In the Woods of Memory Read online

  —It’s Seiji, Chikashi muttered.

  Seiji was the boy who lived next door to Sayoko. Due to the glare of the setting sun reflecting off the water, they could only see the heads of the Americans, but Seiji was still close, so they could clearly see him moving through the water, with his harpoon dragging behind. Using a smooth breaststroke, Seiji circled around the soldiers until they were about halfway across the passageway. Then he changed course, moved into the ocean’s current, and closed in at a speed about twice as fast as before.

  The soldiers noticed Seiji when he was about thirty meters away. They treaded water and stared at him for a while, but then resumed their crawl strokes and continued heading toward the island. Seiji switched to a crawl stroke, too. When he was within four or five meters of the soldier taking up the rear, he dove beneath the surface.

  From the top of the cliff, Fumi and Chikashi watched with bated breath as Seiji glided through the clear water. As he passed beneath the soldier, he reeled in the cord tied to his waist and took the harpoon in hand. Then he thrust upward and shoved the harpoon into the man’s stomach. The man screamed and frantically tried to swim away. A second later, Seiji popped up out of the water and hurled the harpoon at the man’s back. But this time, he missed.

  One of the other soldiers swam over to help their wounded friend, and the other two swam at Seiji, who raised his harpoon to confront them. When one of them lunged at him, Seiji stabbed him in the shoulder. Fumi could hear the man’s scream even from the distance. The soldier latched onto the harpoon, and even though he was bleeding, refused to let go. Then the other soldier swam toward Seiji. A sudden flash of light revealed a knife in Seiji’s hand. As the weapon swung down, the soldier dodged and dove into the water. Next, Seiji waved the knife at the soldier bleeding from the shoulder. When the soldier let go of the harpoon, Seiji turned around and began swimming toward the island. The soldier that had been fended off with the knife resurfaced and started to give chase, but after swimming twenty meters or so, he apparently realized he’d never catch up and returned to his friends.

  The soldier who’d been stabbed in the stomach floated on his back with the help of one of his friends. Then the man who’d been stabbed in the shoulder joined them and helped, too. Meanwhile, the man who had chased Seiji swam toward the port and began waving and yelling for help. The soldiers at the port noticed that something was wrong and sprang into action. Seiji swam as fast as he could toward the island. He reached the rocks below the cliff before a rescue boat had even been launched from the port. After coming ashore, Seiji cut the cord tied to the harpoon and picked up his clothes, hidden near a rock. Then he dashed off along the rocks with his harpoon and clothes and disappeared into a thicket of trees.

  Transfixed, Fumi and Chikashi had watched the whole scene from beginning to end. When they could no longer see Seiji from the top of the cliff, they became frantic about getting to safety. The bell in the village had been ringing for quite some time.

  —Let’s get going, Chikashi said.

  Then he grabbed Fumi’s hand and started running. Too panicked to feel embarrassed, Fumi squeezed the older boy’s sweaty hand and ran as fast as she could. When they entered the village, they let go of each other’s hands and ran off to their respective homes. As Fumi dashed past the banyan tree, she saw about a dozen men from the village with sticks and hoes.

  —You’re late! scolded Fumi’s mother when Fumi entered their yard.

  From outside, Fumi could see her grandmother praying before the family altar. Fumi’s brothers were kneeling behind, giggling and mimicking her. Fumi’s grandfather, who’d been waiting in the yard, closed the front door behind Fumi as they entered the house. Fumi told her mother about what she’d witnessed. After hearing Fumi’s account, Fumi’s grandfather immediately dashed off to notify the other men. Fumi’s grandmother intensified her chanting, and the two boys stopped smiling. When Fumi saw the terrified look in their eyes, she went over and hugged them and patted them on their backs.

  The Americans showed up about half an hour later. Arriving in several jeeps and small trucks, the group of about twenty soldiers disembarked and readied their rifles.

  —Throw down your weapons! the interpreter screamed at the thirty men gathered near the banyan tree.

  The men hesitated, but then did as they were told. The interpreter was a man of Japanese descent in his mid-twenties. He ranted on about something, but Fumi couldn’t understand what he was saying. They’ve come to get Seiji, she thought. She could tell that the men were growing more and more upset as they listened.

