what jishin is, in English?”

No one did, so I wrote it on the board and had them repeat after me – earthquake is especially hard for the Japanese tongue to pronounce what with the combined r and th sounds.

“Okay, does anyone know what tsunami is?”

Trick question.

One inventive young kid volunteered, “Big Water?”

Another tried, “Storm?” No, that’s arashi.

The Japanese teacher of English made another well-intended but misguided attempt. “Tsunami is like tofu and natto – what do they both have in common?”

Tofu, of course, is the curd from soy beans – natto is the fermented form of the same.

"Tsunami is like soybeans,” one student tried out.

“Tsunami is sticky-sticky,” said another definitively.

I saw what he was getting at, but I knew the students wouldn’t. Tsunami, like tofu and sushi and futon and samurai, is the same in English as it is in Japanese. Natto, though essentially in the same criteria, is so rarely spoken of outside Japan – and Japanese expatriate areas of the West - that it’s a moot point.

“My heart I will lay down precisely at your feet.”

I took the day off on Friday, March 11th, because I had to file an income tax return at the City Hall. More on that later, as it was an endeavor I’ve been dreading for months and it figures as soon as it was over with I’d have to have something else to panic about.

Around noon I was walking between a road full of speeding trucks and a sharp drop into a muddy rice field, on a crumbling verge barely a foot across - thankfully *it* didn’t happen then. I considering taking the train somewhere to have some fun on the rest of my free day – thankfully I decided to just have a “relaxing” day at home. I went back to my apartment to take a shower and clean up before my student came for her private English conversation lesson in the evening.

The world ended in the afternoon.

I’ve been in a lot of earthquakes in the three years I’ve lived here, and I’ve gotten fairly blasé about them. My first months I’d freak out at very single tiny tremor, which got old as I lived on a major road with many trucks. None of them have been enough to even knock a book over. Cue 2:46pm yesterday.

It started out small, enough so that I was thinking of just continuing to sit on my bed watching Star Trek Deep Space Nine on my laptop. Asking for a Darwin Award, I know, but it gets rather “boy who cried wolf” having to leap off my raised platform bed and hide in the doorway for something that will fade away even before I get one foot off.

This time it didn’t fade away. This time it just kept going, and got bigger. It wasn’t like the big earthquakes I’ve rarely felt before, either a rolling wave or a short sharp shaking from side to side. *This* was a nauseating array of jerks in every direction and a dizzying variety of lengths and speeds. It was like I was in the hand of a curious and careless giant, who had caught and shook me like a yellow jacket in a jar. Everything began to fell – all my books and magazines flung themselves across the room, in the kitchen the wire shelf holding my dishes tipped over, tiny of jars of herbs rained down. I had by that point tossed my laptop to the center of the bed where it couldn’t slide off, and cowered in the doorway so I could see both rooms dissolve.

And yet there were the most random things that didn’t fall. A porcelain bowl of dried rose petals jittered its way to the edge of a shelf and balanced there, as did a delicate sakura-patterned box that holds my pills, and the wooden block on top of my fridge with knives stuck in it. The things that would have done the most damage if they hadn’t fallen didn’t. None of my CDs or DVDs did more than shift slightly. I didn’t move until it all came to a standstill.

When I came back from the city hall I had removed my dress-pants (for the better lounging around in, my dear) so now I tentatively snaked out an arm – not wanting to step farther into the room than I had to – and snagged a corner, reeling them to me and pulling them on. Then I wobbled my way outside, not sure if the ground was moving oddly because of my weak legs or aftershocks. It had to happen on my day off – if I’d been at school I’d’ve been able to follow the example of all my coworkers and students, all of them Japanese and doubtless better prepared for this than I. Instead, I was alone, and it was the middle of the day so everyone was at work. Should I head for clear ground? But the nearest place was the distant park, and that meant a treacherous path over an overpass, and across a road already teeming with fire engines. I sat on the curb in front of my apartment, keeping a wary eye over the poles around in me in case one should start to fall. They didn’t, but the power lines whipped around like jump-ropes with every new aftershock. Every time it came to a standstill and I considered going back inside my apartment creaked ominously. It was freezing. Then it started to rain, which pretty much sums up my life.

