Japan—Gashadokuro [World War II, 1939-1945]
Gachi gachi...
A dreadful clatter which makes Japan stop and the night turn freezing cold and darker.
Gachi gachi...
There it is, the silhouette in the sky, too big to ignore. Too big to face.
The only thing he can do is run.
Gachi gachi...
That dreadful clatter behind his back, chasing him. Because they have spotted him and won't let him go.
Gachi gachi...
He can't hide, he can't escape, though he sure tries. He knows better than to try to distract the gigantic, insensitive chaser, but he attempts It anyway, because it's horrible to look at and even worse to face. All for naught, because behind his back, in the silence of the night, he still hears the rattle of the rotten bones, the rattling teeth.
Gachi gachi...
Japan knows what they want. He suspects what they are. The bones of thousands of people unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with him and his men, all together, screaming for justice. It could be true that it is in his hands to give them what they want. But he is scared. He feels completely unable to stop, turn around and look into their empty eyes. It is unsure that it is in his hands to help them, it could be a trick, they could eat me alive anyway—that's what he says to himself. So he doesn't even try. He flees—or rather attempts to.
Gachi gachi...
It was not my fault!, he shouts in desperation. We were at war! Everyone did that sort of things and worse! What I did, all the others did it! It was necessary! I was different back then! And if I did have some fault in it...didn't I pay it largely? But the dead don't accept excuses. That fleshless face shows no signs of understanding all those reasons. The rattle goes on:
Gachi gachi...
He did it all very consciously so and mercilessly, why should they show that compassion they were denied?
Japan is cornered. The chase ends here. The gigantic skeleton leans forward to look at him from close. Those old bones shake with the excitement of the hunt, the empty sockets fix on him, like enjoying his terror—black pits Japan falls into.
Hands big enough to crush him. Teeth which can surely bite his head off very easily. They approach for him to see both, increasing his terror, a terror they seem to find pleasant. He let his men prolong the agony, and they will do the same.
The Gashadokuro opens its big jaw, like in a silent scream, making Japan cower.
Give us peace or we will take yours.
Gachi, gachi..., clatter the mistreated bones.