  The soldier in charge said something to the interpreter, who then screamed at the village men. The men exchanged glances and started talking, but the interpreter yelled at them to be quiet. The squad leader gave an order, and the soldiers started moving. At the interpreter’s command, the village men followed.

  The Americans started searching the houses in the village. When Fumi saw five soldiers coming toward her house, she ran to her mother and clung to her. There was a violent knocking at the front door, and Fumi’s grandfather hurried to open it. The soldiers entered their house without even taking off their boots and spoke loudly as they searched every room. After they’d finished searching the pigsty outside and every nook and cranny of the small yard, they moved on to the next house. Terrified by the intrusion, Fumi’s grandfather knelt in the middle of the front room with his head hanging down. Fumi trembled in fear and buried her face in her grandmother’s bosom.

  Nobody left the house until Fumi’s father returned after dark. Fumi listened in on his conversation with her grandfather and found out what the Americans were doing. The soldiers had been divided into two groups: a group of about ten was searching the houses, one by one, while the other group was searching the surrounding woods. In the meantime, the leader and the interpreter were at the banyan tree questioning Seiji’s parents, the ward chief, and the head of civil defense. They were determined to find out whether Seiji had acted on his own or as part of a group.

  The village men had been forced to help the soldiers search the woods. Of course, they just pretended to cooperate, while secretly hoping that Seiji would escape. However, there were a limited number of places to hide, so if the Americans called in more men, they’d be sure to catch Seiji within two or three days. Everyone felt that his only way to escape was to swim across to the main island. But small US warships were constantly patrolling the area, so it wouldn’t be easy to get across undetected. Besides, as Fumi’s grandfather pointed out, they’d probably stationed troops along the shorelines.

  Fumi’s father mentioned that Seiji’s parents were completely terrified. Seiji’s mother had been crying and saying that the Americans would kill her son if they caught him. Seiji’s father had seemed to doubt whether their son could’ve done what he’d been accused of. The other men were surprised, too. Seiji was only seventeen, and even though he’d been toughened up from his work at sea, he still had a boyish face. Compared to his violent father, Seiji was meek and mild. No one could believe that the weak boy who’d been bullied to tears as a child had stabbed an American soldier with a harpoon. But according to his parents, Seiji had been away from home since early afternoon, and his prized harpoon was missing.

  As for the American soldiers, the one stabbed in the shoulder appeared to be fine, but the one stabbed in the stomach was in critical condition. One of the four had remembered Seiji from the internment camp, and the Japanese-American interpreter knew that Seiji had been in the Defense Corps and worked with the Japanese army.

  —He’s still just a child, isn’t he? said Fumi’s father.

  Fumi couldn’t tell if he spoke in admiration or in annoyance.

  —Well, I didn’t see the adults do anything, said Fumi’s grandfather.

  The comment caused Fumi’s father to fall silent.

  That night, the Americans set up a large tent near the banyan tree. A searchlight powered by a generator was trained onto the houses. The soldiers pat
rolled the village in pairs, while a soldier with a rifle stood at the tent on night duty. With the droning sound of the generator echoing through the village, and the intermittent footsteps and voices of soldiers, Fumi couldn’t sleep.

  A full-scale search started early the next morning. Just like the day before, the men of the village were forced to cooperate. The women and children felt uneasy about the presence of the Americans, but they couldn’t stay locked up inside all day. If they didn’t tend to the crops, draw water, and cut grass for the goats, they’d have no way to live.

  During her many trips to the spring to fill her family’s water jar, Fumi wondered whether the American stabbed in the stomach would survive. She pictured the red blood spreading through the clear greenish-blue water and the wounded soldier holding his stomach. She assumed that Seiji would be executed if the soldier died. She also pictured Seiji coming ashore and dashing across the rocks with his harpoon. Where was he hiding? And did Sayoko hear about what he’d done?

  Since the attack at the beach, Sayoko and Tamiko had stayed confined in their home and hadn’t shown their faces. Their parents worked in the fields, but no one dared ask about Sayoko. Fumi quickened her steps whenever she passed Tamiko’s house. When she pictured Sayoko and Tamiko in the back room, her throat tightened, her breathing became labored, and her eyes filled with tears. During the search the day before, the Americans must’ve entered Sayoko and Tamiko’s house, too. How did the two girls react when the soldiers threw open the door, entered the house in their boots, and started yelling?

