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Lifetimes of Change (Historical Vignettes set from 1891 - 2011)

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Daitō:
Shadows of the Past, Part Two: Voices From BeyondAkiōta-Honmachi, Hatsukaichi, Izumi Prefecture
December 6th, 1945
4:47 PM

   It was truly quite striking, Yuna thought as she wandered these streets she once called home, how little of the city was left standing. Even now, just four months on from when the bomb fell, little had been done to rebuild as had been in Kyūre. A most horrible fate had befallen it, one etched into the faces of those who yet survived, who had known firsthand the power of science corrupted in the pursuit of victory. For Hatsukaichi, at least as she had once known it, had died on the 5th of August, and yet it persisted almost as a ghost, a shadow of its former self. People wandered the streets, often aimless as there was simply nothing left for them, save for the scant few buildings which had survived relatively unscathed and the vast number of shacks which adorned the riverside. Many seemed to be searching for their missing loved ones, and indeed some had mistaken her for people they once knew, no doubt hopeful that they had somehow survived.

   It was honestly heartbreaking to see. From the corner of her eye, even she thought she might’ve seen her mother, but that had proven to have just been a case of mistaken identity. She knew she was gone, yet she still hoped that Ikuko had been wrong, that she had survived and maybe, just maybe, she simply had to be hospitalized as Daisaku had earlier in the year. It was a fool’s hope, perhaps, but some part of her still clung to it. As she passed the old Industrial Promotion Hall, ruined as it was, she looked down at the letter her brother had given her a year prior, still unopened and of course, still undelivered. She wished he’d given an address, but he was somehow worse at remembering them than even she had been, so perhaps he forgot. Either way, it was probably impossible to find its intended recipient now, since she’d waited until she could be absolutely certain that he was gone.
   ”...Y’know what, I may as well take a peek.” she thought as she looked at it before, albeit in a haphazard fashion, opening the envelope, propping it against her right arm and pulling out the letter. What she saw was, admittedly, not what she expected.
   ”My dearest sister,” it opened, and almost immediately, she realized that he had lied to her. There was no “special someone” in his life, and frankly, the fact that he’d wanted them to meet despite not giving any information about her gave it away. With a sigh, she continued to walk, making her way towards one of the many bridges on the Watari. ”I suppose you’re probably surprised that I’ve addressed this to you, but in the end, let’s be honest. I’m married to the job, so I don’t have room for a partner. Not yet, or… I suppose I never will, given that I’m likely dead by the time you’re reading this, so I guess that makes this my farewell.

   ”It’s strange, writing a letter like this, knowing that I am not likely to survive. I’ve had time to think about it, and the truth is, I am afraid. Every time I get into the cockpit, I fear that I might not be lucky enough to come home, but more than that, I fear what will happen if we fail. But today is different. I know that, when I climb into that aircraft, I will be fighting to protect people like you, people like Kahori. If I am to die, I take comfort in this fact, for our cause is righteous, even as we scatter like blossoms on the wind.” The letter read, though Yuna stopped for a time, tears streaming down her face as she looked out on the water, out towards Nomijima. Just a few years prior, he’d graduated from there… How proud they’d all been of him. Eventually though, she would continue to read the… honestly kinda short letter. ”I will admit, though, that I envy you, Yuna. I can only imagine the dreams you’ll have, the lessons you’ll learn, the joy you’ll feel. For though these times will certainly be hard, I know you well enough that you will, in time, be able to come back from anything. Hold true to what you’ve learned, and live a good life for me. And when the time comes, I will eagerly await you in the High Heavens. Yours forever, Isao.”

   Truth be told, it was much, much shorter than she had anticipated, but honestly, Yuna also hadn’t expected him to address it to her. The last words of a man to someone he cared deeply for, the last written testament that he had, in fact, once drawn breath. A brother—a son of the Empire—who would never come home again, who gave of himself his very life for those he cared so immensely for. He died so that others might live, so that she might live. If he was watching down on her from the heavens, then what might he think of her now? Best not to squander it.
   “Your sacrifice… You made it so that we may live. I promise I won’t waste it, o-niisan.” She said, her voice wavering for but a moment, before offering a prayer for his spirit in the light of the setting sun. What a familiar sight it was, even with all of this destruction. Eleven years ago, she drew this very scene, and though she didn’t know it then, that very decision changed her life forever. It was just then that she felt someone grab her shoulder.
   “None of us will.” Someone said, solemn yet with a hint of joy, though his voice was hard to make out from the crowd. “I hope you didn’t wait too long, did you, Yuna?”

