—Let’s go take a look.
At Fumi’s prompting, they left the shade of the banyan tree and walked over to the area where Sayoko’s house used to be. As the bright sunlight poured over them, Hisako’s exposed upper arms and neck began to burn. She opened her sunshade and held it over Fumi as they stood next to the tall grass. The citrus trees, with their worm-eaten leaves, looked quite forlorn. Tall weeds pushed against them, and they looked like they would just wither away. The property covered an area of about 330 square meters. In the corner was an old well, covered with a concrete lid. Hisako remembered a young girl washing something there, but couldn’t get a clear picture of the girl’s face. But she had a dim memory of someone calling her, Hisa-chan! Imagining a terrified young girl and her sister locked up in the dark back room of the now absent house, Hisako wanted to run away from there immediately.
—Actually, I’d completely forgotten, too.
Fumi’s voice sounded weak, so Hisako worried that her friend had reached her limit. But she knew she needed to listen until the end.
—Maybe I didn’t so much forget as just couldn’t bring myself to remember. During high school, I lived in a dorm, so I had to leave the island. At the time, I felt relieved. When I went to university, I had to move even further away, but even though I was the only woman from our class leaving, I hardly missed anyone and mostly felt glad. And then, when I became an elementary school teacher, I avoided working at schools on the island. I only transferred to our old school just before retiring. When I was young, I worked hard for Okinawa’s reversion to Japan, but I always avoided peace education, and only went through the motions on Memorial Day. You see, if I spoke about the war, I would’ve had to remember Sayoko. So that’s how I made it to retirement. But shortly after I retired, there was that incident where three American soldiers raped an elementary school girl. I was immediately reminded of Sayoko. Reading about the incident in the newspaper or seeing reports on TV always reminded me of her. I couldn’t help thinking that in Okinawa, nothing’s changed, not even after fifty years. But at the same time, even though I tried to pretend that I’d forgotten Sayoko, I started to feel guilty about trying to forget the war. As a teacher, I should’ve spoken with my students about the Battle of Okinawa and the US military bases. Now that I’m retired, there’s nothing I can do about that, but I’ve spent the past ten years regretting my silence....
Fumi took a deep breath, turned around, and asked Yōichi to get the car. As Hisako watched him walk off, it occurred to her that Fumi’s last words were meant for him.
—Thanks for talking about your painful experiences.
—What painful experiences? Sayoko’s the one who’s had it rough. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been no better than the adults back then.
Hisako felt ashamed of her lighthearted words of thanks.
During the five-minute drive to the next location, the three were lost in their own reflections. Hisako watched the scenery outside the window while sometimes glancing over at Fumi, who was leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed. Compared to the black and white scenery of her memories, the green trees and colorful bougainvillea and hibiscus flowers seemed to be overflowing with vitality. Even so, she felt seized with the sensation that the island in her memory was now nothing more than an empty shell. She was glad to have heard Fumi’s account, but how would she be able to live with her memories of Sayoko? The question disconcerted her.
They drove along the coast, with the port visible on the opposite shore. Yōichi stopped the car in a vacant lot with several old abandoned cars. Fumi opened her eyes, nodded to Hisako, and jumped out of the car. Hisako ended up having to chase after her again. After walking four or five meters through tall grass, they soon reached the shore. Narrow concrete stairs led down a small slope and opened up to a gentle arc of steps about a hundred meters wide at the water’s edge. The sandy beach was gone.
—Is this it?
Fumi smiled wryly at Hisako’s question.
—Whenever I come here, I really feel disgusted at Okinawans. Even though it was small, this was a beautiful beach. As payback for accepting the US bases, they’ve been destroying the environment with public construction projects, and calling it stimulus for the local community. This beach was destroyed ten years ago. Some people opposed the construction and pointed out that the sea turtles would lose their spawning ground, but the campaign never got off the ground. I knew about the construction from the beginning. But that’s about the extent of my awareness. Besides the beach, we’ve also lost the screwpine thicket. The whole area’s changed beyond all recognition. I really can’t understand why we didn’t stop such a stupid project. But standing here like this, I can still picture what happened sixty years ago: how the Americans swam across from that port over there, came running up the beach here, and then carried Sayoko off to, uh ... I guess the screwpine thicket was over there, but it’s changed so much that I’m not sure.... You can remember, can’t you?
Following Fumi’s gaze, Hisako looked over and tried to picture a thicket of screwpine trees in the area covered with the terraced embankment. She then tried to picture several American soldiers carrying off a girl. But the concrete scenery seemed to plaster over what had happened here, leaving Hisako to fumble through her dim memories.
An old man with short gray hair was sitting on the steps watching the sea. His face, upper arms, and neck showed the dark complexion of one who’d spent