  When her mother called, Fumi realized that she’d been daydreaming. She picked up the water jar and started to head home. For some reason, the villagers were filing out of their homes and heading toward the woods.

  —The Americans, explained Fumi’s mother, threw poisonous gas into the cave where Seiji’s hiding.

  Then she stared into the distance with a terrified look. Fumi’s knees shook and she grew restless. Taking her mother’s hand, Fumi headed to the woods with the other villagers to witness what was happening.

  SEIJI [1945]

  The moonlight filtering down into the cave began to flicker, and the shadows on the wall changed into crouching beasts. Then the figures quivered and turned into American soldiers, slouched over their guns. When they started to move forward, Seiji got down on one knee, readied his harpoon, and yelled in a threatening voice:

  —You think I’m gonna let you damn Americans take me prisoner? Well, come and get me! I’ll rip the guts out of every last one of you!

  He lunged out at the soldier in the lead and felt his harpoon plunging into a mud-like substance. Then he heard a moan and felt a weight on the end of the shaft. The form collapsed to the ground, and the figures in the rear retreated. As Seiji plunged his harpoon into the writhing body a second and a third time, he could hear the screams of the American who’d been swimming in the ocean. He could once more see the long-limbed body cutting through the glittering light, which filtered down from the surface. Seiji pictured himself thrusting upward with his harpoon. He had missed the heart, but he knew he’d done some serious damage to the stomach. The iron head, which he’d sharpened with all his hatred, penetrated the flesh and ripped into the internal organs. But a single thrust hadn’t been enough. Suffer and die, you bastard! Seiji had wanted to thrust a second and third time, tear the stomach into shreds, and scatter the guts into the sea, but he’d been prevented from finishing the job. Do you bastards think we’ll let you do whatever the hell you want on our island? I’ll feed your damn American blood and guts to the sharks. He had failed at sea, and now, all that frustration went into the harpoon thrusting into the rocky floor of the cave. Suddenly, the sparks shooting up from each blow startled him, and Seiji stood still, confused. The Americans were nowhere to be seen.

  Breathing heavily, Seiji sat down and gave his body to the embrace of the chilly air of the cave. Though he had goose bumps, sweat rose on his forehead and dribbled down his neck. The sweat felt like blood, so he wiped it away with the back of his hand and sniffed. The sticky substance had a putrid smell, so he moved toward the opening of the cave to check his sinewy hand under the blue-tinged light. As he did so, he noticed a mass of crabs jostling against one another at the bottom of the cave. Scared that they’d claw at his flesh and start gnawing their way up from his toes, he scurried to a nearby rock. Just then, he heard a voice inside his head.

  What’re you afraid of? Compared to those blown up during the American bombing, you’re lucky to be alive! Blood churned inside Seiji’s skull. In agony, he dropped the harpoon, fell to his knees, and clutched his head. Mom! Please help me! Please protect me! he repeated again and again. He pressed his hands together and prayed to his mother, who gazed back at him with eyes on the verge of tears. I’m fighting all by myself, Mom! Sorry for being such a lousy son! Rubbing his palms together, Seiji lifted his head. The dull blue light cascading down into the cave fell on his face. He looked outside. The wind carried the warm scents of the woods and the ocean. Such air could eliminate his pain and calm his emotions. Seiji opened his mouth wide, sucked in a deep breath of the night air, and listened attentively to the sound of the rhythmical rushing beyond the hum of the woods.

  It was the sound of the waves, which he knew came from the ocean, glimmering in the shadow of the trees. Ever since he was a kid, the ocean was where he’d always gone fishing with his father, who was an uminchu, a man of the ocean. Normally, the sensations of the waves never left Seiji’s body, even when he returned to land. But now the ocean seemed so far away. You have defiled the pure ocean with the American’s blood! said an accusing voice from above. Instinctively, Seiji dropped to his knees and put his hands together. God of the Sea! God of the Land! God of the Village! Please forgive me! What I did was for the village. I couldn’t let the Americans destroy everything. I had to protect our women. Please forgive me! He bowed again and again and again. The voice laughed. You? Protect the village?

