J - Jap

Tweet

“Kuwabara, kuwabara,” muttered Taro Himura as another white flash split the sullen sky. Across from him, the American lit up a cigarette, staring uninterestedly through the dust-clad window. The American's name was Brian but he preferred to be referred to as Bri.

“D'you want one?” Bri offered a cigarette to Taro, brown-end first.

“No, thank you,” replied Taro in perfect English, even though being offered a cigarette, by an American no less, was a rarity. Bri took a long drag on the cigarette, then removed it from his mouth to ask a question: “How's life?” Taro cast his eyes from the American and laughed quietly.
“Life is as it can be here, although I am grateful for small mercies such as yourself,” Taro smiled. Bri returned it briefly before taking another drag.

“Not meaning in any way to be rude, but why am I here?” Taro asked. His question was initially met with silence.

Looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling with those blue eyes, the American replied: “The same reason all you Japs are here, I suppose. But even I don't fully understand that reason.” The room had been filled with a light grey haze, but Bri continued regardless, “We just do what we're told to do, no questions asked.”
“Forgive me,” Taro said apologetically. “I mean, why am I here? In this room?”
“You ain't in trouble if that's what you're thinking,” Bri met Taro's eyes for a brief moment, the lightning flashing through the dusty windowpane and illuminating Bri's eyes. “I just wanted to talk. Ain't no harm in that is there? I mean you're just an old man, and you won't be causing trouble, will you?” Taro was taken slightly aback, and he shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair, adjusting his walking stick. The thunder, following in the wake of the dry, imperfect shaft of light, resounded in the room.

“It may seem that way, but... what is the phrase you use? Do not judge a book by its cover.”
Stubbing out his cigarette on the round table that sat between them, Bri leant forward and asked, “Now why would you say that?” fixing Taro with those cornflower eyes. Taro was not intimidated or not to be intimidated, although the American's demeanour did not seem threatening.
“I used to be a soldier.” No longer than Taro uttered the word 'soldier' Bri had begun to laugh.
“Now that, I did not know old man!” Bri rose from his seat and went to the cabinet behind him. He took out a bottle of Tennessee whisky and two glasses and set them on the table, pouring a copious amount in each glass. Bri pushed one of the glasses to Taro, which slid unaided before him. “Now this is gonna be good,” Bri gestured with the bottleneck, before placing the bottle onto the table. Bri's chuckling ended, and he gestured for Taro to talk.

“Yes, I was a soldier,” a glint of defiance showing in his eyes, “a long time ago. There is a story which was passed down in my family, of the byakkotai warriors, or the 'white tigers'. They fought against the Emperor for a freer Japan. I am descended from one of those warriors, and I am proud to be.”

“But I thought all you Japs loved your Emperor? Your boys are dying out in the Pacific for him as we speak,” Bri cut in, surprised.
“I will tell you the reason soon enough.” Coldness entered Taro's eyes for a moment, then he continued. “I was a young man seeking adventure at the turn of the century. I looked to join the army – believe it or not, I used to be quite fit.”
“I was a member of the Imperial Army in 1904. We were then given orders to mobilise, because the Russians had started moving East towards us. I wasn't shipped out until early 1905, to a place called Mukden. It is now called Shenyang.” Bri downed the whisky, putting the glass forcefully onto the table. He stopped drinking for a moment and leaned forward, apparently interested.

An explosion of light accompanied Bri's words: “What happened at Mukden?” The thunder burst from the sky like an angel's scream. Uncharacteristically of Taro he took the whisky, downed it, and slammed it onto the table.

A sudden harshness accompanied his words: “It was not a battle. It was a massacre. Scores of men died that day, and for what? An incompetent Tsar and a bloodstained Emperor.” Taro shuddered at the thought of the violence – cannons heralding death, vast choirs of soldiers destroying the other, thousands of still-warm dead littering the ground with thousands more marked and yet to be claimed. “No... That is not valiant. That is not honourable. We defeated the Russians by surrounding them.” Taro smiled a bitter smile. “Throughout the campaign my comrades switched the 'o' and 'a' in my name, and called me Tora on account of my battle prowess. But when I saw those same comrades dying, screaming, clutching at bloody stumps and crying for their mothers, the Tiger lost its appetite.”

Bri seemed to be in deep contemplation: “The codeword for the attack on Pearl Harbour...”
“Yes. Tora Tora Tora. Tiger Tiger Tiger.” Taro sighed, resting on his walking stick. “I had no desire to be a soldier anymore. All spirit was knocked out of me at Mukden. I moved to America, and led a quiet life. I told no-one about it, and simply meted out a living by doing honest work. Of course, me and my wife were the first to be hit by the Depression, being a racial minority of course...” His eyebrow furrowed as he spat the words: “A Jap.” At this point, Bri downed his whisky, unstoppered the bottle and poured another pair. Surprisingly for the old man Taro downed the other glass he was given. Taro stared into the table, as if willing answers from the gnarled wood as the lightning illuminated his pained face. “My wife... she simply gave up. She died terribly young for these days, but I guess that cannot be helped.” The thunder growled outside. Hoisting himself up on his walking stick, he said: “I suppose this Jap should be returning to his quarters.” Taro turned and made for the door.
“Taro.” The Japanese man stopped his shuffling. “Stay here tonight. Take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor.” Bri had stood up, pleading Taro with his eyes.

“Sorry. But this old, worn-out soldier does not need your pity.” Tora opened the door and stepped into the inclamence.

>-S->