But even if he couldn’t speak the standard dialect the way he wished, he would’ve done anything for Japan, the Emperor, and the war effort. As a member of the defense forces on the island, he had planned to die alongside the Japanese forces fighting the Americans. During the day, he worked building encampments and digging ditches. At night, he went to sea whenever he could get permission and caught fish and octopuses for the men, who were quite pleased to receive the extra food. When Second Lieutenant Sakaguchi, a young man in his mid-twenties, expressed his thanks, Seiji snapped to attention and stood as straight as an arrow—in complete silence. Instead, he whispered to himself, It’s the least I can do.
Seiji had sworn to himself that when the Americans landed, he’d kill as many of them as possible, and that when all hope was lost, he’d grab a grenade and throw himself into a tank. Some of the Japanese soldiers laughed at Seiji for standing at attention, saluting, and saying yes, sir! to every single order. But others praised him for proving himself through his actions—in spite of his awkwardness and inarticulateness. Seiji had always been scolded at home and at school, so he was happy to hear this praise, and he resolved to completely devote himself to the Japanese army. He was thrilled that a mere fisherman like himself could fight on behalf of the Emperor alongside Japanese soldiers. After his death, he wanted to be remembered as a true Japanese—as a man of action, not of words. And yet...
Seiji heard some rocks falling behind him and quickly readied his harpoon.
—Who’s there!
His voice echoed through the cave. It occurred to him that the figures lurking in the darkness with their rifles were searching for him. He hid behind a nearby rock and held his breath. This time, he thought, I won’t miss. He strained his bloodshot eyes.
—Stay low and thrust into the solar plexus with all your strength!
Again and again, his teacher had shouted this at him as they practiced spearing the effigy of Roosevelt with their wooden guns during military training. Conscious that his classmates were stifling their laughter, Seiji tried to give a spirited yell, but his voice convulsed into a high-pitched squeak. The teacher clicked his tongue and struck Seiji on the back with his bamboo sword. The blow didn’t hurt at all compared to his father’s punches, but tears of vexation welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought that he was a failure not only in his studies but also in repulsing the enemy. Pretending to wipe away his sweat, he dried his eyes with the back of his hand and then thrust into the straw-stuffed effigy with the full weight of his body.
No one’s gonna make a fool of me again! I’ll fight against the Americans, even if it’s all by myself! I’m not afraid to die! he told himself as he stared into the darkness. Don’t talk crazy! The war is over! said his mother’s scolding voice. The war’s not over, Mom! Japan couldn’t lose to America! At these words, Seiji’s mother stared aghast. You still don’t understand? All the Japanese soldiers were put in the internment camp. You saw them there yourself, didn’t you? she said. Then she added, And didn’t you hear? The Emperor surrendered, too. And they cut off his head! She lifted up a white object for him to see. The severed head she clutched by the hair had a blank, expressionless face. Seiji recoiled from the sight in fear. Mom! What’re you doing?! he screamed. The Japanese army’ll arrest you as a spy! But his mother laughed and walked toward him, the Emperor’s head dangling from her hand. Oh, I get it! thought Seiji. This isn’t my real mother. She’d never do something like this. These damned Americans are trying to trick me.
He gripped his harpoon again. Through her gap-filled teeth, his mother spewed a foul odor that smelled like a decaying rat. When she closed in on him, he thrust at her with his harpoon. How dare you point a harpoon at your own mother! She grabbed the shaft and pulled back with a force one wouldn’t expect from a woman. As Seiji clung to the harpoon with all his strength, he bowed his head and implored, Mom! Please forgive me! Please forgive me! Suddenly, a pole crashed down upon his back. With a groan, he lifted his head.
Seiji’s father, sitting in a small sabani boat, raised the pole again and was about to bring it down on his drowning son, who was clawing at the air. Seiji paddled frantically, thrashing with his arms and legs, and finally managed to grab the edge of the sabani. Smack! When the pole struck his fingers, he screamed and jerked back his hand. A second later, he was dodging a blow coming toward his head. The swimming skill crammed into Seiji—along with many mouthfuls of seawater—was the one thing he had over his classmates.
All of a sudden, the pale blue light at the cave entrance turned into water, gushing down the slope. Seiji tried to swim, but was carried away by the current and sank like a stone. As he was swallowed up into the depths, all light and sound disappeared.
—I’m not gonna die! he screamed in terror. Not like this. I’m not afraid to die, but I wanna kill some Americans first.
Seiji kicked off the darkness pulling him down and propelled himself through the water toward the opening. When he reached the surface, he ravenously inhaled the night air streaming in from outside. Moving his mouth like a parched fish, he sucked the cool night air into his lungs. But this time, it only filled him with anxiety. To calm himself, he groped along the rock face