At the station next door I saw one train had stopped, and another pulled up between aftershocks. I couldn’t believe that people were still driving past. One driver waved at me as I sat there, a dismal picture, and I saw it was the vice-principal. I felt as guilty as though I hadn’t gone through the proper channels for the day off, and probably terrified. He called out to me, “It was up in Miyagi. We’re all right here,” and I bowed and apologized and thanked him. I crept back inside, and darted out again a few minutes later with the next aftershock, though this time I brought my coat and phone. It wasn’t until near night-fall that I felt safe actually staying inside.

I cleaned up – I will swear to my dying day that all the mess then was the result of the quake and in no way partly preceded though exacerbated by it. I waited for my student, and when she didn’t came I tried contacting her only to figure out the phone system was done. I still had lights, water. and the internet – the last perhaps most thankfully as I am dependent on it even in the best of situations. I didn’t dare turn on the stove so I had cold rice and tuna for dinner, didn’t dare take a shower for fear something would happen while I was naked and wet.

Every aftershock made my head feel compressed by an unknown force, as though the air was squeezed up moments before to allow the earth also to rise. Even when nothing was moving, I felt dizzy. I tried continuing my Star Trek episode but then the ship was under attack and the shaking on screen made me feel sick. I had the Japanese television on for hours before I couldn’t stand it anymore. But I couldn’t stand to leave it turned off, either, so I left it running in the background, a screen saver of devastation.

At first there was a manageable checklist in my head of Things That Struck me the Worst, but then it grew too long, and then it shrunk to one item: Everything.

There is nothing like disaster that you have felt yourself, even from the outskirts. I know I am heartless and self-centered, but things like 9/11 or Katrina, I knew *of* but they had little to do with me personally. They were so far on other sides of the country that it was difficult to visualize. But all of Japan is *Japan*. Even where it is multiple islands it is one. There is as little separation between either point of the country as there might be between your next-door neighbor and you.

And it’s the country I chose, which means so much more to me than a country I happened to be born in. It felt like someone dear to me had been hurt, and I wanted to find the perpetrator and hit them with a shovel. And on the other hand, as the well-wishes poured in, I felt a surge of pride. I want the entire world to feel the same protective tenderness as I do, to see it as a country with as much strength as it has beauty.

 

Words I’ve learned that I really wish I hadn’t had to:

炊き出し – takidashi, an “emergency rice feeding” to provide food to large numbers of evacuees and victims after a disaster.

帰宅困難者 – kitakukonnansha, people who are unable to return home after a large-scale disaster, especially an earthquake. Thousands spent the night at stations, lobbies of hotels, even at Tokyo Disneyland.

安否不明 – anpifumei, “fate unknown.”

“Devil by Domoto Tsuyoshi”

I originally translated this for yesterday’s post, but then I ran it through my “ordinary-person” mental filter (Yes, I have one. Don’t most people? I would assume not, but then how do they act like it? I may not use it often – I may not even realize I need to use it which of course is the point – but if I can get just a hint of a niggle that “this is not-good” then I can try to stop, figure out what is socially acceptable in this situation, and replace it. Assuming I have any idea of what *is* ordinary – it’s an ongoing process.) and realized it was little too strange to qualify as romantic. I used to get in trouble in creative writing classes, when the teacher would tell us to write something romantic and my result, invariably, would just perplex everyone. All that aside;

“Devil” is one of my favorite of Tsuyoshi’s songs. It’s short in lyrics but long in emotion, the repetition layering and building and sustaining until it’s almost unbearable. No matter how many times I hear it it makes me ache inside, in no small part because I have yet to see Tsuyoshi do a performance of it where he does not get choked up. And in that world of his, and when the songs he writes are known for being so self-referential – watching this one, I have to wonder… oh, Tsuyoshi, what did they do to you?

I do love…
I want to love…
I do love…
I want to love…

If the devil who punishes purity
Should scowl at the two of us,
I would definitely not hesitate.
I would say that
From you to me, from me to you,
Things like love vanished a long time ago.

If the devil who punishes purity
Should scowl at the two of us,
I would definitely not hesitate.
I would say that,
While acting unconcerned, pretending.
I would gently brush your hand.

I do love…
I want to love…
I do love…
I want to love…
I do love…
I want to love…
I do love…
I want to love…

“Ne, Ganbaru yo” by Kinki Kids

I seemed to have developed a tradition of translating a love song on Valentine’s Day. Well, I’m not sure if this is romantic, exactly, but it is hopeful and cheerful which in my world might as well be the same thing.

 

Someday the world we share will become irreplaceable.
I promise now, with these hands I will support you until that is achieved.
With strength,
I am going.

