My Enemy, My Friend

Page 3

Rounding the corner, Yukio realized he was near the home of Senji Watanabe, his trusted assistant for the past twenty years. Yukio was the fourth generation Matsuda to head Tosui, the huge, international trading company founded by his great-grandfather. And although he had many employees, Senji was his right-hand man -- totally irreplaceable. With a new sense of purpose, Yukio walked quickly to his confidant's home. But where Senji's comfortable home had stood, there was now just a pile of ashes and rubble. Anxiously, Yukio's eyes sifted through the wreckage. At last, they came to rest on a solitary figure, sitting in the middle of the devastation, staring vacantly at the nothingness surrounding him -- as still as a tombstone marking the spot.

"Senji?" Yukio whispered as he crouched in front of the man and peered into his eyes. Oblivious, Senji continued to stare into the ashes, his face lifeless, his eyes without expression. Finally, placing both of his hands firmly on his assistant's shoulders, Yukio raised his voice and commanded, "Senji, look at me!”

The vacant look began to fade and a wan smile appeared on Senji's face as he recognized his employer. His eyes, however, did not blink. "My family is gone, Matsuda-San. My wife, my two beautiful daughters -- burned beyond recognition. I cannot even give them a proper burial." He sat quietly for a moment and then, as if speaking to himself, said simply, "My life, it is over. My family is with my ancestors now and I must join them."

A picture of his own wife and daughter, smiling happily at him across the dinner table, flashed through Yukio's mind. He thought, too, of his son, Yoshikazu, fighting the enemy on the island of Iwo Jima.

Lifting Senji gently to his feet, Yukio's eyes narrowed as he said, "All your family is not lost, Senji-San. Your son, Takei, is fighting the honorable fight against the demons. He will help to right the wrongs. Your ancestors are crying out for revenge and you must live for that. I will help you. Come with me now to my home for there is nothing more you can do here."

Senji's grief-stricken eyes met his. "Is it not ironic, Matsuda-San, that my son, who faces death every day, remains alive and well while the rest of my family, whom I vowed to keep safe, is nothing but dust?"

As they made their way through the rubble of the city, Yukio suddenly stopped and cocked his head. From somewhere in the distance came the strained sound of music. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw an army military band, sixty strong, in full color regalia, parading down the street. While the music swelled, refugees, numb with shock and despair, weaved in and out amongst the band members, unseeing and unhearing. The sight chilled Yukio to the bone.

The music seemed to shake Senji back to his senses, however. "It is Armed Forces Day " he said, quietly. "This military march was planned many weeks ago."

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