for Tokyo mid-Tuesday morning,
a droning monsoonal downpour
greeted late afternoon
by uprisings of hydrangea – lavender and white,
ballooning, dancing around station platforms,
then spreading out thick,
up and down the hillsides,
along the rails and tracks.
Katie and Susan O'Brien were walking
from Gotokuji Station on the Setagaya Line
holding umbrellas, and did not notice a single flower,
focusing now on what hurt.
“We're nervous.” said Katie
“Never felt this nervous.” said Susan.
“Wish it were tomorrow morning.”
“I can deal with the nerves of performing.”
“Yeah, compared to...” said Katie.
“...the stuff with Mom and Dad is killing me.” said Susan.
“Let's not think about it.” said Katie.
“Yeah right.” Susan smirked.
“Well?” Katie countered.
“We are practicing well.” said Susan.
“Go figure.” said Katie.
“Isn't it strange...?” said Susan.
“...biggest competition in our lives...” said Katie.
“...has to be tomorrow...” said Susan.
“Um. Check out the frogs.” said Katie.
“What's up with that?” said Susan.
“Careful, don't step on 'em.”
“What is this?”
“Wait. What time is it?”
“Ten till five, something like that.”
“Let's get inside.”
“Oh, Uncle Kenji's coming.”
Susan and Katie O'Brien failed at nonchalance
dodging the invasion of wet and vocal bull frogs
laying claim to the perimeter of the property
of their elderly hosts who were outside
waving their arms and talking fast
at police and national guardsmen –
themselves confused and without a plan
to manage, explain, or respond to
this intensifying amphibian shock and awe.
The girls ran upstairs to their bedroom
where Godotnova-sensei stood
wringing her hands
and walking in place.
“Pack your stuff. He's already here
waiting at the back door.” she said.
“Good evening Katie-san, Susan-san,”
said Kenji suddenly standing
right behind the girls,
“Don't worry, I'll wait here.”
“Uncle Kenji!”
“Hurry on girls,” said the coach.
“Put on your hoodies, girls,” Kenji started giving direction,
“and leave, when I say go,
one at a time,
out the back door,
30 seconds apart.”
“Okay.” said the girls.
“Did you pack a change of clothing, just in case?” said Kenji.
“In case what?” said Katie.
“In case we're not back here tonight.” said Kenji
“Oh yeah.” the girls said.
They began shoving things into their training bags.
“I'm going with you.” said the coach.
“Got everything?” said Kenji to the girls.
“That might not be a good idea.” said Kenji to the coach.
“I'm ready, Uncle Kenji.” said Susan. “Got the music, Katie?”
“Yep...” said Katie, “... on a thumb drive, shoved inside my sock.”
“Good idea.” said Susan. “I got the lyrics. Same place.”
“I have to go with you.” said the coach to Uncle Kenji.
“Let's move down stairs now, girls. Back door.” said Kenji.
“Uncle Kenji, there must be a thousand bull frogs out there.” said Susan.
“More than that, actually.” he said.
“What's going on?” said the girls.
“It's Nikko-san and her friends to the rescue.” he said.
Nikko-san?” said the girls.
I'll explain later. Just watch you're step, ” said Kenji,
“Godotnova-sensei,” he continued to the coach,
and stood close to her, face-to-face,
“your role is important, right here.
It would be a good idea for you to stay.
The girls will need you when they arrive home tonight.”
“I thought you weren't sure if they were coming home tonight or not?”
“It would be better if you stayed here,” said Kenji.
“I'm going with you.” she said.
“Okay, then.” Kenji patted her on both shoulders
and looked her square in the eye. “Leave 30 seconds
after you see me go out the back door.” he said.
“To where?” said the coach.
“Okay everybody. Listen up.
Here's what we do:
Walk fast out the back door, but not too fast.
Two blocks in the direction away from the station.
Then one block south.
There will be a taxi waiting to meet us.
Ready? And remember. Do not run.”
Now all four, including Kenji, were running for the back door.
“Let's go, first one out,” said Kenji.
And Susan flew out running
with her hoody up over her head.
Katie counted off a long thirty seconds
moving up and down on her tip-toes,
and she too flew out the back door.
Then Kenji thirty seconds later.
