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Vignettes / Re: Lifetimes of Change (Historical Vignettes set from 1891 - 2011)
« on: February 24, 2024, 11:35:15 AM »
Survivors
Hiroioki, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
June 24th, 1945
8:04 PM
Already, over a month had passed since Iwao had left for his training; he’d written once a week, and likewise he’d received mail in return every Sunday, but that was the fullest extent of their contact. And yet, it was still more than they’d heard from Daisaku, who had been missing for nearly two months now. Of course, they’d known he was still alive; one of his coworkers said as much, but he didn’t know where they’d taken him. That was, at the very least, until a few hours ago, when on the way home from picking up the week’s rations, Azumi had received a letter. It was from her father, which of course led to her running a little late getting home after dropping off everything they needed for dinner. By the time she returned, everything was ready, even the bowl of rice typically set out in case he were to come back home. Just some old tradition, and by now, they’d gotten so used to it that it seemed improper to not do it.
Home seemed so much bigger now, so much emptier. Iwao and Daisaku would often spend time with Kahori, back when they were still here, yet gone was the laughter, the stories, the noise. It felt wrong, in a way, yet there was hope. That was something they couldn’t give up. Hope that Daisaku would come home alive. Hope that Iwao would make it out of training in one piece. Hope that Fusan would win the war, and that peace would reign across East Ardia evermore. To give up hope now would be to accept defeat, to die. Yet even then, there was an ever-present sense of fear which seemed to circle every home and business, and which sought to pierce the hearts of every man. After all, any day now, Kyūre might once again be attacked, and they’d have to crawl back into that hole in the ground which they called a shelter. Suffice to say, everyone was quiet around the dinner-table that night. That was, at least, until Azumi spoke up, finally breaking the silence.
“Y’know, I don’t think I ever said why dad’s in the hospital.” She mentioned, though nobody responded at first. “Turns out, he took some shrapnel in his gut, had a bad concussion too. Only reason we haven’t heard anything is because he was out cold for a while. He should be able to come home soon, though.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Natsumi said with a nod as she put her chopsticks away. “And to think, we were so sure he would be at the hospital in Hikami.”
“No wonder we couldn’t find him.” Yuna chimed in.
“Well, when I visited”—Azumi pulled out a pocket-watch, its glass cracked and its hands stuck at around the time the attack began—”he asked me to get his watch repaired. I guess that means I’m going to be visiting Izumozaki.”
“Izumozaki?” Asked Natsumi, rhetorically. It made sense, seeing as it, like the clock that hung upon the wall in the dining room, was made by Azumi’s father-in-law as a gift; who better to repair a watch than the man who made it?
“Mhm. And y’know, if I have to make the visit, I… may as well take Kahori to see her brother.” She answered, solemnly. It was clear that something about that ate her up inside, and upon her face she wore an expression which Yuna had seen far too many times in the past: sorrow. Almost certainly for her late husband, and for the son who had been torn away from her due to the war and due to her own estrangement from the family. She would quickly gather her composure, saying in a rather definitive manner “We leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” both Yuna and Kahori asked, for rather different reasons of course. Yuna was personally glad to see her go, not out of any malice but rather because she genuinely wanted to see Kahori and her brother reunited, even if for only a few days. Kahori, on the other hand, was surprised, as she had school that day, a concern which she would promptly voice.
“What about school?” She asked.
“Never you mind that, all they’ll do is have you doing exercise and playing in the dirt anyways.” Azumi reassured the child, holding her hand for a moment before getting up from the table. She had a fair bit of packing to do, for it would be a rather long trip.
Nikokyo, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
June 25th, 1945
7:16 AM
It had been a few months since Yuna had last visited the station, even if she wasn’t personally going anywhere. Nope, she was here solely to see her sister-in-law and her niece off; that and to help carry their luggage onto the train. But today, the line was rather long, and it showed. Even though they got to the station early, just prior to sunrise almost two hours prior, the line stretched as far as the next intersection. A great many of those here were soldiers, those assigned to defend the homeland, but also children. The first relocations had started as early as two or so years ago, but only in a limited scope out to the west. Now, however, with all the attacks, this policy had seemingly been expanded across the entirety of the mainland, or at least, so it would seem.
“Is Izumozaki far?” Kahori asked Yuna as they continued to wait in line; Azumi was, of course, growing rather annoyed with how slow the line was moving, given that the trip was itself going to take a while.
“Yeah, it is.” Yuna answered. “Farther than even Hatsukaichi.”
“Is it near Tenkyo?”
“No, not that far. Just up the coast, to the north.”
“Yuna,” Azumi interrupted the two. “I think it’s rather clear we’re going to be waiting a while longer, so how about you take Kahori and visit dad?”
