Kamikaze Ami
a short story by Amikawaiidesu
(from the universe of Sailormoon, which I don't own.)
It was a sunny spring day in 1995 when Tsukino Usagi joined her friend Mizuno Ami for a bullet-train trip to Hiroshima. Ami was most interested in the tragic history of the city ~ important for a paper she was planning on writing for her senior year ~ but neither girl could deny the modern sight of a beautiful city of millions, amidst cherry blossoms nestled among the shelter of nearby hills. But Hiroshima was too far away from those hills, Ami thought, to be shielded from the nuclear fire in 1945.
Curiously, even the gregarious outgoing Usagi was taken aback in the Peace Park ~ the shattered shell of Atom Dome, Memorial Mound ~ home of 70,000 unclaimed dead ~ or the thousand cranes of Sasaki Sadako. A girl who dreamed of folding a thousand cranes before she died, Sadako fell short as leukemia took her life in 1955; however, others, in their legions, fulfilled her dream many times over.
"This is a sad place, a terrible place," Usagi said, when they came upon the Ota River. "I think I want to go home."
"But don't you want to see Kure?" Ami asked. It was only 27 km ~ scarcely an hour by train.
"No, you go," Usagi said tearfully; "I feel so many souls here ~ so much death. This is sacred ground ~ but thank you for inviting me."
"I really wanted to see the Yamato Museum..." Ami admitted.
"And you should!" Usagi said. "It's just, all a bit much for me."
And so Ami took her leave from Usagi at the station and caught another train south to Kure. Her mother had already arranged for Ami (and Usagi) to have a hotel nearby, but Ami would make a point of refunding her mother for Usagi's portion.
Alonmg the way through the green hiils near Kure, Ami felt guilty for not returning to Tokyo with usagi. Yet she had not felt quite the same overwhelming sadness Usagi had in Hiroshima, and her mother had spent quite a bit to let the girls enjoy this inter-year break and she determined to apologize to Usagi later ~ after first enjoying a visit to the Kure Maritime History Science Museum. And indeed it was magnificent; Japan was an island nation, after all, and Kure was a heart of her seafaring culture. Not least among her exhibits was a 10th scale model of IJN Yanmato ~ once largest and most fearsome of all battleships to ever sail the sea. 263 meters long , over 70,000 tonnes displacement, she was once the embodiment of Japan, indeed namesake of the ancient Yamato Province. It even amazed Ami that her model would dwarf many real-life tugboats or lesser harbor vessels.
Yet 3000 men died on that ship, Ami thought; leaning on the transparent handrail to the model's starboard side. Today, Yamato was best known perhaps as inspiration for Uchuu Senkan Yamato ~ that perennial anime and live-action favorite ~ but Ami was reminded of Usagi as she thought about the horrors of Hiroshima. Surely, Yamato had a proud crew, and they would sooner sell their lives dearly than surrender, but could she not imagine such young men only wishing they could see their homes and families one more time?
"Excuse me, Miss?"
Ami turned to see a rather short old man in a grey coat with a scar across his forehead.
"Konnichiwa," Ami said, giving an honorific bow.
"Konnichiwa. Do you know me?"
"I'm afraid I don't. Should I, sir?"
The man gave a slight smile, and produced a silver boatswain's whistle.
"You gave this to me, long ago."
Ami accepted the whistle in her hands; it bore a distinctive engraving of an anchor and attach-point for a chain, and an odd curve where perhaps it had been bent, but she had never seen such a thing in her life.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't accept something that does not belong to me."
Still the man smiled, then clutched his chest as he slumped to the marble floor.
"Tasukete!" Ami exclaimed, hurrying to check the man's pulse. "Tasukete kudasai!"
Ami threw back the man's coat to expose his chest to prepare CPR, but other hands were soon upon her ~ museum guards pulling her back to apply oxygen and an automated external defribillator. Ami felt almost sick as she wished she could help, yet fascinated by a procedure she had never seen in person. ("clear!" a guard announced, followed by compressions and then another shock "clear!"). But it was too late; the man was dead.
Then a police officer arrived, and determined the man's identity from his wallet, Yoshihara Terou, age 70. The officer also took a statement from Ami.
"I didn't know the man," Ami said, offering the whistle, "but he gave me this."
"An old navy whistle," the officer said; "curious. But you might as well hang onto it for now."
Ami then told the officer where she'd be staying that night, and only wished she would reach the hotel before Usagi was home. In a time before modern cell phones, she couldn't even reach her friend to share the freakish moment of death with her best friend.