Godotnova-sensei counted to infinity
and left at 18, took three steps,
and flew in quite the wrong direction,
her legs pointing up at rain clouds,
her head and shoulders falling to the ground.
“Ouch.” she screamed.
Several law enforcement officers
ran into the back yard and stood over her.
“Ouch, I slipped on a bullfrog. Landed on my neck” she cried.
“No, you slipped in the mud. Look.” the officer said.
“Where were you going in such a hurry?” said another officer.
“I was not in a hurry. I was on my way
to the convenient store,” she was grabbing the back of her head.
“For what?”
“For chocolate.” said the coach looking up with a stare.
“Where are Katie and Susan O'Brien?”
“I have not yet seen them this evening.”said the coach.
“Some of our men saw them running into the house.”
“Just ten minutes ago.” said another officer.
“I've been down stairs helping in the kitchen.” said Godotnova-sensei.
An officer in charge directed a team to search the house
for Katie and Susan O'Brien.
“They better be in there.” he said.
The coach sighed deeply
and closed her eyes in pain.
“I have not seen them.”
“Can you move?” an officer said.
“Um... wait a second... no. I can't move my legs.”
“Get an ambulance for her.” said another officer,
“and hurry up and find those two girls.”
Katie and Susan O'Brien and their Uncle Kenji
waited in the taxi for Godotnova-sensei
and counted off seconds.
“I don't think she's coming,” said Susan.
“They must've seen her,” Katie said.
“Should we leave?” asked Kenji.
“Yeah, let's go.” said Katie. “Oh... but where're we going?”
Kenji leaned over the front seat,
“Oh, it's you, Kamakura-san . Well now,
you have camouflaged even your own camouflage.”
“What's the password?” said Katie to Kamakura-san.
He breathed out and chuckled and shook his head. “I don't know.”
“Bingo.” said Katie. And Susan stifled a smile.
“Since I was meeting you at Shinjuku Station
and taking “our package” to Shimbashi Station,
we are now simply driving, as fast as we can,
to Shimbashi Station
to meet Yamato-san
who will escort you
via the Yurikamome monorail
to Tokyo Bay and to the reclaimed,
man-made island of Daiba.
“Man-made?” said Susan.
“How come?” Katie said.
“It was created as a defense position,
for the Tokugawa Shogunate,
used to be full of cannons.”
“Huh? That was a long time ago.” Katie said.
“What'd they do,
have a gazillion shovels and barrows
attached to a gazillion people
wheeling dirt to the ocean,
and dumping it in?” Susan said.
“That's exactly what they did.” said Kamakura-san.
“Where did all the dirt come from?” the girls said.
“The mountains.” he said.
“That's 60 kilometers from here, easily.” said Susan.
“You girls catch on fast.” he said.
“I wish that were true.” said Katie.
“Yeah,” said Susan. She turned to Uncle Kenji
and became quiet for a moment
while she measured-up her words:
“You remember, Uncle Kenji, on Sunday,
we road the train together to our gym?
And we asked you about the most important thing
there is to us right now.”
“Yes. You asked how you can stop one person from killing another.” said Kenji.
“Exactly,” said Katie, “and you told us a story about Buddha.”
“Yes.” said Kenji.
“All right,” said Susan, “will you help us understand something here?”
“Or at least confirm for us,” Katie jumped in,
“our total confusion over how anyone
could be so completely stupid
to think that such a thing could work?”
“Ah, then what is this thing...” Katie-chan,”
said Uncle Kenji, “... that one so completely stupid
actually thinks does?”
“I don't get it.” said Susan.
“What was it... that worked for Buddha?” Kenji said.
“He's Buddha.” said Katie.
“Yea. No problem.” Susan said.
“Okay. Yeah.” said Kenji. “So, Buddha was like...
showing off for his friends or something... ?”
“Yep.” the girls said.
“... making them feel small and powerless
compared to himself?” said Kenji.
“Well?” doubted Susan.
“Maybe not.” Katie said.
“Then what is this story about?” said Kenji.
“We have been talking about this, Katie and I,” Susan said.
“and to be honest...
it really does boil down
to the simple fact
that he is Buddha
and we are Katie and Susan O'Brien.”
“And that's good common sense.” Kenji said.
“Thank you.” said Katie.
