いとしいこと

Previous   TOC Afterword Thank you very much for picking up this book. This work had once gone out of print, and considering the current state of the publishing world where even releasing new works is a challenge, I am deeply grateful to Chara Bunko for reissuing it in paperback form. This opportunity is thanks to those who initially discovered and supported my work, to those who continued to express their desire to read it and recommend it even after it left circulation, and to everyone who believed me when I vaguely said, “I’ll figure something out eventually,” and patiently waited. I’m so glad to finally bring it to you. Truly, thank you. Regarding the 1945 Series , which includes this story, I had received offers from several publishers to reissue it. However, I hesitated for a long time, and I’d like to explain why. The first reason is that it belongs to a genre where dates and people are easily identifiable. Given the historical context of a period in which many lives were lo...

Previous   TOC   Next Memories Rui Asamura often thought that Rabaul wasn’t so bad. Aside from the local inhabitants, the only people around were soldiers. Sure, the other soldiers would still whisper behind his back about his blue eyes or fling cowardly insults like, “Go jump into the crater, Yankee!” as they passed him. But that didn’t bother him anymore. They’re just jealous because they can’t outperform me. Even though they flew the same planes in the same skies, some of them still had the audacity to talk about “fair play” when their scores didn’t match his. The job was simple: fight the Allied forces and defend the Empire and its homeland. The real measure of one’s worth, however, was the number of enemy planes shot down. It didn’t matter if the planes were flown by Americans, Italians, Frenchmen, or even dogs or monkeys. The mission was to shoot down anything that wasn’t Japanese and tally the score. That was all. Yes, there were swarms of mosquitoes, relentless heat ...

Previous   TOC   Next The Moon and the Pocket Watch Tetsuo Mikami still lives with the pocket watch left behind by his dearest companion. The watch resides in a blue velvet-lined kiri wood box that Mikami purchased with his bonus during the fourth year after the war. It rests on his desk in the Western-style room he uses as a study. The study has a large window through which the moonlight streams, and it had become Mikami’s routine to sit by that desk and gaze at the watch under the pale glow of the moon. Once the crescent moon passed its peak, no other light was needed. The room filled with a serene, cold glow, and when Mikami tilted the watch in his hand, the moonlight would gently reflect off the crystal face. “...It’s not just sadness—it’s longing,” he murmured. Even though his words to the watch were technically soliloquies, with no one around to judge him, Mikami freely spoke aloud. He believed Rui lived within the watch. Perhaps he lingers in the crevices of its parts, ...

Previous   TOC   Next Glory to the Faint Star Mikami had never attended a postwar reunion, primarily because he feared it would make Rui’s death feel definitive. He also didn’t want to hear any more about Rui from others—gossip about his family, derogatory remarks, or anything that might tarnish the memory of the man he had known. For Mikami, the Rui he had spent time with was the beginning and the end of it all; nothing else mattered. The first time Mikami decided to attend something resembling a reunion wasn’t solely because Kido’s son had given him that fateful letter. It was also because Mikami had finally come to terms with Rui’s death. He had reached a place where even if Rui’s name came up in conversation, he could hold it in his heart as a cherished memory. This gathering was a small, informal reunion of mechanics who had served during the war, mostly those stationed in the South Pacific. Almost everyone there was familiar to Mikami, not close friends, but familiar eno...

Previous   TOC   Next Supplies from the mainland had been completely cut off for some time. Rabaul, isolated after the Allied forces seized the naval base at Truk Islands to the north, had lost control of both the seas and skies southward. Naval ships could no longer traverse the area, and even aircraft that managed to slip through enemy lines were of little use. There were no weapons, no ammunition—and no food. Mikami’s leg had begun to recover. Though the area around his ankle was still deeply gouged and his joint nearly immobile, a thin layer of skin had formed over the wound, and new tissue was beginning to fill in. The military doctor had said it would likely heal completely, provided he kept it clean and wrapped in bandages to prevent flies from infecting it. Every time Mikami wrapped his leg in the bandages Rui had given him, his chest ached. What could he be doing now? He tried to imagine, but his thoughts never took shape. The malnutrition was the worst of it. His mi...