Hunt for the Bamboo Rat Page 21

  Zenji smiled.

  “I got a puppy. Her name is Ipo.”

  “Sweetheart,” Zenji said, translating the Hawaiian.

  “She likes papayas.”

  “Papayas! Boy, do I miss those!”

  “I’ll fill your room with them.”

  They laughed.

  There was a long moment of silence. He couldn’t begin to describe his emotions.

  “Hey,” he finally said. “Make sure Ma knows I’m really okay, and that I’ll be home soon.”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  Zenji leaned his forehead on the wall. “Write to me every day, and I’ll write to you.”

  “I will … but, Zenji?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wait.”

  He waited.

  A few seconds passed.

  “Zenji? Hello? Are you there?”

  A pause.

  “Mina?”

  “It’s true,” she said. “You are alive. Our prayers …” She was sobbing.

  He said nothing. He couldn’t. He was no longer the person she’d known. He was crazy, maybe. He’d been through too much.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “We’re … we’re so happy, Zenji. I’ll just give the phone to—”

  “No … please.”

  Silence.

  “It’s okay, Zenji,” she said.

  “When I come home … will you … will you be there with my family?”

  “Of course.”

  After he said goodbye to everyone, he hung up and stood dazed until someone nudged him. “Hey, buddy. Mind if I use the phone?”

  After far too little recuperation, Zenji was debriefed, which meant he sat with two army interrogators who asked a thousand questions about where he’d been and what he’d done. Unbelievably, they questioned his loyalty, due to his time serving Colonel Fujimoto.

  “Why would I tell you about that if I had something to hide? I was a prisoner. I was forced to work for him.”

  The men scribbled notes.

  Zenji inquired about Colonel Olsten and General Wainwright. Surely they would vouch for him. But they’d been sent stateside.

  Zenji gritted up. His questioners never had a chance. After what he’d been through, Zenji could stand up to any interrogation.

  Plus, he was innocent.

  Eventually, he was assigned to the Apprehension and Interrogation Division of the War Crimes Commission.

  The rage and hatred that had built up inside him at his torturers was still there, made worse every time he saw his ugly scars.

  He tried not to think. To focus on going home, being with his family again. He hated that he hated. But how could he not hate?

  There was a way he could start.

  With two men.

  He found their names going through the records of all U.S. POW camps. They were in two different locations.

  With the authority he’d been given by the War Crimes Commission, Zenji had them brought to Manila: Colonel Nakamichi from the Kempeitai, and John Jones.

  Somehow he didn’t hate the guards who had done the actual torturing. They’d been following orders.

  On the day of confrontation, Zenji had Jones and Nakamichi placed in an interrogation room. He let them sit awhile, wondering what the interaction between the two men might be like.

  He stood outside in the hall with a guy named Maeda, an interpreter he’d brought along to help disguise his own identity. Maeda was a Los Angeles Japanese, a couple of years younger than he was.

  Zenji put on a pair of dark glasses. Was he really ready for this? Was this the way?

  Yes.

  As much as possible, it would end here.

  Today.

  Zenji looked up.

  Maeda’s eyes were steady. “Can’t wait.”

  Zenji nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Two guards stood outside the door. Zenji followed Maeda in.

  Nakamichi and John Jones sat apart, Jones slumped in his metal chair, gazing at the floor. The colonel sat erect, staring straight ahead. They both wore white T-shirts and khaki pants, the colonel stripped of rank. Both looked thinner, older.

  Zenji sat in the corner.

  Maeda took charge, at first simply staring at the prisoners.

  The colonel never took his gaze from the wall.

  “I’m not supposed to be here,” Jones said. “You guys have it all wrong. I’m an American. Why won’t anyone listen to me? What have I done? I demand that you tell me! I have rights!”

  Nakamichi didn’t twitch.

  Zenji knew the colonel couldn’t understand what Jones was saying, but he could probably sense the nature of it.

  Maeda stared at Jones.

  Jones could not hold his gaze, an obvious tell. Zenji felt his blood begin to boil. This was the man who’d gotten Captain Thomson executed! He started to rise, ready to strangle him.

  No … no.

  He eased back down.

  Jones saw Zenji looking. “Great. Two Japs.”

  Zenji gripped the edge of the chair.

  “We’re looking for someone,” Maeda said to Jones. “His name is Zenji Watanabe. Ever heard of him?”

  “No.”

  Maeda’s eyes were like ice picks.

  Jones turned away.

  “Zenji Watanabe wo sagasiteiru,” Maeda repeated to Colonel Nakamichi. “Zenji Watanabe wo shitteruka?”

  Nakamichi turned to look at Maeda. Then he glanced over at Zenji.

  He looked back at Maeda and shook his head.

  Zenji stood.

  Nakamichi and Jones turned toward him.

  He walked closer. Taking his time.

  Slowly, he removed his dark glasses.

  He saw the instant of recognition in each man’s eyes.

  Jones’s jaw sagged. He’d just seen his death. Zenji would identify him as a traitor. He would be tried and executed.