“How could any human being
even dream of trying such a thing,
loving a mass murderer into complete helplessness,
and do so precisely at the very moment
of his bloody and lethal attack
against you... Hmm?” Kenji said.
“Yes.” said Katie
“So I think, said Susan, “our question
remains more urgently than ever.”
“Urgent yet unsolvable, huh?” said Kenji.
“Ah... yeah...” said the girls.
“... and good common sense,” said Kenji,
“as Katie just pointed out,
does not apparently allow
for this unsolvability, does it?”
The girls shook their heads.
“Have you reflected, a little bit,
upon our recent conversations?” said Kenji.
“Hmm. Some.”
“What did we say love is?”
“Um, it is who we are...” the one said.
“... and what everything else is, too?” said the other.
“Yes, and does that come
from anyone's intelligence
or even common sense?” Kenji said.
“I guess not.” the girls said.
“Then we know that Buddha
was not telling us a story about our stupidity...
... or about our good common sense, don't we?” continued Kenji,
... in this battle, this confrontation,
between Buddha and the mass murderer, Angulimala...
... what weapons were involved?”
“The strength and meanness of Angulimala.” said Susan.
“Uh ha.” said Kenji.
The girls were thinking.
“And what was Buddha's weapon.” Kenji said.
“Well, you can't say that love is a weapon, exactly...” said Susan.
“Why not,” said Kenji.
“Cause it doesn't make sense!” Katie said.
“Of course it doesn't...
but compare for a moment,
what you know love is,
to your biggest fear ever.” said Kenji.
“Okay...” the girls said.
“Which is bigger?” said Kenji.
“Okay. I see.” said the girls.
“Now compare for a moment
what you know love is,
with some weapon, any weapon...
sword, gun, missal, bomb...” said Kenji.
The girls were nodding their heads.
“... which is bigger?” said Kenji.
“yeah...” Susan said.
“Given the infinite power of love,” said Kenji,
“would it not make good common sense
that in a battle between this infinite power on one side
and the weapons of your choice on the other...
well...” and Kenji shrugged his shoulders, “Who wins?”
“Okay. Alright. I see. But..., said Susan,
“how can you know,
if the time comes,
how can you really know...
that love will be enough?”
“How could anything infinite not be enough?” said Kenji.
“That doesn't mean that 'I know'.” said Susan.
“You do know.” Kenji said.
“But how do you know.” said Susan.
“There is no how about it,” said Kenji slowly.
The girls looked into Kenji's eyes.
“You simply know.” he said.
“But how?” said the girls.
“Just look at it.” said Kenji.
“Toss it up on the table, huh?” said Katie.
“Yes.” he said.
“That's it?” said Susan.
“Just look at it.” he said.
“But, come on, how do you know?” Susan asked again.
“If you apply to this process
of seeing how love knows
any more know-how than looking at it,
chances are zilch you ever will.” said Kenji.
“So war continues, killing, revenge.” said Katie.
“Is there anyone who has ever known
the power of love?” said Susan.
“Ask yourselves,” said Kenji,
“what powerful leader
throughout the history of humankind
who controls the machines of war
has had the courage to see?”
There was quiet now in the cab.
“At Shimbashi Station?” said Kamakura-san,
I am turning the cab over to you, Satchitananda-san.”
“And I'll drive it to Fuji Television Headquarters.” said Kenji.
“just keep your busy light on,
and the meter running.” said Kamakura-san.
“And us?” said Susan.
“My dear friend, Yamato-san, will be waiting
for you and Kamakura-san,” said Kenji,
“and then take you to Daiba and the Fuji Building
on the Yurikamome Line.
“Oh. The robot monorail train.” said Susan.
“Huh?” said Kenji.
“It's a train without a driver.” said Katie.
“How perfect.” smiled Kenji.
Kenji drove the taxi to Fuji Television Headquarters,
pulled in front of the main entrance
ahead of a line of other taxis now honking their horns.
Kenji kept the taxi lights and engine on, the meter running,
hopped out, and ran inside the building.
“I'm looking for Takunosuke Mori. This is an emergency.”
“Who are you,” said the guard.
“I'm his brother.”
“I don't think so. I know his brother.”
“He's got two brothers.” said Kenji.