“Alright, come with me, Kahori.” Yuna answered, taking her niece’s hand as they started to leave. Azumi didn’t care to watch them leave, even as the child asked if they’d get to see the ships out in the harbor. She was going to miss this, even if she didn’t say it aloud.
7:31 AM
With its plastered walls and winding corridors, the naval hospital, located near the base of Mount Shiraki and not far from Iwao’s old place of work, was rather unassuming. Were it not for the men in uniform who patrolled the grounds, one might’ve struggled to even know it was run by the navy, and frankly, its age was starting to show. After all, it had been built nearly seventy-five years ago, back when the Kyūre naval district itself had been established shortly following the end of the Keiō restoration, and though it had been well-maintained, it still seemed dated. Why replace what isn’t obsolete seemed to be the mantra of the navy, at least with its facilities on the ground.
Upon entry into the hospital, the faint sound of songs not heard since before the war—since before the Kunan restoration—could be heard. This music, influenced by the styles once popular in Ardia, had been officially banned by the Yokusankai, of which the YFD faction still led even if the faces at the top had changed since that fateful day in ‘37. Gone was Sonyu, though he maintained an important role within the party as its leader, and in was one Einosuke Yagami and his ally, Kazumasa Toshinari. But the affairs of Shinkyo were yet far away, even as that city was roasted in the open flames of war. And frankly, the bans on “Ardian Music” were rather silly, so why should Yuna, or anyone for that matter, have made a fuss over it? Nobody seemed to care, especially Daisaku.
“Father.” Yuna said with a bow as she and Kahori entered one of the wards. Of course, Kahori soon found herself asking questions of some of the sailors who were there, healing from wounds sustained in fighting out to sea or at one of the many facilities that had been hit in recent months, but she might’ve justified it by claiming it was so she would have something to tell her brother tomorrow.
“Ah, Yuna, Kahori. I’m sorry I worried you so much, I… was in a coma. Is it really June already?” Daisaku asked, pushing up his glasses before glancing around the room for a moment.
“Well, what’s important is that you’re alive.” Yuna answered as Kahori walked—ran, really—back to them.
“And now we’re gonna take a train to go see my brother!” Kahori piped up as she tried to give her grandfather a hug.
“Are you?” He asked, patting her on the head as he added “Well, the sooner, the better.” before she once again ran off to ask about ships, or something else that was of little consequence to either Yuna or Daisaku. “I’ve learned a lot of news since I came to…” He said, quietly as he laid back in his bed, not wishing for his granddaughter to overhear them. “Yuna, the Fusō was sunk.”
“The Fusō?” Yuna asked, not believing him for a moment. How grim it was that the vessel which shared its name with the nation was lost in this dark hour.
“Yes. She moved in front of the fleet off Toshima, diverting the enemy onto herself. Those boys saved a lot of lives, but our slice of the Azukishiman sea is now controlled by the enemy.”
“You don’t mean…”
“I do. That’s why I told Azumi to take Kahori to her father’s family in Izumozaki. It’ll be much safer there.” Daisaku said. “Believe me, I hate it as much as anyone else, but she deserves to grow up in peace, not having to worry about if she’ll even see tomorrow.”
“I… I understand. Truthfully, I’ve been worried about that too, ever since my brother… Well, you know.”
“You’re fine. Now, you’d best get going. Don’t want to miss your train now, do you?”
“Take care, father.” Yuna replied before leaving the hospital with Kahori.
9:09 AM
It was no wonder that Azumi seemed so sad since last night, Yuna thought as they left the hospital with Kahori. She was having to say goodbye to her daughter, to the last real connection to her old life, to her husband, at least until after the war. How horrible it was, even if necessary for her safety. As she looked around the area, first back towards the hospital, where she caught a glimpse of Daisaku waving at them, and then across the street, where the shouts of trainees performing their exercises could be heard, about something her father once told her. ”Survival requires you to make difficult choices, both for yourself and for those around you.” He had said, even if he was talking about his time in the military. In a way, the situation was quite similar, as Kyūre was practically on the frontlines now, and if she wanted Kahori to live, then difficult choices had to be made.
“Auntie Yuna?” Kahori asked as they walked along the wall of the compound, back towards the station. “Can we go look over there?” She pointed towards the harbor through a gap in the wall. “I wanna see what ships are here so I can tell my brother about them.”
“I can’t see anything.” Yuna answered, indulging her for a moment.
“Let’s keep going, please?” Kahori begged in a simultaneously endearing and annoying fashion. Off in the distance, a faint humming noise, likely the sound of aircraft, could be heard.