You always ask if I slept well,
And half-asleep I just nod.
Looking at that weak smile first thing every morning,
You taught me the key to something important.

Loneliness makes itself known, but happiness rings quietly.
It has strength so that it cannot be poured away.

There is always just one important place in the world we share.
I promise now, with these hands I will support you until it is attained.
With strength,
I am doing it.

I'm no poet, I can't be stylish.
All I know is how to speak honestly.
Meaningless words fly around. Now we fight a bitter war,
That is not the same as irony.

Someday the world we share will become irreplaceable.
I promise now, with these hands I will support you until that is achieved.
With strength,
I am going.

You say, "Do your best," and I accept it without rebelling.
I am doing my best to become a greater person.

Someday the world we share will become irreplaceable.
I promise now, with these hands I will support you until that is achieved,
With strength.
There is always just one important place in the world we share.
I promise now, with these hands I will support you until it is attained.
With strength.
I am going, I am doing it.
Hey, I am doing my best.

Or like giving a demon a big stick.

I love collecting Japanese idioms – you know the sort. At first you hear or read them and think, that’s ridiculous, but then you realize how exactly apt they are. How they plant the image in your mind even if you’ve never heard them before.

 

“He would fly away if you blew on him.” Someone inconsequential.

“He’s no ordinary mouse.” Appearances are deceiving, someone you shouldn’t let down your guard around.

“That’s like putting wings on a tiger.” Someone already powerful gains another advantage.

“He’s been following me around like poop trails after a goldfish.”

“You won’t get an eggplant from a squash vine.”

 

One extremely odd one is “hand comes out of throat” meaning you REALLY want something. Two hands are not enough to hold it all, so a third one is going to come out of your throat. I google-imaged it – I know, a dangerous habit – and came across a Japanese forum link to what was actually a public service post for anti-verbal abuse.

Our Courage, Chapter Seven

In a corner of the marketplace, a banner had been hung with "Makuhara Area Temporary Government" spray-painted on it. Since they sucked at kanji, "temporary" was written in hiragana, but Makoto and Akira still looked at the banner with satisfaction.

About twenty young people sat on the ground, and Takeru spoke to them with a calm expression.

"Now the first meeting of the Makuhara Area Temporary Government will commence. To open, we will hear some words from our leader, Mr. Yamato."

"Cut it out. We don't need greetings or calling it something grandiose like the Temporary Government..." Yamato, who'd been forced to sit in front of everyone, raised his voice in dissatisfaction.

"It can't be helped. The greetings are part of the election process, and an important duty of the elected leader's."

Pulling a reluctant Yamato to his feet, Takeru quickly whispered into his ear, "So, as Leader, can you just say a few words? Just to stay on everyone's good side."

Yamato, with a sullen face, finally said only, "Let's begin," and immediately sat down. There was some scattered applause.

As chairman, Takeru began to speak with a smile. "All right, we'd like to hear the opinions from all of the group leaders who have gathered here."

Here, Yamato broke in. "Ho-hold on a sec. Why isn't Ryuu here? He's a group leader, isn't he?"

"It's fine, that guy doesn't need to come."

Makoto and Akira shook their heads. With a cough, Takeru redirected the proceedings.

"Well then. From now on, what should we do in order to improve the life in Makuhara? That is what we'd like to hear everyone's opinions about."

"Takeru." When Mori spoke up, Takeru wagged a finger at him.

"It's not Takeru now, call me Chairman. Also, when you want to speak, please raise your hand first."

"Let's get a basketball."

"Basketball? Are you kidding? We're in the middle of discussing how to improve everyone's life."

"So we can all play basketball together."

"The important thing here is the necessities of life, right?"

"Well, then a soccer - "

"I said 'necessities of life'."

But the others, who had been listening silently until then, began to chip in with their own opinions.

"That'd be good, basketball or soccer."

"Yeah, we just need some balls."

"Let's ask for it. Let's try!"

Even Makoto said, "Recreation is necessary, too."

"Well, I guess..." Takeru muttered reluctantly.

"Then it's decided."

As secretary, Akira wrote "soccer" on the blackboard without a moment's delay. Mori, of course, was grinning. Takeru alone had a sullen expression.

Akira had a new proposal. "If we're thinking about having a flag, should we make one?"

"What should we call ourselves?"

Akira's eyes began to sparkle at Makoto's question. "How about Team Makuhara?"

"That's real creative," Takeru interjected with a sour face.

"Then let's make it something like Makuhara Runaway City. With City written in English."