“It's okay. I'll take it from here.” said Mori-san
standing now next to Kenji, with four guards,
two of whom grabbed Kenji's upper arms
and began walking him through an unmarked door in the lobby
where Mori-san casually followed,
and bowed and waved his gratitude to the guards.
“So you thought you would just drop in to say hello,
little brother?” said Mori-san.
“You know why I am here.” said Kenji.
“No, actually, I don't have a clue.”
he said lighting a cigarette,
“And I really don't care,” he continued
and exhaled a billow of smoke into Kenji,
“now, if you'll kindly allow these men
to accompany you to more secure quarters in the building,”
he said with another puff,
“I have,” he slowed the pace of his words
and blew more smoke at Kenji,
“more urgent matters to attend to.”
“I see.” said Kenji.
And his eldest brother nodded to the guards
and walked back into the lobby
and into an elevator to a top level floor
of the Fuji Television Headquarters Building
containing the main broadcast control room,
the corporation board room, and his own office.
The elevator doors opened
and there stood Kenji.
“Good evening.” said Kenji, bowing respectfully now,
“Allow me to assist you, my eldest brother,
in your more urgent matters?”
“How did you do that?” said Mori-san.
“I didn't do anything.” said Kenji.
The president of Fuji Television Network
ran passed his youngest brother,
into his office, and slammed and locked the door behind him.
“This is a nice office, eldest brother.”
Kenji said, standing in front of his brother's desk
and looking around,
“you've worked hard to deserve this.”
Mori-san lunged at his brother Kenji
only to realize he had disappeared.
Mori-san ran to a door,
his private entrance to the board room,
turned on the lights, and there,
seated at chairs around the table
were his sister, Obá-chan,
the foreign ministry agents, Taya-san and Kaneko-san,
his two grand nieces, Susan and Katie O'Brien,
his youngest brother Kenji,
and some man he fired, just a week ago.
“What are you doing here!?”
Mori-san pointed out this man.
“You quit this company last week!”
“I was fired.” said Nara-san.
“You quit!”
“I was fired without cause.” said Nara-san .
Obá-chan stood up and interrupted.
“Allow me, since nobody seems to know anything,
to direct this meeting if I may.” she said.
Mori-san was breathing heavily
and looking into everyone's faces,
the girls sat as students, silent, eyes in front,
Nara-san sat in defiance, his elbows on the table
Kenji sat a bit away from the table,
slouching into the back of his chair,
his arms holding up his neck,
his legs folded casually at the ankles,
and Obá-chan remained standing
looking at her brother.
“Takunosuke-san,” she said,
“I don't know all the reasons
why we are here, but we are.
So why don't we deal with
what ever those reasons are...
calmly, one at a time, right now.”
Everyone fidgeted.
Taya-san, the Foreign Ministry agent,
rose to his feet and spoke first,
“For starters, we have something
that belongs to you, Kenji-san.”
He reached into his bag,
and pulled out Kenji's flute
and holding it out in reverence with both hands
carried it to Kenji's hands.
Kenji stood and smiled
to his new friends, the agents
with gratitude and bows.
And as this happened,
Mori-san's middle brother, Tetsuo Mori,
walked into the boardroom
through the main door,
and sat in his brother's – the President's – chair.
“The issue here is this...”
continued the eldest brother, still standing,
“your daughter and son-in-law are about to lose their lives...”
He paused, trembling now.
And holding back tears.
“And I believe it's all his fault!” he said,
pointing his shaking right arm and hand at Kenji.
Kenji sat up. And there was silence in the room.
Obá-chan, also still on her feet,
some three meters from her brother, said,
“You might be the only person in this room
who actually believes that to be true, brother.”
“How can it not be true?!” said Mori-san.
“Dear brother, most of us here,
have heard Kenji's story, and what happened
from the time he left Tokyo Japan, until now.
Yes. Most of us here, except for you.”
“I don't need to hear his story.” he cried out.
“No, you don't.” said the older sister.
“But...” she continued, “their happens to be
a chapter we are all missing
from Kenji's own story.
and perhaps this is the time,
and this is the place.”
“Why are you looking at me?
You are wasting our time.” he said
and pounded his fist on the table.
“And perhaps it is you who are wasting ours, brother?” said Obá-chan,
“because the missing chapter of Kenji-san's story,
is actually part of your own,
and one that only you can tell.”
