Author’s note: All personal names and events in this story are fictitious. The earthquake and tsunami were real.
Chapter 1
Sendai, Japan, March 11, 2011 7:45 a.m.
Hiroshi Kobu stepped briskly downstairs from his studio flat to the kitchen where Yuki was preparing breakfast for Makoto and Kenta. He gave his wife a quick kiss and rubbed the hair of his two young boys who giggled in response. Makoto was the oldest at four and Kenta was three.
“How is everyone this morning?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Hiroshi pushed the button of their coffee maker for his only cup of the day.
“Are you nervous?” Yuki asked.
“Not really,” he said. “The first day is always the easiest in a new job.” Hiroshi was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and blue tie for his first day as an engineer for the Mitsubishi Heavy Industries Valve Corporation. As a young engineering professional, he knew he wouldn’t have to dress so formally in the future, but the first day is always important even though he would spend most of his time filling out paperwork and introducing himself to his new managers and co-workers. He had been laid off from his last job due to lack of government funding but finding this new job was serendipitous in that they didn’t have to relocate. Since his graduation from The University of Tokyo, he had his previous job for six years, long enough for him to marry and start a family. Hiroshi’s slight build matched Yuki’s; both had straight black hair. Yuki wore hers simply down to the middle of her back. They met in elementary school and were platonic friends but began dating a few months before Hiroshi left for college. It was then Yuki and Hiroshi knew they needed each other, and as soon as Hiroshi graduated and landed his first job, they got married.
“What do you have planned for today?” he asked.
“I’ll leave Makoto and Kenta with ‘Aunt Momo,’ she replied, “and then I’ll go to the market and work there until about two o’clock.”
“Can you bring some fruits and vegetables home?”
“I’ll bring some leftovers that don’t sell.” Yuki worked part time at a local Sendai grocer and usually was able to return with some produce. It helped with the food budget. She also said she would run by the coast for some fish before returning home. ‘Aunt Momo’ was their neighbor who lived in the next flat, an elderly lady whom they had struck up a wonderful friendship. Momo and Isao Yamamoto were retired, seventy-something, and continued to live in the same domicile for four decades. Isao’s ever present smile and Momo’s motherly personality made them good candidates for cheap day care. Both Momo and Isao loved children, but when Yuki and Hiroshi got some extra money, they would take their aged friends out for a yakatori or chicken wing dinner, and on special occasions, sashimi. Their favorite was a local grill that specialized in organ meat. Isao, a former officer in the Japanese navy, was tall for most Japanese men with a buzz haircut. Momo was overweight, had bad knees, but a nice soft lap for Makoto and Kenta to sit and listen to stories.
“There won’t be much fish left,” Hiroshi said.
“There’ll be enough. I’m sure they’ll have some trigger fish; they always do.”
“But I hate cleaning them,” Hiroshi muttered. “See if you can get some salmon, or eel.”
Yuki grinned. “Not much chance, but I’ll see what I can do.” Yuki put a plate of one egg with a bowl of noodles and fish cake in front of him. Hiroshi wolfed it down with his chopsticks amid sips of coffee.
“I have to go,” he wiped his mouth. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Go clean your mouth,” she replied.
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, got up, and bounded up the stairs.
“Come on, my little sumo’s,” Yuki commanded her two kids. “Time to go to Momo’s.” The two boys shrieked with delight; they loved Aunt Momo.
Hiroshi brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth out, and made one last check of his appearance. Grabbing his cell phone and backpack, he bounced back down the stairs and after kissing his wife, rubbing his boys’ hair once more, slipping off his slippers, and putting on long dress shoes at the threshold, was out the door.
“Call me!” Yuki shouted to him. Hiroshi waved as he jogged around the corner and down a couple of blocks before he came to a Shinto shrine. Normally, such a shrine would be in the countryside away from town, but this one was close by. He stopped at the entrance, bowed once and walked briskly to the water cleansing station. Picking up a ladle with his right hand, he poured water over his left, then his right hand. He then poured some water back into his left hand, sipped it into his mouth, and spit it out in the drainage trough. He put the ladle back in place (neglecting to wash the handle) and then walked to the shrine. Tossing a 100 yen coin into the box, he put his palms together in prayer, bowed once, clapped twice and bowed again. Silently, he said a prayer of good success on his new job and protection of Yuki and the boys. Seconds later, Hiroshi was jogging again to the Sendai train station.
Yuki got the kids dressed and led them over to the Yamamoto’s house.
“Momo-san?” she called.
“Hai,” came a high-pitched reply. “Aaahh, hello boys, hello boys,” the gray-haired woman greeted them as she waddled out.
“Where is Isao-san?”
“He is in the garden,” Momo replied, not taking her eyes off the two scampering boys.
“Okay, I’m off to the store,” Yuki said. “I’ll be back around 3.”
“Okay, okay,” Momo looked up. “We’ll be fine. I’ll serve them nabe soup for lunch.”
“Good for sumo’s,” Yuki laughed. She kissed the boys and waved to Isao who had just looked around the corner with a toothy grin.