"That sounds awesome."

As everyone present got more and more excited, Takeru's face grew more sour.

"On the other hand, all of us are less than twenty, so how about calling it Less-Than City."

At Akira's suggestion, everyone looked at each other.

"That's good, Less-Than City." A murmur of agreement rose.

"Then it's decided." Akira wrote Less-Than City on the board. That was the instant that the village of deserted children was given a new name.


The meeting continued in this fashion despite Chairman Takeru's careful planning. After the idea of making a public bath had been decided on, Kiichi spoke up.

"Our goal ought to be self-sufficiency."

"Self-sufficiency?"

"Growing vegetables."

"Vegetables?"

"Just the deliveries aren't enough, right? Even if it's just potatoes or pumpkins, I think we should have something to fill up on."

"Do you know how many months that kind of thing would take?" Yamato asked.

Kiichi answered calmly, "If it's spinach, it would be about three weeks."

"Radishes would be about twenty days."

"Carrots are three months."

Their voices came one after another. Kiichi grinned broadly.

"Well, anyway, anything is better than doing nothing."

Thus was Less-than City's plan to become self-sufficient decided.

*

"Less-than City because we're all under twenty?"

"Is it a joke, or for real?"

That night in the gym, Kiichi, Yamato and Takeru discussed the day's meeting.

"It went well. The meeting was a success. It really is different with you as a leader, Yamato."

Yamato made an embarrassed face at Kiichi's words.

"But I didn't really say anything..."

"That's fine. That's what being Leader is about," Takeru said, strumming the guitar.

"Is that so..."

"That is so. All the prime minister, or the president, or other VIPs do is wave their hands and smile, right?"

"Is that so?"

"It is. Smile, smile! Go ahead, try it."

Yamato waved his hand and smiled awkwardly.

"You look like an unpopular idol," Takeru teased.

Yamato asked seriously, "But is smiling and raising your hand really enough?"

"It's okay, but that's not everything."

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow you'll have to go tell Shibazaki what kind of things we need."

"Aren't I kind of being used?" Yamato asked with an exasperated expression.

*

The next day came, but Yamato wasn't able to ask for seeds after all. Now matter how desperately he asked, Shibazaki wouldn't approve their self-sufficiency. Disappointed, Yamato started to retreat to the meeting place.

"Didn't he just decide to run away?" Yuuri spat the words. "We just asked for seeds. If we make trouble over what we have to eat, then it's inconvenient for them. They don't want to listen to what we have to say about the delivery."

Though Yuuri never had anything good to say about Shibazaki, today she seemed to be especially hostile.

But that couldn't be helped, Yamato thought. Certainly today Shibazaki had been acting strange. It seemed like he was trying to hide something...

Yamato was at a loss, when Takeru came up with an idea.

"Hey, about the seeds, can't it work anyways? Not just seeds, but things like bulbs and potatoes. Why don't we all search for those?"

*

In a deserted residential district, Kiichi, Mori, Makoto and Akira went looking through house after house for seeds or bulbs. But everywhere was like a field after a swarm of locusts - there was not even a single grain of rice.

Just when everyone started to feel like giving up, Makoto came out of a nearby building.

"How was it?" Kiichi asked.

After a moment's hesitation, Makoto cautiously held out his hand. Resting on his palm was a single potato. As the other three looked at it, their eyes began to sparkle.

*

That night, everyone gathered around the crater. It was filled with the white flowers. Their large petals swayed in the night breeze, giving the area an eerie feeling like something out of a science-fiction movie.

"Is this all right? It's kind of creepy, here."

"We agreed, didn't we, that there isn't any other place with dirt," Kiichi said as he dug some holes. Into them Yuuri planted the potato which had been cut into four pieces.

"It has to be a secret. No saying anything to Shibazaki." Kiichi looked around at everyone.

Takeru shook his head. "But think about it, how long does a potato take to grow, anyway?"

"No idea..." None of them knew, though they had the feeling that they'd learned back in elementary school.


But the next day, they found a big surprise in their small garden. Somehow, there was already seedlings coming out - no, not just seedlings. There were thick, lush leaves, and when they tried turning up the soil, they found large potatoes had already grown.

*

"To start with, we tried baking them," Takeru said, holding a potato wrapped in aluminum foil. There was a savory smell, and they looked just the way baked potatoes should.

But they'd somehow grown up in a single night - no matter how you looked at it, that wasn't normal.

