SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCE OF NAGOYA CASTLE

SUDDEN DISAPBPEARANCE OF NAGOYA CASTLE

Prelude

Two golden shachihoko adorn the roof of Nagoya Castle donjon. Shachihoko is a monster with a tiger’s head and a carp’s body. It is said that shachihoko protects the castle from fire by pouring water from its mouth. The creature originated from an Indian mythological crocodile-like animal called Makara, which carried the Goddess of Ganga on both water and in the air.
The 333-year-old shachihoko were burned down when Nagoya Castle was destroyed by the U.S. firebombs on May 14, 1945. The castle was reconstructed in 1959. Today two second-generation shachihoko decorate it.

1

The male shachihoko named Kimpay dreamt on the night of November 12, 2012. He met the first-generation shachihoko in the dream. The whole body was badly charred with its tail half blown off.
“Listen to me,” the shachihoko said.
“I will,” Kimpay responded looking at the two bright big eyes. He felt a familiarity with the monster.
“I am your predecessor, the first-generation shachihoko.”
“Oh, God,” Kimpay was so surprised that it took some time for him to collect himself. “What do you want with me, my predecessor?”
“My son, I have come to convey my wish to you. I feel sorry that I failed to protect the castle during the war.”
“But you had protected it since the Edo era for more than 300 years.”
“Yes. I have protected it for 333 years. I remember the day when they put me and my wife on the donjon’s roof in 1612, just 400 years ago. It was our glorious day,but alas,” the first-generation shachihoko
stopped speaking, apparently overwhelmed by remorse. “I failed to protect the castle.”
“But you are not responsible. The bombs destroyed it. You shouldn’t regret it.”
“How foolish you are! I could have prevented the castle from burning.”
“I don’t believe it. How could you?”
“Don’t you　know anything about our superpower?”
“Superpower?
What power?”
“Darn it!
You are endowed with the power of extinguishing fire and flying.”
“Oh,　really? How wonderful! Then why did you fail to put out the fire?”
“A good　question. At that time when the war situation was deteriorating, foolish men　from Nagoya City decided to dismount me and my wife to keep us in a safe place,　but when we were lowered down to the second floor level on the morning of May　14, 1945, B29 bombers dropped bombs on the castle. Each of us was confined in a　box, wrapped in thick cloth and bound by ropes. Now my son, how can you use the　superpower in such a condition? When I smelled and heard the fire, I tried to　pour water, but it was too late.”
“That’s too　bad. Probably they didn’t believe in your power.”
“Exactly. I could have protected the castle, but my efforts were in vain. So, my son, you understand what I ask of you now.”
“To protect Nagoya Castle from fire.”
“Good. Do not forget.”
Saying so, the shachihoko disappeared.

2

　　Billions of kilometers away from the earth, just beyond the orbit of
Neptune, there exists the Kuiper Belt, a disc-shaped region consisting of over　70,000 icy objects. It is the home of comets.
It so happened that a dark object a kilometer in diameter, let’s call it
Comet X, was pushed out of the Kuiper Belt when it collided with neighboring　objects, and began to approach the sun. In the course of 400-year trave, it　passed the orbits of Neptune, Uranus, and Saturn. When it passed Jupiter, it　entered the sun’s warm region and suddenly began to evaporate making a　million-kilometer-long pale tail.　No space telescopes, nor x-ray telescopes, nor human technology detected
the tiny comet, much less predicted its exact course. Reduced to an object of　half a kilometer in diameter, Comet X now passed the Mars.

3

When Kimpay woke from the dream, he told his spouse-shachihoko, Kanemi,　about the dream.
“So, our duty is to protect the castle from fire and work for the benefit
of Nagoya people,” Kimpay said.
“I see. But our castle is built of concrete and iron, so it won’t burn
down easily,” Kanemi said.
“I know. So, both of us are not necessary to protect the castle. You stay
here. I will fly around the city and see if there are any problems among the　people,” Kimpay said.
“Please take me with you. The castle won’t catch fire. I am tired of
staying on the castle.”
“No, you stay here. There are Edo era’s paintings, picture scrolls,
furnishing goods, swords, and other precious materials. You should stop any　fire and protect them.”
“If you say so,” Kanemi reluctantly obeyed him. “But, Kimpay-san, I don’t
know how to pour water from my mouth. Where is the water in the first place?”
“Our predecessor told us to drink the sea water. He said we could drink
limitless water in a large gulp. I will stay here while you fly to the Ise Bay
and drink water. Oh, and to fly, move your four fins like wings. They will
work, he said.”
Soon Kanemi　successfully flew to the Ise Bay, filled herself with water, and returned to　the castle.
“Now I am　ready. Please inspect Nagoya City and do your best for the people’s benefit.”　Kanemi said.
“OK, then.But before I leave, I have to tell this to our dear Castle.”
“I have　heard both of you,” Castle said in a bass voice. “Don’t worry about me. I will　take care of myself. Be careful and do your best, Kimpay.”
So, without　worrying about the castle and Kanemi, Kimpay moved his fins and flew to the　east of Nagoya.

4

　 When Kimpay was flying over the Higashiyama Zoo & Botanical
Gardens, he heard a child crying in the amusement park of the gardens.
Wondering why she was crying Kimpay flew down and landed about 10 meters away　from the girl.
She was still crying hard, “I want to ride the Ferris wheel. I want to
ride the Ferris wheel.”
Her mother was saying to her, “But the sign says ‘CLOSED FOR REPAIRS,’ so　it does not operate today. You must give up.”
But the little girl did not give up and kept crying. The mother was at a
loss.
Kimpay, determined to help them, immediately approached and said, “Little　girl, if you don’t mind, please ride on my back. You’ll enjoy the ride.”
Kimpay crouched before the girl so that she could get on him easily.
Looking at the tremendously big eyes and huge mouth, the girl was
terrified and suddenly began to cry harder, “I’m scared. I’m scared.”
Her mother got angry and said, “You are the golden shachihoko of Nagoya Castle, aren’t you? What are you doing here?
Don’t meddle in our affairs. It’s none of your business. Go away.”
So, Kimpay flew up into the sky disappointed.
He thought, “Since children will be scared to look at me, I should choose
adults to give helping hands to.”
Ten minutes later when Kimpay was flying over Aratama-bashi, a busy area in　Nagoya, he saw a middle-aged man and a young woman quarreling at a cross road.
The man was saying, “Why didn’t you stop? The signal was red. You must pay　for the damage to my car.”
“It was green, you fool. You must compensate me,” the woman shot back.
While they were arguing, several people gathered and watched them.
“It’s useless to talk to an idiot. Let’s go to the police,” the man said.
“Good idea. They’ll give the right judgment. You’ll be sorry,” she
retorted.
“You’ll be whining,” he said.
Kimpay thought, “This is a chance to help them. I’ll end the quarrel.”
He flew down towards the cross and landed before them.
“Let’s not fight. Kiss and be friends," Kimpay said.
Both of them were surprised at the monstrous intruder.
The woman said, “Why, you are the golden shachihoko. What are you doing here? None of your business. Get　lost.”
The man also said, “Get lost.”
Kimpay was again disappointed and rose up into the sky. He did not know what　to do for the benefit of the people. He thought he should call it a day and fly　back to the castle.
While he was circling above　Aratama-bashi to determine the direction for the castle, he saw a golden carp　being bullied by several dark carp in the Yamazaki River near Aratama-kobashi　Bridge.　He thought the golden carp was trying to escape from them, because she　seemed to be swimming in full speed in a zigzag course. One of the fast carp
caught up with her and dashed to her side. She turned on a dime when another　carp made a dash for her. That instant she jumped out of the river into the　air, and splashed down into the river. Now the dark carp surrounded her. She　had no chance to escape.
Kimpay thought he must protect the golden carp. “I have failed to help
human beings, but she’s not a human but fish. I am fish, too. So I’m sure I can　protect her.”
Kimpay dived down into the water between the dark carp and her.
He said to them, “Stop bullying her. She is my close relative. Look at
our golden color. I will never let you touch her.”
To Kimpay’s surprise, the golden carp complained that they were just
playing tag. She said she was it that time. All the carp said, “Don’t interrupt　us. Please go away. Big fish.”
Totally discouraged, Kimpay flew back to Nagoya Castle.
He thought, “It is beyond my power to help Nagoya people. Something is
wrong with them or with me.”

5

Comet X passed the orbit of Mars at the speed of 120,000 kilometers per
hour. The tail extended to a million kilometers because its surface had been evaporated by the sun’s heat. If the comet moved towards the sun at this speed, it would crash into it in 79 days. Comet X came within 1.5 hundred million kilometers of the sun. When it came into the earth’s orbit, it was pulled toward the earth.

6

When Kimpay returned to Nagoya Castle, he told Kanemi about his unsuccessful　experience.
“…in this way, they won’t accept
my kind offer. Something is wrong,” Kimpay said.
“I see, but haven’t you forced　your good will on them?” Kanemi said.
Listening to them, Castle joined　their conversation.
“Let me humbly say, Kimpay. I　think you did something beyond your power. It is impossible for us to solve　human skirmishes. What our predecessors told us is to protect Nagoya from fires　and natural disasters, not to meddle with human affairs. You should make the
most of your specialty. You have the power to pour as well as absorb unlimited　water. Why not use your specialty. You know, nobody will get angry if you have extinguished　a fire.”
Kimpay　understood what Castle said.
The next　day (December 11) around three o’clock in the afternoon, when Kimpay was flying　over Nakamura Ward, he saw black smoke rising. When he approached the smoke, he　saw a three-storied building burning. He heard fire engine sirens coming from a　distance. There was no time to lose, he thought. He hovered just above the　building and uttered, “Water!” and opened his mouth. A torrent of water gushed　out of it. In ten seconds the fire was extinguished. The onlookers were amazed　at Kimpay’s magical power.
“Did you　see that? That creature was the golden shachihoko
of Nagoya Castle,” one of the onlookers said.
“Yes, that was great!” another　said.
Kimpay　realized his power and understood what Castle said: use your specialty. He flew　back to Nagoya Castle in fine feather.

7

At eleven o’clock on the morning of December 12, 2012, John Kennedisky, an astronomer working for　the Mt. Lemmon Observatory in Arizona happened to discover Comet X. He made a　quick calculation and found that it was heading for the earth. He reported　about the comet to the Minor Planet Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The
director of the center, Isac Winestein, calculated its orbit based on the data　Kennedisky had sent to him. He was startled. It would hit the earth in 19 hours　and 57 minutes.
Winestein informed Thomas Franklin, chief of Near-Earth Asteroid Tracking Program run by the NASA of the comet. Franklin calculated the course again and confirmed that　it would collide against the earth. He immediately informed the NASA　administrator of the estimated time and place of the collision.
Time: at 7 seconds, 7 minutes, 7 o’clock
on the morning of December 12, 2012. A margin of error was 2 seconds
Place: at a latitude of 35 degrees, 10　minutes, 48 seconds, 67 north and a longitude 136 degrees, 54 minutes, 23　seconds, 63 east. That was at the intersection of Sakae 3-chome, Naka-ku, Nagoya,　Aichi Prefecture, Japan. A margin of error was 2 kilometers.
The NASA　immediately informed the U.S. Defense Department, the Japanese government, and　astronomical observatories all over the world of the intimidating situation.
The　Japanese government received the information 19 hours and 28 minutes before the　collision. The government issued an emergency warning through the Internet,　television, and radio.
“This is an　emergency warning. A comet is going to hit Sakae, Nagoya City, Aichi Prefecture　in 19 hours. The shock heat will destroy all the areas within a radius of 10　kilometers from Sakae. The buildings within the radius of 15 kilometers will collapse　by the shock winds of 50 kilometers per hour. The residents within the radius　of 30 kilometers from Sakae must immediately evacuate from the area. Please do　not rush but act in a cool and collected manner. For the meantime, Japan
Railways Central, Meitetsu Lines, Kintetsu Lines, Aonami Lines, subways, and　buses will operate. Extra trains will also operate. I will repeat….”
The people　in the area were all panic-stricken. All the roads were congested with people　and vehicles. All the stations were crowded with fleeing people who were　crying, screaming, shouting, and quarreling.
“Where are　you, honey?”
“Mom! Mom!”
“A train is　coming at platform No. 4. Please do not push! Don’t push!”

