In the Woods of Memory

by Shun Medoruma

  Fumi stopped speaking. A moment later, her knees started to buckle, and she tried to sit down. Yōichi ran over to support her.

  —I’m okay, she said.

  When Hisako took her hand, Fumi smiled weakly and explained:

  —It’s nothing. When I realized I was finished, I suddenly felt drained. I’m okay now, so you can let go.

  Fumi pushed their hands away and stood up. Hisako handed her the bottle of water, and Fumi thanked her and took a few sips. Then she screwed on the lid and handed it back.

  —That’s all I remember about the cave. Did that help?

  —Yes, it did. Thank you.

  As soon as she said this, Hisako realized that she still had many unanswered questions, so many that she didn’t know where to start. But she was worried about Fumi’s physical condition and didn’t want to take any more of her time. Fumi nodded as if she’d read Hisako’s mind and looked back at the cave.

  —How many years has it been since I’ve come here, I wonder? As I was talking, I was looking down into the cave, and I had the strange feeling that some invisible beings were sitting there listening to me. I wasn’t born with spiritual powers or anything, but they say some people died here during the war. The cave wasn’t hit during the bombing, but people hid here for weeks, and there wasn’t enough food. Some of the sick and elderly grew weaker, and some of them died. Right here in this cave. My heart breaks when I think that their souls have been left behind here.

  With these words, Fumi took some black incense sticks out of the paper bag Yōichi was carrying. Then she had him light the sticks with his lighter. Yōichi also had a bottle of awamori liquor and a plastic cup. Fumi filled the cup with the strong liquor and placed it at the entrance of the cave. Then she leaned the incense sticks against a fist-sized stone and knelt down to pray. Hisako and Yōichi knelt behind her, and all three of them folded their hands. Fumi murmured some words of prayer, but Hisako couldn’t understand their meaning. During the war, Hisako had hidden in another cave, closer to the village. She couldn’t remember whether people had died there. When she considered that for sixty years the spirits of the dead were still wandering inside this cave in the woods, she felt her skin turn cold with the thought of how terrifying it was to be so utterly forgotten. She prayed that their souls would soon be able to go to the afterworld and rest in peace.

  On the way back to the car, Yōichi took the lead and Hisako the rear, just as when they’d come. As they headed down the wooded path, the two kept an eye on Fumi in the middle, so they could offer a helping hand in case she collapsed again.

  As they drove off, Fumi leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She looked extremely exhausted. Hisako thought they should change their plans. They had planned to listen to Fumi’s explanation as they walked around the community center, and then drive to the beach. The sunlight was so intense that even with sunshades it would be exhausting to walk in the noon heat.

  —Yōichi, Hisako called.

  Yōichi looked back at her in the rearview mirror and slowed down. They were driving along a farm road surrounded by sugarcane fields.

  —Yes?

  —Your mom looks really tired, so why don’t we just see the rest of the island from the car, and then head home early?

  —What’re you talking about? I’m fine, said Fumi, patting Hisako’s hand. You went to so much trouble coming down from the mainland. And it’s not easy getting over to the island either. If we don’t see everything today, who knows when you’ll be able to?

  —But this is really tough on you, isn’t it?

  —I don’t know what happened back there, but the words just came pouring out of me. I got really worked up and lost in the story. I’m just a little tired. Now that I’ve taken a breather, I’m perfectly fine. I walk every day, so my legs are strong. Besides, I really wanted to tell you about this. And you, too, Yōichi. If I don’t get this out of my system, I’m sure I’ll regret it later on. So, you see, you’re the one doing me the favor. I hope you’ll stay with me.

  As Fumi spoke, she grew increasingly more animated. But that only made Hisako more worried. Getting so worked up would only further drain Fumi of her strength and spirit. And the repercussions wouldn’t hit her until later.

  —But there’s no need to overdo it....

  —I’m not overdoing anything! interrupted Fumi with a smile. Like I just said, if I don’t take you around and talk about this, I’ll regret it later. It’s a small island, so we don’t have to walk all that much. And it won’t take long either.

  After saying this, Fumi pointed out Hisako’s window.

  —Look, over there. That’s our old school. Do you remember it?

  Hisako turned and looked out the window. They were about to enter the village. A small school was on the road parallel to theirs, separated by an irrigation canal. Rows of beefwood trees encircled the grounds. It was summer vacation, so there weren’t any students, but you could tell it was an elementary school from the jungle gym and horizontal bar. The white paint of the concrete building stood out against the blue sky, and the three silver flagpoles at the back of the playground glittered in the sunlight.

  —It was here?

  —You don’t remember, do you? That’s because the school was made of wood and nearly burned down during the war. Afterward, we had our classes under those tents that the Americans gave us. Oh, look! Do you remember that banyan tree over there? That’s been there since before the war.

  —I guess so.

  Now that Fumi mentioned it, Hisako vaguely remembered playing beneath a large banyan tree. And that brought back other memories: how the rain pelted the roof of the tents; how she loved her young teacher, Miss Kiku; and how before the war, they trained in the yard with bamboo spears, with the male teachers spurring them on. But the memories were like blurry black and white photographs, which she couldn’t connect to the colorful bright scenery before her.