Somehow no one wanted to be the first to eat them, so they all demurred saying, "After you."

Since it couldn't be helped, Yamato spoke. "Alright, let's do it like this. I'll say 'ready, go' and everyone will take a bite at the same time. That way there will be no hard feelings."

Everyone nodded firmly.

"Okay. Ready, go!" Yamato closed his eyes and took a huge bite. "H-hot!"

But the flavor spreading through his mouth was without a doubt potato. And really delicious.

Opening his eyes, he saw everyone watching him with avid interest. Like an idiot, the only one to actually take a bite was Yamato.

"As expected of our Leader! So how is it?" Takeru asked, and Yamato grinned widely back at him.

"It's good! This is really delicious."

*

Before long, a great field had grown up around the crater. Yamato put up a sign that said, "Wanted: Seeds" and various kids handed over what they found, and plowed the dirt together, until a farm had been created.

Finally, here they'd achieved freedom from hunger. Kiichi, Mori, Makoto and Akira piled potatoes in a large box, with bright grins on their faces.

But those smiles froze in an instant. Ryuu, with his gang, stood before them with feet set apart.

"How long did it take you to do this?" he said, moving to take a box of harvested potatoes from Yamato.

"We're going to distribute these equally to everyone later. Can't you wait a little bit longer?"

"Aren't you sweet. Eat or be eaten, that's the only thing that matters here."

Ryuu laughed through his nose, and tried to take the box forcibly, but Mori stood in the way.

"No! These belong to everyone. We won't let you have them."

And as he spoke, several small boys and girls also stood before Ryuu holding a hoe and a shovel. Their faces showed a determination not to hand over the potatoes.

Ryuu was taken aback for a second. Then he spat on the ground, and left.

Watching all this, Yamato and Takeru's eyes met without thinking. Even the small children had recovered that much confidence and courage. It made both of them happier than anything.

*

At the same time, something was taking place near the gate. Someone had broken through the barriers, and successfully infiltrated Less-than City, before being halted by the final guards. Someone had invaded from the outside world.

It was Suzuko.

She'd been unable to forget that late night phone call. It had definitely been from Yamato. He was without a doubt still alive...

That belief was so strong that it had brought her all this way. When the road was blocked with checkpoints, she'd gone cross-country. She'd crossed a river and fields and climbed fences and hidden in a delivery truck until she'd finally arrived here.

She wanted to see him.

But while she was thinking only that, she'd missed the danger. She'd come this far, and now there was a line of guns all pointed at her. Now she was faced with a crisis.

Frozen with fear, Suzuko was unable to anything but stand there.

Then, having heard the fuss, Yamato came. Suzuko turned towards him.

"Yamato!" She called in a trembling voice, her emotions welling up. "You really are alive!"

She started to run to him, but he rebuffed her with a harsh voice.

"Don't come near me!"

Shocked, she stood still.

"Go home... Go home right away!"

"Why?" she asked. Her face tightened, unable to believe his words.

"Don't ask why! You shouldn't have come here. Get out. Hurry up and get out!"

"Yamato..."

"Just forget about me already."

"Why! Why would you say something like that?"

"I'll tell you... there's an organism inside us."

"Huh?"

"If you touch me, it will get into you. Then both of us will be dying."

"That's a lie."

"No, it's not," Yamato shook his head firmly.

Suzuko stood there until a guard pushed at her shoulder.

"Hey, you. Get out!"

Suzuko let herself be led towards the gate.

The sad look she sent over her shoulder met Yamato's.

The next instant, she'd torn free of the guard's hand, and raced back to Yamato. As though in slow motion, she flew into his arms.

"Wha-!"

Suzuko embraced him tightly. Tears came to both of their eyes.

"You idiot..." Yamato muttered. But in his eyes there was a nostalgic, happy look.

"I'm so glad... you're still alive," Suzuko murmured as she clung to him.

She had no regrets. Even if this organism slipped into her body, now that Yamato was here, now that she could be close to him, she was scared of nothing.

One more citizen had been added to the population of Less-Than City.

But this scene was being watched by Takeru, Mori, and Yuuri. All three of them wore complicated expressions.

*

Of course, it was good that Yamato was there... that's what Suzuko had thought as she jumped into his arms. But there were things about the daily life in Less-than City that she could never have imagined.

For starters, she was taken aback that there was no water. There was no change of clothes. There was nothing. And in a place like this, Yamato...

