It turned out there was a man about a mile away who owned a camera, so the next day Papa stayed home from work, and they went to see him. He wasn’t surprised at all when they knocked on his door, just nodded and told them to come in. He said, in Japanese, “I have heard there were America-gaeri here in the village.”
He had them sit on stools of different heights, each holding a prop: Mama an umbrella, Papa a hammer, Jiichan an oil lamp, Baachan a ceramic cat, and Hanako and Akira fake flowers. The photographer took two shots, and Papa paid him while Hanako and Akira were putting the stools back in a corner.
Their ship would sail in two days, so Hanako and Akira would not see the photograph when it was developed. On the night before they were to leave, they left the dirty dishes on the table all night!! Then suddenly Mama hopped to her feet and started cleaning obsessively. She cleaned things they hadn’t even messed up that day.
Finally, she said, “It’s getting late.” She sank to her knees, closing her eyes, and Hanako could see she was praying, like she had at the Christian revival meetings in the Jerome camp. Sometimes Mama had brought her and Akira to them.
“Mama, are you praying to God?”
“I don’t know. Shhh.” She leaned her forehead into her clasped hands while her lips moved.
Papa joined her, in the exact same position. Nobody talked for the longest time. Then Papa and Mama stood up, and Mama got busy again, packing for Hanako and Akira.
Papa knelt in front of Hanako and held her face in his hands. “When you get on the ship, remember that you traveled across the ocean once, and you can do it again. The trip won’t last forever. Maybe you will even make new friends.”
“You will know who you can trust,” Jiichan said. “I never have time to teach you how, but you my granddaughter. You have my feet! You will feel it in your body. Like I tell you about on mountain. Remember? Heh, I have good memory for old man! But I cannot teach you now, Hana-chan—it would take two year at least.”
Papa continued, “Your mother and I are very proud of both of you. We will think of you every moment. Every single moment. So when you have time, just stop what you’re doing sometimes and think of us. All right? And I promise we’ll also be thinking of you.”
Hanako nodded. Then waited. Were those his only instructions?
Mama stuck her head out of the bedroom and asked, “Hanako, did you want your abacus?”
“No, Mama, I never want to see that again, actually.” She had never gotten very good with it. At planting rice, either. Apparently, she didn’t have very talented fingers.
Papa held her gently, then said, “Your grandparents want all your attention. All right? Just remember to stop and think of us sometimes. All right?”
“I promise. I’ll make Akira do it too.” She did not think she would have to “make” her brother do this at all, because he would never stop thinking of their parents even for a minute. Neither would she!
Papa nodded and released her.
“We like having child. We forget after so many year how much we like,” Baachan said. She pressed her hand against the center of her chest. “Inside here, I feel how much I like. But more I like it, more I want for you to go and have good life.”
“They will have good life, no need to worry now!” Jiichan exclaimed. “I am sure of it! They will work hard, but have good life.”
Hanako and Akira glanced at each other, then Akira half screamed, “We have something for Baachan and Jiichan! In case . . .” In case we never see them again.
Hanako and her brother ran into the bedroom to get packages they’d prepared. They’d wrapped their gifts in something Mama had bought for very cheap in the village: it was “cloth” that seemed to also be paper. The shopkeeper had said that during the war, and even now, some people made their clothes out of this inexpensive material. But they had to keep their clothes dry, because if they got wet, they would disintegrate.
So the wrapping was cloth, but it was also paper. Just like Mama and Papa were Americans, but they also were not. Because in war, nothing made sense.
First Akira handed his gift to Jiichan. It was tied with string that Papa had gotten at work.
“Ohhh,” Jiichan said. “Present for me! I don’t get present in many long time.” He admired the package for a few seconds. “I know, I know,” he said modestly. “I pretty good grandpa.” He nodded. “I pretty good, if I say so myself. Maybe you could say I am outstanding good. Neh?”
Imitating him, Akira said, “Maybe you could say I am outstanding good. Neh?” Everyone laughed. Akira looked very pleased. So did Jiichan.
Now Jiichan untied the string and the cloth fell open, revealing half of the geode, all sparkling inside.
“I’ll keep the other half forever,” Akira said. “I also gave you the crumbs.” And indeed, there were bits of sparkle inside the wrapping.
Jiichan nodded. “Yes, I pretty good,” he murmured. “Thank you, Aki-chan. I will miss you. You pretty good too. As good as me. Huh?”
They seemed so much alike that suddenly Hanako had a thought. “Jiichan, what is your name?” she asked.
He looked very bashful, yet very satisfied, and he said, “Ah, yes, I am Akira also.” He smiled through tears at Hanako’s brother. “So you see, we are both Akira.”
Baachan added to Hanako, “In Japan, we do not name our children same name as parent. But we very satisfy that your brother has his jiichan’s name.” Then her eyes flashed excitedly, like a child’s, as she looked at the package Hanako was holding.
Hanako gave her present to her grandmother. Baachan opened it with shaking hands. Her expression didn’t change as she pulled out the purple silk.
