The Red Kimono: A Novel

66. Nobu

her skin. You are right. She no more had anything to do with my ‘death’ than we had anything to do with the bombing of Pearl Harbor.” Sachi stood up and exclaimed, “That’s exactly what I thought, Papa!” “But—” Sachi interrupted. “I know, I know. Mama’s kimono. But what can I do to let her know I’m sorry?” she asked. “Shikata ga nai, Sachi-chan. Shikata ga nai.” CHAPTER 66 Nobu AUGUST 8, 1945 August 8, 1945 This camp is an angry place. My brothers—those I march with—are full of rage. Many talk of going to Japan. Some are defiant, even to the armed guards. They find themselves in lockup as a result. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes—American soldiers throwing American citizens in the stockade. Their crime? Showing their frustration for the way they’ve been treated—for being relocated and relocated and relocated for no reason, except that they look like the enemy. Sure, I’m angry, too. About being forced to leave our homes, being relocated. About the loyalty questionnaire, the way we were treated for our honesty. About the years lost with Papa. How could so much time pass, thinking he was dead? Yet, he was alive. In another camp. I know where to draw the line about showing that anger. I’ll keep it inside, at least for now. Anything to keep from being imprisoned within a prison. Ichiro burst through the door, gasping. “Have you heard?” He bent over his knees, panting and shaking his head. Nobu looked up from his journal. Alarmed at Ichiro’s terror, he leaped out of the chair. “Heard what?” His friend darted around the room like a caged animal. “They 288 JAN MORRILL bombed Japan! The fucking Americans dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima!” A burst of nausea churned in Nobu, yet somewhere deep inside he refused to believe it. “No way. What are you talking about?” “It’s true. I heard it on the radio when I was walking by the guard tower just now.” Ichiro pulled at his hair. “They said the city has been destroyed. Destroyed!” His voice cracked. “Shit, Nobu. Do you know how many people that would be? Thousands and thousands.” Nobu fell into the chair again and buried his face in his hands. What kind of a bomb could destroy a city, kill that many people? He listened to Ichiro hiss and knew it was his way of holding back tears. But others in the camp did not suffer in silence. The surrounding barracks began to fill with a morbid chorus of moans and cries. Women screamed. “No! My mother was there!” “My sister!” “Not my parents!” What about his grandparents? Obaasan and Ojiisan lived in Hiroshima. He’d only met them once, when he was just a little boy. He didn’t know them well, but they were his grandparents. Mama’s mother and father. Did Mama know about it yet? “Let’s go,” Ichiro said. “Where?” “I don’t care. Anywhere. But I can’t sit around here.” Ichiro grabbed his hachimaki off of his bedpost and tied it around his head. Hatred glowed in his eyes. “I’m going out to find the guys.” “I want to finish an entry here. I’ll catch up with you later.” Ichiro sneered and waved him off. “Suit yourself.” Nobu reviewed what he’d written. Sure, I’m angry, too. Then, let new questions spill onto the page. Questions that fueled his fury. All those people, dead. Maybe even Obaasan and Ojiisan. What were they doing when it happened? Working in the garden? Having a cup of tea together? Poor Mama, having to wonder every day about where Taro is and what he is doing. Now, she must also wonder if her parents are alive or dead. All these years I’ve wondered what kind of government could throw its own citizens behind barbed wire out of fear. Now, I wonder what kind of government would use such a weapon to destroy hundreds of thousands of innocent lives? The Red Kimono 289 ...