“I dunno, Kahori… We really should be-” Yuna answered, being cut off by the wailing of sirens. The city was under attack again, and this time, they were caught out in the open.
Hiroioki, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
June 24th, 1945
8:04 PM
Already, over a month had passed since Iwao had left for his training; he’d written once a week, and likewise he’d received mail in return every Sunday, but that was the fullest extent of their contact. And yet, it was still more than they’d heard from Daisaku, who had been missing for nearly two months now. Of course, they’d known he was still alive; one of his coworkers said as much, but he didn’t know where they’d taken him. That was, at the very least, until a few hours ago, when on the way home from picking up the week’s rations, Azumi had received a letter. It was from her father, which of course led to her running a little late getting home after dropping off everything they needed for dinner. By the time she returned, everything was ready, even the bowl of rice typically set out in case he were to come back home. Just some old tradition, and by now, they’d gotten so used to it that it seemed improper to not do it.
Home seemed so much bigger now, so much emptier. Iwao and Daisaku would often spend time with Kahori, back when they were still here, yet gone was the laughter, the stories, the noise. It felt wrong, in a way, yet there was hope. That was something they couldn’t give up. Hope that Daisaku would come home alive. Hope that Iwao would make it out of training in one piece. Hope that Fusan would win the war, and that peace would reign across East Ardia evermore. To give up hope now would be to accept defeat, to die. Yet even then, there was an ever-present sense of fear which seemed to circle every home and business, and which sought to pierce the hearts of every man. After all, any day now, Kyūre might once again be attacked, and they’d have to crawl back into that hole in the ground which they called a shelter. Suffice to say, everyone was quiet around the dinner-table that night. That was, at least, until Azumi spoke up, finally breaking the silence.
“Y’know, I don’t think I ever said why dad’s in the hospital.” She mentioned, though nobody responded at first. “Turns out, he took some shrapnel in his gut, had a bad concussion too. Only reason we haven’t heard anything is because he was out cold for a while. He should be able to come home soon, though.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Natsumi said with a nod as she put her chopsticks away. “And to think, we were so sure he would be at the hospital in Hikami.”
“No wonder we couldn’t find him.” Yuna chimed in.
“Well, when I visited”—Azumi pulled out a pocket-watch, its glass cracked and its hands stuck at around the time the attack began—”he asked me to get his watch repaired. I guess that means I’m going to be visiting Izumozaki.”
“Izumozaki?” Asked Natsumi, rhetorically. It made sense, seeing as it, like the clock that hung upon the wall in the dining room, was made by Azumi’s father-in-law as a gift; who better to repair a watch than the man who made it?
“Mhm. And y’know, if I have to make the visit, I… may as well take Kahori to see her brother.” She answered, solemnly. It was clear that something about that ate her up inside, and upon her face she wore an expression which Yuna had seen far too many times in the past: sorrow. Almost certainly for her late husband, and for the son who had been torn away from her due to the war and due to her own estrangement from the family. She would quickly gather her composure, saying in a rather definitive manner “We leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” both Yuna and Kahori asked, for rather different reasons of course. Yuna was personally glad to see her go, not out of any malice but rather because she genuinely wanted to see Kahori and her brother reunited, even if for only a few days. Kahori, on the other hand, was surprised, as she had school that day, a concern which she would promptly voice.
“What about school?” She asked.
“Never you mind that, all they’ll do is have you doing exercise and playing in the dirt anyways.” Azumi reassured the child, holding her hand for a moment before getting up from the table. She had a fair bit of packing to do, for it would be a rather long trip.
Nikokyo, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
June 25th, 1945
7:16 AM
It had been a few months since Yuna had last visited the station, even if she wasn’t personally going anywhere. Nope, she was here solely to see her sister-in-law and her niece off; that and to help carry their luggage onto the train. But today, the line was rather long, and it showed. Even though they got to the station early, just prior to sunrise almost two hours prior, the line stretched as far as the next intersection. A great many of those here were soldiers, those assigned to defend the homeland, but also children. The first relocations had started as early as two or so years ago, but only in a limited scope out to the west. Now, however, with all the attacks, this policy had seemingly been expanded across the entirety of the mainland, or at least, so it would seem.
“Is Izumozaki far?” Kahori asked Yuna as they continued to wait in line; Azumi was, of course, growing rather annoyed with how slow the line was moving, given that the trip was itself going to take a while.
“Yeah, it is.” Yuna answered. “Farther than even Hatsukaichi.”
“Is it near Tenkyo?”
“No, not that far. Just up the coast, to the north.”
“Yuna,” Azumi interrupted the two. “I think it’s rather clear we’re going to be waiting a while longer, so how about you take Kahori and visit dad?”
