by KatiKat
The war started months ago but until this
afternoon, it has been just a headline in the newspaper for us, a thing that
one discusses in the history classes and not a subject one experiences for
themselves.
When the first planes appeared in the sky,
the school master ordered us to hide in this underground bunker. We have been
trained in the art of war, to fight and to protect, but the school could not
afford to let the students come to harm, not when many of them were the sons,
grandsons and nephews of the most influential families in the world.
We have been sitting here in the dimly lit
cellar for what seems like hours. But even through the thick concrete walls we
can hear the rumble of plane engines and the whining of bombs; and when one
hits its target, the ground shakes, the thunder echoes through the vast space
of the bunker and dust from the ceiling showers down on our heads.
I can see Camus trying to calm down the
little ones. Some of them are crying and calling for their parents, huddling
together like frightened birds. The older students are walking back and forth
between the pillars supporting the ceiling and tons of concrete, bricks and
earth above us. Ed and Orpherus are sitting by the wall, talking silently.
But my attention is held by the young man
lying next to me on a mattress. When the first bombs fell from the sky, their
target was the dormitory of our school. Ten or so students were hurt by falling
bricks and the mortar and stones that exploded in every direction. Some of them
were caught in the explosion itself. And one of them was Naoji.
When we brought the injured in, the nurse already
had half of the infirmary down here. We set the mattresses on the ground, which
was much safer considering how badly the ground shook under our feet, and laid
the boys down on them. A small eternity seems to have passed since the moment
we shut the steel door behind us.
And now, I sit on the mattress next to my
friend and hold his hand gently in mine. He is lying on his left side, propped
on a pillow that's supporting his shoulder blades to relieve the pressure on his
injury. A piece of shrapnel caught him just under the ribs on his right side
and went straight through him. The nurse undressed him to his breeches so I can
see the white bandage around his midriff and the red stain on it that has already
soaked through. There is another dressing on his head where a piece of masonry
hit him, rendering him unconscious and giving him a bad concussion.
I watch as he blinks sluggishly, his eyes
unfocused, face pale. The nurse advised me not to let him fall asleep since the
concussion could cause him to fall in a coma. And thus every time he closes his
eyes and seems to drift off, I lay my hand on his cheek to bring him back.
I tap his face and say quietly: "Hey,
don't fall asleep on me."
He licks his dry lips but does open his
eyes in the end. I release his hand and reach for a cup of water to let him sip
it. He squints and moans silently, as he moves his head on the thin pillow obviously
in pain.
"Cold," he whispers and a
shudder runs through him.
The nurse who was just passing by at the
moment must have heard his complaint for in moments she was back and handed me
a gray blanket. Not very soft one but clean and warm. I shook it out and
covered my shaking friend gently. He sighed in relief and snuggled down
carefully.
I reclaimed his hand and noticing that he
was about to drift away again, I said: "Tell me about your home."
He furrowed his thin black brow slightly
and turned his unfocused gaze to me. "Huh?"
"Tell me about Japan. About your
home. You seem to miss it terribly."
He frowns and licks his lips again, then
croaks out: "Our house... stands on a grassy hill... the view is... so
beautiful... like the landscape from a fairy tale..." He takes a deeper
breath but grimaces as he pulls the wound in his side. "My... my
grandfather... had a garden... in the back... sand... and stones... and green
bushes... I used to... play there... a lot." His voice breaks at the end
of the sentence and his eyes fill with tears. He is at the end of his
proverbial tether and all his defenses are down. What is left is the vulnerable
core of his being, laid open for the world to see.
I don't say anything, just reach out and
lay my hand on his cheek, caressing it gently. There is another whining sound,
followed by a deep rumble. The whole bunker shakes and the roar of the
explosion almost deafens us. That was very close.
Naoji moans as the din echoes through his
aching head. He closes his eyes tightly, so tightly that two silvery tears
escape from underneath his lids. He squeezes my hand, his knuckles white with
pressure. And when the silence reigns around us once again, a small sob escapes
him.
He looks at me, subdued and depressed, but
still a touch annoyed with himself for this little show of humanity and I'm
sure that once he is healed and healthy again, he will feel embarrassed about
this. But that will come later. Now he asks me in the voice of a small boy who
needs a reassurance: "I will see Japan again, won't I?"
I smile, an expression that's most unusual
for my stern face, and clasp his hand in both of mine. "Of course you
will. And I will come with you. You will show me everything and introduce me to
the right people. You will stay by my side and together we will achieve great
things. Japan will lay at your feet."
The corners of his pale lips curl up
slightly, obviously content with the picture I have drawn for him.
"But now, tell me more," I go
on, the necessity of keeping him awake still on my mind. "What are the
people in Japan like?"
And as he takes a breath and whispers the
answers to my questions, another bomb whizzes over our heads and hits its
target with bang, leaving ruins and destroyed lives behind. I caress the
knuckles on his hand and shut the outer world out.
Just for this short moment, it's just me
and Naoji in the whole universe. And the future? We will see. There is still
Japan waiting for us...
The End