But that's what Suzuko didn't know. This Less-than city, from its former depths of violence and corruption and despair, was changing into a village of hope.

Everyone stood on the wharf beside the sea, passing sea water along a bucket brigade. They were preparing the public bath that had been discussed at the recent meeting.

"The boys' bath is full," said Takeru. "Next, the girls'."

Suzuko sat a little apart from where everyone was working. Mori, Akira, and Makoto sat around her. It seemed that they were listening to stories of the outside world.

"Huh? What? You didn't know that Amuro got married?" Suzuko said.

"Suzuko, is that true?" Makoto cried in a funny voice.

"It's the truth! It was a huge fuss all over Japan. They even printed extra newspapers about it."

"What a shock! I was a huge fan of hers!" Akira said, looking up at the sky.

Yuuri stalked over from where the others were working to the excited group around Suzuko.

"Oi!" she said, glaring at Suzuko. "What are you trying to do?"

"Huh?"

"Everyone's in the middle of working right now. Stop getting in the way."

"Oh, but everyone wanted to hear."

"So then it's fine if they don't get anything done?" Yuuri raised her voice. Yamato came over.

"That's enough. Suzuko didn't mean any harm. Give her a break."

Yuuri glared at both of them, then walked away sulkily.

Yamato looked at the taken-aback Suzuko with a troubled expression.

*

That night, he entered the tent where Suzuko was resting.

"Suzuko."

"Hmm?"

"You're not cold?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Yamato stammered as he spoke. "So... Could you not talk about the outside?"

"Huh?"

"Everyone here has been doing their best for a while, and finally working together. At a time like this, to hear about the outside, it's kind of..."

But she was fixedly returning his look.

"What, even you? The people in here doing know about the outside, the people outside don't know about in here. It's strange - we're all in the same Japan."

The people outside don't know about in here...

Yamato finally crawled into his bed next to Takeru. Suzuko's words wouldn't leave his head.

*

The next day, Yamato went to Ryuu's hideout. He carried a portion of the vegetables.

"This is rare..." Ryuu stood before him.

"I brought your portion," said Yamato.

"Hah, there's probably poison in it."

"Like I said, it's to be divided equally among everyone."

"Like I said, you're a hypocrite."

"It's not that, everyone's strength is necessary. Even you guys."

Ryuu looked at Yamato with angry eyes, but Yamato's gaze did not waver.

"Go back!" Ryuu yelled.

Yamato left the box of vegetables, and silently left that place.

*

The group of children stood stunned in front of the gate. It was morning, and a white fog surrounded them. But there was something different. Though they'd been waiting, the delivery had not come.

"It's been cut off. Why? Why isn't the delivery coming?"

Call though Yamato might, the gate remained firmly closed.

"You're kidding, right? This is a joke!"

As he pounded on the door, Yamato could hardly believe it.

Why would the deliveries stop suddenly? Had Shibazaki betrayed them? What on earth had happened?

In Yamato's heart, the dark shadow of suspicion had started to spread.

Was it possible that Shibazaki had really betrayed them? And Yamato had trusted him until the end like an idiot...

Thinking this, Yamato lost even the energy to keep pounding on the door.

His shoulders dropping, he avoided the suspicious eyes of the children watching and returned to the field.

Of course, Yamato couldn't know this. Shibazaki had resisted the national decision until the very last. So he had been removed from his position as Director of Countermeasures.

*

The news that the delivery had stopped spread over Less-than City in an instant. If there was no delivery... it was once more the world of thievery and violence.

Yamato stood stunned in front of the field. The scene before his eyes was one of merciless plunder. The children became a mob and grabbed everything they could.

Yamato suddenly noticed that Ryuu was standing on the other side, and gave a self-deprecating smile.

"You were right. I trusted Shibazaki like an idiot, and he betrayed us in the end."

Ryuu stared at him fixedly.

"If you want to laugh, then go ahead and laugh," Yamato muttered, and averted his gaze. Unable to do anything, his gaze fell on the field one more time.

*

They'd gathered once more where the election had taken place.

Here harsh criticism was being heaped upon Yamato.

"Oi, Yamato, why'd this happen?"

"Did you tell Shibazaki about the potatoes?"

Unable to take anymore, Yuuri came to his defense.

"Whatever happened, it can't be helped."

But the angry voices didn't stop at all.

"You're always talking on and on, why don't you do something?"

"You stepped out of line, that's what happened!"

Finally Takeru, Kiichi, and the other group leaders had a meeting between them. They were surrounded by the uproar on all sides.

