The Cold Arrival

[MsKittyKat]

I wrote this story in my spare time a few days ago. I want to be a writer and am working on a book so please, tell me what you think of this. Is it any good? This story is taking place in Japan during World War II.



The Cold Arrival

“I am a Samurai, it’s an honor to die for my country,” Kuren explained, a graven look held on his face. I couldn’t do anything; he was going to die in the war. I had already lost my father and brother to the war; I needed Kuren [my lover] now more than ever.
“No! You can’t leave me here. I will starve to death. Let’s run away together,” I pleaded as salty tears ran down my soft feminine face.
“You know if we did that we would both be killed when they found us. They would kill both of our families too. I can’t even imagine how you could say such a thing. That is such a selfish act. Hush; if the Kempei Tai hears you we’ll be tortured or killed.” Kuren scolded. I know he is right. I just can’t stand to watch the only man in my life left leave and die. A hot anger welled up inside of me. I hated the emperor. He had gotten us caught up in a horrible war that had ruined my life. The cold night breeze could not even cool me down. I heard the foot falls of a Kempei Tai soldier nearby; we had to leave this ally. If they found us, no good would come of anything for the rest of my life.
“We must go, I love you. Sayonara,” I whispered my last declaration of love.
“Sayonara,” He replied, he quickly pulled me in and kissed me one last time before he left. His lips were warm and soft. Neither one of us wanted to break the embrace but, the sound of the Kempei Tai solder did. We both went our separate ways for the last time. His love only increased my hatred for the country. They would tell us we were winning the war. If we were though, then why were we all starving, being bombed, and only losing more men? The government reeked of lies. I can not see any profit for myself or for my country, only loss. Me being a girl would not be drafted like Kuren. I would only suffer the bombs and starvation with all the other women while our husbands dying on the battle field as Kamikaze or Samurai.
The next day, I only cried. I mourned the loss of Kuren with tears and moans. I will not forgive them. No food or water came to my weak body. A sick pain haunted my hot empty stomach. I would have cried until death came to ease my sorrow if it hadn’t been for my older sister. She came and found me in a heap on the ground.
“Kira! What are you doing on the ground? You are useless when you cry, quite ugly too. You used to be a beautiful sister that never moped around. You could never keep yourself from work. Now look at you!” Hana yelled, trying to get me to pull myself together. I looked up at her with brown swollen slits for eyes. My black hair was dirty and glued to my face with tears. Hana scowled down at me with her hands on her hips. Her hair was perfect in a large bun on the top of her head. Mine was strewn everywhere. She had to force feed me until a few weeks later I started to feed myself. We barely had any food left so I was forced to start working again.
The mud squished between my toes as I gathered left over rice in the field. It seemed that more and more people found themselves doing this as the war went on. Many rice fields had been destroyed in other towns from the Americans. That’s why imported rice had stopped coming. We had to give portions of our rice as taxes for the army, which left little food for us. It was a hot summer day in August. The weather looked as though it was just going to get worse. I looked toward the beautiful Seto Inland Sea for comfort. Something I had always done when I felt depressed. It’s beautiful, something we only have in Hiroshima. Why we were never the people getting bombed was most likely that beautiful sea. Americans didn’t want to bomb something so beautiful; they are too greedy for that. They want to come and build grand houses here after the war is over. They want to take our beauty, our land, our culture, and our lives. The sun was now setting and it was time to get back. I looked at my basket of rice, there was about a bowl full. Tonight Hana and I would feast. I then remembered in the days before the war when my father would bring home bales of rice, when we were rich. All of that changed very quickly.
On my way home I gave a handful of rice to a little boy, he was so skinny. It wasn’t unusual to pass by corpses of people that starved to death. Today I was just feeling generous because of my emotions running on high. I really shouldn’t have done him this kindness, because I would pay later. I just hope he will live through the war and lead a happy life. Who am I kidding? No one can live through the war and lead a happy life.
The next day I woke up before dawn to get the housework done early. There was nothing I wanted more than Kuren but to get him was impossible. That is why I am going to work until he comes back. If he does come back that is. The hot sun beat down on me as I breathed the humid air. I was outside when the siren went off. We were to prepare for being bombed. The sound of the sirens irritated me greatly. Just then something knocked me off of my feet. A stinging crackle burned my whole body. There was nothing to be felt but pain and confusion. I looked up to see my small house had been broken down to burning timbers and rubble. My sister! She had been asleep in the house.
I hobbled up as quickly as I could to try and save her, my body aching with every small movement. I cried out in pain without even noticing. There was nothing on my mind but my sister. I finally got to the rubble heap in time to see my sister’s crippled, burnt body. Her hair was no longer beautiful and kept. It was gone. I knelt down and only looked at her, because I knew from the skin underneath my knees, that to touch her would only cause more pain.
“Kira? Is that really you?” She croaked in disbelief. Her whole body was burnt and she was under the rubble. I couldn’t save her now. The only thing that remained untouched were her beautiful brown eyes.
“Yes, it’s really me. You’re going to make it,” I lied, my throat clogging up.
“No, I’m not. I have no regrets. May you find happiness. Sayona—” She lay dead in front of me. Not enough life to enough finish her last farewell. She had been the only one I had left. Screams of grief leapt out of my soul. There was nothing for me here. Then a rain fell down. It was black and sticky. It gave no solace to my aching body and heart. It didn’t put the fires out. There were people falling over dead in every direction I looked. I then too, collapsed from my crouching position, and all light was gone out of me.
* * * *
I looked at the flowers with dissatisfaction; I couldn’t get it to look balanced. I tried to place some green garnishes to even things out when my hand slipped and I cut my finger. Warm salty blood dripped down my hand when suddenly orders were flying everywhere. It turns out that a city has been bombed and totally devastated. I was wondering what city it was, then when I heard I paled. Hiroshima, my home town. A sickened silence fell over the men. I could feel the hatred in the room so strongly if you moved it felt like you were swimming in boiling water. Shivers ran down my back leaving worry for Kira in my stomach. The general of my squad ordered double the look outs for planes and ships while the rest of us slept to keep our strength up. No more flower-arranging for me.
There was a rumor going around though, that this might end the war. Hope fluttered in with my worry. A week went by and Nagasaki was bombed too, this left Japan no choice but to surrender. I went home to a waste land, to find my family and only true love dead. Everyone I had ever known had been incinerated. Disbelief attempted to knock on my heart but there was evidence everywhere that they were dead. I would find myself digging through the rubble and ashes thinking if I just looked a little harder they would appear. Always, I would come to the conclusion that they were gone forever. This conclusion would lead me to burning incense. I found myself getting angry at the thought that everyone was dead then a depression consumed me.
I left what I used to call my home and moved to Kyoto. I did not smile, I did not speak, because there was no one left to speak to. I cried, which is a big disgrace, but I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing once I started thinking about Kira. Her beautiful long hair, her soft skin, her trust, her love, they were all gone. Forever they would leave me as nothing but a shell full of pain. The path of a Samurai is a sad one full of grief and loneliness. The Days of the Samurai were coming to a fizzle. Our main traditions are better off gone, but our culture, is still alive and thriving.