8

At two o’clock on the afternoon of December 11 (17 hours and seven minutes before the collision), some twenty men from the Culture and Tourism Department of Nagoya City were carrying out and loading onto the trucks the precious art work such as the wall paintings of fusuma and the wooden ceiling paintings, armor, and hanging scrolls that were decorated in Nagoya Castle.
Kimpay and Kanemi felt something was wrong with people in Nagoya. Kanemi flew away from the castle to see the cause. She looked down at the ground and saw both the National Highway No. 22 and Ohotsu Street jam-packed. She flew down onto the ground near the City Hall Subway Station and asked a hurrying old woman what the matter was.
“Don’t surprise me, Golden shachihoko. Haven’t you heard the news?
A comet is going to hit Sakae soon,” she said.
“Oh, God! When will it hit?”
“At 7: 07:07 tomorrow morning, they say.”
Kanemi hurriedly returned to the castle and told the news to Kimpay and Castle.
Kimpay said, “Then it will be dangerous to stay here. We should also evacuate…, no. No, we will say here. This is the time for us to protect Nagoya and its people.”
Kanemi and Castle agreed with him.
Castle said earnestly, “You are right.
This is the time we will defend Nagoya. I wish I had wings so that I could fly　and attack the comet.”
Kanemi was moved by Castle’s words,　talked to Kimpay in a small voice, and said, “We will let you fly, Castle.”
“Really? Thank God! I will crash the comet into pieces.”
The three of them discussed how to attack the comet. They thought it would be nonsense to fly right then because they did not know the course of the comet, much less its location. Instead,they reached a conclusion to wait till the last moment to see its exact course and location.
　　The next day, at 4:07 on the morning of　December 12, Comet X was making a dash at the Japanese archipelago at 20　kilometers per second. It was burning hard and red.
At 6:50,　the sun rose. The blue roof tiles of five-storied Nagoya Castle reflected the　sunlight and shone in the morning glow. The shachihoko
couple had descended to the first floor the night before and had tightly fixed　themselves on the walls of the first floor. Kimpay was on the north side wall,　and Kanemi on the south side. Both of them had their heads downward and tails　upward. Just below the first floor was ishigaki
or a base mound.

9

At 33 seconds before Comet X hit Sakae, Nagoya, the lightning rod antenna on the roof of the castle caught the comet. Castle said, “Now!” and a tremendous amount of water gushed from the mouths of Kimpay and Kanemi against the base mound of the donjon. The clouds of spray rose 100 meters high.
At 31 seconds before the crash, the speed of the gushing water reached 8 kilometers per second. Then, believe it or not, the donjon floated one centimeter above the mound. The next moment, it flew towards the comet. Nobody saw the donjon’s brave flight.
At 25 seconds before the crash, the comet approached within 500 kilometers of the earth, and the donjon reached 100 kilometers above the earth. The distance between the two was 400 kilometers. The comet had a bluish yellow tail and the donjon had two white tails.
At 20 seconds, the distance shrank to 300 kilometers.
At 15 seconds, their distance was 150 kilometers. The two would collide with each other in 5 seconds.
4 seconds before the collision, their distance was 120 kilometers.
3 seconds, 90 kilometers.
2 seconds, 60 kilometers.
1 second, 30 kilometers.
The next moment, they collided with each other causing a tremendous explosion. The explosion energy was 1000 times aspowerful as an atomic bomb.
The donjon was broken into pieces. While they were falling towards the earth, they burnt and disappeared. Kimpay and Kanemi flew away at full speed from the donjon as directed by Castle. They suffered from the heat wave from the collision. The golden scales of their bodies melted and the copper cover appeared under the scales.
The comet broke into two. One burnt up; the other was intact and flew down towards the Ise Bay. Kimpay and Kanemi saw half of the comet fall into the bay. They rushed down to the bay. Their copper covers came off and from inside the cover the naked earthenware bodies appeared. When the fiery comet dropped into the sea, a crown-shaped water ring rose 1,000 meters high above the sea. The top of the ring stopped rising momentarily and crashed down onto the sea making a round deep hole in it. The surrounding waters of the hole immediately flowed into the center, crashed together, and made a 500-meter high water pillar. It crashed down again and made a great tsunami. It rushed to Nagoya Port, the Chubu International Airport, and Yokkaichi Port at the speed of 100 kilometers per hour.
Even though Kimpay and Kanemi were completely exhausted, they rushed with gritted teeth and flew down onto the spot the comet had crashed. The tsunami would arrive at the shore in one minute.
As soon as Kimpay and Kanemi landed in the sea, they opened their mouths as wide as possible and began to drink the seawater.One full gulp, another full gulp, and another full gulp. They were determined, “This is the very moment to save Nagoya, keep the promise, and mourn for Castle. Tears mixed with seawater stood at the corners of their eyes. Both of them thought they would be glad to sacrifice their lives if they could save Nagoya. They were gazing at Nagoya Port in the far distance, constantly praying.
The tsunami heading for the Nagoya Port went over the breakwater easily and advanced towards the piers, where there were thousands of piled containers and automobiles for export.
Just five seconds before the tsunami reached the piers, it stopped and began to flow backward. They retreated from the Chubu International Airport and the Yokkaichi Port, too.
Three minutes later, all the tsunami was pulled back towards the center of the Ise Bay, collided together, and countervailed. Soon the boisterous sea changed into a gentle sea.
Seeing it, Kimpay and Kanemi put forth their final effort and flew towards the base mound of Nagoya Castle. When they reached it, they lay there more　dead than alive. They looked at each other’s earthenware face, which looked satisfied　with their accomplishment.
“You’ve done a good job, Kimpay,” Kanemi gasped out.
“You, too,” Kimpay said in a feeble voice.
Those were their last words. Their earthenware bodies collapsed gradually and turned into two mounds of soil.

10

　　Around seven o’clock on the morning of　December 12, the evacuees who had moved to Ogaki, about 50 kilometers west of　Nagoya, were looking at the eastern sky over Nagoya. When they saw a sharp　light run in the sky, they thought their houses had been destroyed. All of them　were discouraged, but when they heard the 10 o’clock morning news, they could　not believe it.
The news went:
“The　comet exploded and burn up in the atmosphere. No damage has been reported in　Nagoya City and the surrounding areas.”
At nine o’clock on the morning of the　next day, the Nagoya Castle gate was opened and many tourists visited it. They　walked along the moat, crossed the bridge, and when they reached the Honmaru donjon site, they were surprised　to see no castle.
“Look, there is no castle!”
“My! Only the base mound. What’s　happened?”
The news of the sudden disappearance of　the castle spread all over Japan instantaneously.
At four o’clock in the afternoon,　newspaper extras were delivered throughout Japan. The headline read, “Nagoya Castle　Donjon Crashes Comet. Shachihoko　Saves Nagoya.” The extra had several photographs taken by the Hubble Space　Telescope and a NASA satellite telescope. The serially taken photographs showed　how the castle approached and crashed against the comet, and how the tsunami　was advancing toward Nagoya Port.
One of photographs showed Kimpay and　Kanemi’s faces. They were drinking the seawater with their eyes wide open.