   She froze for a moment, not entirely sure as to how she should react. Clearly, it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity, for he was too familiar with her. It only lasted for a brief second before she glanced over, then back out at the water before realizing who it was.
   “Iwao?” She asked, surprised to see her. “I didn’t… I… Well, I’m glad to see you’re okay.”
   “More than okay.” Iwao said, leaning against the railing as he spoke. “As of noon, I’ve officially been demobilized. I ain’t getting called back for service anymore.” He added. It was a bittersweet arrangement, since on one hand, he didn’t have to worry about being reassigned to some other far-flung town, but on the other hand, he suddenly found himself out of a job. It was just lucky he still had friends out there. “Though my ex-superior officer did give me a recommendation that’ll help me find work in-”
   “Haruya, is that you?” An elderly woman asked, interrupting them and grabbing his sleeve. No doubt, she was looking for someone she knew.
   “No, sorry.” Iwao replied. “I hope you find him, though.” He noted as she walked off, dejected. For a moment, he was silent, processing what had just happened. After giving it some thought, he said “Everyone here’s lost someone. Searching for someone too, I’d imagine. I can see it in their faces… It’s sorta like what I saw back when Kyūre burned, but not on this scale.”
   “You’re not the only one.” Yuna sighed.
   “Yuna, do you remember how we first met on this bridge?” Iwao said, looking down at his reflection on the water. “Those days… We can’t go back to them, I know. Us, this city, everything is changing. I’m gonna admit, I am worried about what this will all mean, but… I don’t think I could imagine living to see that without you.” He added, stroking her cheek for a moment as he spoke.
   “I… I would like that.” She smiled. “Now don’t leave me, okay? Please, stay right with me, forever.”

Daitō:
Like Blossoms on the WindSaeki, Hatsukaichi, Izumi Prefecture
August 5th - December 6th, 1945

   There were some days which would linger on, forever changing a person and turning their life upside down. For some, it might be the day they married, or perhaps the day their first child was born, and in those cases, such days would be celebrated, but for all the good in the world, some days were truly horrible, both in scope and in the events themselves. The fifth of August, 1945, was one such day when not only did the world change forever, but lives too were broken, burned away, and likewise changed. For the young daughter of a soldier and a factory worker in the district of Saeki, only four years old at the time, this would be a story that she would face.

   It had seemed like an ordinary Sunday morning, the day of a festival celebrating the city’s founding, and yet her mother had no joy in her heart. Her father had gone missing, though she didn’t know that at the time. She knew only that she was sad, though she tried her best to hide it. Maybe it was because of all the times they’d had to go down in the basement, to hide from the noises in the sky? That had to be it, she had thought back then. And yet, what fragmentary memories she had from that day was simply of the moment the bomb fell and their home was turned to splinters.

   Her next memory of that black day was being dragged from the rubble of their home by her mother, grievously wounded, yet determined to get her to safety. ”Just a little bit farther”, she told her. ”We’re going to be okay.” She’d lied. The truth was that she had lost her right arm, and she was now bleeding profusely, though of course, the daughter had believed that she would be okay. This was just a bad dream, and she needed to wake up. By the time noon had rolled around, they’d made it across the Watari, at which time, her mother sat upon some rubble, ostensibly to rest, and so too did she stay by her side until she’d wake up.

   She never woke up again.

   A few days would pass, yet the daughter remained by her mother’s side, certain that she would wake up, that everything would be okay. It would only be when the flies swarmed them on the day of the eighth that she finally had to move on, if only so that she might find food. She planned to return to her, but by nightfall, her mother was gone, perhaps having woken up, she thought, though it was more likely she’d been taken for cremation. And so, for the first time in her life, the daughter found herself alone in the world, in a city of the dead where the fires yet raged. What future could she have, if any at all? Would she live to see another new year? All was uncertain, for the future was yet unwritten.

Daitō:
ForeverHatsukaichi Station, Hatsukaichi, Izumi Prefecture
December 6th, 1945
6:16 PM

   As night fell over the city, many had crowded around the ramshackle remnants of Hatsukaichi Station, where meals were being prepared as many waited for their train to arrive. It was a far cry from what had once been, for the station was, in its day, a marvel of engineering, a symbol of Fusan’s roaring entrance into the modern age, and yet now, its roof was gone, its windows shattered, and its halls empty. In its place, occupying a former stop of the Hatsuden tramway at foot of the station’s steps, was a wooden shack which had been erected a few weeks after the bombing. And as the primary point of entry for overland travel in and out of Hatsukaichi, even at this hour, it was rather crowded. And yet, there was something comforting about this place, a single beacon of warm light in a city shrouded in the darkness of night, from which music played over the radio. While Hatsukaichi was dealt a most horrible wound, it had, in its own way, begun along the road towards recovery.

