Honoka was considered by those around her to be a strong and well-composed person. She never let her stress get the better of her in high school or university exams, she kept as quiet as she could during the eye-watering pains of childbirth, even during the panic of the chemical attack on the Tokyo subway some six and a half years ago she kept as calm as she could. Now, too, she was putting on a brave face and trying to console both her terrified daughter and her shell-shocked, guilt-ridden husband. But right now, it would not be inaccurate to say that Honoka was feeling very anxious and deeply afraid for the people she loved most dearly.
Most people do not expect to turn on the ten o'clock news and see the city square their husband works in the site of some horrendous plane crash.None expect to then see another plane fly intentionally, at high speed, right into their husband's office floor. When she first saw one of the towers burning, she immediately feared the worst for Chikao, calling him to see if he was alright. Mercifully, it was the north tower that had been struck, so evacuation was underway to get everyone in his office out and away from the dangerous fire that had broken out from the crash. Everyone thought that would be the end of it. A strange and terrible accident, perhaps.
Much as she would rather her daughter had remained upstairs soundly asleep, it was in some way relieving to place her hand upon the girl's head and comfort her as she sat trying to make sense of these horrendous events.
If there was any doubt after the second tower had been hit with another plane, the news at about 23:40 that the Pentagon, headquarters of the United States Department of Defence, had been hit with a third plane confirmed that this was no tragic accident, but a deliberate and carefully-planned act of terrorism. Hundreds of people were dead counting passengers and crew alone, and who knows how many more were injured or at risk of death in the buildings stricken or on the streets of Manhattan.
Honoka recalled an old English rhyme about magpies that she had seen in a book her neighbour Yukari read with her over tea a couple of months ago. "One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral and four for birth." She was reminded of it again later into the night when it was reported that a plane had crashed into a field in the state of Pennsylvania, seemingly brought down before it could hit its intended target, whatever that might have been. Sorrow was certainly the order of the day, but there would be far more than a single funeral on this occasion.