The End

ALMOST DROWNED ON A SUBWAY TRAIN

　　On the morning of September 13, 2011, a heavy rainfall in Aichi Prefecture was forecasted because of a typhoon threatening Kyshu and a stationary front in the western part of Japan.
　　Susumu Mizushima put his collapsible umbrella in his bag and left his house. It was cloudy and hot. Ten minutes later he came to Aratama-kobashi Bridge. On halfway of the bridge he stopped as usual, leaned over the parapet, and looked down at the Yamazaki River. He saw several carp and tortoises swimming peacefully in the transparent water. He breathed easy and rushed to Aratama-bashi Subway Station. He was a 60-year-old high school teacher and this was his last year before his retirement.
　　That day he had not recovered from his cold he had caught during the summer vacation. Though he was tired, he managed to teach three classes in the morning and one in the afternoon. After the classes he felt extremely exhausted and left school earlier than usual around five o’clock.
　　The subway he took at Hoshigaoka Station was not crowed. He sat on the seat till he reached Motoyama Station. He changed trains there. Unluckily the new train was crowded. Several passengers were standing near the door, so he went inside and stood. He put his bag on the floor between his feet. There were 200 examination test papers in his bag. He did not put it on the shelf in case he should forget it.
　　When the train arrived at Nagoya University Station, several students got on it. The door closed and the announcement was heard, “The next station is Yagoto Nisseki, Yagoto Nisseki.” He was feeling dizzy and wanted to sit on the seat. He looked around. A man around 30 years old in front of him was reading a book. On his left sat two high school girls talking noisily with each other. On the right side sat a girl around five years old and a woman who looked like her mother. She was absorbed in using her cell phone. Mizushima prayed, “Please someone, give me your seat.”
He was not able to remain standing any longer. He squatted down. His eyes fell on the floor. He was surprised. The floor was wet all over. Water about one centimeter deep was going backward and forward as the train swayed. He wondered where the water had entered from. He looked at the door. It was tightly closed and no water was leaking. He then looked at the joining section. There he saw muddy water coming in! The water was now more than two centimeters deep, yet nobody seemed to realize it.
　　He said, “Look, everyone, water. Water in the train.”
　　Nobody seemed to hear his words, which were drowned out in the noise of the running train. He again said in a loud voice.
　　“Hey! Water is in the train.”
　　Nobody paid attention to him. He became irritated. He snatched the book the man in front of him was reading and said, “Water is in the car,” but the man looked at him angrily saying, “What are you doing!” and grabbed it back.
　　Mizushima thought his high fever was causing hallucinations, when he heard the little girl saying, “Mom, water, water on the floor.”
　　Her mother said, “Don’t say such a foolish thing,” and continued using her cell phone without even looking at her child or the floor. Mizushima thought, “If the girl is saying water is in the train, I am not daydreaming.”
　　The water was about three centimeters deep. Mizushima picked up his bag and held it in his arms. His shoes were drenched. He heard the splash as he stamped on the floor. This was not a hallucination at all, he thought. Ever increasing water ran to and fro in the car making waves. He screamed at the top of his voice as if he were scolding his students.
　　“Everyone! Listen! Look at the WATER!”
　　At last the passengers realized the situation.
　　“Water! Muddy water!”
　　“What’s happened?”
　　“The rain. The heavy rain!”
　　“Yes, it was forecasted this morning.”
　　“A bank must have been broken.”
　　“Flood?”
　　“Never!”
　　Three high school boys seated behind Mizushima picked up their sport bags on the floor and put them on the shelf. The bags dripped onto them. The mother using the cell phone made her daughter stand on the seat. The water was now over ten centimeters deep. Muddy water began to leak from the door, too. The train slowed down and arrived at Yagoto-nisseki Station. As soon as the door opened, the water on the platform gushed into the car. Pushed suddenly by the incoming water, a man standing near the door nearly fell down. About ten people got off the train splashing against the flow of the water. Nobody got on the car. There remained about 30 passengers. The door closed and the train began to move. Now the water was as deep as the seats. All the children stood on the seats with their hands holding on straps. Those children unable to reach the straps were supported by their parents. The car was a muddy pool. The shaking of the train made the surface of the water vibrate. Now the water reached above Mizushima’s knees. His bag felt heavy. He put it on the shelf thinking that he should never drench it in the water. Several adults also stood on the seats. Water was gushing into the car through the joining section. Water began to leak from the ventilation on the ceiling. Passengers were wet. Some were drenched to the skin. Mizushima, worried about his examination papers, grabbed his bag, zipped it tight, and put it back on the shelf. His legs became icy cold. The children’s cries mingled with the noise of the rushing train. The water smelled bad. Mizushima felt his legs going numb. He felt he could not stand any longer, when an announcement was broadcast:
　　“Attention please. Attention please. According to the information from the Nagoya Subway Transportation Authority, the Yada River bank was broken and the north eastern part of Nagoya is now flooded. Hundreds of houses have been flooded. The water has run down into Nagoya Dome Yada Station and Sunadabashi Station and is now rushing towards Yagoto Station at an amazing speed. If the flood catches up with this train, we will be drowned. Therefore, this train will hereafter travel at full speed as far as Aratama-bashi Station. Aratama-bashi Station is not flooded at this moment. We are very sorry for your inconvenience. Thank you for your corporation.”
　　As Mizushima was listening to the announcement, the water became deeper and deeper. Now it was almost one meter deep. He was afraid, “If the water becomes another 50 centimeters deeper, I might drown.” Two men put a crying baby on the shelf. Her mother held her with both hands. As the train shook, the water made big waves. When it turned a curve, it ran to one side of the car, almost reaching the shelf. A PET bottle and a cap were floating on the water. The lights of the car suddenly began to flicker. The lights on the subway tunnel were running back one after another at full speed. They began to flicker, too. Mizushima was afraid that both lights would soon go off. Suddenly the car became bright. The train was passing a platform. Mizushima saw the electric sign in the back of the car. It read SOGO RIHABIRI CENTER STATION. He saw the platform running backward. The water on the platform was about 20 centimeters deep, 10 centimeters less deep than in Yagoto Nisseki Station platform. The train was running leaking water outside. The water in the car became 80 centimeters deep. Then without any caution, the llights of the train and on the tunnel walls went off. It became pitch dark.
　　“Aiiieee!”
　　“Mom, mom!”
　　“Takao, Takao! Where are you?”
　　“Kayo, hold my hand.”
　　“My dear, are you here?”
　　“Yes, here!”
　　The thunderous noise of the running train was drowning out the passengers’ cries in the darkness. Then the car became bright. "The train is passing Mizuho Undojo Higashi Station platform," Mizushima thought. The car was illuminated by the platform lights. He saw the water on the platform. It was about 10 centimeters deep. The next moment it became dark. He thought, “Two more minutes and I will be at Aratama-bashi Station.” The two minutes were too long for him. He felt as if the train would run eternally in the dark. He raised his hand and fumbled for his bag and after several seconds he grabbed it and held it under his arm. The cries ceased and silence prevailed. Mixed with a girl’s sobbing, Mizushima heard a woman saying, “Hang on, my child. We’ll soon reach the station.” The water decreased to his knee level. As the train dropped the speed, he felt the flow of the water pushing his body. The water seemed to flow toward the traveling direction. The light of the Aratama-bashi platform in the distance began to illuminate the car vaguely. The car gradually became brighter. Mizushima breathed easy. The train braked to a stop and the train eased into the platform. It was bright. The water with the PET bottle floating on it ran toward the joining section. The train stopped and the water counterflew pushing Mizuzhima’s body. He held his bag tightly. The door opened. The water in the car gushed out to the platform. Mizushima got off the car pushed by the passengers and the water. He stood on the platform. He felt relieved. The water on the platform was about five centimeters. He thought he had to hurry up, otherwise the flood from the Yada River would reach there soon. He began to walk with splash with his bag under his arm. He felt clumsy walking in the water. He felt as if his legs were those of a robot. He came as near as two meters from the staircase. Only a little water was flowing down the stairs. The escalator on the right side of the staircase was not working. He heard an announcement:
　　“This is an emergency announcement. Please evacuate from the platform as soon as possible. The Tenpaku River bank was broken and the water came down through Nonami Station and Tsurusato Station 15 minutes ago. Wait a moment, please. I’ve got a new message. The Yamazaki River has overflowed, too. Oh, god, water has come. Everyone, please evacuate in a hurry! Oh, no! Water, water!”
　　The announcement stopped.
　　Mizushima hurried to the staircase and began to climb it. When he climbed five or six steps, he heard a torrent of water rushing down the steps over his head. He looked up. Muddy water was falling down splashing with rage like waterfalls the width of the staircase. The water reached Mizushima’s feet in a second. He held his bag under his left arm and tried to grab the handrail with his right hand, but the gushing of water tripped him up and he fell on the steps, rolled down, and fell onto the platform. He inhaled some water, coughed roughly, and felt pain in his throat. He could not get up. The continuous muddy water was pushing him with tremendous force. He saw his bag flowing away. He crawled on his hands and knees, and managed to stand up. The bag hit the edge of the bench on the platform and began to sink. The water was about 20 centimeters deep above the platform. Pushed by the water, he at last approached his bag and reached for it, when all the lights on the platform went off. It was pitch-dark. He heard screams resonating with the noise of the water. He lost his bag. He was disappointed. It couldn’t be helped, he thought. His life was more important than the students’ papers. Water was now coming down from three staircases onto the platform and was eddying and striking the pillars. The amount of water falling down the steps was not decreasing. He felt a new current of water coming from the opposite direction. Instantly the water was one meter deep. Mizushima thought that the Yada River’s flood joined with the floods of the Tempaku River and the Yamazaki River. The water was increasing, one meter and 10 centimeters, one meter and 20 centimeters. The only noise he heard was that of the falling water, waves, and voices in the distance. It was pitch-dark. Mizushima thought, “I must be very careful not to drop from the platform down onto the railway tracks. The water there must be two meters deep.” He walked slowly in the dark weighing each step. He did not know which direction he was going, but he thought he would come to the staircase if he continued to walk in the same direction. He felt cold. His hands and feet began to go numb. He bumped against something. It was a large round pillar. Mizushima thought, “Here is a pillar. Then, on either side of it are the railway tracks. I have to be careful.” The distant voices gradually faded and all he heard in the dark was the noise of the water. Ack! Mizushima fell down from the platform onto the railway tracks. He kicked the water desperately. His face surfaced above the water. Treading water, he tried to find the platform, but his feet did not touch it. He was afraid he would drown in the dark. He was desperate. He changed direction and kicked and kicked for three minutes or so, when his foot finally touched the platform. He stood up. The water was now chest level. He had choked on muddy water again. He felt sick. After collecting himself, Mizushima thought, “There should be bumpy guide tiles for the blind along the edge of the platform. If I follow the tiles, I can reach the staircase.” He walked in the deep water for some minutes. His foot struck a pillar again. He stopped and extended his foot as far as possible keeping his hand on the pillar. After a few minutes, his feet touched something bumpy. This was it, he thought. He walked inch by inch feeling the bumps. He took off his shoes to feel the bumps better. The water was increasing incessantly. The flood from the three rivers was running down onto the platform. “I cannot die in such a place,” he thought. He paid the utmost attention not to lose track of the tiles. He could no longer hear the noise of the water falling down the staircase. Somehow the water had stopped rising. “Good, the flood prevention bars at the subway entrances have stopped the flood. If I move along the tiles and reach the staircase, I can get out of the water,” he thought. But it was pitch dark and he could not see the staircase. He heard water dripping from the ceiling. He smelled an offensive odor like sewage. He heard no human voices. “Where have they gone?” he wondered. He was exhausted. He was lonely. He thought he could no longer move, when he bumped against something hard. That’s a staircase! Faint light was streaming from above the staircase. No water was coming down. Total silence. He climbed the step holding the railing. It became lighter as he climbed the steps. When he climbed five or six steps, he happened to see something black floating on the water. It was a small turtle. He picked it up thinking that it would die in such filthy water. He put it in his trouser pocket. He climbed the steps one by one and finally came to the top of the staircase. It was dry. It seemed as if no flood had attacked the station. He breathed a sigh of relief, and advanced to the ticket wicket. Several passengers were going out through the wicket. He thought they were his battle comrades who had fought against the menacing muddy water in the dark. He looked at the clock above the wicket. It was 6:20. He thought, “It was past five when I took a subway at Hoshigaoka Station. So I have been struggling between life and death for more than an hour.” He reached the automatic ticket gate. How could they possibly check the ticket in such an emergency? he wondered. He touched his hip-pocket. It was wet but his wallet was there. He took out his pass and inserted it in the opening in the machine. Ping-Pong, and the bar closed the wicket. Mizushima was embarrassed. Was it because the pass was wet and so it did not work? A station attendant hurriedly came to the wicket, took out the pass, and said,
　　“Mister, this is not a subway pass. It’s a telephone card.”
　　Mizushima was again embarrassed.
　　“Oh, I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I was upset because of the flood, you know?”
　　“Food? What do you mean?” the attendant said.
　　“What are you talking about? Don’t you know the Tenpaku River has burst its banks and the flood has gushed into the subway stations?”
　　“The Tenpaku River has burst its banks?”
　　“Yes, and the Yada River, too. Don’t you know that? I was almost drowned in the flood.”
　　“No kidding, please. No river has overflowed.”
　　“This is not a joke. I’m serious. I was almost drowned.”
　　Mizushima noticed a number of people passing through the wicket to the platform. It was strange. Why were they coming to the subway? If it was flooded, no passengers would come, he wondered.
　　The attendant said laughingly, “Yes, yes, you had a hard time. This time, don’t make a mistake. No telephone card. OK?”
　　Mizushima passed through the wicket and climbed huffing and puffing up 60 steps and went above the ground, to the Aratama Bus Terminal. It was cloudy. The streets were normal. The pedestrians were walking as usual. There was no sign of the flood. Wondering what had happened to him, Mizushima walked to Aratama-kobashi Bridge. He stopped halfway across the bridge and looked down at the river. It was not muddy. It was flowing as peacefully as before. Carp and turtles were swimming. The three street lights were shining on the bank.
　　“This is strange. Did I dream it? I choked on the water. I lost my bag. What has happened?” Mizushima wondered. Feeling something moving in his trouser pocket, he put his hand in it and felt the turtle. He pulled it out. It had mud on its shell. The turtle’s head gradually protruded. “Why, this turtle is proof that there has been a flood, isn’t it?” he said to himself looking at it. “OK, I will save this turtle,” He said and threw it into the river. It splashed on the water, sank, moved its legs frantically and surfaced. It began to swim comfortably. Good, he thought. Still he wondered whether there had actually been a flood. He did not understand. He gazed at the river. He felt his body moving backwards. He felt exhausted. He squatted down.
　　He heard the noise of the subway train running.
　　He heard the announcement.
　　“The next stop is Yagoto Nisseki. Yagoto Nisseki.”
     He looked up and saw the man reading the book.