He fell back into a chair against the wall
of the board room and covered his face
and shook his head.
“No!” he began to mumble. It was not my fault!”
“What was not your fault, brother?” Obá-chan said.
“It was not my fault.” he said again more softly now, and weeping.
Kenji arose from his chair, walked over to his brother,
knelt down with two knees on the ground,
and held his brother around the shoulders.
“No, it was not your fault.” said Kenji.
And there was silence and crying in the room
and Kenji continued to lightly hold his brother
around the shoulders.
“There's not much time,” said Obá-chan.
“We have a full agenda tonight.
And I say again, Takunosuke-san,
perhaps this is the time and place
to reveal the missing chapter
that Kenji will not tell.”
Kenji arose, and took another seat
against the wall near his eldest brother,
and sat up and leaned forward
and looked down at the floor before him.
“It was my fault.” said Mori-san,
grabbing the arms of his chair.
“It was my fault!” he said again.
“Go on,” said Obá-chan.
“What happened to Kenji that night –
he was four years old –
returning home somehow, by himself,
hiding there alone in our home,
enduring, the terrible bombings and fires,
and noise and death that night,
it all happened to Kenji alone,
by himself,”
he began weeping loudly...
“because of me...”
“Yes.” said Obá-chan.
“We were miles away from home,
the five children, mother, father,
you remember, Oné-san,
the long walk to our aunt's house for safety.”
“I was afraid.
Bombings were said to begin that night,
especially in our village,
thick with shops of war-time production
in every direction from our home.
And... Kenji-chan was so much getting on my nerves
kilometer after kilometer, so far away from home,
our family running from the bombs,
and little Kenji would not stop getting on my nerves.
We were walking behind everyone, Kenji and I.
I don't know. I suddenly I began to beat him.
And I continued to beat him.
And not lightly.
And I scolded him, over and over,
about what a bad boy his was
and how his only salvation,
his only way to ever have respect from our family
was to find his way back home that night by himself
to protect our home from the bombs,
so we all could return soon and safely.
And he would not leave me alone.
And I would not stop scolding him and beating him.
Until...
Until I looked around.
Kenji was gone.
I didn't think he would take seriously what I was saying.
He found his way back home.
The next day we found him buried alive.
When we pulled him out,
I could tell by the look in his eyes
Kenji thought he failed his mission
because our home was destroyed.
And his failing meant he would never
earn the respect of anyone, ever, in our family.
“Yes, I was young,” Mori-san continued,
but what I did was vicious... unforgivable.
I do not know what else to say...
Kenji-san, brother, I am sorry.”
Mori-san was finished. His head still buried in his hands.
Kenji nodded his head,
moved his chair closer to his brother,
and put his arm around him.
There was noise outside the room.
An aide to Mori-san rushed in to report
hundreds of national guardsmen and policemen
were preparing to enter the building.
Obá-chan walked over to her brother,
and too, knelt down on both knees,
and hugged her brother, and sobbed with him.
“Thank you,” she said. And slowly stood up.
“And now for the next item on our agenda.”
Authorities will be here moments from now,” said Mori-san.
We have to do something.”
“We can go to the control room, all of us,” said Kenji,
lock ourselves down, negotiate with
those holding Mieko and Henry!”
“Yes. Let's get moving.
Everybody. Follow me.”
“There is not much time, eldest brother,”
Kenji walked alongside his eldest brother,
and Nara-san the ex-building engineer
came up beside Kenji,
“in case you are taken into custody –
and this is not unlikely, oh,
sometime in the next minute or two –
please write the pass code on my flute.”
The President of Fuji Television
looked at his youngest brother
and the building manager he fired last week,
“I don't get it.”
“In the confusion that may arise shortly
when authorities are in the act of taking custody,
at least one of us here,
carrying this baton ,” Kenji nodded at his flute,
“might slip into the control room
at the last second,
continue our mission
to engage the captor in conversation,
and save the lives
of Mieko and Henry O'Brien.”
“Won't work.
I have to deliver the pass code
to the engineer by mouth and face-to-face.”
“Yes, I see, but this is, for us all,
an exceptional moment in time,
wouldn't you agree?
Naturally, an exceptional action...
may be called for.”
They looked into each others eyes.
“Just in case, eldest brother.