   In its warm glow, offering refuge for the homeless and destitute during the waning hours of the day, people flocked to the site, whether seeking a warm meal, shelter from the cold, or simply a sense of community in a world which didn’t exist even half a year prior. Among those listless souls, a young child found refuge among the lights, perhaps no different than many others who sought the same things. Four months prior, her world was changed forever and she lost everything she knew, and yet she was spared the sickness which permeated vast swathes of the populace, striking down soldier and civilian, rich man and poor alike. Four months in which, despite her age, she had done well to survive off scraps and the generosity of others. It had been a hard, lonely, isolated life, yet she couldn’t go home. There was no home anymore. Everyone she knew had disappeared or gone away.

   She thought, at one moment as she passed through the crowds, that she might’ve seen her father; she only remembered him from the photo, and even then, merely in flashes. After all, she had only been a mere infant when last she saw him, and the last day she saw his photo was the day the world became this way. The soldier whom she had mistook for him, however, would soon shoo her away with a scowl, pulling a box close to himself as she wandered off. Yet soon enough, she saw that thing which soon became the object of her desires, a fresh onigiri which had just rolled out of its wrapping and onto the ground.
   “Oops.” A woman said as the young daughter of the city quickly reached for the rice ball; once, she might’ve hated them, but tonight? It might as well have been the most beautiful thing she’d seen in her short life.
   “Oh, leave it be.” The man sitting next to her responded. “Y’know, with any luck, I might be able to get a job out here.”

   Right as she was about to take a bite out of her new meal, she briefly looked up to see where it came from and then back to it, but after a moment, she realized there was something familiar about the lady sitting on the bench. The same dark brown hair, the similar-sounding voice, and of course, the right hand which was no longer there. It couldn’t be, could it? Yes, she had stayed with her mother for many days after her injury, and yes she had seen flies swarm them before she left to find food, but when she’d returned, her mother was gone. ”Could this be her?” she thought as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“Don’t you think we live too far away, though?” The lady with one arm asked the man sitting beside her. Almost instinctively, as though she needed to make good on her plan to bring food and water to her mother back in those early days, the child, although wordless, reached out with both hands, offering it to her instead. “Oh, thank you. But why don’t you have it instead?” She responded with a gentle smile, scooting over to offer a place for her to sit.
   “I suppose so.” Her partner replied, briefly glancing up at the line, slow moving as it was. They must’ve been waiting to get their tickets. “Yuna, what do you think about us leaving and getting a home here? I mean, you do have Ikuko and your grandmother to tend to, and I can’t imagine your father’s anything but a wreck now…”
   “...No. I think I’d much rather just make the trip here, Iwao.” Yuna said after a moment of silence, looking down at the child sitting at her side as she ate. “Don’t get me wrong-” she continued, turning back to Iwao as she did so “-I’m worried about Hatsukaichi, my family too, but… It’s not home anymore. For better or for worse, Kyūre is my home now, and I don’t-”

   As she tried to finish what she was saying, Yuna felt something—someone—tugging against her arm, and so, she looked once more to her side to see the young girl who had, just a few minutes earlier, joined them was now holding onto her arm. Though she didn’t know what had happened to her for these last few months, it was, at the very least, clear that she saw in her some sort of safety, something she must’ve lacked for all this time. Yuna glanced for a moment at Iwao, perhaps wanting to know what his thoughts were on the matter, but she also wanted to do the right thing, after all that had happened in this last year. She soon turned her attention back to the child, placing her hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her as best as she could.
   “It’s alright… You’re safe now.” She said with a smile as she started to doze off. After a few minutes passed, she’d finally speak again, turning her attention back to her husband, who had been watching the scene unfold. “Y’know how we were talking about our future?” She asked.
   “Yep. Can’t leave her here.” Iwao said after a moment. “I mean, it’ll be a fair bit of paperwork, but… Well, are you sure you’re ready?”
   “Are you?” Yuna answered as she patted the child’s head. “Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”
   “...Alright.” Iwao said as he rifled through his pockets for some spare change. “I’m gonna go get in line for a payphone, see about calling ahead so we don’t drop this on everyone the moment we get home. Mind checking if she has a name tag or something?” He continued as he stood up from his seats.
   “Of course. See you in a few.” Yuna answered before looking over her clothes for something, anything that might at least tell them who she was. It would be a little bit, as she didn’t want to wake her, but eventually, she’d find some scrap of a name tag on her. ”Ayane.” Her name was Ayane. Unfortunately, if there were anything about who her family was, it had long since faded or otherwise been destroyed. Maybe one day, they might find out more about who she was, who her parents were, but for now, what mattered was that she be taken care of. And besides, it was quite likely that, like so many others, her parents were dead. Either way, now, all that was left was to wait on Iwao to return and then for their train to arrive.Nikokyo, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
7:57 PM