　　　　The End

Selling Cup Noodles at School

HURRY, THE CLASS HAS BEGUN

　　Ding, dong, ding, dong….
　　The fifth period chime is ringing. I have to go to the classroom, but I feel dizzy, because I got up late and didn’t have enough time to eat breakfast. Besides that, my accumulated fatigue is setting in. After all, I have been teaching English for 40 years, but I know I will straighten up once I stand on the classroom platform.
　　Well, the next class is N 21. I am going to teach the last part of “The Tragedy of the Titanic.” OK, then, I will quickly prepare for the class. Here is the textbook, the chalk box, the pointer stick, and, yes, blank test papers. I am going to give them a small test today. Uh-oh, where’s the test papers? Oh, I remember. I used all the papers in fourth period. Then, I’ll go to the printing room and get some blank paper. Oops, wait a moment. I have some reserved papers in my desk drawer. Let me see, which drawer was it? Well, I’m sure it’s this drawer. No. No papers. Then, maybe the drawer below it. No, no papers. Then the next one. No again. Then, the next one. Look, what I have found. This is Yoichi’s report card. I repeatedly said to him, “You haven’t returned your report card yet. You must hand it to me as soon as possible,” but he always told me that he had returned it. I thought he was telling a lie, but here it is. He was right. I threatened him a few days ago by saying, “If you don’t hand in your card, I’ll make you clean the classroom all by yourself.” Well, what shall I do? Since I definitely told him that I hadn’t got it, it is too late to take back what I have said to him. How can I say to him, “I’ve found your report card”? Should I pretend that I haven’t found it? Or, should I apologize to him? I’ll have to be honest.
　　Well, why have I opened the drawer? Oh, yes, the test papers. I must hurry. The students are waiting for me. Some of them may be playing around. The class officer might come to me. Last Thursday when I was talking with my colleagues in the teachers’ office, the class officer came to me and said, “Mr. Yamada, your class has started. Please come.” I was ashamed of myself at that time.
　　So, there are no test papers in my drawers. Then I’ll go to the printing room and cut some B4 size blank paper into half. It’ll take just a minute.
　　What’s the matter with this room? There is no B4 size paper. Mountains of cardboard boxes of B4 size paper are always piled up. I can’t believe it. No paper in our school? How can teachers make printed materials? Well, then, I will use some paper on the paper feeding tray of the printing machine. Quick. I have to hurry. Well, why is the front door of the machine open? Let me see. The display screen says, “DISABLED BY A PAPER JAM. OPEN THE FRONT DOOR AND TAKE OUT THE PAPER.” Well, well, who on earth has jammed the machine? What an irresponsible teacher! Why didn’t he take out the paper? OK, then, I’ll take out the paper. It’ll take just a second. OK. Here, I open the front door, and, ah, I see the jammed paper. Let me…take…it. There! Oh, God! Don’t surprise me. The damn machine began to rotate rapidly. Why? Why is it rotating? What happened? I can’t stop it. It is rotating frantically with tremendous noise. Mad, mad machine! Oh, please stop. Please. Now it has begun to splash ink all over. I must run to the classroom now, but I can’t leave here while the damn machine is spitting ink all over. This room will be soon flooded with ink. What shall I do? Help me. Someone, help me. Nobody comes. OK, then, I’ll call the office. Oh, ink has splashed on my shirt. Damn it! “Hello, is this the office? This is Yamada speaking. Please come to the printing room. It’s all mess. Ink is splashing all over. What? Turn the switch off? Yes, yes. Thank you.” There. It stopped. What a devil you are!
　　OK. I won’t give a test today. I am already ten minutes late, but if I speed up, I can cover today’s lesson in 40 minutes.
　　My next class is N-21. It’s on the second floor. It’s close to the teachers’ room. I just need to climb a flight of stairs. OK. Let’s go. Oh, I see Shuji approaching. He is the class officer.
　　“Mr. Yamada, please come to the classroom. They are making noise.”
　　“Yes, yes, yes, I’m sorry, Shuji. I’m coming. Tell them I’m on the way.”
　　Shuji is a good boy. OK. So, I’ll climb the stairs…Oops, I remember the vice principle said in the morning meeting that Classroom N-21 would be changed to Classroom S-41 due to electrical work. So I have to go to the fourth floor of the south school building. That’s miles away. I’ll have to cross the school playground. And it has began to rain. So, Shuji came all the way in the rain. I need an umbrella. Mine is in my locker. I’ll have to hurry up, I am 15 minutes late for the class. Hurry, hurry.
　　How hard it rains! And the wind! Like a typhoon. I wish there were an underground path to the building. The playground is all mud. It is freezing. Oh, my shoes are already leaking. The bottoms of my feet are soaked through. The mud is squishing over my shoes, slosh, slosh, slosh. I’m drenched to the skin and yet the building is far away.
　　At last I’ve reached the destination. What’s this sign? It says, “Due to seismic retrofitting, this gate is closed. Please use the west gate.” What? The west gate? Then, I’ll have to return and cross the playground again and go out of the front gate, and turn around the north side of the building. What an unlucky day! I curse the heavens! OK, OK, OK, I’m desperate. My textbooks, my chalk box, my pointer, my tie, my clothes are all soaked. I feel as if I have fallen in a river. What will the students say to me when I enter their classroom? They will laugh at me. They won’t praise me for my gallant march in the storm. Let me see. No one is walking. Not even a dog. What time is it? Oh, I can hardly see the hands of my watch. Well, let me see. It is already 20 minutes to two. So, I am 30 minutes late. Shall I give up going to the class? No, I have to go at any cost. It is my duty. I have to apologize to the students for being late. It is getting dark. I can’t see well. Oh, lighting flashed. What a horrible day! The Devil has captured me. What’s that? Someone is calling me. I see three students on a horse cart. Why a horse cart here and on such a day? Did they come out of a Sherlock Homes story?
　　“Mr. Yamada, Mr. Yamada!”
　　They are N-21 students. They are supposed to be in the classroom.
　　“What are you doing there? Go back to the classroom.”
　　“Mr. Yamada, we are here to pick you up. Please get on the cart.”
　　“There is no such thing as a cart in the 21st century. You are dreaming. Bang your heads together and wake up!”
　　Oh, they disappeared. That was probably a visual and auditory hallucination. I should have eaten breakfast. I am totally exhausted.
　　Here I am at last at the west gate. I’ll push the door. It is…open. Good! I have only five minutes or so till the end of the class. I have to climb three flights. I hope I can make it. Hurry, hurry, hurry. I’ll discard my umbrella, textbook, chalk box, everything! They are obstacles. My heart is beating hard. I might die here. This is martyrdom, isn’t it? This is an honorable death. To die in the course of educating students. My statue will stand in front of the school. But will they pray for me? They won’t. Well, I have only one or two minutes before the class finishes. I’ll have to apologize to them.
　　Here I am at long last in front of S-41. My hair and clothes are dripping, but I don’t care. OK. I’ll open the door.
　　What’s the matter? It is complete darkness. I can’t see anything. Where are they? The bell will ring at any moment to announce the end of the fifth period. Oh, what’s that? I see a light in the distance. It’s coming from, from …, believe or not, a ship. Why a ship in a dark classroom? No, this is not a classroom, but, but it’s the sea, the cold sea. I hear the blowing of a steam whistle. Heavy, sad, long whistle. Look! the ship is sinking, sinking, sinking. That’s the Titanic, isn’t it?
　　Ding, dong, ding, dong….

