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| 55 | RONIN OF THE INU SHRINE | 5 Ronin of the Inu Shrine Virga was at the peace fires last week, but she never came near me. I watched her circle the pond, an elusive shadow near the monuments . Later, she waited for me at the shrine near the koban, always at escape distance, and then followed me in the police car back to the ruins. She has short mottled ears, as you know, and curious dark circles on her chest and belly. Virga is my virtual shadow. The Children’s Peace Monument is her regular haunt, and she teased me there yesterday. She rolled over near the tower, pushed her wet nose into the origami peace cranes, and then sneezed three times. Many tiny cranes burst into flight and crashed on the stones. Some of the children pushed their faces into the peace cranes and tried to imitate the tricky mongrel. Virga is a pure roamer, an elusive wisp of rain, always a teaser at escape distance. She has been wary of me at every turn. She trusts the children in the peace park and honors their eager attention, a hand to mouth affinity. Last week she carried several chains of red and blue paper cranes around her neck, and lingered near the monument to eat with the children. Virga is forever on park duty. She waited on the children, nosed their hands, and so wisely waited for their cues, cautious not to tease the clumsy overtures. She never missed the tiny morsels, and celebrated every tasty bite, every puffy grain of rice with a raised paw and a hafu smile for the clumsy peace progeny. Virga is my shadow. The Atomic Bomb Dome has become her new home at night. Oshima and the roamers feed the ravens, feral cats, and mongrels of the ruins. Virga, though, is the most loyal mongrel, the only one there in the morning. She stands alone on the creased picture of the emperor, abides the sacred circle, and awaits the rise of the mighty ghost parade at eight fifteen. Virga is my eternal shadow, a tricky trace of my motion and natural reason. She could be my mother, always at a distance, but never an escape. I reached out many times to touch her, to heal the secret | RONIN OF THE INU SHRINE | 56 | wounds of slight and separation, and once circled back to catch my shadow by chance, but she constantly evaded me. She is a bear at dusk, my shadow hafu, and always the same mongrel in the morning. Virga stole my wooden sword, but she is not a nanazu pirate. She crossed the circle, took the blade in her mouth, and carried it across the river. Loyal roamers chased her through the park and around the paper cranes several times. Strategically she abandoned the sword at the base of the Peace Bell. Naturally, the roamers raised the sword and posed as samurai warriors. One by one they advanced and struck the great bell with the blade of my sword. The wooden beat was muted, a puny sound of peace. Kitsutsuki, the wounded lieutenant, raised his hand, shouted a command, and the other roamers paused under the dome, a moment of silence at the aesthetic center of peace in the universe. Oshima told me that the peace park roamers always obey that surly veteran with the woodpecker nickname. Kitsutsuki returned my sword minutes later. The warrior bowed his head and presented the sword in his open hands. Then, when he saw the creased picture of the emperor at the center of the ruins, he hissed, as usual, a predatory sound, and enacted a great kabuki grimace. He had an imitation blue eye that turned inward, out of balance. His silence was ominous as he raised my sword and struck Hirohito. The emperor lost his head. I learned later that he lost his right leg and one eye on a land mine on the same day that his wife and son were incinerated by the atomic bomb over Hiroshima. He has been a roamer in the peace park for almost a decade, a natural leader who inspects his motley soldiers every morning. Kitsutsuki has seven wooden legs, each one intricately carved and painted for service. He stores them in a shed behind the nearby koban , an informal arrangement that started by confiscation. The police removed his legs from various locations in the park and stored them at the koban. Kitsutsuki carved...

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