As I walked over to join their group though, I could see the discomfort on their faces. It made me feel really awkward to force myself upon them—but I supposed it was my just deserts for avoiding any and all socialization like the plague up until now. More than anything, I just felt bad for Hashiguchi and her friends; they deserved better than to have a miscreant like me put a damper on what should have been a fun field trip with all of their friends. I decided then and there that I’d do everything in my power to stay out of their way on the trip.
After moving desks to sit with our groups, the teacher then instructed us that it was time to choose a leader for each group before we picked our bus seats.
“Being a group leader is an important role, remember,” he said. “Once we’re done with our visit, one representative from each group will be tasked with making an expression of gratitude to the museum staff and tour guides.”
As soon as our teacher said this, a wave of murmurs broke out across the entire classroom. I could hear a group filled with the more rambunctious boys in class complaining loudly about the assignment.
“Aw, man… For real? That sucks…”
“How do they even expect us to ‘express our gratitude,’ anyway?”
“Awright, bro—I’m volunteering you as leader.”
“Hell no! How ’bout you do it, wise guy?!”
My group was similarly thrown into disarray by this announcement. I thought for certain that Hashiguchi would step up and take the role, but she was apparently shier than I realized, quickly shaking her head back and forth as if to say, “Absolutely not!” The other girls in the group had more or less the same reaction.
Realizing that we were getting nowhere fast, I waited for a lull in their discussion and then chimed in with a simple “Um…” The girls all turned to look at me in unison. To me, they all looked a little terrified—but maybe that was just my paranoia talking. Putting on my best “nice girl” face, I smiled at them and said:
“I don’t mind being the leader, if you want.”
“Wait, huh?” said Hashiguchi.
“Just if no one else wants to, that is.”
“Wha…”
She just kind of stared at me, her eyes wide as saucers. Like most of the class, she still hadn’t fully adapted to the sudden change in my personality from my previous troublemaker self, and she clearly wasn’t sure how to interact with me anymore—especially after I did something so utterly unexpected as willingly volunteer myself for a responsibility.
“Well…” said Hashiguchi after a long pause. “Okay, then, if you wouldn’t mind…”
She seemed a bit skittish as she asked me—probably still mildly afraid.
“Not at all,” I said with a smile and a nod. “Now let’s pick our bus seats, shall we?”
“S-sure, yeah…” she said, exchanging another nervous glance with the others.
From now on, I decided I had to start putting some real effort into developing lasting interpersonal relationships. I felt like overcoming the awkward tension between me and these girls in my field trip group would be a pretty good place to start.
I’d made up my mind. The new me would be different.
“Hey, Sae-chan—want some chocolate?”
“You bet I do! Here, I’ll trade you some gummies!”
“Ooh, let me have some!”
It was the morning of our class field trip.
As soon as we’d gotten on the bus, everyone had gotten straight to work trying to barter and trade the yummy treats they’d brought along—my own group included.
Hashiguchi was in the seat next to me, but she had just gotten up to go trade with Takeda and Arikawa across the aisle. After returning to her seat, she turned to face me.
“Um… Kano-san?” she said hesitantly. “Do you want some chocolate?”
I smiled and nodded, then pulled out the candies I had in my pocket.
“Sure,” I said. “Want to trade?”
“Wait… Are you sure?” said Hashiguchi.
“I mean, you’re giving me some chocolate, right? Isn’t that only fair?”
“Er, well, y-yeah… I guess you’re right…”
She nodded a couple of times, then awkwardly accepted my candies.
It seemed it was going to take a bit longer to break the ice between us than I had expected. That made sense though; it wasn’t so quick and easy to make new friends. That was something I’d learned the hard way this past week. At the same time, I also felt like my efforts had begun to pay off to some degree, because it did seem like they were starting to warm up to me a bit.
I gazed idly out the window as the bus rumbled down the bumpy road to some destination I still didn’t know. The blue sky was as clear and bright as could be. Far off in the distance, I could see a tiny flock of puffy cumulonimbus clouds. It reminded me a bit of the sky overhead on the day that Akira and his squad mates got sortied, funny enough.
Eventually, our teacher picked up the handset microphone at the front of the bus and made an announcement over the intercom.
“Okay, folks! We’ll be arriving shortly,” he said. “Be sure to gather up your things in advance and be ready to disembark.”
My classmates began to stir. I picked up my book bag and set it on my lap, then cast my gaze out the window again. By the roadside, I could see a large signboard posted outside an imposing building. As I read what it said, my heart skipped a beat.
KAMIKAZE MEMORIAL MUSEUM
I could feel my pulse quickening as the word kamikaze seared itself into my mind. When the bus turned into the parking lot, my heart started beating even faster.
Everyone stood up and made their way off the bus, so I followed suit—but my mind was a total blur. As the chirping cicadas welcomed us, we all filed into the building.
Right in the main lobby, there was an old beat-up fighter plane on display. It was the exact same model I remembered Akira and his comrades climbing into on that fateful day.
I started feeling faint. My vision began to swirl as all of my memories from that day came back to me oh so vividly—the men smiling and waving at us as they bravely headed off. The way their ships seemed to vanish into tiny beads of light in the southern sky. Looking at the plane here and now, up close, it was so much smaller, so much more fragile than a modern fighter jet. And yet, those men entrusted their lives to these tiny, ramshackle planes. Not that they had much choice in the matter, of course.
I wondered: Had they actually made it to their destination? Had any of them experienced engine troubles, requiring an emergency landing? I knew there were quite a few cases of kamikaze pilots having to turn back and abandon their missions due to unexpected factors like that—or even crashing before they reached their target.
What about Akira? Had he turned back somehow?
My mind went blank. I couldn’t even think properly.
“All right, we’ll be splitting up into our groups now,” said my homeroom teacher. “Remember, you’ll be required to share what you’ve learned today with the class, so be sure to pay good attention and absorb as much information as possible.”
And just like that, we all got together with our groups and headed off into the museum. I followed Hashiguchi and the others, walking a few steps behind as I tried my best to collect myself. Heading further in, we arrived at a long exhibition hall—but when I saw what was inside, I couldn’t help but gasp.
The entire wall was covered in black-and-white photos.
They were all portraits of kamikaze pilots smiling in uniform.
All of them young men who’d lost their lives seventy years ago.
Once my eyes landed on a few faces I recognized, my heart seized up.