GOLDEN KILLER WHALES GO TO THE OASIS

　　It was around two o’clock on the morning of October 4, 2009.
　　A giant kite, blown by a strong wind, was seen above the Nagoya Castle Tenshukaku Donjon. Riding on the kite was a man dressed in black with arms and legs outstretched. The kite approached the female golden shachi . “Hup,” he said and jumped down onto the donjon ridge. He was a self-styled Kinsuke Kakinoki , a shachi scale thief of the Heisei era .
　　Kinsuke straddled the shachi, tied one end of a rope around his waist and the other end around the tail of the shachi. Now he wouldn’t be blown off from the castle donjon. He then put down a black backpack, took out a monkey wrench and a nipper from it, and put them in the bag on the waist belt. Next he took out a flashlight and put its string around his neck so that it wouldn’t fall.
　　The full moon appeared from behind the dark clouds for a moment. At that instant, the golden tiger-faced fish sparkled.
　　Kinsuke lit the scales with the flashlight in his left hand, and put the mouth of the monkey wrench onto one of the nuts which fastened the scales. A metallic clank sounded in the dark. He tried to turn the wrench to loosen the nut, but it slipped off the nut. He tried again but in vain. He was frustrated. “Calm down. No one is looking at me,” he said to himself. He adjusted the width of the wrench mouth and put it onto the nut again. Carefully and steadily he turned it. The nut came loose. Good. He put the wrench back into the belt bag. Next he took the nipper out of the bag, pinched the scale edge, and pulled it hard.
　　“Ouch!”
　　He was surprised. He thought he had just heard someone say, “Ouch!”
“Impossible. No one is here. My ears are playing tricks on me,” he thought. He pulled the edge again.
　　“Ouch! What are you going to do with my scale?”
　　Oh my god! Does this shachi speak? Unbelievable. Kinsuke looked at the shachi’s eyes. The shachi goggled her eyes and gave him a threatening look.
　　Kinsuke said with his chin up, “Don’t look at me with such dirty eyes, Monster. You think you are threatening me with those big eyes, but who do you think I am. I am a Kinsuke Kakinoki of the Heisei era. It’s a big mistake if you think I will be frightened by your monstrous eyes. I am not afraid of you. However hard you may outstare me or however loudly you may cry, I will not move a muscle. I’ve come here at the risk of my own life. I will not go back without your scales. Of course, I don’t want to steal your scales, but I can’t make a living because I’m a temp worker and was fired four months ago. You are just an ornament, aren’t you? You will never know how harsh the world is without money. Now all your scales are mine. Don’t feel bad with me.”
　　“How stupid you are, Kinsuke!”
　　“Stupid? What do you mean?”
　　“My scales are not gold. They are coated. You can’t sell them. Don’t you know that?”
　　“I am fully aware of that. But, you see your coated gold amounts to 44 kilograms all together. You don’t know the current gold market price, do you? One gram of gold is worth nearly 3,000 yen. Do you understand? I’ve studied this fully. Now give up and give me all your scales.”
　　“No, I won’t. I am the symbol of Nagoya City. I won’t give a single scale to such a chicken thief like you.”
The shachi began to shake her body back and forth violently.
Kinsuke held his arms around the shachi’s tail tightly.
　　“What are you doing?” he said. “Stop that. It’s dangerous. Stop, stop shaking.”
　　“Fall down to the ground and break your neck,” she said.
The shachi shook her body more and more violently. Kinsuke managed to take out the monkey wrench. He struck the shachi’s head three times with all his might.
　　“This!” A blow. Gaaan!
　　“Monstrous!” Another blow. Gaaan!
　　“Shachi!” The final blow. Gaaan!　　
　　The female shachi fainted and stopped wiggling.
　　“That serves you right,” Kinsuke said.
　　The wind which had temporarily been calm began to blow hard. Kinsuke shivered from cold.
　　In two hours, Kinsuke peeled off all 126 golden scales from the shachi. He then took out three bags and three 50-meter-long ropes from his backpack. Next, he put the 42 scales into each bag and tied it at the top with the rope. He lifted the three bags down onto the ground one by one. After that, Kinsuke jumped down from the donjon ridge onto the chidori gable and climbed down to the lower roofs one after another.
　　The full moon was covered by heavy clouds. Kinsuke disappeared in the dark.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　***
　　It was five twelve the next morning. The male shachi woke up reflecting the rising sun.
　　“Ahhh, I’ve had enough sleep. Now, I will commence my duty to guard the castle again today.”
　　He looked at the female shachi. He found her body was black. He wondered why it was not gold but black.
　　Shachi-ko was still unconscious.
　　“Yoo hoo, Shachi-ko, GET UP!”
　　She regained consciousness.
　　“What’s the matter with your body? It’s all black. You have no scales,” he said.
　　“I am sorry, Shachio-san,” she said with vexation. “But a rascal came last night and peeled off all my scales. He struck me on the head. How frustrating! My whole body hurts.”
　　The part where the scales were peeled off was smarting from the morning bright sunshine.
　　“A rascal?” he said.
　　“Yes, he was dressed in black. Around 30. He complained that he couldn’t make a living because he was a fired temp worker.”
　　“I feel sorry for him, but I can’t forgive him for hurting you.”
　　“Shachio-san, I think I have a fever. And my whole body is smarting hard. I can’t bear the pain,” she complained.
　　“Oh, that’s too bad,” Shachio said.
　　“The sunlight is hurting my bare body like arrows. I believe if you pour some water on my body, the pain will be cured somehow.”
　　“Yes, it will, but where can we get clean water?” he said. “There is water in the moat, but it’s dirty. Mosquito larvae hatch there. You might suffer from tetanus.”
　　“Is there any place where you can get clean water?” she said.
Shachio looked down around the city with his big eyes. To the west of the castle, there stood several skyscrapers, but they had nothing to do with clean water. To the south, there were busy downtown streets of Sakae, but the streets did not supply clean water. To the east, he saw the Nagoya Baseball Dome, which was unrelated to fresh water.
　　“What do you see to the north, Shachi-ko?” he said.
　　“I see the Shonai River.”
　　Ah, Shonai River. That river had become very clean compared with decades ago, but not clean enough for sweetfish ayu to live in, he thought.
Shachio looked around once again. Then, he recognized something glittering to the south. It was reflecting the sun. There was clean water over there.
　　“I’ve found it. There is an oasis to the south. An oblong pond filled with clean water in Sakae,” he said to Shachi-ko.
　　“I know the oasis. It’s called Oasis 21. The water is fresh and clean. It will surely cure my pain,” she said happily.
　　“OK, then. Let’s go to the oasis,” he said. “But I’m afraid the water poured on your body will dry soon, won’t it?”
　　“Yes, it will, but that’s an oasis. There are a lot of trees. If you put big leaves on my wet body, it will have good efficacy,” she said.
　　“All right then, we will have to be absent from the castle for some time, but it can’t be helped. Let’s fly.”
　　Surprised, she said, “Let’s fly? What do you mean? Can we fly?”
　　“Yes, of course,” Shachio said. “Don’t you know our ancestors are the Makara. It’s a vehicular creature on which the Hindu Goddess rode. The Makara had a fish body with a
dragon head and a dolphin tail. It moved freely in the sky and water, and on the ground.”
　　“Oh, I see, but how do I fly?”
　　“It’s quite easy.” Shachio said. “You see, you have four fins. Beat them like wings and you can fly. You can’t fly a long distance, but you can fly at least as far as the east gate of the castle. From the gate, we will walk to the oasis. OK, then, I’ll show you an example. Look at me.”
　　Shachio beat his fins hard. Flying backward, he opened his mouth wider to let go of the edge of the castle ridge. After releasing it from his mouth, he flew to Shachi-ko, and encouraged her to fly. She beat her fins hard.
　　“Good, that’s the spirit,” Shachio said. “No, no. Faster, faster. OK. Open your mouth wide and fly backward. Release the ridge. Good. Wonderful! Now let’s fly to the east gate. Use your tail fluke to steer.”
　　Shachio and Sachi-ko flew to the east gate safely and landed on the ground just outside the gate. It was seven o’clock in the morning.

　　　　　　　　　　　　***
　　The Shachi couple put down their tail flukes on the ground and began to walk slowly on their stomachs using their pectoral and abdominal fins. They came to Ohtsu-dori Street. No one was there. Shachio said,
　　“If we walk along this street about 30 minutes…, oh, do you see the Nagoya TV tower over there? The oasis is just below the tower.”
　　“You know the geography of the Sakae area very well,” Shachi-ko said.
　　 “Yes, I do, because, you know, I always look southward on the donjon while you look only northward,” Shachio said.
　　“That’s right. By the way, doesn’t it smell bad around here?” Shachi-ko said with knotted brows.
　　 “Yes, it’s car exhaust. Since it is morning now, the smell is not so bad, but during the daytime, I’m afraid the smell becomes awful,” Shachio said.
　　They reached the entrance of City Hall Subway Station. A middle-aged man appeared from the entrance, saw two Shachi before his eyes, and was surprised.
　　“Oh god! Golden Shachi in front of me!” the man said to himself. “Don’t surprise me early in the morning. Why are they here? Well, maybe I’m dreaming a bad dream. I drank too much last night. It must be a hallucination.”
　　He walked away shaking his head in disbelief.
　　The couple saw the City Hall building in front of them on the left across the crossing. They began to cross it obliquely. All the vehicles screeched to a halt. There was a smell of burning tires. The drivers watched the Shachi couple as if they were watching Martians.
　　The couple crossed the crossing safely and walked slowly along the street in front of the City Hall. An old couple were waiting for a bus at the bus stop in front of the city hall building. They saw the Shachi and were thunderstruck. The old woman was paralyzed with shock. The old man stood strait and stiff with his eyes wide open.
　　“Unbelievable! They are Shachi, aren’t they?” they cried.
　　When they approached the Aichi Prefectural Government building, Shachi-ko abruptly coughed hard.
　　“Shachio-san, I can’t breathe well. The air is so polluted. My gills are swollen,” Shachi-ko said.
　　“That’s too bad, but we will soon reach the oasis. I’ll wash your gills with clean water. Then, they will recover. So, hang on,” he said. Actually, however, his gills began to swell, too.
　　The street was crowded with more and more bikes, trucks, passenger cars, buses and all kinds of vehicles. An ambulance was making it through the flooded street, lights flashing and siren roaring. The couple suffered from the ear-splitting noise and exhaust gas.
　　They came to a Circle K convenience store near Ohtsubashi Bridge. Out of the store appeared a little girl and her mother. The mother was so surprised to see them that she couldn’t speak, and dropped her shopping bag. The little girl innocently talked to them.
　　“Shachi-san, where are you going?”
　　“Ah, Little Girl, we’re going to Oasis 21 in Sakake,” Shachio answered.
　　“Why?”
　　“Why? Because there is clean water and a lot of trees there. Look at this Shachi,” he said and turned to his wife, Shachi-ko. “Her body hurts because a thief peeled all her scales off. If we pour clean water on her body and cover it with leaves, we can cure her.”
　　“What? Clean water? No, no, you can’t get any clean water there. The water is far high above your head. Besides, no trees are growing, either. So there are no leaves. That’s a shopping mall,” the little girl said looking into his big eyes.
　　“No way. You are a little child. So, I’m afraid you don’t know the meaning of an oasis. It is a place where water springs up from under the desert. So there are a lot of trees around it,” Shachio said.
　　“But it’s a shopping mall,” the girl said.
　　“No, it’s not. I can see an oblong clean pond from the top of the castle donjon.”
　　“But it’s not….”
　　Shachio heard his wife, Shachi-ko, panting heavily. He thought they had to start right away.
　　“Dear Little Girl, sorry, we have to hurry. Good bye,” he said, and they left the girl and her mother.
　　The shachi couple began to walk as quickly as possible along the street under high buildings. People began to gather around them. They began to talk.
　　“Look! A couple of shachi are walking.”
　　“Which is the male and which is the female?”
　　“My! Is there a difference? They look the same.”
　　“I know how to distinguish them. The male shachi is six centimeters taller than the female.”
　　“I didn’t know that. But where are they heading, I wonder.”
　　A high school girl approached Shachio and took a two-shot picture with her cell phone. “Hi, Cheese.” Click. Then, some of the crowd began to take pictures of Shachio. Others took two-shot pictures, too. Click! Click! Click! No one dared to take a picture with Shachi-ko.
　　The couple came to Hisaya-Ohtsu-Dori Subway Station. They saw the TV tower on their forward left side. They would soon reach the oasis. Their pain became worse and worse with dirty air and sharp sunlight. They walked with their chests heaving in air. They pushed their way among the obstructing, noisy crowd.
　　Now, they reached Sakae Subway Station. There stood a Ferris wheel on their right. From among the crowd, a young man in black leather jumper approached Shachio. A golden dolphin earring was hanging down from his left ear. He had dyed his hair golden.
　　Golden Hair said in a gentle voice, “Shachi-san, may I ask a favor of you?”
Shachio said panting, “I’m sorry, but we are in a hurry.”
　　“Please listen to my story while you are walking. It will take only a minute.”
　　“OK, then, but please be brief.”
　　“Thank you. Actually my mom had a traffic accident yesterday and was hospitalized,” he said in a tearful voice. “But you know, I can’t afford to pay the hospital expenses.”
　　“I am sorry to hear that.”
　　“So, I know it very rude, but could you spare me some of your scales? The golden scales will help my mother.”
　　Golden Hair bowed his head low politely.
　　Shachio looked at Shachi-ko. She said sympathizing with his story,
　　“Why not give him a few scales if they could help his mother.”
　　“If you say so,” Shachio said, and shook his weakened body hard, dropped two scales of his, and gave them to the poor young man.
Golden Hair’s expression changed suddenly. He became furious and said,
　　“Oh, boy, only two scales? Only two? Are you taking me for a fool? Hey, boys, kick ass on the shachi.”
　　Three brown-haired boys, who were all about 15 years old and armed with spanner wrenches, jumped out of the crowd at Shachio. They pushed him down. Golden Hair climbed on him and began to peel the scales violently while the boys held him tightly. Shachio had little power to resist them. Nobody in the crowd extended a helping hand to Shachio. Looking at her husband being attacked, Shachi-ko was panting desperately and shedding tears. Nishiki-Dori Street fell into chaos.
　　Soon TV cameramen and newspaper reporters came to the site. They were too absorbed in taking pictures and covering the incident to help the shachi couple. One of the cameramen even climbed Shachi-ko’s head and took video tapes of Shachio and the robbers.
　　Twenty minutes later, the gang peeled all 112 scales off from Shachio’s body. No one dared to take pictures of Shachio or Shachiko, the ugly, weird, and grotesque monsters.
　　The incident was broadcast on the NHK TV news at eight o’clock. The two black fish were on TV screen in close-up.
　　Soon the couple turned to the left in the crowd at Sakura-Dori-Otsu crossing with a more dead than alive condition. The curious mob followed them. Shachio was making the schlepp, clenching his jaw, enduring pain, and always looking after Shachi-ko. They saw the Aichi Arts Center ahead and a giant oblong structure on their left.
　　“We’ve made it at last, Shachi-ko. That’s the oblong building I see from the donjon,” Shachi said, but at the same time, he wondered why the oblong structure was in the air. From the top of the donjon about 1.8 kilometers away, the oasis looked as if it were on the ground.
　　Soon both Shachio and Shachi-ko began gasping for air and coughing harder than before. Now, they became so weak that they hardly had power to utter even a word. They desperately wanted to wash their bodies with fresh water as soon as possible. The sunlight was relentlessly beating down on them. Their bodies were burning. They wanted to have their bare bodies covered with leaves. Their eyes got foggy and hazy and could not see clearly.
They put forth their final effort and managed to reach the foot of the high oblong structure.
　　“This should be Oasis 21,” Shachio thought.
　　There was no water.
　　There were no trees, either.
　　“Something is wrong,” Shachio thought. He looked down from the ground level at the underground plaza built in atrium. He saw down there a pond full of blue water with white ripples. He was delighted to find it. “Shachi-ko, there is water down there! If we go there, we can get as much water as we want,” he said. He found on his right a gentle slope that led down to the pond.
　　The couple went down the slope step by step followed by the noisy curious crowd. Fancy shops were surrounding the pond. But when they came nearer to the pond, they saw tables and chairs on the water. People were walking on it, too. They thought it strange. They looked at the blue pond carefully, only to find that the blue water was the color of the shopping plaza floor. The concrete floor was covered with 30-centimeter square blue iron nets. There were a few white ones among them.
　　They reached the floor of the plaza with a disappointed heart. There were no water, trees, or flowers. There were only a few token flower pots here and there. That was an inorganic space. What the little girl at Ohtsubashi Bridge said was true. No, no, you can’t get any clean water there. The water is far high above your head. Besides, no trees are growing, either.
　　Shachio looked up. He saw various-sized grey iron frames and pipes, some more than two meters and others around 50 centimeters in diameter, intricately woven with one another. They supported a gigantic and monstrous oblong spaceship with the major axis of about 100 meters long. The huge oblong monster overshadowed the sky and overwhelmed the Shachi couple. The clean water on the spaceship glass vessel threw flickering dull shadow on the blue plaza floor.
　　There was water about 20 meters high above their heads, but how could they reach it? The shachi couple abandoned themselves to despair. They could hardly walk. Shachiko was gasping much harder and her eyes had turned white.
　　Suddenly Shachi-ko’s tail twitched and she fell on the floor on her back. The crowd was surprised and became quiet. She mumbled a few words.
　　Shachi-ko said in a feeble voice, “Shacho-san, I can’t breathe any more…I have to say good-bye to you now.”
　　At that instance, a TV camera zoomed in her face. The TV reporter pointed a big microphone at her and asked a question.
　　“Excuse me, but you’ve just said, ‘I have to say good-bye to you.’ Are you going to go somewhere?”
　　Shachio wanted to hit the reporter with his tail with all his might.
　　Shachiko gasped out,
　　“Shachio-san, we first met each other in 1959, just 50 years ago…. Our predecessor Shachi burned down in the war, you know. We were born in the Osaka Minting Authority…. I have always been proud of you on the top of the Castle donjon…. Do you remember the previous day of the Osaka Expo? We were separated from each other that day, and each of us was taken to a parade around Osaka City…. Except for that event, we have always been together for the past 50 years, haven’t we? But now, I am sorry I have to separate from you....”
　　“Oh, please, Shachiko, don’t say such a sad thing.”
　　Shachio’s eyes were filled with tears. Shachiko shed tears.
　　“Shachio-san, I am sorry that my scales have been peeled off, but now I don’t care. If the scales can help the temp worker, it is all right with me. To tell you the truth, I wanted to guard the castle for at least 100 years with you.”
　　“Me, too,” Shachio said. He also had difficulty in breathing.
　　“Thank you, Shachio-san, for everything. I’ll go first.”
　　“I’ll join you soon there.”
　　When Shachiko heard his words, she sighed with relief. Her eyes slowly closed. Her gasping gradually became weaker and weaker and weaker until at last ….
　　“SHACHI-SAN! Water and leaves!”
　　A girl’s voice resonated all over the Oasis 21 structures. Water splashed over Shachiko’s body. Another splash, and another. She was the girl the Shachi couple met in front of the convenience store at Ohtsubashi Bridge. She came to rescue them with her parents. They had been watching the TV program, and had driven to the oasis with buckets of water and leaves. Her father opened a cardboard box and grasped green leaves with both hands and put them on her body.
　　When Shachio watched her being cured, he felt relieved and fell on his back.
Suddenly the crowd dispersed in all directions. Some rushed to vending machines to buy plastic bottles of water; others went to the park at the foot of the TV tower to get leaves; still others went back to their homes to get water and leaves from their gardens. Restaurant clerks returned to their shops to get some water; and a florist returned to his shop to get big green leaves.
　　In 15 minutes, both Shachio and Shachiko had plenty of water and leaves all over their bodies. Their gills were cleaned. They came back to life. The Nagoya people saved the Shachi couple. The details of the incident were broadcast on TV and the radio and reported in the newspapers.