  Nakamichi stood.

  Maeda stepped closer to Zenji, glanced over to the guards at the door.

  Zenji held up his hand, reading the horror in Nakamichi’s eyes.

  Guilt. Shame. Sorrow.

  The colonel bowed deeply, then prostrated himself on the floor and begged for forgiveness, begged to be put to death. “Koroshite kudasai. Watashi niwa ikiru kachinado nainda.”

  In that moment, the war ended for Zenji.

  The colonel was so ashamed he’d asked to be executed immediately. He did not deserve to live.

  The colonel’s shame and noble request snuffed the vengeance out of Zenji. He could only feel as one with this man in this moment. There was no separation.

  The culmination of Zenji’s war: sadness, deeper than any he’d ever known. No one had escaped.

  “It’s over,” Zenji whispered.

  In his heart he forgave Colonel Nakamichi.

  For Jones he felt nothing.

  At the door, he turned to look at the two men. “I was the Bamboo Rat,” he said.

  He nodded in gratitude to Maeda and left the room.

  Outside in the sun, he breathed the rich tropical air. So much in his world had to be repaired. He needed to restore his faith in humankind, to pick himself up and move on. It was time. Move on, and thrive.

  He sighed and headed through the broken city to the bay. All he wanted right now was to see the sun sparkling on the water.

  And go home.

  A huge crowd cheered as the ship arrived, people waving and jumping. Zenji whistled at the sight of all the banners and flags and signs, and enough flower leis to cover the deck of an aircraft carrier.

  There—Ma and Henry! He waved. He didn’t see Aiko, but Colonel Blake was there with Tosh and Naomi, who were both yelling up to him.

  Zenji waved both arms, a grin squeezing the edges of his face.

  Where was Aiko? And Mina? They weren’t with his family.

  He pushed his way down the gangway. “Ma!”

  “Zenji!”

  He ran up, lifted her off the ground, and swung her around. He dou
bted anyone had ever done that to her.

  Ma was too overwhelmed to speak, but she refused to let Zenji go, gripping his shirt the whole time he hugged everyone else.

  “Colonel!”

  “I’m so proud of you, Zenji, and so relieved!”

  Zenji hugged Tosh and Naomi.

  “Big brother.” Zenji grabbed Henry.

  Henry grinned. “Still as skinny as ever, I see. Man, I’m glad you’re home.”

  “You and me both. Where’s Aiko?”

  Henry turned to look behind him.

  Aiko stood alone. Zenji was shocked to see a somber young woman with long shining hair.

  “Go,” Henry said.

  Ma let go of his shirt.

  “Aiko, Aiko,” he said, approaching her cautiously. “Look at you! All grown up! You’re beautiful!”

  She threw herself at him, weeping. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Little sister!” He held her close. “My Aiko. I’m still here, as you can see. Why are you over here by yourself?”

  “Because of this!”

  Aiko pulled away and Mina stepped out from behind her.

  “I told you I’d be here.” She put a yellow ginger lei around his neck and hugged him.

  Zenji held on to Aiko and Mina, the ginger smelling sweeter than anything he could ever remember.

  I’m safe. I’m free. All will be well.

  “Hey, Mina,” he said. “You still like Benny Goodman?”

  She laughed through tears and hugged him again.

  Everyone crowded around, touching Zenji.

  “Come,” Ma said. “We go home.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This novel was inspired by the extraordinary story of Hawaii-born Richard Sakakida’s military intelligence service in the Philippines during World War II. It is a fictional account of some of his exploits; I invented the characters, the dialogue, and many of the events.

  Richard Sakakida was awarded the Legion of Merit, the Bronze Star, and two Commendation Medals, and was inducted into the Military Intelligence Hall of Fame. His fascinating memoir is called A Spy in Their Midst: The World War II Struggle of a Japanese-American Hero (as told to Wayne Kiyosaki).

  The character of Freddy Kimura was inspired by the military intelligence service of Arthur Komori, and the civilian experiences of Clarence Yamagata inspired the character of Benny Suzuki. Sakakida, Komori, and Yamagata were Japanese Americans from Hawaii. The character of Esteban Navarro was inspired by Ernest Tupas, a World War II Filipino resistance leader. The character Maeda was based on one of roughly six thousand Japanese Americans who served against Japan in the Military Intelligence Service during World War II.

  Abir’s language comes from my research into the indigenous Ibaloi language, which is slowly disappearing in favor of more commonly used languages.

  GLOSSARY

  HAWAIIAN

  haole: Foreigner, Caucasian.

  IBALOI

  Mayatya davi: An evening greeting.

  Nganto y ngagan mo?: What is your name?

  Ti ngarud: Goodbye.

  Toy edapo-an mo?: Where are you coming from?

  JAPANESE

  Ashiga tsukanaiyouni musubi agero: Bind him! Raise him off his feet.

  Deteikimasen: He refuses to leave.

  Haire: Go.

