He was the only person I’d ever cared this much about—the only one who’d ever occupied my mind like this at every hour of the day. I couldn’t get his warmth, the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, out of my head.
I’d fallen for him completely—I knew I had.
But I also knew I really shouldn’t have.
He was a kamikaze pilot after all, and I’d known all along he’d be dying in the very near future. I’d tried to tell myself over and over not to let myself fall for him when there was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving—but I couldn’t help it. He had completely stolen my heart, to the point that things like reason and logic could no longer quell the longing, surging of passionate emotions that had been slowly bubbling up inside of me.
I fell backward into the field of grass at my feet. Akira followed suit.
Gazing up at the starry skies above us, I called out to him.
“Hey… Akira?” I said.
“Yeah?” he replied.
I just loved that voice of his—so soft and gentle, it enveloped me like a warm blanket. I could listen to it for hours and hours.
“Akira…” I said.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“…Don’t leave me.”
I’d wanted to say it clearly and decisively—but the words sounded almost pitiful and hesitant, and I had to forcibly wring each syllable out from my throat.
“Wait, what?” said Akira, sitting up beside me.
“Don’t leave me,” I said again. “Don’t go anywhere. Just stay right here with me forever. You can still walk away… It’s not too late…”
His pupils shimmered in starlight as he looked at me, eyes wide open. I sat up next to him and gently wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“Don’t go, Akira,” I said. “You don’t have to die… I can’t stand the thought of losing you…”
I knew that telling him was pointless. All it’d do was make him feel even more conflicted before his mission. But I couldn’t stop myself. I clung to him desperately.
“Akira… Akira…” I pleaded. “You said I’m like a little sister to you, right? Would you really just leave your little sister behind to fend for herself? Tell me… Why do you have to do this? I hate it… Don’t leave me…”
I looked up at him with tear-stained eyes. His face was contorted with anguish. It was the first time I’d ever seen him make such a pained expression; for as long as I’d known him, he’d always looked so calm and peaceful. Like nothing could shatter his smile.
Had I done this to him? Was I the one causing him this pain?
As I sat there, aghast at myself, Akira wrapped his arms around me.
His embrace was so warm and all-encompassing, it tore me up inside.
To think I’d only be able to feel this warmth for three—no, two more days.
Just three days from now, the man holding me would be gone forever.
I couldn’t believe it. How could I possibly accept such a harsh truth?
How could I shrug this off like the others had? How could I convince myself that it was “for the good of the country” that someone I loved had to die?
My heart was overcome with a bubbling rage the like of which I’d never felt before—and I didn’t even know where to rightfully direct it. All I could do was cling tightly to Akira, my nails digging deep into his back, desperate to keep him here with me just a little longer.
“Please, Akira… You can still get out of this,” I said. “Let’s run away together…!”
Akira blinked softly at me, his eyes placid as a secret lake nestled deep in the forest.
“…No, Yuri,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. I just can’t…”
My heart sank.
It wasn’t just his words. I could see in his steadfast, strong-willed eyes that his mind was made up, and there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise.
I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. How many times had I cried since I’d arrived in this time period? I’d long since lost count. But no matter how many tears I shed, there was nothing I could do to change my cruel reality.
“I have to go…” Akira said softly, running a finger through my hair. “To protect my friends, my family…and everyone I hold dear. This country needs me. If things keep going this way, Japan is going to lose so badly, we might never recover.”
His words stung to hear—especially when I already knew what was going to happen.
“…Why does it have to be you, though?” I asked, my voice muffled as I pressed my face into his chest—almost as if I was trying to speak directly to his heart. “Why do you have to be the one making that sacrifice? The one who dies? It’s so messed up…”
Akira just listened quietly, running his hand back and forth along my scalp in a slow and steady rhythm. It felt nice—but the comfort only made me even sadder.
“I get wanting to protect the ones you love…” I said. “But remember that they all love you too. They’ll be just as sad to lose you as you would be to lose them.”
“…You’re right that there’s no particular reason it has to be me,” he said, his voice soft as the starlight up above. “But if I don’t go, someone else will. And I’d rather it be me than them. The thought of standing idly by and doing nothing while others give their lives in my stead is a hundred, a thousand times more upsetting to me than the thought of dying.”