“It’s your wedding kimono!” Hanako and Akira cried out.
Baachan gazed at it, her eyes going so far away that she did not even seem to really be in this room any longer. For a second she didn’t seem happy, and Hanako worried that she had somehow offended her grandmother.
Baachan sat for a very long time without saying anything, just staring into space. Everyone waited. “Kou in ya no gotoshi,” she finally said. “Light and darkness fly like an arrow,” meaning time passes quickly. An old Japanese proverb grown-ups liked to say. Baachan didn’t say “thank you,” though, just gazed sadly at the kimono. She stroked it, murmuring, “I have not touched silk in many year.”
“Is it as pretty as your wedding kimono?” Hanako asked eagerly.
“It is not, but it mean more to me, Hanako. It mean much more to me. I will not sell even if I starve.” Then she very neatly folded up the wrapping, though it was just cheap, ordinary material.
Baachan moved slowly to a shelf and pulled down a box. “We have spoken of this. I will not be at your wedding, but you must wear this. I make with my own hand,” she said to Hanako.
Hanako took the box and pulled off the lid. Inside was a headpiece of purple flowers.
“I take this to America, bring it back here, and now it will follow you wherever you go in life,” Baachan said. Then she paused and thought. “If you want to wear white like they do in America, never mind purple headpiece. I forget you wear white. Never mind, I be sad if you wear just for me. But take it with you to America.” Her eyes welled up. “Stupid I forget you will wear white.”
Hanako touched her arm, but Baachan batted it away and wept.
Hanako placed the box in her suitcase. On that night she and Akira got in the tub together, before anyone else. They had to get to sleep. In the hot, hot bath Akira mostly stood up because the water was so deep for him. Then he would lean over sometimes to get his hair wet. He had a whole routine that involved rinsing himself over and over. He was quite active, even though people were supposed to relax in the bath.
Watching him, she thought of all the things they had lost:
Their home.
Their restaurant.
Her cat.
Several years of their lives, in camp.
Many friends.
And soon: their parents, for a few years
, and their grandparents, probably forever.
When they got out of the water, Hanako did not want to be with anyone at the moment, not even her family. She announced firmly, “I’m going outside.” Nobody told her not to, so she went out in her purple coat and took a full two hundred and fifty steps away from the house, then sat in a cool patch of grass. She looked into the darkness, saw lights glowing in the windows of some houses. She held her coat close . . . and decided right then that she would leave it for Mimi. Then the girl could own one thing in her life.
And so.
Hanako had lost things, but she had also gained things, and she was ready to chase her future. She was scared, but she felt braver than she ever had before. She had met a boy who had seen his mother without a face, and she had scratched his horrible scars. That, somehow, was one of the things that made her brave. And she had met her grandparents, whose love had rinsed the anger from her hands. She had seen many mountains that even a world war had not destroyed.
And so we move forward in life.
Neh?
AFTERWORD
In 1941, about 127,000 Nikkei lived in the continental United States. More than 110,000 were forced into detention camps. More than 60 percent of camp inmates were American citizens. It is thought that as many as six thousand Tule Lake inmates eventually renounced their citizenship—a significant majority of American-born adults living there.
When Wayne Collins filed his class-action lawsuit for them, a judge ruled in their favor, saying, “It is shocking to the conscience that an American citizen be confined without authority and then, while so under duress and restraint, for his Government to accept from him a surrender of his constitutional heritage.” But that decision ended up being voided by a different judge. So Mr. Collins had to file about ten thousand affidavits for both renunciants and witnesses, working tirelessly to restore citizenship one by one for those who wished to return to America. He often worked without pay. The first restoration of citizenship came in 1951, and the last in 1968.
(In real life a judge did not actually decide until 1951 that Wayne Collins could not try the renunciants’ case as a class-action lawsuit. In the book this decision happens in 1946. Otherwise, I tried to remain true to the facts, though I’m sure that despite my best efforts, mistakes were made.)
Mr. Collins died in 1974, having changed the lives of thousands of innocent men, women, and children. That’s why this book is dedicated to him.
In 1946, land reform began in Japan. The government passed a law to force big landowners to sell land for prices that were fair to the owners, and then the government let former tenant farmers “buy” the land, meaning they gave the tenants a loan to purchase the land, and the loan needed to be paid off within thirty years. This spread ownership throughout the farming community, especially among peasants. Japan experienced major inflation in the years that the reform was ongoing; the land the peasants now owned soon became worth much more than it had been worth when they signed the contracts to buy it. It’s complicated, but it meant that instead of having to pay off the loans on their land within the normal thirty years, many were able to pay off their loans in two or three years. So, as it turns out, Jiichan and Baachan could have soon owned their farm after all!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so very grateful to those whose real-life stories are treasures beyond belief. Yasuko Margie Sakimura changed my whole concept of this novel when I met her, and she patiently allowed me to interview her numerous times. And mahalo to longtime Hawaii resident and atomic bomb survivor Larry Miwa and his son Stephen Miwa, for contributing their exquisitely detailed family stories. Tom Miyamoto, from a family of “no-no boys,” was deported on the same ship to Japan as Margie’s family. He allowed me to read his writings on his experiences and answered many, many questions over the years. Thank you as well to Tom’s brother, the late Ichiro Miyamoto, as well as to Kyoko-Lillian Furumoto, Grace Hata (who bought the fake sweet cakes when she got to Japan), Taeko Helen Shinmachi, and the late Tad Yamakido.
