Dirk van den Boom - The Emperor's Men 7 - Rising Sun

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Epilogue

List of characters

Dirk van den Boom

Rising Sun

Copyright © 2020 by Atlantis Verlag Guido Latz,

Bergstraße 34, 52222 Stolberg (Germany)

Cover © Timo Kümmel

Editor: Rob Bignell

eBook Production: André Piotrowski

ISBN 978-3-86402-731-4

www.atlantis-verlag.de

Yumiko Hara tugged at her son’s lapel, though everyone in the room knew that no power in the world could perfect the fit of the uniform’s jacket. However, this didn’t prevent the older woman from trying again and again, and her son Aritomo allowed her to do so. He knew that this activity helped her to hold back the tears that would shortly be released once he stepped out of the small house to begin his trip to Yokosuka. His mother would cry, his two sisters would cry, and the only one who would remain silent was his father, at least as long as everyone watched.

Aritomo looked out of the corner of his eye to the left and right. In the small living room, on the sofa, directly under the great portrait of the Tenno, his sisters Akemi and Beniko crouched. Akemi’s wedding had been the occasion for his return home. Normally, a young officer of his age hardly got any leave, but his older sister’s wedding had been occasion enough to soften the heart of a supervisor, giving him the necessary permission. Certainly, the upcoming mission was also important. As with all maiden voyages, a lot could go wrong, and this was even more true for …

His gaze wandered, clinging to the portrait of his grandparents, two fading photographs that barely discerned anything, and then there was the small altar designed to honor his ancestors. The living room was the largest room in the small house, but when the entire family gathered, it was quite full.

Existence has always been like that. The father’s rigid gaze, full of expectations and observing if everyone followed consistent rules, had determined his life. Full of discipline. The care of the mother, overwhelming when the father was not looking, the only way for her to express anything other than obedience to her husband. Full of love. The sister, intimidated, with her eyes steadily turned to the ground, flinching when the father raised her voice. Or the hand. Full of violence. The old furniture with its smell of wood, the odor of shavings and remnants from the workshop, strangely mixed with the scents of the kitchen, all put together, side by side, with only the father’s chair as the only comfortable seat on which no one except him was allowed to settle. Full of hierarchies.

The pictures of the Emperor. On each wall one. Almost of it real size, framed.

Full of respect.

Maybe it was silly that Aritomo Hara had been able to free himself from this confinement by joining the fleet, a hierarchy as crushing as his father’s rule over his family but promising the prospect of liberation, he hoped. Climbing up the ranks, gaining his own command, and finally able to be his own man, to stretch his neck out of the narrowness and out of submission by shouldering his own responsibility.

And now his first, the most important mission, was about to begin, and parting from the family was not bitter; he looked at it like a release from jail, warm as he was to his sisters.

Aritomo urged himself to wipe away the thought. He hadn’t been allowed to tell anyone what the mission was, and he had stuck to it. His father didn’t ask questions and had forbidden his family to touch the subject. He was certainly proud of his son, more than he ever expressed. He was obedient and hardworking, disciplined and honorable in what he did – and everything he had ever expected of him had always been woven into exactly the same tight corset carried by the narrow shoulders of the adolescent boy since childhood. It had been the promotion of Aritomo to Kaigun Chui , Second Lieutenant, which had finally allowed Akemi to bring the marriage to the son of a middle-ranking official to a successful conclusion – her liberation. She was so happy that she had begun to cry hysterically at the news. Normally, a simple artisan’s daughter would have been barred from even considering this social advancement. However, when the prospective father-in-law had heard of Aritomo’s admission to the Officers’ Academy, it had already been suggested that the first promotion from Cadet to Lieutenant would make the Hara family worthy enough. Akemi had been very happy. Aritomo knew the husband. He was not half as rigid, immovable and domineering as her father. He would give her the freedom a girl from a humble Background could expect, and that was all Akemi needed to feel complete bliss. Beniko would surely find a husband as well, whose status was above that of a craftsman. The biggest hope for their mother Yumiko Hara, however, was, that her son, perhaps after another promotion, would himself be connected to a daughter of one of the higher officers’ houses, possibly even of nobility. Successful officers were of status, everyone knew that. That was the point where his mother’s hopes met his father’s, a point where even he himself sometimes agreed to have a serious interest in.

Aritomo was silent on these plans. He intended to focus on the fulfillment of his duties that finally would enable such promotion. A focus which required his deepest concentration, much the same as his mother gave to the uniform jacket.

“You must look good, son.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Did you pack everything?”

“Yes, mother.”

Yumiko Hara had checked his duffel several times. She had washed and starched all his clothes so neatly that, if one looked at them closely, they seemed to shimmer out of themselves in a strange way. Probably you could place each shirt upright on the shelf. Or hammer nails with it.

“I’ve packed you travel provisions, son!”

“Thank you, Mother.”

The small shoulder bag had been handcrafted by Yumiko, with an artfully embroidered flag, the rising red sun, the flag of the Imperial Japanese Navy where her son served. And that should really attract everyone’s attention on the long train ride to Yokosuka. The contents of the bag consisted of delicacies wrapped in oil paper, into which Yumiko Hara had put all her creative power as a cook. Her son would certainly not starve on the journey. Maybe the otherwise so perfectly fitting uniform jacket would get tight in the abdominal area. But starvation was out of the question.

“Mother, I have to leave. The train is leaving soon.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

Yumiko’s answer sounded a bit lost, and when she tugged at his lapel again one last time, Aritomo saw the soft moisture of tears in her eyes. Regardless of the fit of his jacket, he took the slender figure of his mother in his arms. He had spent a week with his family. He knew that years could pass before he met all of them again. The service of an officer was exhausting, and there was little free time. Writing letters was all that was left to him, and even that option wouldn’t be available to him always because of the nature of his duties.

Yumiko Hara broke away from the embrace and looked reproachfully at her son, eyes covered with a tearful veil. “I’ll wet your jacket! That is not right! You have to watch your appearance, you’re an officer!”