  —Why don’t we head over? asked Yōichi, glancing back at Hisako.

  —No, that’s all right.

  Hisako felt uncomfortable after she’d answered. Her lack of emotional attachment to the school reminded her that she’d only spent a year here, as an evacuee and outsider.

  When they entered the village, Hisako remembered the Garcinia trees with thick foliage, which had cast shadows on the white sandy roads and the concrete block walls that surrounded the houses. The walls and sandy roads were now gone. In their place were asphalt roads, burning under the scorching sun.

  Yōichi pulled into the community center parking lot, and Fumi jumped out immediately, as if to prevent Hisako from helping her. The community center was a one-story reinforced-concrete building, which looked relatively new. Hisako thought it looked impressive. Fumi walked across the gravel parking lot and headed toward a banyan tree off to the side. Hisako clearly remembered the tree.

  She and Yōichi hurried to catch up with Fumi, who waited for them in the shade of the tree, with its branches spread wide.

  —Do you remember the bell made from an unexploded shell? Fumi asked. It was hanging from this tree.

  A memory stirred in Hisako: she was cutting grass in the woods when the bell started ringing to notify them that American soldiers were coming.

  —Oh, that’s right! I remember.

  Fumi looked pleased.

  —So what happened to it?

  —The bell? It was donated to the city museum and is now on display. Though by display, I only mean it’s just sitting there with other household items used after the war, without any explanation.

  —Right, said Hisako, laughing at her friend’s dissatisfied look.

  Fumi joined in the laughter and slapped the trunk of the tree with her palm.

  —When you get older, the one thing that never changes and that best helps you remember the past... is trees. People die, one after another; buildings and roads change; and there’s hardly anything in town that stays the same. But trees like this stay rooted to the same spot for hundreds of year
s. Standing under this banyan tree has helped me to remember the past more than anything else.

  —That’s so true....

  Hisako nodded at Fumi’s words and looked up at the tree. The branches were the same as when she had climbed them as a child. She could practically hear the cheerful shouts of children playing beneath them.

  —See that house over there?

  Hisako looked to where Fumi was pointing. In the distance, facing an open space and hidden behind the Garcinia trees that seemed to be the only unchanged remnants of the past, were the red tiles of a roof.

  —That’s Seiji’s house.

  —Oh! He’s still alive? asked Hisako in surprise.

  Her memories of Seiji’s being shot and carried off on a stretcher, together with what Fumi had said at the cave, had led her to assume he was dead.

  —That’s right; I didn’t tell you about that. Well, Seiji returned. How long was it after the Americans shot him and took him away? Everybody was saying he’d be executed, so I don’t know how he was saved. One day, I saw a man sitting under this banyan tree. I thought I recognized him, so I moved closer to get a better look. When I did, I practically had a heart attack! His face had changed so much you wouldn’t have recognized him. Even though he had the same close-cropped hair, I didn’t think it was him at first. But it was! He looked angry and was muttering to himself, so I got scared and ran home. Later, I heard from my father that a US military jeep had dropped Seiji off at his house four or five days earlier. After that, I saw him all the time. After the second time, I realized he was blind. Everybody said it must’ve been due to the tear gas. He’s been living in that house ever since. Seiji’s younger brother inherited the family home. He graduated from university with good grades and got a job working for the government. That’s why he could afford to rebuild the house like this, and have a separate little house on the grounds for his brother....

  Hisako couldn’t see the smaller house, but the dark green leaves and red roof tiles beneath the bright blue sky looked like the placid scene of a picture postcard. However, she knew that what Fumi had explained in only a few minutes had covered dozens of years. No doubt, much of that time had been far from peaceful. How much of a burden had it been to take care of a blind older brother? And how much discord had it sown between Seiji’s brother and his wife? For Seiji, too, being supported by his brother must’ve been humiliating. But perhaps Hisako’s assumption was the result of having lived in the city. Perhaps family relations were warmer on the island? But she realized that this was only wishful thinking. At the same time, she was puzzled that she didn’t have any memories of Seiji returning to the village. If what Fumi had said was true, she must’ve seen Seiji many times before her family moved away.

  —So even though I said it’s Seiji’s house, actually it’s his brother’s. And see that area over there? Off to the side and overgrown with weeds? That’s where Sayoko used to live.

  The weed-filled yard, partially surrounded with tall Garcinia trees, had what looked like two orange trees, each about as tall as a human being.

  —Sayoko was always confined to the house, so Seiji never met her again, even after he returned. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to see her. But that was probably for the best. Sayoko’s younger brother inherited the family home. He’s held on to the land up to now and planted a couple of citrus tankan trees in the yard, but he lives in Naha and hasn’t looked after them, so I don’t know if they’ll ever bear fruit. Though it’s just as well they don’t.

  Hisako could understand the desire to hold on to land even after leaving the island. Her uncle’s house, where she had lived as an evacuee, was now vacant, owned by her cousin living in Naha. There were many offers to buy the property, but her cousin never considered selling.

  The three stared at the abandoned premises in silence for a while, and when Fumi started speaking again, it was in a more subdued tone of voice.

