ozone holes over Austria so—’
‘Austria? Doesn’t she mean Australia?’
‘Their knowledge of the world outside Japan only extends as far as they can swim offshore. Sorry if I sound bitter. Then my brother was drafted. He runs That Man’s branch office, so you can imagine how sympathetic he was. I am wrecking the family harmony, he said. French food will play havoc with my diabetes – as if he ever cared about my diabetes – and the sheer worry will cause my mother’s blood pressure to rise, and she may actually explode. Then I will be guilty of blowing up Mother as well as disobeying That Man. What’s making that noise? Not Suga again?’
‘Cat, this time. She feels sorry for you, but doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound feeble. She hopes it will all work out okay.’
‘Thank her. At times like this I wish I smoked.’
‘Hold your mouth to the receiver – I’ll blow smoke down the line.’
‘Teenagers often fantasize that their parents are not their real parents. After this evening I can see the appeal. Truth is, That Man hates the idea of me not needing him. He wants to hire and fire the world as he sees fit. He is afraid of his employees finding out he can’t control his daughter. What a family of sand fleas I come from! I swear, sometimes I think I would be better off as an orphan. Oh. Oh . . . sorry, Miyake . . .’
‘Hey, don’t worry.’
‘Today has blown my tact chip. I should switch myself off and leave you in peace. I’ve done nothing but whinge for thirty minutes.’
‘You can whinge all night. Isn’t that right, Cat?’
Cat, bless her, miaows right on cue.
‘See? So whinge.’
‘You look five years younger,’ I tell Buntaro when he gets back from Okinawa on Sunday evening, and he really does. ‘So if I go on four holidays do I get to look like a twenty-year-old?’ He presents me with a key-ring of Zizzi Hikaru – like most idols, Zizzi is Okinawan – who sheds her clothes when you breathe on the plastic casing. ‘Hey, thanks,’ I say, ‘this will be a family heirloom. Good to be back?’
‘Ye-es.’ Buntaro looks around Shooting Star. ‘No. Yes.’
‘Right. Did Machiko-san enjoy herself?’
‘Way too much. She wants to move there. Tomorrow.’
Buntaro scratches his head. ‘Kodai being born soon . . . it changes the way you see things. Would you want to be brought up in Tokyo?’
I remember my mother’s first letter, the balcony one. ‘Maybe not.’
Buntaro nods and checks his watch. ‘You must have a thousand things you want to do, lad.’ I don’t, but I can see he wants to catch up on paperwork, so I climb up to my capsule and round up dirty laundry. I try calling Ai, but nobody answers. Netherworld noises vibrate down the apartment building tonight. Husband bawling, baby screaming, washing machine spinning. Tomorrow is Monday – grandfather day. I lie on my futon and begin decoding the final three pages of the journal. These are written on different paper, in cramped letters that get harder and harder to read. Across the top of the paper is stamped in red ink, in English: ‘SCAP’ – which is not in my dictionary – and ‘Military Censor’. These half obscure a pencil inscription in Japanese: ‘ . . . these words . . . moral property . . . . . . Takara Tsukiyama . . .’ An address in Nagasaki is illegible to me.
20th November
Weather – unknown. Dead but still alive. Alone in kaiten. Last 6 hours. At 0245 Cpt Yokota came to cabin – announced the kaiten attack commence 15 mins. Stood in a circle and tied hachimaki of brother before us. Goto: ‘Just another training run, boys.’ Abe to Kusakabe: ‘You are a demon chess player, Ensign.’ Kusakabe: ‘Your left hook is the demon, Lieutenant.’ Toured I-333 – thanked crew for bringing us here safely. Saluted, man by man. Shook hands before entered kaitens via chutes. Slick sealed the hatches on us. His face last I saw. I-333 dived for final approach. Radioman First Class Hosokawa maintained telephone link until release, providing last-minute orientation. Abe released 0315. Heard clamps fall loose. Goto released 0320. Kusakabe floated free 0335. Next 5 minutes I thought many things, focus difficult. Hosokawa in Nagasaki dialect: ‘I’ll be thinking of you. May glory be yours.’ Final human words. Foreclasps released. Started engine. Rears released. Floated free. Thrust sharp left avoid conning tower/periscope shears. Proceeded ESE