It is simply plan B.”
“Who could suggest such an action,
or comply?” said the eldest brother.
“Who knows?” said Kenji.
“If my career is not cooked already,
this'll do the job nicely,” the eldest brother said.
Kenji nodded, raised an eyebrow,
“Yes, it will,” he said,
and handed his brother a marker and the flute.
Kenji then spoke quickly and quietly
to Nara-san, the ex-building engineer
about a suggested tactical maneuver.
Next Kenji motioned to the girls,
took them by the shoulders
and whispered instructions to them.
“Sounds like an army coming up the stairs!” said Takunosuke Mori.
“Ten seconds and they'll be in here!” said Mori-san's assistant.
He took Obá-chan by the shoulder and whispered to her.
Finally, to his new friends the Foreign Minister Agents,
Kenji offered his gratitude, and a plea
that when things begin to happen to play heads up.
“Where is our middle brother, Tetsuo? Mori-san asked Obá-chan.
“He's not here.”
Police, men in suites, and national guard
were now streaming through six elevator doors
and two emergency stairway exits,
and into the circular foyer
that gave way along its circumference
to the president's office, to the board room,
and to the main broadcast control room.
Takunosuke Mori was the first person the authorities targeted.
“Catch!” he said to Kenji,
and threw the flute
now winging hard, end over end,
diagonally across the room.
Kenji reached out, grabbed the flute,
ducked low and kept moving.
“Gambatte!” he cried out from somewhere.
Obá-chan screamed loudly and fell to the floor.
Katie and Susan O'Brien heard their cue,
took a fast, deep breath,
separated from each other
and kept low to the ground,
knowing the lights would all go out,
via the handiwork of Nara-san, the building engineer –
and click – with perfect timing they did,
even in the main broadcast control room.
Their was confusion in the blackness
and authorities yelled out rapid commands.
“We're not dead yet.” Katie mumbled to herself.
and Susan, not so oddly, mumbled to herself the same,
their feet moving now, in unison,
reversing and spinning in mirror images,
the first steps of their Shintaiso duet,
the one they'd been practicing for months,
for the competition tomorrow, Wednesday afternoon.
Muscle memory now took over,
as it does in the gym, as it did last week
in the bamboo black of Hebi-yama,
this precise vision of motion
burned inside their minds.
“Pivot inside-step,
pause-and back-spin away
one, two, three, spins
step, two, roll inside,
tumble-up and there's the mirror,
not of glass
but eyes and faces,
from one me to another.”
Katie and Susan O'Brien
intuitively let fly in formation
the motions and movements themselves:
pivot and spin,
arms-up and tumble,
head straight and roll,
And over the tumbling blackness
Kenji let fly the flute.
And it landed as envisioned,
between the knees of Susan O'Brien,
and Susan O'Brien landed as envisioned,
within the arms of Katie,
at the threshold of the control room door,
and using their flow and momentum,
they opened the door, rolled in, closed it,
jammed the flute for a temporary barrier
between the floor and the bottom of the door
and prayed nobody but the engineer
noticed what happened.
“What on earth is going on here?!”
he said moving in the black of the control room,
“who has entered!”
“We are Susan and Katie O'Brien
Susan said to the control room engineer,
“we are the nieces of Takunosuke Mori.”
The man knew, of course, all these names.
“I have a flute,” she said leaning back,
“that belonged to Gandhi,”
and she tooted on its open end to prove it.
“The president of your company,” Susan continued,
“has written directly on it
the code you need to lock us down
and broadcast under emergency power.
He is now in the custody of police,
our parents, as you are likely aware,
are about to be executed,
in a live broadcast, over the Internet,
you must act with exception in this case.”
The man stood breathing heavily,
staring into the pitch-black,
Several officers had their hands
on the handle of the door to the main control room,
“I'll dictate it to you.” said Susan.
“Huh?”said both Katie and the engineer.
“Do it now!” said Susan.
The girls heard him sit at his chair.
Susan somehow, out of the black,
rapidly dictated the code.
The control room engineer
tapped rapidly on his keyboard,
and activated the emergency lock-out and power system.
The lights went on.
The flute was still jammed under the door.
“Susan. Wow. Magic!” Katie said.
“Katie. Wow. I peeked and memorized it
as our Uncle wrote it down.” said Susan.
