Do Not Wait for Tomorrow

Akio Hachirou
Aug 6, 1945
4 min read

Aug 6, 1945

My father and I sat together in silence as we intently listened to our radio. Apart from the sound of a bad signal, we were catching up on how our soldiers were doing, and lastly a salute from the emperor himself, going out to all of the families who had lost a father, a husband, a brother or a son. Or as the Emperor had put it: Had served a marvelous service to the Empire, and rewarded with the most honorable way of death; hara-kiri. As the Emperor said this, I could feel my father eying me up and down in disappointment. I had been able to avoid joining the army, as I was the only child of my father, who was too old and fragile to take care of himself. He had always wanted me to do something honorable with my life, like serving the Emperor, but to be quite honest I valued my own life more than pride and honor, something my father found to be cowardly. I tried my best to ignore his intense stare, not giving him any sign that his disappointing looks left me broken inside. As the report finished up, I quickly took the dishes outside so I could wash them. Not only did I want to leave the anxious atmosphere of the room, I also wanted to see her.

She was our neighbor, and had been for as long as I can remember. But that was all she was, our neighbor, but I had always wanted us to be more. I had always admired her from afar, too nervous and embarrassed to approach her. It was just that she was one of the most exquisite things I had ever seen. Her long, luscious hair, her big brown eyes, her soft, milky skin, everything was mesmerizing about her. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew who I was, or if she ever noticed how often I looked at her. As I was lost I thought, I noticed her head move and I figured she had caught me staring. I wanted to turn away, but she got me forestall. I could dimly see the rosy tint in her cheeks, making my heart melt from the inside. I was about to speak to her, but I was caught off guard when I heard my father call out for me. And just like that, she had vanished, probably carrying on with her chores. Now I knew that she had noticed me, and I knew that I had to speak to her as soon as I could. However, I still wish that I had taken the opportunity then, seeing it would be the last one I had.

I woke up early the next day. Frankly, I did not sleep at all last night. I mean how could I? There was practically a storm of butterflies swirling inside of me mixed with nerves. Today was the day I was going to tell her how I really felt, and my feelings were a mixture of excitement and anxiousness. I took care of both my fathers and my own breakfast, and headed out the door to catch the train headed to Hiroshima.

It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brighter than ever, and there was not a single cloud to find on the sky. As I stepped off the train, I took a moment to let the warmth indulge me while I let my thoughts spin inside my head. All kinds of thoughts regarding her; how would she react? Did she feel the same way? What if she had fancied me all along? All of these questions were being arranged and rearranged in my head as I walked down the market. My train of thought was interrupted when I noticed that the people whom were previously rummaging through the market had now fixed their gazes towards the sky. Curiosity got the best of me, and I went in to the mass of people to find out what was holding everybody’s attention. I saw something shiny coming towards us from the sky. It could not have been longer than 10 feet, but it was falling with a quick pace. None of us moved as we quietly and closely observed the object come closer and closer. I heard curious gasps coming from all over, the excitement growing in the crowd. Then everything turned white. No sound could be heard, and nothing was to be seen. For the first and last time in my life, the sixth of August 1945, I felt the earth stand still. And in this moment, the only thing that was remaining in my mind was her flushed face and adorable giggle, wishing that I had mustered the courage to talk to her back then.