Only the plum blossoms had been in season when Totto and her family first evacuated to Aomori in March, but by the end of April, a wide array of flowers suddenly burst into bloom.
Totto’s friends invited her to Shiroyama Park, a famous cherry blossom viewing spot in the Sannohe Castle Ruins. The park was teeming with people by the time she arrived.
“They usually have food stalls selling amazake (sweetened sake) drinks and sweet dumplings, but all of that is gone because of the war,” one of her friends explained.
Several times bigger than Senzokuike Park, Shiroyama Park boasted Somei Yoshino cherry blossoms much like the ones Totto had seen in Tokyo. Once the delicate pink Somei Yoshino petals fell, the fuchsia Yaezakura cherry blossoms came into their splendor, followed by the yellow Gyoiko blossoms. Totto was quite taken by the charm of the Yaezakura and Gyoiko cherry blossoms, whose petals resembled dainty frills.
The people of Sannohe seemed to have a special connection to Shiroyama Park. Even Totto’s teacher, who never spent a great deal of time on history lessons, would occasionally take out all sorts of materials to teach the children about the castle and the park. He told them what the castle used to look like, where the houses of vassals had stood, and what strategies had been employed to drive away encroaching enemies. One of his texts had an illustration of Shiroyama that was shaped rather like a slug. In the spring, when the Somei Yoshino cherry blossoms were in full bloom, the slug’s back became fluffy as though covered in light pink clouds.
After the cherry blossoms came the white apple flowers. In June, when the flower petals fell and were replaced by the small fruit, it was time for the paper bags that Totto and her classmates had pasted together.
The region was also well-known for growing cherries, and Mother would sometimes bring misshapen fruit home from her job at the cooperative. They may have looked a little strange, but they tasted just like regular cherries, and Totto was always thrilled to see them on the table.
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Totto once went to Shiroyama Park by herself and tried to picture what it must have been like when the castle still loomed over the town, what vistas it might have commanded. The castle must have had a stunning view of the paddies and fields, she imagined, and reflected on the scenery she’d taken in from the bus window on the way to the Tomb of Christ. She had wondered then why anyone would choose to live so far up in the mountains, but now she understood. These people had a strong bond to the land of their ancestors.
Having a hometown was a wonderful thing.
“I miss Tokyo. When will I be able to go back?”
Totto had made new friends and was quite adjusted to her life in Aomori. But sometimes, when remembering the big city and her family’s Kitasenzoku house, she would think in her Aomori dialect, “I wanna go home.” There was no fear of air raids here, but their current lifestyle could not afford them the freedom they had enjoyed back in Tokyo.
It was around this time that Totto learned their Kitasenzoku home had burned down in an air raid.
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Narrow Escape from Death
Once they had finally settled into their life in Suwanotaira, Mother started to exchange letters with the family of her uncle in Kojimachi, Tokyo, with whom she had stayed while attending music college. Her uncle had suffered a brain hemorrhage and the family was hoping to move to the countryside. Would Mother be able to help them find a place to live by her?
Mother spared no effort and presently found her relatives a home. About a month later, her uncle arrived with his family of four. But that was only the beginning. Many other members of Totto’s family also wrote to Mother for help, and by the summer, over ten relatives had assembled in Suwanotaira. Everyone was born and raised in Tokyo and had nowhere else to go to evacuate.
In the summer of that same year, Mother’s father, Totto’s grandfather, who lived in Takikawa, Hokkaido, passed away from a heart attack. Mother received the news via telegram and immediately rushed to get herself and her three children on a north-bound train to start their trek to Hokkaido.
Back then, traveling between mainland Japan and Hokkaido meant putting one’s life on the line, as the Seikan Ferry that crossed the Tsugaru Strait to and from Aomori and the port city of Hakodate was an easy target for bombers and submarines. To make matters worse, tickets were tremendously difficult to come by. Totto and her family spent the night in a passageway for transfers between the train and the boat, and somehow managed to board the ferry the next day.
Once in Hakodate, they got on another train and traveled several more hours until they finally reached Mother’s parents’ house in Takikawa. Totto’s grandfather, a doctor, had already been cremated, but there was quite a lot for Mother to take care of with the house and the business, so they remained in town for a stretch of days. Mother must have thought long and hard about what to do next. As the eldest daughter, it was her responsibility to care for her mother. After much contemplation, she decided to bring Totto’s grandmother back with them to Aomori.
Grandmother was a rather curious person. The daughter of a wealthy family, she had attended a missionary school in Sendai during the Taisho period and was raised with the understanding that she would not be permitted to marry into a family where she would need to cook or clean. In the end she married a doctor, which meant she could continue her affluent lifestyle. A very mild-mannered woman who read from her Bible every free moment she had, Grandmother greatly disliked cooking and doing laundry. Fortunately, she had nurses and housekeepers to help her with that.
The family of five—Mother, Grandmother, and the three children—made it safely back to Hakodate Station only to find another massive crowd waiting to board the ferry bound for Aomori. Some people were sitting around on newspapers. “We ain’t been able to get on for three days,” they lamented. Others cooked food on small charcoal grills.
Totto and her family held hands at all times. They wore protective head-coverings known as air-raid hoods and huddled together everywhere they went. Grandmother murmured a continuous stream of prayers, constantly clutching her Bible close.
Once they finally boarded the ferry, the captain decided for some reason to strike up a conversation with Totto. “You better hope we don’t come into contact with any of the naval mines that’ve been placed underwater by the enemy,” he said, “or this ship’ll sink like a rock.” This frightened Totto so terribly that her eyes remained glued to the water’s surface for the remainder of the trip.
Mercifully, they were able to cross the strait to Aomori without encountering any naval mines. Upon arrival, however, they found the Tohoku Line platform from which they would need to take a return train home absolutely packed with people. The schedule had gone haywire, and though they waited and waited, there was no sign of their train. After many long hours, they were informed that a direct train to Suwanotaira would not arrive until the following morning.
“There’s not much we can do now,” Mother said. “We’re all tired, so let’s spend the night here in the station and catch the first train in the morning.”
A different locomotive pulled into the station as she spoke. Totto felt an urgent need to board it, though she couldn’t explain why.
“Mother, let’s take this train.”
“We can’t,” her mother quickly replied. “This only goes to Shiriuchi.”
“Then let’s go to Shiriuchi.”
“But look at all these people. There’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to board a train home from there.”
Totto usually obeyed her mother, but something told her that they simply must depart Aomori Station as soon as possible.
“We can walk from Shiriuchi to our house if we have to. It’s not that far!” Totto insisted, grabbing hold of the iron handle on the railcar door. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” she whined, quite immaturely. Taken aback by this uncharacteristic show of stubbornness, Mother gave in. The five of them stepped aboard.
The sun had long set by the time they arrived in Shiriuchi. There they spent a sleepless night in the station’s tiny waiting room, unsure when the next train to Suwanotaira would come.
At some point, they felt a faint rumbling beneath them. They later realized that this had been July 28th, the day of the Aomori Air Raid, when B29s dropped tens of thousands of incendiary bombs, killing over a thousand people and burning down a large swath of the city. There was no telling what would have happened to Totto and her family had they stayed at Aomori Station for the night. Totto shuddered at the thought of them scrambling for their lives in an unfamiliar town.
Having narrowly escaped their deaths, Totto and her family were able to board a train in Shiriuchi and somehow make their way back to Suwanotaira. To this day, Totto cannot explain why she felt the need to ignore her mother’s instincts, on which she relied on every other occasion, and insist they take that train.