him from his bed in a quick scramble, and he had moved outside to the comforting warmth still in his nightclothes. The day was bright blue, and he thought still of the flowers, knew she would not sleep late, would rise to find him gone. He moved quickly out the short walkway to the road, saw a spread of wildflowers beyond, sad, shriveled, thought, well, it will be something. There was no one on the road, the usual silence since the lack of gasoline had taken away the cars. He glanced down at his embarrassing dress, thought, well, who will care anyway? He heard the sound now, familiar, the distant drone of a great plane, looked up, thought, they come already? Can they give us no relief, not even for a few days? He searched for it, caught a glimpse of reflection, the plane very high, and he shook his head, thought, just … do it somewhere else, somewhere south of the city. Let me do my job today without the blood of wounded men. His eye was held to the plane, a dark speck falling from it, and he stared in curiosity, had not usually seen the bombs. He waited, watched, the speck falling, toward the center of the city, closer now to the castle. Strange, he thought. The sound of the plane abruptly changed, and even at that distance he could hear an odd pitch to the usual whine. He saw the reflection changing, the sun catching both wings, a great silver bird in a wide sweeping turn. He had never flown before, thought of the men on the plane, no different from the men he had treated that week. Perhaps you know of them, your own, left behind while you continue to do your awful work. But … one plane? Are you here just to remind us what kind of power you have? He thought of Hata, the old field marshal. He is not intimidated by you. Perhaps you should be afraid of our power, of what we will do to you when you finally have the courage to put your troops on our soil. He felt a strange anger, looked toward his house, knew it was not about planes and pilots, and the prisoners he had treated in the dungeon of the great castle. Just … leave us alone. Hata, the generals, and admirals, and all their speeches, their radio broadcasts. All of you. Allow us our love for our emperor, to love all it is to be Japanese. Why must you all make war? What have you done that makes our lives any better? End this foolishness. I will not be a part of Hata’s bloody wall, and neither shall I surrender. I will repair the flesh, but I will not share your lust for a fight.
He began to move back toward his house, felt foolish, cursing at airplanes, cursing at his old friend. He ignored the plane now, stepped out in the road, saw a group of men coming up from the town, soldiers, one more march, one more drill into the countryside. He hurried his steps, moved out of their way, and the sky seemed to burst above him, a blinding flash of orange and purple, a low roar, growing louder. The roar drove him down to the ground, deafening, a hard hand pressing him flat, the ground beneath him moving, rumbling, a gaping crack, a ditch, his body sliding, driven hard into a low place. The darkness covered the sky, he saw nothing at all now, the immense brightness changing to black, smoke and dirt, then no sky at all. He stayed flat, immovable, the darkness covering him, crushing in on him, obliterating the road, the flowers, and he felt a hard punch of wind, ripping the ground around him, debris whistling past, a piece of something hard striking his stomach. He tried to call out, turned to the house, terror in his mind, thoughts of his wife, raised his head in the violent storm, saw the house suddenly collapse to one side, flattened. More debris blew past him, and he tried to stand, impossible, was driven deeper into the ditch, the wind still shrieking over him, dirt and dust and pieces of everything covering him. He called out for his wife, but there was no sound but the roar of the storm. He closed his eyes, felt heat now, tried to curl himself up, too much wind, felt himself pulled up from the low place, scraping the ground, dragged by an invisible hand, his clothes ripped