The time in Tokyo
on the Fuji Television Network
studio clock read exactly 8:00 pm.
The control room engineer
flipped switches, pushed levers,
and typed long strings of characters onto his keyboard.
Now standing at the window
Susan and Katie, watched the lights – there –
come back on outside the control room, – and there –
watched Obá-chan and Uncle Kenji and Uncle Takunosuke,
and the two Foreign Ministry Agents and Nara-san, the building engineer,
all now in hand-cuffs, being led away by authorities – and there –
watched these six turn at once their heads
and gaze upon the tears and panicked mouthing
of the unheard voices of Katie and Susan O'Brien.
“Why are they taking our Obá-chan away... and our uncles!”
“Your show is starting now.” said the engineer.
The image of A-san appeared in a large studio monitor,
and the girls continued standing at the window,
staring in the direction of their loved ones
already gone.
“Where is the Prime Minister of Japan!”
the girls turned around...
“who is that..”
“your parent's captor...”
“her?”
“huh? she looks like a mom.”
“Your show is now in progress,” the engineer whispered.
“She can see us?” Katie whispered back.
“Am I on the right channel here, or what?!” said A-san.
“She can,” said the engineer, “and she can hear you too.
“Where is the Prime Minister of Japan? Is this the right connection?”
“What should we say?” The girls were urging the engineer for guidance.
Again, he whispered, “tell her she's on the right connection.”
The girls grabbed each other tightly...
“Yes,” both said, “you are...
on the right connection.”
“This is being broadcast to the entire world, ma-am.” said Susan.
“Everyone can see us.”
“Where is the prime minister of Japan?!
The girls hugged each other more tightly,
“We are sorry, ma-am, we do not know anything
about the prime minister of Japan.”
Off camera, all could hear
the muffled sounds
of the gagged and hooded prisoners –
Henry O'Brien, Mieko O'Brien, and the old man.
“Are you the one...” Katie started,
“holding our parents hostage?”
“Your parents? “Your parents,” A-san repeated,
“Who are you?”
“We are Katie and Susan O'Brien.”
said Katie with Susan nodding her head.
“Oh for godsake,” said A-san. “This is wrong.”
“Can we talk to our mother and father?” said Susan.
“Oh no. This is so wrong.” said A-san.
“B, prepare the executions,
I am not playing this stupid game.”
“This is not a game, ma-am,
we just want to see and talk
to our mother and father. Please?” said Katie.
A-san slumped to the floor crying, and holding her face in her hands.
At least two minutes of silence passed by.
“Your parents have to die...
just as each and all
of my own five children...
died... unfairly...
...and people must know.
People must learn.
“Learn what?” said Susan.
“Learn what it is
to have one's family
horrifically murdered before your eyes,
without warning,
without cause.
There is never rest from the anger,
never rest from the grief.”
“We are so sorry.” said Susan.
“Yes. We are.
Yet, we do not know
about that, ma-am,
we just want to see and talk
to our mother and father.” said Katie.
A-san broke down again
and moved away from the camera lens,
that fed on nothing now except a blank wall,
yet the audio of her sobbing,
and the fears and whimpers
of her three prisoners
was coming through.
A-san popped up suddenly
in front of the camera,
with wild eyes and anger,
“B, remove their hoods and gags,
and turn the camera onto
the two prisoners from Japan,” A-san paused,
“Talk for two minutes...”
she said slowly to Katie and Susan O'Brien.
A-san was breathing heavily,
“Then they die.”
Katie and Susan O'Brien both tried to smile,
and sobbed loudly at the sight
of their fragile and exhausted parents...
their mother's hair was tangled
and drawn straight and covered in dust,
their father had facial hair and battered eyes,
and looked twenty years older.
The girls sank to the floor still in their own embrace.
The studio engineer moved the camera down and close to the girls' faces.
“Susan-chan, Katie-chan!” said Mieko O'Brien.
“Oh my God, girls, it is so good to see you,” said Henry O'Brien.
The girls were kneeling
holding each other
and looking at their parents,
heads and shoulders and arms shaking hard,
their young voices moaning
and crying with agony and grief.
“Girls.” said their mother.
“Girls.” she said again.
“Girls, look at me.”
The girls looked into the camera still crying and shaking.