“Alright, come with me, Kahori.” Yuna answered, taking her niece’s hand as they started to leave. Azumi didn’t care to watch them leave, even as the child asked if they’d get to see the ships out in the harbor. She was going to miss this, even if she didn’t say it aloud.
7:31 AM
With its plastered walls and winding corridors, the naval hospital, located near the base of Mount Shiraki and not far from Iwao’s old place of work, was rather unassuming. Were it not for the men in uniform who patrolled the grounds, one might’ve struggled to even know it was run by the navy, and frankly, its age was starting to show. After all, it had been built nearly seventy-five years ago, back when the Kyūre naval district itself had been established shortly following the end of the Keiō restoration, and though it had been well-maintained, it still seemed dated. Why replace what isn’t obsolete seemed to be the mantra of the navy, at least with its facilities on the ground.
Upon entry into the hospital, the faint sound of songs not heard since before the war—since before the Kunan restoration—could be heard. This music, influenced by the styles once popular in Ardia, had been officially banned by the Yokusankai, of which the YFD faction still led even if the faces at the top had changed since that fateful day in ‘37. Gone was Sonyu, though he maintained an important role within the party as its leader, and in was one Einosuke Yagami and his ally, Kazumasa Toshinari. But the affairs of Shinkyo were yet far away, even as that city was roasted in the open flames of war. And frankly, the bans on “Ardian Music” were rather silly, so why should Yuna, or anyone for that matter, have made a fuss over it? Nobody seemed to care, especially Daisaku.
“Father.” Yuna said with a bow as she and Kahori entered one of the wards. Of course, Kahori soon found herself asking questions of some of the sailors who were there, healing from wounds sustained in fighting out to sea or at one of the many facilities that had been hit in recent months, but she might’ve justified it by claiming it was so she would have something to tell her brother tomorrow.
“Ah, Yuna, Kahori. I’m sorry I worried you so much, I… was in a coma. Is it really June already?” Daisaku asked, pushing up his glasses before glancing around the room for a moment.
“Well, what’s important is that you’re alive.” Yuna answered as Kahori walked—ran, really—back to them.
“And now we’re gonna take a train to go see my brother!” Kahori piped up as she tried to give her grandfather a hug.
“Are you?” He asked, patting her on the head as he added “Well, the sooner, the better.” before she once again ran off to ask about ships, or something else that was of little consequence to either Yuna or Daisaku. “I’ve learned a lot of news since I came to…” He said, quietly as he laid back in his bed, not wishing for his granddaughter to overhear them. “Yuna, the Fusō was sunk.”
“The Fusō?” Yuna asked, not believing him for a moment. How grim it was that the vessel which shared its name with the nation was lost in this dark hour.
“Yes. She moved in front of the fleet off Toshima, diverting the enemy onto herself. Those boys saved a lot of lives, but our slice of the Azukishiman sea is now controlled by the enemy.”
“You don’t mean…”
“I do. That’s why I told Azumi to take Kahori to her father’s family in Izumozaki. It’ll be much safer there.” Daisaku said. “Believe me, I hate it as much as anyone else, but she deserves to grow up in peace, not having to worry about if she’ll even see tomorrow.”
“I… I understand. Truthfully, I’ve been worried about that too, ever since my brother… Well, you know.”
“You’re fine. Now, you’d best get going. Don’t want to miss your train now, do you?”
“Take care, father.” Yuna replied before leaving the hospital with Kahori.
9:09 AM
It was no wonder that Azumi seemed so sad since last night, Yuna thought as they left the hospital with Kahori. She was having to say goodbye to her daughter, to the last real connection to her old life, to her husband, at least until after the war. How horrible it was, even if necessary for her safety. As she looked around the area, first back towards the hospital, where she caught a glimpse of Daisaku waving at them, and then across the street, where the shouts of trainees performing their exercises could be heard, about something her father once told her. ”Survival requires you to make difficult choices, both for yourself and for those around you.” He had said, even if he was talking about his time in the military. In a way, the situation was quite similar, as Kyūre was practically on the frontlines now, and if she wanted Kahori to live, then difficult choices had to be made.
“Auntie Yuna?” Kahori asked as they walked along the wall of the compound, back towards the station. “Can we go look over there?” She pointed towards the harbor through a gap in the wall. “I wanna see what ships are here so I can tell my brother about them.”
“I can’t see anything.” Yuna answered, indulging her for a moment.
“Let’s keep going, please?” Kahori begged in a simultaneously endearing and annoying fashion. Off in the distance, a faint humming noise, likely the sound of aircraft, could be heard.
“I dunno, Kahori… We really should be-” Yuna answered, being cut off by the wailing of sirens. The city was under attack again, and this time, they were caught out in the open.