With no appetite to speak of, Ami withdrew to a bed far too large for her slight frame whilst a most ironic episode of Uchuu Senkan Yamato played. It was all a bit much; Kodai Susumu and Commander Okita disputing some minor point en route to Iscandar. Ami then turned off the television and rolled over with the boatswain's whistle still in her hands, wondering if this whole trip had been a mistake.
* * * * *
Salt and sea breeze ~ Ami awoke to find herself surrounded by walls of steel with wooden planking and a handrail just beyond.
"What in the world?" a young sailor exclaimed. "There's a girl here!"
Another young sailor joined her, pulling Ami to her feet.
"Alert the captain! We've got to get her ashore!"
"Are you someone's girl?" the first sailor asked.
"What? No, I'm nobody's girl; I'm only 16 years old!"
The sailor immediately let go of Ami, whereupon the former sailor returned with a person with a serious-looking dark blue uniform and peaked cap. Ami took him to be a petty officer based on her knowledge of the modern-day Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force.
"Idiots," the petty officer said, "we can't set anyone ashore; Yamato just cleared Tokuyama an hour ago!"
Not presently in anyone's arms, Ami moved to the handrail and saw a most remarkable sight: a light cruiser of wartime vintage, and a number of destroyers making spray from their bows as they set out to sea. As for the ship Ami herself was aboard, she turned around to see a tower of armor soaring more than 40 meters into the sunny sky, before which stood triple 155 mm guns and the first of two tiple 460 mm guns, largest ever installed aboard any battleship. Just aft, flags bearing the rising sun fluttered from her radio mast, just abaft her single smokestack.
"Come back here!" the petty officer said, pulling Ami back from the railing; "civilians are not permitted to see our operations!"
"Is this not Yamato, 1945?" Ami asked. "That cruiser must be Yahagi, and is that destroyer Asashimo?"
The petty officer appeared gobsmacked, but summoned his whistle at once to call for a nearby detail of the Special Police Corps.
"Tbis girl is a spy! Throw her in the brig pending execution!"
"With respect, only Captain Aruga can authorize summary execution."
However, the police commander and his men did perform a discreet search, finding Ami's transformation stick and boatswain's pipe.
"What is this?" the officer spoke of the transformation stick. "A device for signalling the Americans?"
Ami affected no understanding.
"Namae wa nanidesuka?"
Again, Ami affected not to understand.
"But I think this is mine," said one of the sailors, taking the bent boatswain's pipe. Only then did Ami recognize his short stature, and scar across his forehead.
"Surely you should keep a better eye on that." said the petty officer.
"Shazai shimazu, Commander," the sailor said, bowing to his superior.
Presently, Ami found herself in a windowless cell belowdecks. Finding a bunk with a simple blanket, Ami thought to fall asleep and awake from this dream, but instead woke to hear the food slot creak as rice and mizo soup were introduced.
"Little girl," a voice said from beyond the slot, "what is your name?"
Ami recognized the voice of the little boatswain's mate.
"If I didn't respond to your commander; why should I respond to you?"
"I'm not one of the Special Police. I'm just a sailor. But you're not illiterate; I heard you recognize Yahagi, Asashimo, and this very ship we are on."
Very cautiously, Ami reached for the rice and began to eat it with disposable hashi. She was hungier than she thought.
"Mizuno," Ami said, reaching for the soup, "Mizuno Ami."
"Mizu...water?"
Ami smiled slightly as she continued drinking the soup.
"You might say, I am 'a friend of water'."
Indeed, it was a fair translation of her name's meaning.
"My name is Terou," the sailor replied.
"Seaman Terou, what day is this?"
Terou responded in formal Japanese.
"Senkyu hyaku yon-ju-go toshi, shi gatsu ~ or I think you Americans would say April 1, 1945."
"I'm not American," Ami said with some amusement; "I was born in Tokyo; I've never even left Japan."
"What are you?" Terou asked Ami though the slot. "Are you a mermaid?"
"No."
"Mizuno-san, I'm frightened. They say we are sailing on a suicide mission."
"Is there someone you care for in the homeland?"
"I have an elderly father and mother, and an invalid sister. I would return to them, but it is dishonor to abandon one's post."
"Terou-san," Ami said, grasping the sides of the food grate, "this war will be over in the span of four months. Nuclear fire will rain on Japan ~ cities will burn and untold thousands will die ~ and His Majesty will prevail upon us to endure what is unendurable.
