The table, graced with plates laden high with Aunt Aika's best cooking, protests under Father's weight. Reaching for the wine he leans across Haruaki, who eyes his own glass wearily.
"A toast!" Father announces, and we raise our glasses in unison.
"To Japan!" we cry, chugging the rich rice wine. Haruaki chokes on the strong taste, and Chikashi and I laugh at our younger brother's naivety. Father and Aika San exchange a knowing smirk.
***
The following morning, I shaved their hair and watched from the train platform as they left for the Darwin warfront. Chikashi's chin was held high but I saw the tremble in his hand as he comforted a glossy-eyed Haruaki. Grief was etched deep into Aika San's face as she watched from beside me. That night we prayed that we would see them again.
It was Father's dream to serve his country, and the Japanese were secretly infiltrating the ranks of the Australian Army. When we moved, my brothers were not supposed to join the fight. The Australian Government recruited them. It was their fault.
Their fault that only Chikashi came home, carrying nothing but his release form, a letter, and a lighter.
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Rising Fire
التاريخيةOur greatest glory is not in never falling - but rising every time we fall. -Confucius This fictitious short story encapsulates the heart-breaking effect of war on the family of a Japanese military official who moved to Australia in the hopes of inf...
