Like Petals in the Wind
THE NEXT MORNING, CHIYO CAME BY THE MESS hall.
“I heard Ishimaru-san, and the others got their orders,” she said. She was smiling, though I could sense more complicated emotions beneath her smile.
“Yeah…” I said. “Day after tomorrow, at 1:30 p.m.”
Chiyo nodded; apparently, she knew as much as I did.
The two of us sat side by side at one of the tables. After chatting for a bit, she started to tell me the story of how she and Ishimaru first met.
“So the all-girls school I go to does a bit of service work for the kamikaze unit, actually,” she explained. “We go over to the barracks and wash their laundry for them, patch up their socks for them, cook lunch for them… That sort of thing.”
“Wow, sounds like a lot of work,” I said.
“Yeah—but it’s pretty fun, too. We get to hang out with them after they eat and talk about all sorts of stuff.”
“Aw, that’s nice.”
“But see, at first we were all too nervous to socialize with them normally. Like, just imagine being a group of bashful junior high girls in that situation, y’know? But then Ishimaru-san jumped up and started trying to show off this local bon odori dance they apparently do back in his hometown—I’m guessing it was an attempt to break the ice. But it was so bizarre and out of nowhere, we all burst out laughing.”
I wasn’t surprised; I couldn’t help cracking a smile just imagining it.
“After that,” Chiyo went on, “all the tension in the room just melted away, and we were able to just talk to the soldiers like they were anybody else. And I just remember thinking, wow—he’s a clumsy one, but his heart’s definitely in the right place. I liked that about him.”
Presumably that was when her little crush on Ishimaru first began to develop. I couldn’t blame her; he was a genuinely fun person to be around, the kind of guy who always had a smile on his face no matter how bleak things got. When he was at the mess hall, he was always making everyone around him laugh, myself included. And yet, come the day after tomorrow, he’d be leaving us… The thought made me start tearing up a bit. As I lowered my head and tried to hold it all in, Chiyo leaned over and looked me straight in the eyes.
“Let’s go see them off together… Okay?” she said. “I hear their families aren’t allowed to know what day they’ll be sortied, because their superiors don’t want them to have any distractions. Obviously, I know we’re no replacement for their family members… But I feel like they still deserve to have someone there to send them on their way, right?”
All I could do was shake my head.
“Sorry…” I said. “I can’t do that. I can’t go with you.”
“Huh…? Why not?” said Chiyo, eyes wide. “Do you have other plans or something?”
“No… I just can’t bring myself to do it. If I had to actually watch them go, I’d…”
I knew I’d just start bawling like a baby—and I really didn’t want Akira’s last memory of me to be something that would weigh him down emotionally.
Chiyo didn’t say another word about seeing them off after that. I assumed she didn’t really understand my feelings.
“In that case… I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said as she walked out the door.
She spoke so naturally—like it was to be expected that we’d see each other again the next day, then the day after, for many more days to come. Even in this time period, people didn’t doubt that there would be a next time. Or perhaps they simply acted this way because they wanted to believe it. Because they couldn’t live every day, every moment in fear of the alternative.
But for Akira and the others, there really would be no tomorrow.
I wondered what it felt like to live your life having already resigned to die. I couldn’t even begin to fathom it, and I’m not sure I ever wanted to.
I lifted my gaze to the summer sky.
A clear, vivid blue expanse as far as the eye could see.
A few fluffy white clouds peppered here and there.
The sun shining brightly over the lush greenery.
The cicadas crying out their unending song.
Back in my own time, I used to hate hot summer days like this with every fiber of my being. But now, when I looked up and saw the sun overhead, I took it as a blessing. It was proof that I’d made it safely to another day in an era when tomorrow was never guaranteed, and therefore never to be taken for granted.
“What a beautiful day…” I said, staring vacantly up into the sky.
I didn’t really get any work done that day.
My head was so full of thoughts of Akira that I couldn’t focus. Tsuru probably had to work much harder than she usually did to pick up my slack, but she didn’t seem to mind one bit. She just patted me on the head and looked at me—a sadness in her eyes every bit as deep as my own.
Once we closed up shop, I sat alone with my thoughts in a corner of a dark room with the lights off, hugging my knees to my chest on the floor.
Was there truly nothing I could do to make Akira reconsider?
Nothing I could do to make his conviction waver even a little?
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with anything. Heck, I couldn’t even talk to him unless he decided to come by the mess hall again. My only option was to languish in my own impatient dread, powerless to do anything at all as I lay awake. I stayed up the entire night, unable to get even a single wink of sleep.
The next day—the day before they were to be sortied—Akira and the others came to eat at the mess hall for dinner. It wasn’t just the five of them, either; they’d brought along the whole crew of about ten soldiers, so the place was pretty packed.
“They actually gave us some sake for once, believe it or not,” said Ishimaru. “We were kinda hopin’ you might be able to whip up some tasty snacks for us to pair it with, Tsuru-san.”
“Why, it would be my honor,” Tsuru said, smiling brightly as she headed back into the kitchen.
I grabbed a handful of sake cups from the cupboard and brought them out to their tables. As I did, I just so happened to make eye contact with Akira—but quickly averted my gaze. I still wasn’t entirely sure how to interact with him right now.
“Thanks, Yuri-chan,” Ishimaru said with a grin as he took the cups from the tray and distributed them to his fellow squad mates.
I wondered if he knew about Chiyo’s secret crush. Probably not. Tomorrow, he’d fly off into the sunset without ever knowing how she felt.
In the kitchen, Tsuru worked as quickly and efficiently as possible, giving me plate after plate of food to bring out to the tables. I watched as the soldiers ate and drank to their heart’s content, their faces going red as they laughed away the evening. Eventually, they were all so drunk and merry that they joined shoulders and broke into song.
“Good god, you’re tone-deaf, Ishimaru,” said one of the men. “You’re throwing all the rest of us out of tune!”
“Hey, you’re no opera singer either, pal!” Ishimaru quipped.
Everyone burst out laughing. The men were all having a wonderful time, just enjoying each other’s company and drinking their fill. They were so full of cheer, it was hard to believe they’d all be gone from this world forever by this time tomorrow. Unable to bear being around them, I headed back into the kitchen.
“…How can they all laugh like that?” I mumbled to myself.
“A fair question, my dear,” said Tsuru, poking her head up from where she’d been crouching as she stoked the wood-fired stove. “For a group of men who’ll be sleeping at the bottom of the sea with enemy warships tomorrow night, they’re quite jovial, aren’t they?”
Tsuru cast her gaze out into the mess hall, then added:
“It’s because they know they’re on their way to nirvana, dear.”
“…Nirvana?” I said, and Tsuru nodded.
“They’re already gods among the living, you see. In return for giving their lives to defend their country, they’ll be welcomed into nirvana the very instant they hit their targets.”
I wasn’t familiar with what “nirvana” meant, but I figured she probably meant something like heaven.
Was that how they sold people on volunteering to be kamikaze pilots?
By promising them a one-way trip to eternal bliss in the afterlife?
I could feel a torrent of rage simmering up from deep inside me.
This was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. Did these poor men really buy into that load of bullcrap? Was that the reason they’d been able to come to terms with their imminent deaths? Surely not—even if throwing their lives away had bought them their ticket into heaven, who would be willing to die in the prime of their youth? Before they’d even had a chance to live?