   “Kyūre. Kyūre.” the train’s conductor announced as it pulled into the station, his voice loud and stern for all aboard to hear. Out of the window, a city, once wounded, was now bathed in the light of a thousand bulbs, and in the harbor, ships both military and commercial were at anchor. Despite all the pain, the hardships, and the suffering, Kyūre had rebounded surprisingly quickly, becoming a model for the road that lay ahead for large parts of the nation. Times were hard for many, yes, but the world would not wait on Fusan to recover, so why sit here, doing nothing to rebuild?
   “Kyūre?” Asked Ayane as they walked down the main street, herself held in Iwao’s arms.
   “That’s right. This is Kyūre.” Yuna answered as they continued, with both Iwao and Ayane marveling at the sights around them, albeit for different reasons. Obviously, for the younger of the two, it was simply a matter of the lights being pretty, but for Iwao, it was more complicated than that. The last time he’d been here, much of the city center was just gone, and it was, of course, rare that anyone had their lights on. So much had changed since September, to the point where it was, frankly, quite shocking.
   “Ah, those are the new barracks, huh?” Iwao said, looking to who might now be his daughter—which was just a strange thought, even if it wasn’t official quite yet—before adding “I guess you don’t see a lot of ‘em in Hatsukaichi, do you?” Ayane was silent, though she did nod for a brief moment. “Look.” He said after a few seconds, pointing to their surroundings. “We’re protected by nine different mountains here. Out to the east is Mount Shiraki, in the west, Mount Yasumi. And of course, up ahead is Mount Takimine. That’s where we live. It’s home.”
   “Home?” Ayane asked, looking for a moment at Yuna. She seemed equally confused and interested, but more than that, she was clearly quite exhausted.
   “Yes, Ayane. Just up there.” Yuna answered, though by the time she had done so, Ayane had dozed off already. Not that she could blame her; whatever ordeal she’d gone through would be enough to wipe out anyone, and with such a sudden change in her environs, perhaps this was the best outcome they could hope for. She only hoped that she might be able to adjust, much as she herself had to, all those years ago. It had been her choice to come with them, ultimately, but choosing to go was always the easy part. For Ayane—for everyone in the family, really—her life had just changed so radically in just a single day.Hiroioki, Kyūre, Izumi Prefecture
8:34 PM

   Eventually, Yuna, Iwao, and Ayane all arrived home at long last, where they were met by her father-in-law, who had been waiting out on the porch for them. Evidently, after the call earlier, he’d wanted to speak to them, perhaps get to know his new granddaughter, or maybe, just maybe he was enjoying the evening calm. Whatever the reason was, they soon found out when, as they approached, he spoke up.
   “Welcome home, Iwao, Yuna, and…?” Daisaku asked, getting up from the porch with a grunt before walking over to meet them in the yard.
   “Ayane, father.” Iwao replied. “I apologize if this was all so sudden, but… We couldn’t just leave her, y’know?”
   “...You did the right thing, son. Now, I won’t deny that I didn’t expect this to be how you two would start your own family, but I’m not gonna complain.” Daisaku answered with a laugh. “But at the very least, you could’ve given us more warning.”
   “Sorry.”
   “Don’t be.” Daisaku stated. “Anyways, you’ve got a bath and fresh clothes waitin’ for her.” He added as they went inside, but before Yuna could get inside, he’d say “Yuna, a moment?”
   “Of course.” Yuna answered, turning back to join her father-in-law under the light of the stars. “What did you need?”

   “I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t solely your choice or Iwao’s.” Daisaku said, looking up at the sky for a second as he waited on her. “I mean, this is a pretty significant decision to be making at the spur of a moment, y’know?” He sighed, turning his attention back to her.
   “Of course we agreed, why?”
   “Because if either of you didn’t, then I’d say you weren’t as ready as you could be for the challenges you’re gonna face soon.” Daisaku said. “Not that it’s ever easy, of course. The kami know I’ve had my days where it’s been a struggle, especially with Iwao. I’m sure you’ll go through the same, which is why I wanted you to know that if you ever need anything, Natsumi and I will be there for you. So will Azumi, I’m sure.” He explained, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Now then, why don’t we get in there and lend a hand, eh?”
   “Of course.”

   And so, as they entered the house, Yuna privately said her final farewells to the life she once knew, not with sorrow, but with joy in her heart. Come what may, though hardship and heartache had sought to bring ruin to her life, she had finally found a place in the world where she might belong. Days would pass, first the seventh of December, then the eighth and the ninth, then the new year, then the next, stretching on forever. What a beautiful word, even though it stood in contrast to the impermanence of life, for though time marched on, the memories she and her loved ones would share, those were eternal. Teaching Ayane to sew, like her great-grandmother had taught Yuna, and similarly with the same struggles as she herself had faced. Welcoming a son, Hideo, into the world in the winter of ‘46… Like the loss of Kahori on the twenty-fifth of June, for better or for worse, these memories would stay with her for the rest of her life, yet she would always seek to remember the good in life more than anything else. And in the end, she was, at the very least, content.

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