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August 5th, 1945 – Hiroshima, Japan

That warm, summer day was beautiful; the sky had become cloudless and turned a bright, alluring blue. I was standing at the front gate of my high school, waiting for my good friend, Keiko. I gripped the bundle of books in my arms tighter as a sparse group of students sauntered by, some talking and laughing pleasantly, yet others engaged in heavier conversation. There were hardly any students left, for many families had fled for fear of attack. The government had also threatened to turn the building into a makeshift military base or training camp, so many stayed home, seeing no point in attending.
At around 7:45, Keiko came dashing madly around the corner. “Hey, Yoko-chan!” She smiled wide through her panting as she stopped before me. I wound a lock of her hair back into place from its wild location. “Nice look for you, Keiko,” I teased, “Sleep in again?”
She rubbed the back of her head in slight embarrassment. “Yeah,” she admitted with a chuckle, “I stayed up late finishing that history paper. Totally slipped my mind.” We exchanged a light banter while walking to class. I had a feeling today would be fine. I finally felt some relaxation, even though we heard the reports on the radio every day; terror, war, bombing, fire, and death. I never wanted to think about the war; I didn’t care about enemies, allies, or even winning. I just wanted all the terror to end, and I wanted my brother to return home.

+
Without warning, the school day had gone, and I was making my way home. Keiko had already turned on to her street, for she lived closer to the school than I, and so I now walked alone, feet rhythmically hitting the pavement in the dull silence.
My house was an older wooden structure, built in a more suburban area of Hiroshima. The tiled roof sloped elegantly down in a way that almost looked like the house was spreading arms wide to greet me. When I was little, I used to pretend I was truly being welcomed home, and would happily greet the house.
Sliding the screen door aside, I called to my family. “I’m home!” While pulling off my school shoes at the house entrance, my baby sister toddled from the kitchen.
“Nee-chan! Nee-chan!” She shouted, clapping excitedly when she saw me there.
“Hey, Momo-chan,” I cooed, gently patting her hair. I smiled, her cheeks a rosy pink, and her small frame suited with a matching pink kimono. Her silky hair was tied into two messy pigtails on each side of her head with two red pieces of yarn.
Mother came out next as I entered the main part of the house. “Welcome home,” she smiled, face crinkling around the eyes. I loved my family, yet I guess I never knew just how much.
+
August 6th, 1945 – Hiroshima, Japan