"Stop it!" Yamato yelled, unable to contain himself.

Everyone froze in an instant.

"It certainly seems like the government has abandoned us. But... but we cannot abandon hope!"

Everyone returned to their seats. Watching them, Yamato's eyes were earnest.

"Haven't we put so much effort into coming this far? We could only rob and hurt each other, we've finally started working together to grow food and carry water. I don't want to see us give up like this. Even if the delivery has stopped, even if the government has thrown us away, we must not lose hope."

"But we're never going to get out of here," one boy called out. "What's there to be hopeful about?"

"I'll come up with something," Yamato said decisively. Suddenly Suzuko's words from the night before came to his mind. "That's right... the people outside don't know about us. That we're still living, that we need help, we need to let someone outside know."

Yamato's eyes began to sparkle. Everyone looking at that face thought it was one that could be relied upon.

*

That evening, Yamato and Takeru sat by a boat docked near the pier.

"We'll, you're reckless, you act without thinking, maybe it's courage. You're probably worn out - it's like you pitched three fast straight balls one after another. You're awesome!"

"I can't tell if you're praising me or making fun of me," Yamato grumbled, but Takeru just shook his head.

"Either way."

"Whatever."

"Don't force yourself - you don't have to act cool in front of me."

The setting sun lit up Yamato's face. His expression was hard, but his eyes looked into the distance, somehow lonely.

As though he could guess what was inside Yamato's heart, Takeru spoke in a gentle voice. "If I think about it, you're probably the one most shocked by Shibazaki's betrayal. Well, leave it to me. I'll take over from now on. We should wear out our winning picture, after all."

Yamato looked at him with a startled expression. Takeru just grinned the same bright smile as always.

*

Takeru put up a sign in the square, "Exchanging fresh vegetables for wireless, spare transceiver radios."

Yamato looked at it with a slightly scandalized expression, then at Takeru.

"This is your great idea?"

"Isn't it? We can let the outside world know about us with a radio. It's a great idea. You can just sit there and be quiet."

Yamato heaved a sigh, and just then a hand appeared in front of his eyes holding a transceiver radio. A tiny boy held it with a grin on his face.

"I'll trade this for some potatoes."

Soon after, they were fiddling with the radio in a field. Nothing but static came out.

"This is going to let the outside know? What good is this doing?" worried Yamato.

"This is really just a toy. We'll need another one."

Yamato rolled his eyes. "Then what is the point of this?"

Just then, over their heads they heard the voice of Ryuu's henchman Takako.

"Hey, morons."

Startled, they raised their faces and turned towards her. But today she wore a less mean expression. Pointing towards Ryuu's hideout, she jerked her head.

"C'mon. Ryuu wants to see you."

*

Yamato entered Ryuu's hideout to find himself in the middle of a group of children all holding various weapons. Takeru and the others followed him in.

"I'm going to say this first," Ryuu said without turning to face them. "I'm not going to be on your side... but you're such idiots that I can't just keep quiet."

He turned around. There was an amateur wireless radio in his hand.

"I already thought about communicating with the outside world with this. But there's a block on the radio waves in the area. No signal can get out of Makuhara."

"Then just that radio isn't enough?" Makoto asked.

Ryuu nodded, and continued, "But there's one frequency that isn't blocked."

"What's that?"

"The one the guards use. But it's not enough just to get your hands on one of their radios. They're specially encoded. If we're using the guards' radios, it will only be one way."

"So what if we built an antenna?"

Ryuu clucked his tongue at Takeru's question. "Idiot, as if it were that easy."

"Wait a minute," Kiichi's voice made everyone turn. "A boat. If we attached an antenna to a boat, and floated it out on the sea. How about that?"

"...That might just work," Ryuu said.

"But even if we make ontact, who will we make contact with?"

Yamato's eyes began to sparkle. "How would the radio be? If we can connect to a radio frequency, is that possible?"

Ryuu thought for a minute, and began to sketch a plan on the ground in chalk.

"Combining a guards' radio with the one I have, putting them on a boat, it should relay the signal even from inside Makuhara. Then it can broadcast from there to the nearest FM radio station."

Ryuu, looking almost happy, glanced at Yamato. Then, suddenly self-conscious, he dropped his eyes and muttered, "But in order for this to work we need to get hold of two guard's radios. One to send and one to receive."

*

The next morning. A group of children confronted the guards in front of the gate.

"Let us out of here!"