  —In your letter, you wrote about a woman that came running toward you, right? And that she was screaming, and that blood was dripping down her legs. You know that was Sayoko, right?

  Hisako had assumed that that was the case, so she nodded. Fumi looked into Hisako’s eyes and nodded in return. Then she looked back at the abandoned property again.

  —Even now, when you walk on the gravel here, your shoes get covered with white powder. But back then, the whole area was covered with limestone, so your feet got really white. Do you remember being here with me when Sayoko came running? She bolted out of her house and came running through this lot. Her bare feet were white, her breasts were exposed, and she was screaming. I was right next to you. She was waving her arms as if fighting with some invisible force. Her eyes were wide open and bloodshot. She muttered something and then ran off toward the woods. We saw Sayoko’s mother run after her, and then I suddenly felt scared, and you looked like you were going to cry. Even after you left the island, I sometimes saw Sayoko running past the banyan tree like that. Sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. The adults said that after she was raped, Sayoko spent all her time locked up in the house, refusing to eat, never sleeping—until she went crazy. She was locked up in the back room, but sometimes she broke out of the house and sent the family into an uproar. I felt sad to see that because I gradually understood. You only saw the beginning, but things got much, much worse. Sometimes she came out completely naked, and the men would laugh and jeer and whistle. That made Sayoko’s parents angry, but the teenage boys only thought that was funny and whistled more. I can still hear their catcalls. Sayoko’s mother would chase after Sayoko with clothes in her hands, but she couldn’t catch her, so the teenage boys would pretend to help, and then fondle Sayoko when they caught her. Then she’d start screaming and punching and kicking. It was so painful to watch! Those teenagers were no different than the Americans. And when an uproar started, Seiji would come running out of his house with a stick. He’d start screaming and cursing at those teenage boys and try to hit them. But he was blind, so of course he never could. They’d always trick him, take his stick away, and knock him down. After a while, there were rumors that Sayoko was pregnant, and that one of the men in the village was the father. One time, she had run off and hadn’t returned until the next morning, so people figured that someone had taken advantage of her. After that, Sayoko disappeared for a while, and the rumors were that she was placed in a hospital in the south. I was just a kid, so I only overheard my parents talking, but it was painful for me to hear. Why did someone like Sayoko have to suffer like that? It broke my heart. And just like that, Sayoko disappeared from the island. Her family left, too. Do you remember our classmate Tamiko? She was Sayoko’s younger sister, and we went to the new elementary school together. I still can remember her telling the class that she was transferring to another school. I haven’t seen her since. I can’t believe sixty years have passed since then....

  There was no wind, but the grass and the two citrus trees standing in the sunlight seemed to be swaying, perhaps due to the tears in Hisako’s eyes.

  —Sayoko came out of her house, which used to be over there, ran through this open space here, and then headed down that road.

  Fumi pointed to a road, now paved and lined with houses. The road used to lead to the woods, but Hisako had no idea where it led now. For a split second, she imagined she saw a naked girl running down it.

  —Let’s go take a look.

  At Fumi’s prompting, they left the shade of the banyan tree and walked over to the area where Sayoko’s house used to be. As the bright sunlight poured over them, Hisako’s exposed upper arms and neck began to burn. She opened her sunshade and held it over Fumi as they stood next to the tall grass. The citrus trees, with their worm-eaten leaves, looked quite forlorn. Tall weeds pushed against them, and they looked like they would just wither away. The property covered an area of about 330 square meters. In the corner was an old well, covered with a concrete lid. Hisako remembered a young girl washing something there, but couldn’t get a clear
picture of the girl’s face. But she had a dim memory of someone calling her, Hisa-chan! Imagining a terrified young girl and her sister locked up in the dark back room of the now absent house, Hisako wanted to run away from there immediately.

  —Actually, I’d completely forgotten, too.

  Fumi’s voice sounded weak, so Hisako worried that her friend had reached her limit. But she knew she needed to listen until the end.

  —Maybe I didn’t so much forget as just couldn’t bring myself to remember. During high school, I lived in a dorm, so I had to leave the island. At the time, I felt relieved. When I went to university, I had to move even further away, but even though I was the only woman from our class leaving, I hardly missed anyone and mostly felt glad. And then, when I became an elementary school teacher, I avoided working at schools on the island. I only transferred to our old school just before retiring. When I was young, I worked hard for Okinawa’s reversion to Japan, but I always avoided peace education, and only went through the motions on Memorial Day. You see, if I spoke about the war, I would’ve had to remember Sayoko. So that’s how I made it to retirement. But shortly after I retired, there was that incident where three American soldiers raped an elementary school girl. I was immediately reminded of Sayoko. Reading about the incident in the newspaper or seeing reports on TV always reminded me of her. I couldn’t help thinking that in Okinawa, nothing’s changed, not even after fifty years. But at the same time, even though I tried to pretend that I’d forgotten Sayoko, I started to feel guilty about trying to forget the war. As a teacher, I should’ve spoken with my students about the Battle of Okinawa and the US military bases. Now that I’m retired, there’s nothing I can do about that, but I’ve spent the past ten years regretting my silence....