7:00 AM. I was just waking up, the sun was shifting brightly through the sheer curtains and falling across my face. Momo was still asleep beside me, and mother on the other side of the room. I stood, stretched, and went over to the window. There was a small songbird, with slick navy feathers on most of her body, sitting in the branches of our cherry tree, singing sweetly and brightly.
I undressed and grabbed my uniform for school. I would make a quick breakfast and then leave because the distance took a bit to travel, unless I took a trolley.
Momo began to stir and discovered my presence missing beside her. “Nee-chan!” She cried in her half-awake state, rubbing the sleep from her eyes frantically.
“I’m right here,” I chuckled as I finished the last button my shirt. She jumped up and hugged me good morning.
+
Close to an hour later, I was seated in class. Keiko wasn’t there; she had told me the day before that she would be out of town, visiting her grandmother. I fumbled with my notebook, trying to find the math homework.
I never saw the evil approaching; none of us did. As the teacher paused at my desk, impatiently waiting for me to find the assignment, a boy nearest the window jumped up. “Hey!” he shouted anxiously, “There’s a B-29 flying over the city!” I hardly took notice as I handed the teacher the sheet. Several students were now gathered by his desk.
“Where?” Someone shouted excitedly.
“There! That shiny thing in the sky!”
I raised my gaze. The next few moments protract in my memory, as if they are always played back in slow motion. There was a huge flash of light, blazing blue and so bright that I thought I was blinded. Then there was heat. So much heat, just like an oven, and we were the pastries trapped inside.
I could vaguely see the walls falling around me. Someone somewhere was crying, and I was pinned on my stomach. My world became inky black, nothing could be seen. Shifting my weight, I tried to push the debris away, but to no avail. I could taste the sour flavor of blood on my tongue and I wanted to scream. What was happening? Where was everyone, and everything?
Was my family still alive?
After a long period of silence, each passing moment threatening to stifle me, somewhere in the distance, a brittle voice was singing our school song. Several voices, each sounding a hundred miles away, chimed in. At last, I found my voice and began to sing with them.
Conditions were like that for close to a half-hour. The voices eventually faded out, and I fell unconscious for awhile. When I awoke, I could smell thick smoke, and I knew there was fire. And suddenly, I knew all too well that to survive, I would need to get out of there.
With all the strength I could possibly muster, I pushed the rock above me, muscles straining. I did not falter in my efforts, and at last I was able to move a large chunk of the ceiling. I persisted with the pushing, now able to see the sky through a small opening I had created. There was an enormous cloud hanging low in the sky, murky, threatening, and churning wildly.
After ten minutes of struggle, I pulled my torso through the hole and looked around. There was one, crumbling wall left of my entire school, debris scattred everywhere. I spotted a gigantic fire in the distance, licking up the remains of my city like a lion cleans the bones of its prey. I had to get away from there, but where could I go?
Slowly, my racing mind got a grip on reality, if only a little. There were people here, under this mountain of rock, just like I was. I wouldn’t want to be left along to die; if I could help, I had to. I checked my condition first; I felt unscathed, but when I touched the left side of my arm and my face, the skin peeled right off. I was burned pretty badly, but only in a few select areas, thank goodness. As for the rest, I somehow managed to escape with only bruises and scrapes.
I went around the ruble, calling, but I heard nothing. I knew I had to flee soon, for the air was thick with smoke and many horrible, pungent smells, and combined with the lingering heat, my throat was parched. I finally abandoned my conscience and dashed down the street. Everywhere I turned, there was fire, people so badly disfigured that sometimes I couldn’t distinguish faces at all, and cries. I ran faster, as if I could escape everything, as if this world would disappear in some horrible, lucid nightmare. But to my sheer horror, nothing changed. No one laughed and yelled, “Just kidding!” No, this time, the joke was on me. On us. The Americans had won.
When I reached the river, there were people everywhere. Corpses floated downstream, people flung themselves into the swift waters, and others would throw dying children out of the way to fill their thirst with the poisoned water. I cringed at the very sight.
At the back of the crowd, I saw a woman standing with a small child, both still and calm, fighting to be sane in the chaos of our city. Their faces were burned, but not too badly, and I could easily see who they were. “Mom! Momo!” I ended up pushing several people as I careened toward the pair.
Mother’s eyes lit up with joy and utmost relief at seeing me run towards her. Momo began to cry. I flung my arms around them both and sobbed lightly, ignoring the pain of the burns at the contact. “Mom, Momo…” I whispered.
“Yoko, we’re so thankful…” mother cried, “We were so worried. So worried…” We stayed in that position for a while, rocking gently back and forth together. I finally broke the silence.
“We can’t stay here.” I declared, motioning to the hell around me. I held Momo close as I spoke, her dry eyes unable to cry anymore. Mother’s expression grew more concerned.
“Where can we go?” She questioned with hopelessness settling into her voice. “We can’t possibly get across the river.” I thought hard for a moment.
“Why not the roads out of the city? The ones parallel to the river. If we follow the river, we should be able to get out safely.” She nodded in approval, seeing as we had no other plan. If we followed the river, we would be out of the way of most debris and fire, but there would be more people, and more gruesome scenes to get through.
I picked Momo up and swung her on my shoulders in a piggy back. “Momo, hold on tight, okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” I asked in the gentlest voice I could manage.
“I’m fine…” came her hushed reply. She buried her head into my shoulder. Mother grasped my hand, and we set out.
The idea went as well as we could have thought, and we were at the city limits in around an hour. Though exhausted, I continued walking. The dirt road stretched wide before us, scattered survivors dotting the winding path. I remembered that this was the way to Keiko’s grandmother’s house. I prayed that she was alright, and that I would see her again.
And like a miracle from the gods, I did. Several minutes later, a girl around my age hurtled down the road towards Hiroshima. “Hey!” I called in concern, “You can’t go back there!”
“But my family! My friends! I need to find them…” Her voice was close to hysterical. When she was close enough, I recognized that face.
“Keiko! Keiko, it’s me! It’s Yoko!” I bellowed, trying to get her attention. “Keiko, please, don’t go back there!”
She stopped dead, then sprinted towards me. “Yoko-chan?” She whispered disbelievingly, “Yoko? Is it really you?”
“Yes, it’s me. We’re just escaping… Keiko, it’s awful. It’s just so horrible. Please don’t go back there…” I could hear my voice about to crack.
“But I have to…” She replied stubbornly. “I have to save them…”
“Keiko,” I said, my voice austere, “There’s nothing you can do.” She was about to put up a fight, but my words sunk in. They were the truth; there really was nothing.
At last, she spoke again. “Let’s go to grandma’s. Her house is fine, and we’ll be safe there, I hope.”
+
Three days had passed. Three days since our lives had fallen apart. We were staying at Keiko’s grandmother’s, alive, yet not living. I couldn’t go back to the bomb zone, the hell that was my city. My life. I didn’t want to see the stares of the dying as I walked among the rubble. I couldn’t.
Yet when I went into the garden and looked at the sky, it was so familiar. The same sun, the same sky, but everything had changed. Everything was different, right? Although I was still on the same earth with my family and friends by my side?
Thinking about it, was change always such a bad thing? Even though everything I had ever loved was destroyed? I realized that giving in was what they wanted us to do, but such an act wasn’t right. Think about those who weren’t as lucky as you; giving in just can’t be right.
I realized that I still had a future—maybe different and scary at times, but I still had a chance. And I decided, despite the hardships, that I would make the fight worthwhile. I would try my best, always.