Why am I struggling so hard to get through to him?
We were speaking the same language, and yet it was like neither of us could begin to comprehend how the other felt. I still didn’t understand how he could think so little of his life that he’d give it away so freely, without any apparent hesitation. And I was fairly certain that he didn’t understand how distressing the thought of losing him was to me and all of his other loved ones.
Obviously, I knew I was being the selfish one here. In my head, the thought of losing Akira was unfathomably worse than the thought of someone else I didn’t even know having to die in his stead. But for him, it was just the opposite.
We could never see eye to eye on this.
“I mean…Japan’s going to lose anyway,” I said, my voice growing feeble as I spiraled deeper into despair. “No matter how many American ships you and your squad mates manage to sink, it’ll hardly put a dent in their fleet… Our country, as we know it, is done for. We’ve already lost. Why add yourself to the death toll at this point? You’ll only be delaying the inevitable…”
Akira never interrupted me; he’d always let me say my piece.
He listened patiently and attentively until I was done.
Then, after a long pause, he said:
“…Yeah, you might be right.”
I looked up at him, stunned.
Had my feelings finally gotten through?
“Japan may very well lose this war in the end,” he said, casting his gaze skyward. “But be that as it may, right now, we still have a chance. And as long as that holds true, there’s still a value in fulfilling our roles—the duties entrusted to us. Yes, it may be a long shot. But every plane we shoot down, every ship we sink brings us one step closer to victory…and one step further from defeat. So, we’ll fight to the bitter end.”
His tone was calm but invigorated; his expression optimistic and refreshed.
“Even if the odds are completely against us, we can’t give up now. If we surrender on their terms, we know exactly what the consequences will be—and they won’t be pretty. Kamikaze tactics may be a last-ditch effort, but I’d rather bet my life on a one-in-a-million chance than willingly accept the worst-case scenario.”
It was just as I feared—there was no talking him out of it.
And to be fair, his argument was perfectly sound.
“So, we’ll fight to the bitter end.”
It sounded like a quote from a movie or something.
But this wasn’t a movie—it was real life. And we were in a real war, with real lives at stake. There was no need to speak in such absolutes or to try to play the hero.
You’re allowed to give up sometimes, Akira.
You don’t have to throw your life away.
After all, who could ever hold his decision against him if they weren’t willing to sacrifice their own lives as well? They’d just be a hypocrite. And besides—Akira abandoning his duties as a kamikaze pilot wouldn’t mean the end for Japan. Heck, even losing the war wouldn’t mean the end for Japan. I knew that better than anyone.
Tell me, Akira.
Is there really no way to stop you?
Any way to keep you from laying down your life for nothing?
Please, Akira… Don’t do this.
I just couldn’t seem to convey my feelings properly in words.
All I could do was repeat the same two words over and over: “Don’t go.”
Akira held me gently in his arms. But I knew he’d never say, “I won’t.”
“…I’m sorry, Yuri,” he said. “I don’t think there’s much I can say to reassure you… I can’t tell you what I know you want to hear.”
I just sat there in silence, eyes downcast.
“But y’know,” he went on, “I could at least give you something to remember me by.”
“Huh?” I said, lifting my gaze to see him smiling down at me.
“Close your eyes.”
I did as he asked—and a moment later, I felt his fingers gently comb back my bangs. I could feel the frigid summer night’s breeze against my forehead, and suddenly I began to get a little anxious. But just when I opened my mouth, I felt something soft graze against my cheek, and I reflexively opened my eyes.
Akira’s face was right up against mine.
So close, our eyelashes were touching.
And then I realized it: He’d just kissed me on the cheek.
He smiled sweetly at me, then whispered my name—in a voice as warm and soft as a ray of sunlight scattered by the trees on a fine spring afternoon.
He was the gentlest person I’d ever met.
And quite possibly the cruelest.
How could he smile at me like this, when he was about to leave me behind?
It’s not fair, Akira… Don’t do this to me…
We just sat there under the stars like that for a while, the sweet scent of lilies all around us, as he held me tightly in his arms—and I cried, and I cried, and I cried.