Record of Lorelei: Chapter 17
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 enough to share war stories with. “Comrades who shared the same
rice pot”—what an apt phrase, Mikami thought with quiet amusement.
The day was divided into two parts, a daytime
program and an evening session. Mikami joined the daytime activities, which
included a visit to Yasukuni Shrine followed by lunch at a traditional
restaurant. Those with time to spare planned to continue into the evening,
visiting Asakusa and staying up late at a ryokan to reminisce.
“Rui Asamura—he was promoted to Ensign
posthumously, wasn’t he?” someone said during the lunch.
Mikami nodded. Two months after Rui’s fateful
mission, once the period for declaring missing-in-action soldiers as deceased
had passed, Kido and a man named Etou from the mainland had recommended Rui for
a special commendation. Mikami hadn’t been aware at the time, but they had
recognized Rui’s extraordinary achievements in combat. Rui’s skill as a pilot
had placed him among the ranks of the most accomplished, and the commendation
elevated him to Ensign. It was a posthumous honor—no medals or financial compensation,
as there were no surviving family members to receive them—just a symbolic
promotion on paper. Rui would have laughed bitterly, calling it “a death
worth dying for.”
While talking about maintenance with the
mechanic seated beside him, the conversation drifted to Rui.
“Yes, Asamura,” Mikami said. “Do you remember
him?”
The man, an affable mechanic named Ono, nodded
firmly. “How could I forget?”
Of course, Mikami thought with a smile. Those
eyes, that voice. Rui hadn’t been particularly social, but anyone who had
known him would find him impossible to forget. Even among the eccentric fighter
pilots, Rui had stood out as distinctly different.
Mikami shared the news of Rui’s likely death.
He had long assumed there was no one else who might be waiting for a
notification canceling Rui’s reported death. Rui hadn’t been the kind of man to
be celebrated widely, even among the ranks of skilled pilots who had died in
battle.
That’s when Ono said something unexpected.
“The last person to see First Class Petty
Officer Asamura off was me,” Ono confessed. “Do you remember? I was the one who
swapped in for you, Mikami, when you were hospitalized with that injury.”
The revelation startled Mikami, but he had
prepared himself for this possibility.
“I was the one who attached the part to
Asamura’s plane. I knew you always removed it, but…”
Someone had to have been the mechanic who
affixed the part to Rui’s plane. Mikami had always known that if such a person
came forward, he wouldn’t blame them. That part wasn’t attached unless Rui
explicitly ordered it. At that time, the pilots were so cornered that few
mechanics would have dared to refuse an order. Perhaps Mikami himself was the
only one who might have done so. I was prepared for a day like this,
prepared not to lose my composure.
Though Mikami’s heart wavered, no feelings of
anger or resentment arose toward Ono. He tried to force a small smile,
encouraging the other man to continue.
“He said to me, ‘Let’s give it our best.’”
“Rui said that…?”
Ono’s eyes glistened faintly with tears.
Perhaps this confession had been his reason for seeking Mikami out—or perhaps
even sitting beside him today had not been coincidence.
“First Class Petty Officer Asamura didn’t
hesitate to put himself in danger, determined to take down as many enemy planes
as possible.”
“That’s…”
Mikami hesitated. Rui wasn’t that kind of
man. His desperate assaults had a reason, one Mikami now debated whether to
reveal. Before he could decide, Ono continued in a trembling voice.
“If the squadron hadn’t held out there, Rabaul
would have been finished.”
The statement stunned Mikami.
I always thought Rui’s reason for fighting was
singular: restoring the honor of the Asamura name. But if… if Rui fought like
that to protect us—to protect me—what could I possibly say to him to apologize?
Ono dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.
“He gave his life to defend the base. He was a
remarkable pilot—truly extraordinary!”
Would Mikami’s belated grief and unspoken
apology ever reach Rui in the heavens?
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