“Girls. Tomorrow you have an important competition.”
“Yes. Girls.” said Henry O'Brien.
“Tomorrow is what
you have been living for
each and every day
for many many years.”
There was silence amidst the sobbing from both children and parents.
“B, get the brother and bring him here, quickly,”
said A-san off camera, “And you, the world out there,
I do so hope you are paying attention.”
she gazed closely into the camera lens now.
“Our brother, Jack!” cried Katie and Susan O'Brien.
“What is this!” said both Mieko and Henry O'Brien,
screaming now and struggling hard in their shackles.
A-san covered the camera lens with something
and blocked the view.
“Quickly B, she said.
Still off camera, Henry O'Brien began to speak.
“Jack is here? How in the world...” then he shifted gears,
“Girls. Tomorrow.” he gathered his words and breath,
“You have trained hard for this competition.
You have a good chance to earn
your places on the Japan National Team.”
“Yes,” said Mieko O'Brien, “and we know you will succeed.”
“Mother and father...?” said Katie.
We will succeed, said Susan.
“We have...” started Katie.
She began pulling a thumb-drive
from her pants leg,
“...we have our music with us
that tomorrow we will perform to.” said Susan.
“Can we play it for you?” said Katie,
and handed it to the engineer.
“Oh...” cried Mieko O'Brien.
“Yes, please play it,” said Henry O'Brien.
And then, over audio waves came the melody of the lullaby
written by the children's grandfather, in 1939,
himself, at 16 years old, still a child
growing up in Des Moines Iowa.
Henry broke down crying again. As did the girls. And they listened.
Grandpa's_Lullaby.mp3
*
“There are lyrics now,” said Susan over the music.
“Yes! Mother and Father, now there are lyrics
to our grandfather's song!” said Katie.
“Bring in the prisoner,” said A-san in an angry monotone.
B escorted Jack into the room,
shackled, hooded and gagged,
and B pushed Jack onto his knees
next to his father on camera.
“Jack!” the girls said.
“Let Jack talk!” said Susan.
“Do not remove his hood and gag,” said A-san to B.
Jack murmurered. And the girls
tried to continue talking over their sobbing...
“There are lyrics to grandfather's song now, said Susan.
“That's wonderful. How did this happen?” said Henry O'Brien.
“That's enough. Gag them all again,
and back on with their hoods.” said A-san.
The song continued in a loop
playing from from the main broadcast control room
of the corporate headquarters
of Fuji Television Network
in Tokyo Japan.
Susan picked up the beginning of the song,
“I'm going to read the lyrics to you.” she said,
“they came to me in a dream last night
through our grandfather in Des Moines, she said.
“Oh for God's sake,” said A-san still off camera.
“B, this is it, prepare the executions.”
All could hear off camera the sounds of automatic weapons being loaded.
And Susan began to read
to the meter of the melody
still playing:
"Close your eyes my sweet child,
rest your thoughts, my dear one,
it is time to go to dreamland now.
A place so safe
a place so warm.
a place where you can meet no harm,
Rest, my child ... ...
Rest, my child ... ...
Shut your eyes
and ease your mind
leave your troubles
all behind:
and let's see where your dreams may go.
Dance on clouds and swing on stars
Leap from moonbeams, land on Mars.
Let us slip away...
to dreamland now."**
“You have no idea.” said A-san.
“Correct!” said Katie,
“We have no idea.
We do not know you.
And we do not know
what has happened to you,
or to your family,
or to your friends...
We do not know
why you are so angry.” And Katie paused.
A-san growled and pounded her head against her knees.
“But we do know one thing,”
said Katie O'Brien softly, slowly,
sobbing and shaking even more,
“We do know,” and she held Susan tighter,
and looked into her sister's eyes,
“we do know...”
and the two cried loudly now,
pausing once again...
“you do have our permission...
to do whatever it is...
you have to do.”
And Susan was nodding and sobbing,
and softly said, “Yes.”
At once,
the arm of A-san
reached over the camera.
There was a sound of metal in the air.
And the broadcast connection stopped.
(end of chapter 30)
* melody, “Grandpa's Lullaby”- copyright©2007 by John B. Schmitz
** lyrics, “Grandpa's Lullaby”- copyright©2007 by Jan Covington