***
　　The early next morning found three black bags at the east gate of Nagoya Castle. The stolen scales were in the bags. At the front gate were also three bags containing scales. Inside one of them was a golden dolphin earring.
　　On New Year’s Day in 2010, the golden Shachi killer whales shone brightly reflecting the first sun rays of the year.

　　 The end

ON THE HARM OF WRITING A NOVEL

　　　Probably you are wondering why writing a novel is harmful. You may argue, “It is far from harmful, but beneficial.” I know writing is good for clear thinking. When you are thinking, you cannot see your thought, but once you write it down, you can recognize it with your eyes. Moreover, the written idea allows objective scrutiny, because you are a reader of what you have written. This is why professional writers recommend you to put away your writing for a couple of days and return to it later. This is the proof that once you have turned your thought into the written form, your thought exists before your eyes as something tangible. So you may insist that writing does you good. You are right. I know Francis Bacon’s words: "writing makes an exact man." My argument is, however, not about “writing” but about “writing a novel.” My point is that “writing a NOVEL” is harmful.
　　Now let me tell you about the harm. After you have read this essay, I hope you will quit writing novels. This is a caution. Otherwise, the rest of your life will be cursed. You cannot recover from the curse, nor lead a normal happy life, nor escape from the addiction.

Harm No. 1: you can’t enjoy reading a novel.

　　Your inclination to write a novel disturbs your mind whenever you read a novel. You are so much occupied by how to write a novel well that you are destined to pay attention to how the novel you are reading is written: the choice of words, plot, character and scene description, and climax and ending. You are too much interested in these matters to enjoy reading it.
　 Let me give you an example. Suppose three men are walking in the forest. One is a biologist; another, a painter; and the other, a musician. After they pass through the forest, ask each of them the same question: what did you see in the forest?
　　The biologist will answer, “I saw birds, small animals, and insects. I was lucky to see an Indian Ringneck Parrot, a rare species. Oh, I caught some unknown worms under the bark of a red pine tree. I am going to study them in my laboratory.” The painter will answer, “The forest consisted of marvelous pictures. I saw here and there pictures of Cezanne, Monet, and Corot. I saw beautiful women dancing around a tree like the women in a Corot’s picture. The colors of the sky, clouds, and leaves were making such a fine contrast with each other that I wished I could stop walking and paint them.” How will the musician respond? Probably she will say, “What did I see? I should say, I ‘heard’ rather than I saw. Actually I did not see anything special but I heard a wonderful symphony of the forest orchestra. How wonderful to hear the sound of brooks, birds, and leaves in the breeze. They are sometimes soft and gentle as in Heaven but sometimes so harsh and violent as in Hell. The sound inspired me to compose music.”
　　Every one of them enjoys walking through the forest, but what they see is quite different. I feel sorry for each of them because their appreciation of the forest is biased and self-centered. They only see what they want to see. Then, how do ordinary people walk in the forest? Do they see the forest in the same way as the three people? No. They simply enjoy the forest biologically, picturesquely, and musically at the same time, although some of them may pay special attention to things they are very much interested in.
　　This prejudiced attitude can be applied to reading a novel. A novel writer cannot read a novel without thinking of how it is written. They may say, “Ah, this combination of words is astonishing. I will use it in my next work. Oh, this must be a foreshadowing. An ordinary reader will miss it, but I won’t. The protagonist’s psychology is poorly described. I could do it much better.” Thus, you are always thinking about how the novel is written. So you don’t have time to enjoy the story.

Harm No. 2: you can’t enjoy a cup of coffee.

　 A novel writer is always paying attention to the conversation her neighbors are engaged in. She is all the time listening secretly to the conversation she hears so that she can reproduce some of them in her work. Since her conversation in her novel is based on what she has overheard, it sounds natural. Suppose you drop in at a coffee shop. You automatically try to listen to the neighboring conversation. You are forced to do so before you notice it. So how can you sip coffee and relax despite your busy engagement in eavesdropping?

Harm 3: you can’t enjoy TV dramas.

　　You are always thinking of some original ideas that will help you write a new novel. Whenever you are watching a TV drama or seeing a movie, your brain is so programmed as to get some hints for your next novel. If you are a detective story writer, your eyes will automatically fix on criminal scenes in the drama you are watching. How the murder took place? Who did it, where and why, and how was it solved? If you are a romance writer, you pay attention to how the relationship in the film you are seeing develops rather than enjoy it. Your brain is always bound by the chain of writing a novel even when you are in a movie theater.
　So stop writing a novel. Otherwise, you cannot enjoy the wonderful world in a relaxed way. To write a novel is to live your life with an unnecessary load. So quit writing a novel before you are addicted.

WHO IS MY FATHER?

I rushed to the hospital by taxi. “Your father is in critical condition,” my uncle had told me on the phone. After a 40 minute taxi ride, I reached the hospital. I took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked fast to my father’s room. I opened the door and found him lying on the bed with an oxygen mask on his face, wheezing. He was hooked up to an intravenous drip. A drop of yellowish liquid fell in a vessel hung on the pole. By the side of the bed was my uncle, who looked at me, looking relieved, nodded, and looked at my father’s face. A nurse was looking at the faint electrocardiographic wave going up and down on the dark screen by the bedside. I said in a small voice, “Dad….” His eyes looked at me momentarily. I thought he had recognized me. It was around eight o’clock in the evening. The nurse left the room saying she would come back soon. My father was breathing under the oxygen mask constantly wheezing.
I said to my uncle, “Uncle Ishida, thank you for calling me.”
“That’s all right. I happened to come and see your father here today and found him in serious condition,” he said.sn
“You must be tired. I’ll watch him. So please go home,” I said.
“OK, then. I wish I could stay here longer, but I am an old man. I must go and take a rest,” he said, stood up, and began to walk to the door, but instead of opening the door, he kept standing for a second as if he had remembered something. He returned to me and said.
“Takao, I have something to talk to you.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“But, not now. I can’t talk it to you now. If your father dies, I’ll tell you.”
“After he dies?”
“Yes, after that,” he said decisively, turned around, and left the room. I wondered why he couldn’t tell it to me just then. Why after my father dies? Did he have some secret?
The nurse came back and looked at the electrocardiographic screen. The wave had become feeble. She told me to call her at the nurse station if anything went wrong with my father. I thought it would not be long before he died. I stayed awoke at his bedside all during the night.
My father died around five on the morning of the next day. He was 75. He had been suffering from chronic heart disease. That evening the wake was held, and my uncle was among the relatives. After the wake was over, I had a chance to talk to him. I asked what was it that he had wanted to say to me.
He said, “Ah, yes, I said something like that, but it doesn’t matter now. Forget it. It’s just a trifle.”
“But you looked very serious when you said that. I thought it was something very important. Please tell me.”
“No, no, no. It’s not important. And, ah, everybody looks serious when his brother is going to die, don’t they? So, forget it,” my uncle said, but his tone of voice betrayed and he sounded as if he were hiding something very important.
After the funeral the next day, when the relatives were leaving my house, my uncle came to me and said, “I’ve decided to tell it to you.”
“Good, what is it?”
“I’m your father.”
I was taken aback. He must be joking, I thought.
“What? What do you mean? You are my father?”
“Yes, I am your father,” he said looking in my eyes.
My uncle sometimes cracked jokes, but this was not one, I thought. He looked serious. His eyes seemed to prove it.
Instantly I faced a dilemma. My father used to say to me when I was a boy, “Don’t believe your uncle. He is a bad man. He drinks a lot, doesn’t have a regular job. His wife always complains about him to me.” When I did something bad, my father always said to me, “Don’t behave like your uncle. You don’t want to be like your uncle, do you? I despise him. Don’t imitate him. OK, Son?” While I was a boy, I don’t think he visited my father often. My uncle and I only met with each other on occasions like at relatives’ weddings and funerals. We never went on a trip or played together. As I was a child, I wondered why my father and my uncle avoided each other.
So if I followed my father’s advice, I shouldn’t believe my uncle’s words, but his face looked very serious.

