Saturday, March 16, 1945.
Kobe, Japan.

The sirens. Just the word stuck fear into me. The sirens... Ringing.
Ringing...
They were ringing here.

I had heard stories... The planes would fly over, and the fires would burst. Destroy everything... burn it all to the ground. Homes would become ash. People panicked, it would become every man for themselves.
The thought of that, the idea of leveling entire towns and villages... Killing innocent people. It seemed so out-of-date. Were we not in a modern age? This war threw honor and ethics out the window. No one person was safe.
And yes, i was a victim of the fear of the sirens...
Everyone scrambled around like scared deer. Running to their homes, running to the shelters, maybe even trying to get out of town. I was headed to my home. It had belonged to my mother and father, and only had a few rooms. My mother had gotten ill and died and my father went off to war and was shot... I was alone now.
I ran through the flood of running people, as best i could. The sound of Geta filled the air as people ran, Mine doing the same.
I had owned the same geta for nearly two years now. They were not very tall anymore... Stained, chipped, rugged. They no longer looked to be well crafted. The metal protectors had fallen off and i was suprised that the knot of the thong had not snapped. My Mother must have been looking down upon me. I could not afford another pair.

I finally made my way past all of the river of people, and into my home... I was sweating, nervous, my heart was racing. I threw the front door open, almost taking it off the slide rail. Running into the house, i didn't even bother removing my geta.
The box. The light colored wood box. I had to find it. i had to.
I made my way to my room, looking around in a nervous frenzy. I was running out of time!
The closet! yes, the closet. I clambered to the doors of it, and quite nearly tore them open. The idea of being gentle was thrown out the window. This house was damned to go to the flames! I hoped that i did not share the same fate as this house.

I furiously searched for that box. It was under my folded futon. I grabbed the thick blankets and pulled them out of the closet, throwing them behind me as fast as my skinny arms could. I fell to my knees when the box was bare and i swiftly searched for a long, white, folded piece of ragged fabric. When i had found it, i released a positive breath of relief, and hastily unwrapped it. I wrapped it about the wood box, quickly pulling it to my back. Haphazardly tying it to my body, i felt the seconds ticking away. Each one a hammer to my tired body, and i began to breath haggardly.
When i finished tying the box to myself, i heard the loud rumbling of planes and fear seized my body.
Shaking, i cried out, "Oh my god, NO!" and i was finally able to move my legs. I ran from inside that house, i ran with the fear of death inside me. People were screaming. I stumbled into the street and looked to the sky, a plane passed over head. My eyes became wide.

And then... Hell opened up.

The building before me ignited into flames, the blaze spreading into the street and catching people. Struck by pure trepidation, i screamed in fear and turned, beginning to run.
The building behind us erupted into flames, chasing us... There was no stopping this raining down of fire. I remember the skies, burning red. The smoke was hiding the sun from our faces, it became hard to breath. All the frantic running was wearing people out.
Inside me had always been the want to help others, no matter the trouble. I could feel my heart breaking, my soul wishing that i may have the power to stop the flames from claiming people's homes, businesses, personal belongings, their entire lives.
Our memories were being burned away never to return.
And i would convince myself, "Tanaka there is not a difference you can make. You cannot stop this war, and you have not the strength to fight against such a beast."

And these facts, these words that i spoke to myself... They would make my soul cry.
No... Even worse! I would become victim to paranoia! This war did to me not what 100 years of living could do. I was afraid. I did not sleep for fear of dying from a bombing... What a way to die! I wanted to be aware of my own passing, not suddenly die unsuspecting in an explosion!
And it drove me mad...
My eyes became dark, my hair long, stringy, in my face. My complexion was pale and my figure like that of a stick. Although I was blessed with a tall stature, it only served to make my thinness even worse!
I knew I looked ill. I remember looking at reflections of myself, and thinking... "Tanaka, you are not a man. If you do not stop worrying, your heart will give out and you will die!"
But i could not, and at night i would sit awake, watching for my possible doom.

Yes, I could not die. I decided that I could not. I was not ready, and my mother begged me to protect what was within the wooden box upon my back. So i could not die yet, not until it was safe in the hand of my future wife, daughter, or son...
A precious heirloom.

I brought my hand to my mouth, as tear drops slipped down my cheeks. What one person could take so much upon themselves? To witness such horror and see such pain, made one want to damn the god and everything they stood for...
But the shelter was there, right there... a hole in the ground, with fire proof doors. I quickly made my way to the entrance and ran inside. I was one of the last and the doors shut on the dark room. Leaning against the wall, I dropped my box gently to the floor and dropped down, sitting upon it. I gave myself over to weeping... I hid my face in my dirty hands.