  Kiyokazu and Munenori were saying goodbye to their families, just before heading off to join the Blood and Iron Student Corps. Few students from the island had been able to get into junior high school, and these two talented young men, who’d succeeded in everything since they were little, had always made fun of the dummy, who’d often missed school to help his father. However, Seiji never bore a grudge and even looked upon them with awe. As they headed off to the harbor, he said to them:

  —You guys can, uh, go and fight with the army for the Emperor, okay? I’ll stay here and, uh, protect the village.

  They sneered at his words, and then spit out:

  —You? Protect the village? Don’t make us laugh!

  —Yeah! And what a hick! When are you going to learn to speak standard Japanese? You’re Japanese, aren’t you?

  Seiji felt overwhelmed with shame. But the more he’d tried to use the standard dialect, the more tongue-tied and flustered he’d become. Over the years, the problem had only grown worse. As the two headed off, Seiji could do nothing but hang his head.

  But even if he couldn’t speak the standard dialect the way he wished, he would’ve done anything for Japan, the Emperor, and the war effort. As a member of the defense forces on the island, he had planned to die alongside the Japanese forces fighting the Americans. During the day, he worked building encampments and digging ditches. At night, he went to sea whenever he could get permission and caught fish and octopuses for the men, who were quite pleased to receive the extra food. When Second Lieutenant Sakaguchi, a young man in his mid-twenties, expressed his thanks, Seiji snapped to attention and stood as straight as an arrow—in complete silence. Instead, he whispered to himself, It’s the least I can do.

  Seiji had sworn to himself that when the Americans landed, he’d kill as many of them as possible, and that when all hope was lost, he’d grab a grenade and throw himself into a tank. Some of the Japanese soldiers laughed at Seiji for standing at attention, saluting, and saying yes, sir! to every single order. But others praised him
for proving himself through his actions—in spite of his awkwardness and inarticulateness. Seiji had always been scolded at home and at school, so he was happy to hear this praise, and he resolved to completely devote himself to the Japanese army. He was thrilled that a mere fisherman like himself could fight on behalf of the Emperor alongside Japanese soldiers. After his death, he wanted to be remembered as a true Japanese—as a man of action, not of words. And yet...

  Seiji heard some rocks falling behind him and quickly readied his harpoon.

  —Who’s there!

  His voice echoed through the cave. It occurred to him that the figures lurking in the darkness with their rifles were searching for him. He hid behind a nearby rock and held his breath. This time, he thought, I won’t miss. He strained his bloodshot eyes.

  —Stay low and thrust into the solar plexus with all your strength!

  Again and again, his teacher had shouted this at him as they practiced spearing the effigy of Roosevelt with their wooden guns during military training. Conscious that his classmates were stifling their laughter, Seiji tried to give a spirited yell, but his voice convulsed into a high-pitched squeak. The teacher clicked his tongue and struck Seiji on the back with his bamboo sword. The blow didn’t hurt at all compared to his father’s punches, but tears of vexation welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought that he was a failure not only in his studies but also in repulsing the enemy. Pretending to wipe away his sweat, he dried his eyes with the back of his hand and then thrust into the straw-stuffed effigy with the full weight of his body.

  No one’s gonna make a fool of me again! I’ll fight against the Americans, even if it’s all by myself! I’m not afraid to die! he told himself as he stared into the darkness. Don’t talk crazy! The war is over! said his mother’s scolding voice. The war’s not over, Mom! Japan couldn’t lose to America! At these words, Seiji’s mother stared aghast. You still don’t understand? All the Japanese soldiers were put in the internment camp. You saw them there yourself, didn’t you? she said. Then she added, And didn’t you hear? The Emperor surrendered, too. And they cut off his head! She lifted up a white object for him to see. The severed head she clutched by the hair had a blank, expressionless face. Seiji recoiled from the sight in fear. Mom! What’re you doing?! he screamed. The Japanese army’ll arrest you as a spy! But his mother laughed and walked toward him, the Emperor’s head dangling from her hand. Oh, I get it! thought Seiji. This isn’t my real mother. She’d never do something like this. These damned Americans are trying to trick me.