  Ho-su mottekoi: Get the hose.

  Ieni wa inaiyo: Not home.

  Isuwo mottekoi: Get me a chair.

  Kanji: Characters used to write in Japanese.

  Koitsuwo sotoni tsureteitte korose: Take this man out and shoot him.

  Koitsuwo utsu jyunbi wo siro: Get ready to shoot this man.

  Kokowa darega sikitteiruka kike: Ask who’s in charge here.

  Kono kitanai mizuni haitte sono kitanai karadawo arae: Get in! Clean your disgusting body!

  Konohito: He’s in charge.

  Koroshite kudasai. Watashi niwa ikiru kachinado nainda: Please kill me. I don’t deserve to live.

  Mou ii: Enough!

  mushi: Worms.

  Naine: Not likely.

  Namae to kaikyu-wa?: Your name and rank?

  Namae wa?: Your name?

  Nugase!: Strip him!

  omae: You.

  Omaewa hanasuna: You are not to speak.

  ro-pu: Rope.

  Rouya ni tsurete kaere: Take him back to his cell.

  Samonaito zenin utsuzo: If they don’t leave, we will shoot them.

  Shizuka dattakara: You were so quiet.

  Susume!: Go! Move!

  Tsurete ike!: Take him away!

  Ugoke!: Move!

  Yamero!: Stop!

  Zenin tsureteike: Get them all out of here.

  Zenji Watanabe wo sagasiteiru?: Do you know Zenji Watanabe?

  RESOURCES

  Belote, James H., and William M. Belote. Corregidor: The Saga of a Fortress. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1967.

  Fujita, Frank. Foo: A Japanese-American Prisoner of the Rising Sun. Denton, TX: University of North Texas Press, 1993.

  Hawaii Nisei History Editorial Board. Japanese Eyes, American Heart: Personal Reflections of Hawaii’s World War II Nisei Soldiers. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1998.

  Kimura, Yukiko. Issei: Japanese Immigrants in Hawaii. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1988.

  McNaughton, James. Nisei Linguists: Japanese Americans in the Military Intelligence Service During World War II. Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 2006.

  Odo, Franklin S. No Sword to Bury: Japanese Americans in Hawai’i During World War II. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2004.

  Saiki, Patsy Sumie. Ganbare! An Example of Japanese Spirit. Honolulu: Mutual Publishing, 2004.

  Sakakida, Richard. A Spy in Their Midst: The World War II Struggle of a Japanese-American Hero. As told to Wayne Kiyosaki. Lanham, MD: Madison Books, 1995.

  Smurthwaite, David. The Pacific War Atlas 1941–1945. New York: Facts on File, Inc., 1995.

  Yenne, Bill. Rising Suns: The Japanese American GIs Who Fought for the United States in World War II. New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2007.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Very special thank-yous to Takako Kyo Stec for providing Japanese translations; to Drusilla Tanaka for her support and constant ability to put me in touch with valuable resources; to Mark Matsunaga for his critical military eye; to Victor Ramon G. Marfori, Jr., for sharing his knowledge of the war in the Philippines; and to other early readers Monica White, Randi Abel, and Samantha Rodan.

  Thanks to my outstanding team at Random House Children’s Books: Wendy Lamb, my good friend and editor from day one of my writing career (who makes this writer reach down deep for his very best—mahalo nui loa for that); Dana Carey, kindhearted assistant editor; and Colleen Fellingham and Heather Lockwood Hughes, amazing, amazing copy editors. Thanks to Kate Gartner for the thrilling new Prisoners of the Empire cover art and to Trish Parcell for the fine interior design and map, and to my talented marketing professionals: John Adamo, Judith-the-Great Haut, Lydia Finn, Kim Lauber, Lisa Nadel, and the ever-hardworking Adrienne Waintraub.

  A very special thank-you to my supportive friends and family—you mean the world to me. And finally, a ginormous thank-you to the heroes: teachers, librarians, parents, and young readers everywhere who are out there keeping books alive and well. Mahalo nui loa!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Graham Salisbury’s family has lived in the Hawaiian Islands since the early 1800s. He grew up on Oahu and Hawaii and graduated from California State University. He received an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts, where he was a member of the founding faculty of the MFA program in writing for children. He lives surrounded by good friends and family in Lake Oswego, Oregon.

  Graham Salisbury’s books have won many awards. Blue Skin of the Sea won the Bank Street Child Study Association Children’s Book Award; Under the Blood-Red Sun won the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction, the Oregon Book Award, Hawaii’s Nene Award, and the California Young Reader Medal; Shark Bait won the
Oregon Book Award and a Parents’ Choice Silver Honor; and Lord of the Deep won the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award. He has also written the Calvin Coconut series for younger readers.

  Graham Salisbury is a recipient of the John Unterecker Award for Fiction and the PEN/Norma Klein Award. Visit him online at graham​salisbury.​com, and learn about the film adaptation of Under the Blood-Red Sun at graham​salisbury​movies.​com.