PART 2

I said to him, “Really? You surprise me. Why are you….? How come, how come you are my father?”
I was totally confused. I could not stand on my feet steadily. I felt as if I were not myself. My father’s death had already hindered my mental balance, and what my uncle revealed had aggravated it further.
“Sorry to upset you, but believe me this is true. I am your father. I have always wanted to say this to you whenever I met you for the past, let me see, you are 40 years old, right, so for the past 40 years.”
“Do you mean my father adopted me from you when I was a baby? Am I an adopted child?” I said.
“No, you aren’t. You were born from your mother, but you know, the sperm was mine. Oh, don’t misunderstand me. Your mother and I didn’t have any sexual relationship. Actually, I gave my sperm to your father.”
My mother had died of cancer three years before.
“Why did you…. You mean my father asked you to give your sperm to him?”
“Yes, one day he came to my house and asked me for my sperm. Your parents had not had a baby for five years after their marriage, so I thought they decided to have a baby through artificial insemination.
“So, I gave mine to him. He then thanked me and hurried back home. Before leaving my house, he said he would mix his sperm with mine. After he left I wondered why he had said he would mix his with mine. Then I thought his sperm might be too weak or too few in number.”
(Later I found out that sperm in a test tube would be alive for two hours if kept at body temperature. Also, I learned that barren parents in 1950s conducted artificial insemination at home.)
I remembered that my father had said that he and my mother were very glad to have a baby after five years of marriage. My father married at the age of 28. He was 33 years old when my mother gave birth to me.
“So if he had mixed his sperm with yours. Then, the chance is 50-50. I may not be your son,” I said.
To accept what he said was to accept that my world had spun 180 degrees. The world I had lived in for 40 years would collapse with a thundering noise. What had I been, I thought. I would be nothing. My whole experience would turn into a daydream. My psychology resisted the news. I wanted my father to be my father. I felt irritated. Why keeping it secret for many years and all of a sudden reveal it to me? That’s too cruel, too harsh to bear.
“I understand you,” my uncle said. “You have been your father’s son for 40 years. And it is quite a shock to you. But try to put yourself into my shoes. I needed tremendous patience not to reveal the secret to you. But since your father died, I thought that would be a good chance and I thought if I had lost this chance I wouldn’t have another. I hope you’ll understand my feelings.”
My uncle paused for a moment and said, “O.K. Why am I so sure? Ever since you were born, I have been watching you up until now. What do you think is the big difference between your father and I? You see, he was active, talkative, and extroverted, and likes sports, while I like reading books, hate sports, and am introverted. I am good at mathematics but he was not. Do you understand now? I know you don’t like playing ball games, but you prefer reading books and writing essays. I know you were excellent in mathematics. Thanks to your ability in math, you were able to enter the department of technology of Nagoya University. Ah, I remember you won a prize in the All Japan High School Students Essay Contest. I still keep the newspaper article in my album with all your photographs. That was the time when I became confident that you were my son.”
I was just listening to him. His talk sounded convincing. What he said about my tastes was true. But at the same time I was thinking of the brothers and sisters who had different likings although they were born from the same parents. Maybe my uncle was telling self-satisfyingly, I thought.
He added, “But, Takao, to tell you the truth, I am not 100 percent sure.”
He seemed to have noticed my embarrassment and to have felt the necessity to console me. I understood his feelings. I did not respond to him. I did not argue. That was not something to argue. Suddenly I remembered my father’s favorite lines: don’t believe your uncle. He is a liar. So that’s why he said them again and again. He had foreseen what my uncle would say after his death or even during his lifetime. He had put a preemptive measure in me. But on second thought my father may have been telling the truth about my uncle’s bad behavior. I had sometimes heard about his disgraceful conducts, especially when he was drunk.

PART 3

Since then, I was not able to concentrate on my job as a high school teacher. I had had several incidents so far that had disturbed me, but my uncle’s disturbance was by far the greatest. While I was in class, I forgot about the problem and concentrated on teaching, but what I dreaded was lunch time and breaks between class. While I was marking examination papers in the teachers’ room or while I was attending meetings, I sometimes stopped what I was doing and, before I knew it, I would be wondering who on earth was my real father. You can guess what my absent-minded attitude to my wife and children was like at home. Sometimes I lost the track of conversation with my wife. While I was watching a television drama, I couldn’t help thinking of my fate when I saw a son and his father talking with each other on the screen.
My wife soon noticed my mental change and asked me what the matter was with me. First, I replied to her that there was nothing that worried me, but one day about ten days later after the funeral, she said she had heard me during my sleep. She said I was saying clearly, “Dad, dad….” She desperately wanted to know what it was that was troubling me.
I confessed. She was surprised. She complained to me why I hadn’t revealed it to her earlier. I told her that I had wanted to talk about it to her every day, but I couldn’t dare to do so, and had postponed it day after day till that day. I said to her,
“To tell you the truth, I feel I have lost something very important, something that has supported me all my life. I have lost my foundation I have stood on. For the past week, I felt I was not myself. I was someone else. I have lost my identity. I don’t know how I should put my feelings into words, but I think I am completely alienated from the world. It may sound like an exaggeration, but it’s true. I was not able to think reasonably. Probably that’s why I didn’t dare to tell it to you earlier. I know I should have.”
My wife said, “If you are worried about it so much, why don’t you have your DNA tested? They have begun to solve these matters by the tests in recent years
, I hear.”
“I know. I have thought of it, but I didn’t dare do that. I was afraid that my uncle was telling the truth. It’s incredible that he’s my father. I’m angry at him. I don’t want to dig a hole to discover something unnecessary, something crucial, something you can’t dispute. I want my father to be my father. I know I may sound childish. Why did my uncle…, why couldn’t he…?”
I was getting desperate.
She said, “I understand how you feel, but you see, worrying about it every day and every hour is not like you. It will eat your mind and body. It’s unhealthy. It’ll keep torturing you for the rest of your life. Which do you prefer to live in uncertainty or in certainty? You should face the fact. You are the same you whether your father is your uncle or not.”
She paused. “That’s right. I am the same myself whether my uncle is my father or not,” I thought. I thought I was behaving like a spoilt child. She didn’t like such me.
“All right, I understand now. You are right. I will have the DNA test as you say.”
Today it is easy to find DNA test companies on the Internet, but in 1992 it was not. I went to a library and searched for books about DNA tests. In the last page of one of the books, the companies that performed the tests were listed. There were only five companies. I picked DNA Solution Co. from among them. The company, founded in 1989, was a Japan branch of DNA Diagnostics Center in the USA. All I needed was my father’s DNA sample. It was easy to get it. When the undertakers cleaned my father’s corpse before the funeral, they had cut some of his hair at the front part of his head and given it to me. I had kept it in the Buddhist family altar.
I sent both my hair and my father’s to DNA Solution Co. It would take as long as two weeks before the result was sent to me because the company would send the samples to the DNA Diagnostics Center in the U.S. After I sent them, I did not worry about the problem as much as before. After all, my roots would be identified in two weeks. Either would be OK, I forced myself to believe.