"Deliver our food!"

But this was actually only a diversion to lure the guards into the open. Without realizing this, they opened the gate and came out firing warning shots.

The children brandished rocks in return, well over a hundred children between Yamato's group and Ryuu's. All of them cooperating for this one battle.

"Ready, now!"

It was deafening in front of the gate. Bending their bodies low, Takeru and Yamato drew close to a stopped jeep. This was the first step. They successfully snagged two of the guards' transceiver radios.

*

Once they had those, they set up the "boat". It was actually an old tire with a small motor attached. Kiichi, Akira and Makoto had put some effort into making it. Then Ryuu attached his amateur radio.

Operation Makuhara Radio was complete. Without a word, the children nodded at each other, encouraged.
*

The sky was starting to show the colors of dawn. It looked like today would be good weather.

All of the children were gathered on the pier. A breeze blew the fog away, and the city could be seen on the other bank. All of their hopes and wishes joined as one, they waited for the boat to be set off.

Ryuu spoke. "This wireless will send Yamato's voice to the one on the boat, which will relay it to a radio station. Okay? Wait until the boat is halfway across the water before you go on air."

Yamato held his radio tightly. "Takeru, you give the signal," he called up to Takeru, who perched on a container looking over the ocean.

Kiichi cautiously lowered the boat onto the water. Everyone watched as he pulled the string on the small motor. Finally, the Operation was truly underway.

Holding their breath, the boat began to move. Every hope rode on it.

It took a long time, but they were so nervous that it seemed to flow quickly. If that boat should sink on the way, it would be a failure...

Takeru raised his hand in the signal. Already, the boat had reached the half-way point.

Yamato gripped his radio. A million emotions welled up in his chest.

"This is Makuhara City! This is Makuhara City! Everyone outside, can you hear me! It was a lie that Makuhara was destroyed in an earthquake. We are trapped in the city. Please save us! The government has blocked us in. They are concealing the truth from the media in Japan. Please realize that we still exist! Please be aware that we are imprisoned here. Can you hear my voice? Please help us break free of the government. This is Makuhara City. This is Makuhara City. Can you hear me!"

Yamato's desperately pleading message rode the signal, and indeed reached the outside world. Shibazaki riding in a car heard it clearly on the radio. His pleas overlapped a radio DJ's cheerful chatter.

"Please save us! We are struggling to survive. There is no food, water, or other essentials. But we will not be abandoned! Please let us free!"

Shibazaki's face turned white.

*

In the far distance, a shadow appeared in the sky lightening with dawn. It rapidly drew closer, and soon was circling overhead. It was a helicopter, the roar of its propellers deafening. On Shibazaki's orders, it had come to immediately pinpoint the source of the radio signal and destroy it.

"This is Makuhara City! This is Makuhara City! Can you hear me?"

On the pier, Yamato's voice sounded as though he were praying. And it was not only him - every single person living in Makuhara had the same prayer in their hearts.

Let someone hear our voice. Please, let someone be aware that we are desperately trying to live in this city.

The helicopter passed over - it seemed to have spotted the boat.

There was a rain of gunfire. Yamato continued calling out. "Please! If you can hear my voice make the government set us free! This is Makuhara City. Can you hear me? We are still alive!"

Abruptly the transmission cut off. In the far distance, the boat could be seen sinking. The bullets had hit the mark. It slowly disappeared into the depths of the ocean. The helicopter flew away.

"Do you think it reached them, our voice?"

"We have to believe that, if we want to have hope," Takeru said.

"We did everything we could do," Yuuri said.

That was true. They'd done what they could...

Yamato looked over the blue sea where bits of their boat still floated. Yuuri's words echoed in his mind.

*

Though the radio transmission hadn't been a complete success, Takeru felt more cheerful. For a little while, everyone in town had been connected by a strong bond. Perhaps they hadn't become one, but...

And it was perhaps partly thanks to Yamato, and his overdeveloped sense of justice. Thinking this, Takeru reached for his guitar, but realized his pocket was empty.

"Looking for this?"

Yuuri appeared standing before him, holding out his pick. She was smiling a soft smile he'd never seen before.

"Thanks," Takeru said, as he reached to take it from her.

For an instant their fingers brushed. Takeru's expression froze.

Yuuri exited without noticing, but Yamato, coming in just then, did. "What's wrong?"

Takeru stood stock-still. As though forcing his voice out, he said, "Yu-Yuuri's hand... was cold..."

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN.