Chikashi doesn't question me when I wake him, hurriedly throwing him clothes. We move as fast as I can manage through a cloudy haze of pain, but I refuse to let him help me. Climbing onto the roof of our house, I grin at Chikashi's shocked expression.
The sky is painted with flecks of purple and orange and gold, like the sunrise of Haruaki's birth. We have a clear view of Main Street and the police station is in ruins. Flames rage across it, rising higher and higher.
I take Chikashi's hand and place Father's lighter on it, watching as realization dawns on his face. I lean into him and together we watch the rising fire.
It doesn't matter if we fall. We may be broken, but we'll rise together.
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Rising Fire
Historical FictionOur 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...