Atheneum is a magical house to be published by. The care they take with each book and the support they offer their authors is surely unparalleled. My editor, Caitlyn Dlouhy, is fortunately younger than I am, so I am hoping that someday I will retire before her, because I honestly doubt I would survive in the wilds of publishing without her immeasurable talents and kindness. Publisher Justin Chanda is quite a bit younger, so I think I am safe on that front! I assume he must have a stern side, because, well, he’s a publisher, but he’s been so kind to and supportive of me, it has occasionally brought tears to my eyes. Russell Gordon has designed all my Atheneum books—when I heard he was leaving the company, my first thought was “My life is ruined!” (But I wish him the best anyway!) And thank you as well to Jeannie Ng, an extremely exacting copy editor and a very patient person when I spam her with copyediting queries. (Jeannie quote: “When you spam, you SPAM.”) Elizabeth Blake-Linn always makes sure the covers look perfect, and I love all of the covers so much! So thank you! Alex Borbolla is also wonderful, as is the entire Atheneum crew.
My appreciation for Reiko Nakaigawa Lee knows no bounds—there is nobody in the world like her, and I could not have written this book (and others) without her help, discernment, and generosity. And endless thanks to Brian Niiya, editor of the indispensable website Densho Encyclopedia. Both of them read the manuscript and offered much-needed advice and criticism. Margie and Tom also read the manuscript—their patience has been such a blessing.
I am grateful as well to Martha Nakagawa, Junko Sekine, Hiroshi Shimizu, Sachiko Takita-Ishii, Mary Wong, and Samuel Yamashita.
I first started writing this book more than a decade ago, putting it aside now and again and turning to other books until I met Margie. I believe I went on the Tule Lake pilgrimage around 2006 to start my research. For anyone considering it, the pilgrimage is an amazing experience. There is no other way, for instance, to appreciate the size and squalor of the stockade the government held the protestors in, no other way to sit on the bus and talk for hours with people who lived in Tule Lake so many years ago. I apologize profusely to anyone I interviewed in those early years and may not have mentioned here because I have moved and lost some of my notes.
I’m pretty sure some people secretly got a little sick of me over the years—as in, “Is this annoying woman ever going to actually write this book, or is she going to keep asking me questions until the end of time?” So thanks to all for their patience!!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CYNTHIA KADOHATA is the author of the Newbery Medal–winning book Kira-Kira, the National Book Award– winning novel The Thing About Luck, the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award– and Pen USA Award–winning Weedflower, and the critically acclaimed Half a World Away, Cracker!, Outside Beauty, A Million Shades of Gray, Checked, and several adult novels. She lives in California. You can visit her at cynthiakadohata.com.
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A Caitlyn Dlouhy Book
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
Also by Cynthia Kadohata
Checked
Cracker! The Best Dog in Vietnam
Half a World Away
Kira-Kira
A Million Shades of Gray
Outside Beauty
The Thing About Luck
Weedflower
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division | 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 | www.SimonandSchuster.com | This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. | Text copyright © 2019 by Cynthia Kadohata | Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Julia Kuo | All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whol
e or in part in any form. | Atheneum Books for Young Readers is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Atheneum logo is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. | For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected]. | The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. | Interior design by Mike Rosamilia | Jacket design by Russell Gordon | Jacket illustration copyright © 2019 by Julia Kuo | The illustrations for this book were digitally rendered. | Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data | Names: Kadohata, Cynthia, author. | Kuo, Julia, illustrator. | Title: A place to belong / Cynthia Kadohata ; illustrated by Julia Kuo. | Description: First edition. | New York : Atheneum, [2019] | “A Caitlyn Dlouhy book.” | Summary: Twelve-year-old Hanako and her family, reeling from their confinement in an incarceration camp, renounce their American citizenship to move to Hiroshima, a city devastated by the atomic bomb dropped by Americans. | Identifiers: LCCN 2018043629 | ISBN 9781481446648 (hardback) | ISBN 9781481446662 (eBook) | Subjects: LCSH: Hiroshima-shi (Japan)—History—Bombardment, 1945—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Hiroshima-shi (Japan)—History—Bombardment, 1945—Fiction. | Emigration and immigration—Fiction. | Immigrants—Fiction. | Belonging (Social psychology)—Fiction. | Identity—Fiction. | Japanese Americans—Fiction. | Japan—History—1945-1989—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Historical / Asia. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Emotions & Feelings. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Emigration & Immigration. | Classification: LCC PZ7.K1166 Pl 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 | LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018043629
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