longer eight years old; now I am always struggling, here I am only weeping. Each of us reaches for our own cup. We who are here now in the grey. Now our killer raises his hand in warning. We who are always, already struggling. We all listen as our killer warns us of the strength of the serum, the damage it can cause to our gums and tooth enamel if we do not watch our killer’s demonstration carefully, if we do not follow our killer’s instructions precisely. We who are always, already only weeping. We all watch as our killer now takes out a syringe. You define us as the victims. We all watch as our killer dips his syringe into the liquid. You damn us as the victims. We all watch as our killer draws up a measure of the liquid into the syringe. You are happy to remember us in the black and white of our deaths. We all watch as our killer opens his mouth. You are ignorant of us in the colour of our lives. We all watch as our killer places his tongue over his bottom front teeth and then tucks it under his lower lip. We are evidence at a crime scene. We all watch as our killer drips the liquid onto his tongue. We are bodies in a crime book; bodies, never characters. We all watch as our killer tilts his head back. In our lives you did not know us. We all watch as our killer stares at his wristwatch, his right hand in the air. Only by our deaths did you find us. We all watch as our killer’s hand falls. At a crime scene. We all listen as our killer tells us that this medicine may damage our gums and our teeth, as our killer tells us we must all swallow quickly. In a crime book. We all nod. Our names, our faces. We all listen as our killer tells us that exactly one minute after we have taken the first medicine, he will administer the second medicine. In print and in photographs. We all stare at the 500CC bottle marked SECOND DRUG. Reduced to a number. We all listen as our killer promises us that after we have taken the second medicine, we will be able to drink water or rinse out our mouths. Twelve, you will always write 12. Now our killer tells each of us to lift up our cups. In this number, this number 12. We all pick up our teacups. In this number, we die again. And now each of us drinks. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again. Our killer tells us to drip the liquid onto our tongues. For we are not twelve. And now we all taste the bitter liquid. We are Takeuchi Sutejiro, Watanabe Yoshiyasu, Nishimura Hidehiko, Shirai Shoichi, Akiyama Miyako, Uchida Hideko, Sawada Yoshio, Kato Teruko, Takizawa Tatsuo, Takizawa Ryu, Takizawa Takako and Takizawa Yoshihiro. We all swallow it down. We who are here now in the grey. And we hear our killer tell us he will administer the second drug in exactly sixty seconds. We who are always, already struggling. We see our killer looking at his wristwatch. We who are always, already only weeping. We see him staring at his wristwatch. Weeping and waiting. We all wait for the second drug. Waiting and watching. We all watch as our killer pours the second drug into each of our teacups. Watching and reaching. We all reach for our cups again. Reaching and waiting, again. Again we all wait as our killer checks his wristwatch, and again we all wait for the signal. For the smile. Now we all see our killer gesture for each of us to drink again. With a smile. And we all drink. And you smile as we drink. And we all see our killer waiting. Still smiling. And we all see our killer still watching us. That smile on your face. And now we all feel the second liquid in our mouths, now in our throats, now in our stomachs. But you are smiling. And now we all hear our killer telling us to rinse out our mouths. Still smiling, still smiling, still…
At twenty minutes past three on Monday, 26 January 1948, in Tokyo, and I am drinking and I am drinking and I am drinking and I am