Naoki Hyakuta - The Eternal Zero

“According to our research, Kyuzo Miyabe and Grandma lived together for a very short time. After they wed, he was almost always away with the military,” I said, trying to be considerate of his feelings.

Grandpa merely nodded. “So how are you conducting this research?”

“I’ve sent letters to several veterans’ groups asking them to find people who knew Miyabe. We’ve only been able to speak to one person so far, a man who was stationed in Rabaul with him for just a couple of months. He was a pilot like Kyuzo was.”

“And what did he say?”

I hesitated but decided to tell him the truth. “That he was a coward, always fleeing from battle.” Then I added, self-deprecatingly, “Maybe the reason I’m so spineless is because I’ve inherited grandfather Kyuzo’s DNA…”

“Nonsense!” Grandpa rebuked me. “Kiyoko was a hard worker ever since she was a kid. She never whined or complained, no matter what. After her husband—your father—passed away, she managed an accounting firm and raised you kids single-handedly. Your sister Keiko, too, inherited that trait and is a tough cookie. The blood of a coward does not run in your veins.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

Seeing me wilt, Grandpa said gently, “Kentaro, you’re a far finer man than you give yourself credit for. One day you’ll realize that.”

“You’re always so kind to me, Grandpa. You say that even though, well…”

“We’re not related by blood?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“I love you because you’re kindhearted. Keiko is strong-willed but she, too, is a sweet girl,” Grandpa said with a smile. “Speaking of kind-hearted people, Fujiki is one, too. He was always there for others even if he was going through hell. I’m sure that trait is the reason he’s having such a hard time at the ironworks, too.”

I nodded. It was true that Fujiki was a kind and sincere man.

“He’s precisely the sort of man that should become a lawyer…” Grandpa said with a note of regret.

When Fujiki first came to my grandfather’s firm, I was in elementary school and my sister was in junior high. He taught us about all sorts of things: interesting novels, history, tales of great artists. My sister and I loved to listen to him talk. He was the one who taught me that becoming a lawyer was a most wonderful career choice, and that Grandpa was the very model of a good lawyer. He may have influenced my decision to pursue a law career. In my very young eyes, he was like Superman. I adored him.

But unfortunately, he wasn’t a very good student. Or rather, he wasn’t very good at taking the bar. He loved novels and music more than legal tomes, which is why he didn’t always pass even the short-answer portion of the test. Keiko always poked fun at him for it, but that was simply the flip side of her affection.

The week before Fujiki left for his hometown, he rented a car and took Keiko and me on a drive to Hakone. I was a high school senior and Keiko was in her last year of college. I had apparently asked to go on a trip to Hakone a long time before then, and while I had forgotten any such promise Fujiki faithfully kept his word.

On the drive, Keiko laughed, saying things like, “You worked so hard for ten years, all for naught…” and “You’re gonna end up a middle-aged owner of a struggling ironworks in the sticks of Yamaguchi.” Her jabs lacked the usual undertones of affection. But Fujiki simply gave a troubled smile in return, never losing his temper. I found myself getting offended on his behalf. I wanted Fujiki to be happy.

That night I had dinner with my mother for the first time in a while. Since she ran an accounting firm she always worked late, and we rarely got to eat together. She used to run the firm with Dad, but she had been in charge ever since he passed away from illness ten years ago.

“Had you really never been told anything about your real father, Mom?”

“Grandma didn’t tell me a thing. Maybe she hadn’t married him out of love. It wasn’t uncommon for a couple to meet just once for an arranged match before getting married.”

“Did you ever ask if she loved him?”

“I did, once, when I was a teenager.”

“What did she say?”

Mom looked as though she was recalling the past. “She said, ‘What do you want me to say?’”

“What did she mean by that?”

“I thought it meant that she didn’t love him, but looking back on it now maybe I was wrong.”

“I wonder if she did love him.”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think she’d have said so even if she did. She was in love with Grandpa.”

I nodded. I remembered Grandpa always being on Grandma’s mind. Whenever something happened she’d run to him, saying, “Oh, Grandpa…” Grandpa cherished her, too. She was actually older than him but it didn’t show. So I’d been genuinely surprised to hear that she’d had a husband before him.

“It’ll be an eternally unsolved mystery whether my real father loved my mother, and whether she loved him. But I would like to know what kind of young man he was.”

“Young man?”

“Yes, he was twenty-six when he died. The same age you are now, Kentaro.”

I went over Kyuzo Miyabe’s resume in my mind. I was struck anew by how young he was when he died.

“I wish Mother had told me what he was like,” my mother said.

I risked asking a difficult question. “What if he didn’t have a good reputation?”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, I just mean hypothetically. Suppose in the course of our research someone told us something you’d rather not hear.”

“Hard to say,” she said after briefly considering it. “In that case, maybe the kids were left with no stories because that was for the best.”

My mood darkened at her words.

The next week, I headed to Matsuyama in Shikoku. We had found someone else who had known my grandfather.

At first, my sister was supposed to go on her own, but at the last minute she said, “I just got a gig that I simply can’t turn down. Please go in my place.” I wanted to refuse, but she implored me, saying, “Freelance writers are at the mercy of their clients,” and I found myself unable to turn her down. I didn’t think she was lying, but I couldn’t quite rid myself of the notion that she didn’t want to sit through another story like Hasegawa’s.

That’s why I ended up traveling all the way to Shikoku by myself. While I was disgusted by my trusting, good nature, since Keiko had given me double the usual per diem I decided to enjoy the trip as if I were on a mini-vacation. After finishing the interview at some appropriate point, I’d stop by the nearby Dougo hot springs or something like that.

Former Navy Lieutenant Junior Grade Kanji Ito lived in a large house in a residential area near the center of town. Ito was a small, elderly man with perfect posture and sprightliness to his movements. He was supposed to be turning eighty-five but looked to be in his seventies.

I was shown to a large sitting room. He handed me a business card that bore various titles. He seemed to be a bigwig in the local Chamber of Commerce. It also said that he was the chairman of some company.

“Do you run your business, sir?”

“No, I left my son in charge. Now I’m enjoying the retired life. Besides, it isn’t much of a company.”

The housekeeper served me some iced coffee.

“It’s nearly August. August always makes me think of the war,” Ito said with some feeling. “So you’re Miyabe’s grandson, eh? Hmm, to think he would have a grandson like you.” He stared fixedly at me. “I certainly never thought Miyabe’s grandson would pay me a visit sixty years after the war. But such is life.”

I tensed up, remembering Hasegawa’s tale. Flustered, I said rapidly, “To be honest, I don’t know anything about my grandfather. My grandmother remarried after the war and died without talking to us about him. My mother, too, has no memories of her real father. I wanted to learn more about my own roots, so I thought I’d visit anyone who knew him personally and listen to their stories.”