Black-Naped Oriole in Hokkaido Snow Read online

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  After Yasahiro had returned to the living room with the sock, he packed the clothes into his suitcase and tugged his luggage next to the coffin. He cleaned the toilet and the shower, then returned to the kitchen with a mop. As he was mopping the floor, the newscaster repeated the news about the killings. The delinquents had escaped into the mountains and last night the police lost their trail in the snowstorm.

  Yasahiro expected his landlord to have walked half way up the mountain. He phoned to warn him of the criminals, but the old man didn’t pick up the call.

  After mopping the floor, he washed his hands and grabbed the waffle. While eating it, he walked to the window, outside of which the wind continued to play with the snow. If he stayed in the cabin and the delinquents injured or killed the old man, he would never forgive himself even if never would only be a few hours. He would have to help the old man, if only for Shiori.

  He finished the waffle and put on his parka. He grabbed the origami, a thermos and Shiori’s poems, which had gone with him everywhere. He strapped on his backpack and shut the TV just as the newscaster warned of another snowstorm. When he opened the cabin door and stepped out, the wind crashed against his body just as the tsunami had on March 21st, when it took Shiori. But today, unlike that day, he was ready to confront the elements and though he might fail again, he no longer feared defeat. He stepped into the knee-deep snow to face the white surfs.

  Last March, Yasahiro had taken his family to Miyako so his wife could convalesce from chemotherapy. On March 11th, he took Shiori to Taro to collect algae while Miyuki stayed in the hotel room to paint the city’s skyline. Under the gray sky, he and Shiori arrived at the coast where yachts and fishing boats had parked along the docks. They rented a boat and went out to the reef, where they collected orange coralline algae. He didn’t need them for his research; he just wanted to dazzle Shiori with the phytoplanktons. After lunching on the boat, they headed back to shore with their mementos. Shiori complained about school and wanted to transfer to a public junior high school. But he reminded her the private school would pave the way into a prestigious university and she might even get into an Ivy League school. He insisted that she get a good grade in school and she threw the algae overboard.

  Just as they approached the dock and while Shiori was sulking, tiles slid past eaves and dropped onto the roads. Store signs and beverage bottles crashed onto the ground. Displays toppled and old men collapsed. Several hydrants burst and water gushed into the air. Across the bay, rocks rolled down the mountainside and splashed into the water. Further down the coast, a petroleum refinery burst into flames and plumes of black smoke thrust into the air and darkened the sky. Yasahiro just felt the waves against the hull but could imagine the tremor on shore. The screams died down and he could only hear the sound of waves against the boat and the dock. After squeezing his arm for a minute, Shiori joked that their quarrel had saved them from the disaster. He laughed but remembered the 2004 Indonesian earthquake, where a tsunami had reached as far as India.

  When they docked the boat and went ashore, men and women and children were staring at one another as if inquiring about the next move. Then someone mentioned tsunami.

  Yasahiro expected the tsunami to arrive within minutes. He grabbed Shiori’s hand and ran toward the distant hill, not sure whether they would reach it. As they stepped off the boardwalk and approached the street, where several cars were speeding away, an old man raised his head and pointed at the sea.

  Yasahiro heard the rumble and felt the breeze against his back. Shiori turned her head and gazed into the sky and she staggered and fell. After lifting her up and carrying her on his back, he dashed toward the parking lot at the foot of the hill while the air began to reek of seaweed. He spotted a canoe on top of a trailer and knew that was their only chance to survive. By the time they reached the trailer, yachts were rolling onshore and knocking down the row of trees along the boardwalk. Convenience stores crumbled and parked cars overturned and the debris erected a wave front pushing inland.

  Just as they were securing themselves in the canoe, the trailer jerked. Shiori gripped his arm and he embraced her and felt helpless against the rage of the elements. He could no more fight against the tsunami than Miyuki could against her leukemia. And if both he and Shiori perished, his wife would have to live her life alone and fight her illness alone. Just as he vowed to survive, a hydrant smashed against the trailer and after a shock, the canoe fell into the water and the waves tossed it up the hill.

  Yasahiro had wrapped himself and Shiori onto the canoe with the rope, but when a roof smashed into a utility pole, a wave flipped the vessel and tossed them into the water. Shiroi squeezed his arm at the sight of a body floating amid cars, boats, doors and walls. He held onto her and tried to comfort her but in the distance, a stove blew up and a terrace began to blaze. He tried to swim but the current shoved him against a tree trunk. The wave front pushed down a row of two-story houses and swept away several cars speeding down a road. A man was struggling in the water several meters away but Yasahiro couldn’t reach him.

  He tried to climb on top of a roof, but a car smashed it into several pieces. When a rowboat passed by, he reached for it. But just as he grabbed onto the stern, a wave tossed him over the boat and he lost his grip on Shiori. The current swept her away. He called her name and tried to swim toward her but a section of a house blocked his path. Though he knew he couldn’t reach Shiori, he continued to swim in her direction until a door knocked him out.