"But this ship will not last a week. She will die with nearly every man aboard."
Terou backed up against the nearby bulkhead, fear in his eyes.
"Are you a witch?"
"I am no witch; some circumstance has caught me here ~ perhaps my reluctance to embrace my friend in her sadness when we saw the fields of nuclear fire. But mark me, United States Navy Avengers and Helldivers will leave this ship a burning, sinking wreck before she ever comes within sight of Okinawa."
* * * * *
Days passed, days upon days, and Ami began to contemplate how it would end. Fatally compromised by her poorly-designed watertight compartments, Yamato would take a stong list to port after multiple torpedo hits, and Ami could imagine water flooding her cell as the ship rolled inexoriably to her doom. That lay still days in the future, but even a friend of water could not endure as the goliath draggered her into the depths.
"Mizuno-san!"
Ami woke to the distant sound of a familiar voice, Terou.
"Date?" Ami asked weakly.
"It is April 7," Seaman Terou said, working quickly with his keys, "but you must come quickly!"
Ami stumbled from darkness into topside morning light, but nobody seemed to notice her or Terou as he conducted her aft, past the mighty superstructure, aft 155 and 460 mm mounts, past antiaircraft mounts to a dark tunnel just ahead of the fantail.
"Here is escape," Terou said, activating the engines of a small boat at the battleship's stern, Whereas all other lifeboats were foresaken for her suicide mission, this was only one of two that remained aboard.
No, you must come with me!" Ami said.
"Death before dishonor," Seaman Terou said, launching Ami and the small boat into the churning wake of Yamato.
Mere moments later, Ami was aware of a strange hum all around in the clouds above. Corsairs, Hellcats and Helldcivers were descending from the clouds amidst a hail of tracer bullets; Yamato's superstructure was set alight, her decks awash in blood, yet she maintained her course and speed. Then the second wave, not least of all dozens of Avenger torpedo bombers. Twisting and turning desperately, even sending up beehive shells from her main guns, Yamato staggered as three torpedoes sent up jets of water on her port side. She began to list, and Ami couldn't help but think of Seaman Terou.
Yet the Americans weren't done; even as Yamto continued to roll to port, more explosions wrecked her upper works while more torpedoes worsened her flooding. Now Ami knew she had no choice but to cover her head as Yamato's ammunition magazines burned without power for damage control. Her magazines detonated with unbelievable force, sending shockwaves through Ami and rocking her fragile boat. Flaming chunks of metal, and bits of bodies then fell about Ami.
"Usagi, I'm sorry!" Ami cried. "Please let me go home!"
More debris fell and splattered around Ami, before she felt a warm blnket embrace her.
"Usagi?"
"You must have had a terrible dream,"Usagi said; she was in her pajamas now, her long twin-tails loose and hair free.
Ami was startled; where once was blood and gore, storm and fury, now she was surrounded by subtle pastel hues around a queen-size bed; beyond, tranquil Hiroshima Harbor at dusk.
"Usagi? I thought you had gone back to Tokyo."
Usagi looked surprised.
"Ami-chan, your mother booked this hotel room for both of us. Why would I leave you?"
"I'm sorry ~ I thought the Peace Park was a bit much for you."
"Well, it was, but look today at the prospering city, and this prosperous country. It was kind of you to invite me for this journey."
Ami wasn't sure what to say, but fell still clothed against Usagi. Only then did she notice something odd in a pocket of her pleated skirt.
"What is that?" Usagi asked, when Ami pulled it forth.
"A boatswain's whistle," Ami said, with a bitter smile. "It belonged...to a friend of mine." Her transformation stick, also, was there; could this all have been a dream?
Usagi seemed confused; for all her love of the sea, Ami had never been a sailor nor knew any sailors that Usagi knew of. Yet the next morning, ere they boarded a train to Tokyo, Ami insisted that they visit the vast dock in Kure designed to accommodate the battleship Yamato, into which waters she dropped the boatswain's whistle.
"May your souls rest in peace," Ami said.
"Who was your friend?" Usagi asked.
Ami began to cry, wiped a tear and then more fell.
"I'm sorry," Ami said; "I don't have enough tears to cry for all those men."
"And you were worried Hiroshima would be too much for me."
Ami was touched by the irony, wiping her eyes with both forearms.
"Shall we go home now? I think your mother will be missing you."
Indeed, better to think first of the living.
"Yes," Ami said, taking Usagi arm-in-arm as they returned to the train station.