PART 4


Two weeks later, the result of the DNA test was sent to me. Before I opened the envelope, I breathed deeply to calm down myself. The letter said:
DNA Solutions reports that the results of the parentage testing procedure carried out on the bodily samples of the donors specified above show that the alleged father is excluded as the biological father with 99.98% certainty.
99.98 percent! It is practically 100 percent. Then my father was not my biological father. My uncle was correct. He is my father. I felt as if I had been hit with a bat. I told my wife about the result. She said,
“I understand. You must be disappointed, but as I said before, you are what you are even if your uncle is your father. Nothing has changed with me. You should face the fact.”
It may be easy to say, “Face the fact,” but is difficult to practice it. I couldn’t change my mental channel like TV channels. I had been so much accustomed to fait accompli. My mind understood the fact, but my blood and flesh did not. They resisted confronting the fact.
I did not write to my uncle about the results of the test. It was not necessary to take the trouble because he firmly believed that he was my father. If he asked if I had had a DNA test, I would tell him, although we did not have chance to meet with each other so often because I lived in Nagoya and he lived in Kakunodate, Akita Prefecture.
One year passed. Hoji (a Buddhist service on the first anniversary of my father’s death) was held at a temple near my house. I expected to meet my uncle, but his son, Yasuo came to the ceremony on behalf of his father. He said his father had become feeble and it was difficult for him to travel all the way to Nagoya.
After the Hoji was over, all the relatives went to a Japanese restaurant to eat a Hoji dinner. First, sake and beer were served. As the host of the ceremony, I went around to each relative one by one to thank them for attending the Hoji with a bottle of beer in my hand. When I came to Yasuo, I momentarily wondered whether he knew the relation between him and me. So I just picked up an ordinary conversation topic. I said to him,
“How is your father? Is he very sick?” I said pouring beer in his glass.
“No, he isn’t,” he said after sipping the beer. “It’s just he has caused low back pain. He is all right except for that.”
“My father was two years older than he. So, he is now 72, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He is 72.”
Yasuo paused and drank the rest of beer and held the glass in front of me. I filled the glass again. It was strange for him to drink so much beer at such a fast pace because he was not a strong drinker. He easily got drunk. I thought he was trying to get drunk intentionally. Soon he became red. His eyes got glassy. Suddenly he sat up and erected his posture, and looked into my eyes seriously. His face was tense. He came closer to me and said in a small voice so that the other relatives, who were enjoying drinking and talking, would not hear him.
“I have long wanted to tell you something, something very important.”
I was surprised. So he had known the truth.
“Oh, I know what you are going to say,” I said. “Do you mean that we are…?”
“Yes, we are.”
“So your father told you about it after my father’s funeral, didn’t he?”
“No, he had told it to me long ago.”
“Long ago? What do you mean?”
“Well, when I was 13 years old, he told me about it. At first I thought he was joking. He said that only your parents and he knew the secret and that I should never tell it to anybody. He made me promise. I promised. But now since my father told you about it, and one year passed since your father died. I thought I didn’t have to keep it a secret.”
He looked relieved. He was three years younger than I. It was difficult to think of him as my younger brother. We didn’t often play together in our childhood. He was just my cousin and no more or less than that.
“To tell you the truth, last year I had a paternity test.”
“Oh, did you? I thought you would. And?”
He looked at me in the eye with full of curiosity.
“And, the report said that my father was not my biological father with a 99.98 percent certainty.”
Yasuo said, “That’s just what I expected. So, we are half brothers, right?”
“Yes, most probably,” I confirmed rather reluctantly.
“Most probably?”
He looked puzzled. Apparently he expected that I would say, “Yes, we are.”
A moment later, Yasuo said, “I understand how you feel.”
Deep in the bottom of my heart, I was saying to myself, “99.98 is not 100. The test showed that there was a 0.02% possibility that my father was my biological father.
Two months later, in October, my wife and I took a trip to the Tohoku district. We visited Chusonji Temple in Hiraizumi, the Oirase River, and Lake Towada. On our way home, we visited Kakunodate City, where my uncle lived. My uncle was happy to welcome us. His wife had already died. He was living with his son, Yasuo, his daughter-in-law and grandchildren.
At the dinner table, my uncle said with a beaming smile, “This is a special day. I have bought the very best sake in Japan for this day.” He put a bottle of sake wrapped in colorful paper on the table.
He continued, “This is Dewasakura Sake, the gold medal winner in the All Japan Sake Contest.”
He filled everyone’s cup, and declared, “Let’s toast the father-son bond!”
“Kanpai!” We emptied our cups.
My uncle said, “So, I heard you had a parental test.”
I said, “Yes, my wife strongly recommended that I should.”
“How wise!” he said looking at my wife.
“I wanted him to face the fact,” she said.
“So, I am glad that you’ve faced the fact,” he said. “You see, I told you that you were my son. I have always believed you are my son. This time, it has been proved. So, I am happy to have two biological sons.”
I and Yasuo glanced at each other.
My uncle said, “But you don’t have to call me ‘Dad’ if you don’t want to. I understand how you feel. It’s up to you.”
I wouldn’t.
Since I had arrived at his house, I had been wondering whether I should ask him to give me some of his hair or nail. I desperately wanted to have the parental test between my uncle and me even though there was little hope that my uncle was not my biological father. I just wanted to confirm the DNA test report. I thought, “But if I broach the subject to his happy face, it will surely offend him. I don’t want to rub him the wrong way. If I asked Yasuo for his hair, he would give me some anyway, but some time later, he might tell it to his father. This might also offend my uncle. Actually, I did not care whether it would offend him or not, but I didn’t want to ruin a 72-year-old man’s happy feelings.
Without any bodily samples of my uncle’s, my wife and I left his house. I still possessed the desire to confirm my relationship with my uncle.

PART 5

Three years passed and my uncle died. I went to Kakunodate to attend his funeral. During the wake, I asked my cousin, Yasuo, if he could give me some of my uncle’s hair.
Yasuo said in a silent irritated way, “Why? Do you still doubt he is your father?” He looked surprised at my abrupt and unexpected request.
“I don’t, but I just want to confirm the relationship. The DNA test will not change the relationship, I know, but I just want to have 100 percent confirmation. If you were in my shoes, you would do the same, I believe. It’s not a big deal, is it?”
Yasuo looked at me and kept silent for a moment. He apparently did not want to desecrate his father’s body by cutting his hair, but I knew he would consent to my request.
“All right. I’m sorry I was being selfish,” Yasuo said. “My uncle’s body is not mine alone, but it’s yours, too. I understand how you feel. Let me help you.”
He went to the next room and came back with a pair of scissors in his hand. He opened the coffin lid, looked in, and cut some of my uncle’s hair. He gave it to me. I thanked him.
After I came back home, I again sent both my hair and my uncle’s to DNA Solution Co. I was sure the company would report that my uncle was my biological father. Even if it cost a lot of money and trouble to have the sample tested, it would be worthwhile, I thought. It might be for my self-satisfaction, but deep in my heart I still thought that 99.98 percent was not 100 percent. I expected a different test result in this last-ditch bid. I said to myself, “What does 99.98 percent certainty mean? It means two out of 10,000 tests are incorrect. The report may have been incorrect. I need a 100 percent certainty. Otherwise, I will suffer from the uncertainty forever. I just want to know the truth.”
I had been gradually accustomed to the new relationship with my uncle. I had tried to believe it. I had accepted the new fact theoretically. Therefore, at least in my mind I was ready to face the second test report.
Along with this problem, I began to wonder why it was so important for a person to know who his or her father was. I could not explain why it was so grave a matter. It wouldn’t change your environment nor your life at all, but to know your root was a vital importance, I thought.
Two weeks later, DNA solution Co. sent the report. I mechanically opened the envelope and mechanically began to read the content. I had expected to read that my uncle was my biological father.
While I was reading the report with a calm objective mind, my eyes reached the conclusive sentence. It said:
…the paternity test showed a 0.00 % probability that Mr. Seiji Ishida is the father of Mr. Hiroki Shimizu.
What! My uncle is NOT my father? Is something wrong with this report? It can’t be. I continued to read the rest of the report. It said that each of the six different kinds of parental tests showed no match between the two samples. The report also said that they provided the client with accurate test results by testing each case twice.
Therefore, this report is accurate. So my uncle is not my biological father. It means neither my father nor my uncle is my biological father. Then who is my father? Who on earth is my father?

PART 6

I reviewed the two DNA test results. The possibility of my father being my biological father was 99.98 percent, and that of my uncle was 0.00 percent. That meant someone I didn’t know was my biological father. If the DNA Solution Co. did not make a mistake, and I didn’t think they had made one, who was my biological father? I did not know why, but I wanted to get the answer. It was not such a big problem as to hinder my daily life, but I could not resist my instinctive desire to identify my biological father. Otherwise, I was like a rootless plant.
I remembered the American film named “Roots,” which was on televivsion about 30 years ago. The protagonist, Kuta Kinte, triggered the boom that drove many Japanese people to run back to their ancestoral roots. What use was there in knowing their roots, I wondered, yet they went libraries, family temples, and civil registration offices to find their earliest ancestors. Even today many people are concerned with their roots. Then, what about me? Even they, who know their biological fathers, try to seek out their origins. Then it was all the more natural for me to do the same.
But how could I find my biological father? I thought about my birth. I was born in a hospital. I thought, “The doctor might have dealt with my father and uncle’s mixed sperm. He might have lost the sperm by mistake, and used his or someone else’s sperm. If I visit the hospital, I may get some information.”
I was born in 1965 and was 44 years old. I wondered whether the hospital was still in practice. It would be too much to expect the doctor who delivered me to be still alive. Even if he was alive, he would be old and wouldn’t remember anything about those times. And even if he remembered them, and even if he had made a mistake, he would not admit it. I knew it would prove fruitless, yet I wanted to confirm the fruitlessness. I had nothing to lose.
Nakagawa Hospital was in Y City in Mie Prefecture. It took about an hour train ride to get to the city. It was still in practice, but it had changed from a maternity clinic to a hospital for the aged. At the receptionist counter I inquired about the former hospital director, but she said he had already retired. I asked her whether I could meet him. She telephoned him and said I could meet him at his house at the back of the hospital.
I visited the house and met him. He was a round-faced old man, around 80, with gentle eyes. His voice was not feeble but firm. I told him my problem.
I said, “This may sound very rude, and I’m afraid you may be offended, but is there any possibility that you might have used your sperm?”
He said he had never used his or any other person’s sperm for his client. Watching his eyes and listening to the way he talked, I thought he was telling the truth.
“I remember, by the way,” Dr. Nakagawa said. “When I became a doctor, and began to work for Y City Municipal Hospital, that was 1960, the young interns I knew were offering their sperm for artificial insemination. You know, using the third person’s sperm is practiced today, but it is only when the husband is infertile. The hospitals that practice such treatments are limited to a very few hospitals such as Keio University Hospital. But, in case of oligospermia, that is, the husband’s sperm has small number of sperm cell, less than 50 million, the sperm is cultivated and condensed with a centrifugal machine.”
He paused and looked at me. I was rather bored with his lecture.
He said, “Well, well, I was getting off the track. So, back to the point, as I said before, I have never practiced artificial insemination involving an infertile husband. And I have never lost or damaged any sperm by mistake. So, I don’t understand the results of the DNA test company. Something is wrong. I’m sorry I haven’t been of any help to you. I’m afraid I have confused you.”
I thanked him. When I stood up to leave his house, I hesitatingly asked for his hair. I was afraid that would offend him, but he consented to my request right away, and gave his sample, saying, “My pleasure, if that will help you.” He looked 100 percent sure that his DNA would not match with mine.
I sent the samples to the company. Two weeks later the company reported that there was a 0.00 probability that the doctor was my biological father.
Part seven
Thus, I lost all the clues to find my biological father. I wondered, “Who am I? Who is my real father? Is it so important to know my biological father?” The same question tortured me again and again. My wife supported me saying, “As I said before, you are what you are. Why are you so much concerned about your biological father? It’s nonsense to wear your nerves on such a matter. I’m sorry you’ve lost all the clues, but is it so vital a problem? There are things you can change in this world, and things you can’t. You should give up and accept the fact. Why not live the present moment?”
I knew she was right, but if she were in my shoes, what would she say? What if her father was not her biological father and if she lost all the channels to reach her real father? Her opinion might change. She did not really understand my problem. No one would understand my unsettled feelings.
However, I knew I had to solve the problem by myself. It shouldn’t eat my mind. Gradually I tried to give up and live my life detached from the problem.
Months passed. And years passed. Gradually I adjusted myself to the “fatherless” situation.
Forty-three years passed and I was 87 years old. My eyesight and hearing ability became feeble but I was able to read headlines in the newspaper and understand most of what the television news said.
One day when I was reading a newspaper on June 5, 2009, a headline caught my eyes. It read: DNA test findings lead to lifer's release. I read the article with a magnifier. The article went:
A man sentenced to life for the 1990 murder of a 4-year-old girl was freed from Chiba Prison after 17 years behind bars as prosecutors opted not to challenge a recent DNA test that did not link him with the victim.
A further reading revealed that the prisoner Toshikazu Sugaya was convicted of murder based on the DNA test, but the accuracy of the DNA test in 1990 was not so advanced as today. 1.2 out of 1000 DNA tests in those days were incorrect. The accuracy of the DNA test today has astonishingly developed. Only one out of 1700,000,000,000 is incorrect.
Suddenly the news reminded me of my DNA test in 1961 when I was 40 years old. The result said that alleged father was excluded as the biological father with 99.98% certainty.　Now I understood the answer to my longstanding problem. The DNA test in 1961 was based on a primitive, inaccurate testing. I took out some of my father’s hair from the family Buddhist altar and sent the hair together with mine to the Japan DNA Center in Tokyo. In ten days, the result reached me. The letter said:

“The alleged father cannot be excluded as being the biological father of the child, and the probability of paternity is. > 99.999%.”

What has tortured me for more than 40 years has resolved, but what have I been doing these 40 years? I am 87 years old and a dying old man. What benefit has the technology of DNA testing brought to me? Nothing, but only an uneasy life.

THE END