Chapter 2
March 11, 2011 8:30 a.m.
Hiroshi waited patiently in line for the 8:32 a.m. train, which was right on schedule, even during rush hour, and not that full. Sometimes, usually at the end of the day, the train packed riders like sardines. He recalled when he got his first job. His new boss threw a party for all of the male employees in his division at the Tengu Izakaya restaurant where the group of twenty young graduates consumed copious amounts of yakatori and beer. Stag parties with no women allowed, even spouses, were quite common for celebrating new projects, programs, and mass hiring. The boss made several toasts and inspirational speeches to his new employees amid many shouts of “kam-pai.” An old-timer told him later that this was the beginning of his imprisonment; that companies would require Hiroshi to work ten hours a day, six days a week, with little vacation. Hiroshi was young enough to accept this fate being full of energy, but after two children, and at the age of 27, he was already beginning to feel the stress just a little. Twenty minutes later, he stepped off the train and immediately saw his liaison, Yamada.
“Thank you for being on time,” Yamada said, bowing. Hiroshi bowed in return and handed him his business card, sent to him earlier by Mitsubishi, with both hands. Yamada took it respectfully with both hands and after glancing at it, bowed again. “The van is over here,” he looked to his left. The two got into the van and Yamada drove them out of the parking lot. “I’ll take you to processing and then pick you up this afternoon to take you to the plant. There you will meet Tanaka-san and then we’ll give you a tour.”
“Very good,” Hiroshi responded. He did not have much to say and didn’t want to appear too eager. It was only a ten-minute ride to the company-processing center at the northeast end of the Miyagi prefecture.
“Remember, I’ll see you about 2:30 or 3:00,” Yamada reminded.
“Hai! Arigato!”
Yuki walked twelve blocks slightly downhill to the Satou grocery store. The morning was cold and a few flakes of snow appeared from the sky. There was no train to that area but she enjoyed the walk since the neighborhood was quite clean. She smiled and greeted many people she had gotten to know along the way. “O-Hay-O,” (good morning) she chirped to several folks opening their own stores. Satou-san met her at the entrance.
“Good-morning, Yuki-san,” he bowed. She bowed smiling, set her purse on the counter, and began setting out the goods in boxes at the storefront. “How are the little sumo’s?” he asked.
“Fine, as long as I feed them nabe. Maybe they’ll become famous and support me one day.” The morning stayed cold. Most of the produce was grown in greenhouses around the country but Satou had good contacts even though his store was small. The day went quickly and Yuki began thinking about Hiroshi, and how he was doing. He should do fine, a confident young man as he. By the time 2 p.m. came, she had put a few vegetables in a plastic sack and helped Satou clean the floors and throw away the empty boxes. Satou didn’t mind if Yuki took a few pieces of produce home. Yuki liked working there and the extra food was a nice perquisite. By 2:20 p.m., she bowed to Satou, and waved goodbye on her way out. Carrying the vegetables, she began walking toward the waterfront. It would take about fifteen minutes to get to the fish markets.
Hiroshi spent a long morning learning about company policies and filling out security forms. By the time lunchtime rolled around, he welcomed the break since most of what he was doing was tedious and boring. He looked forward to Yamada-san picking him up and taking him to the plant. He went to the cafeteria and had a meal of noodles and fish. Then back to the human resources office for a safety presentation and organizational lecture. He was beginning to get a little sleepy even though he sipped in an aluminum can of hot tea he purchased from the vending machine for 200 yen. At 2:40 p.m., he was done and with some final bows to his instructor, he grabbed his backpack and went outside where Yamada-san was smoking a cigarette.
March 11, 2011 2:46 p.m.
Directly east of Sendai and 15 miles below the ocean surface, the Pacific plate continued its slippage under the North American plate, except that this time the movement was instantaneous resulting in an upward movement of the North American plate. This colossal motion generated a tidal wave, which began hurtling west toward the Japanese coastline.
“How was it?” Yamada asked.
“Don’t ask,” Hiroshi replied. Yamada chuckled and put out his smoke in the cigarette tube. Hiroshi staggered and Yamada looked in the air, and then they both grabbed for the side of the van, which was rocking wildly. “Earthquake,” Hiroshi said just loud enough to hear.
“A big one,” Yamada acknowledged. People began coming out of the building and looking in the air. There were no big buildings in the neighborhood but with their childhood training, they all stood in the middle of the parking lot or street. The crescendo of shaking buildings creaking and cracking was now too loud to carry on a conversation. The shuddering continued and both men, who had experienced earthquakes before, knew that this one was significant. Cracks formed in the asphalt. Trees waved in a nonexistent wind. Other cars in the lot rocked. An echoing roar came from the hills and pieces of building, though built for earthquakes, began falling. A few minutes after it began, it ended.
“That was a bad one,” Yamada laughed nervously. Hiroshi looked around, and then had a horrible thought.
“We have to get out of here; we’re too close to the coast,” he said. “Let’s get to higher ground. But almost immediately, he stopped, and said, “get me to the train station.” The two men got in the van and Yamada pulled out on the coastline road. He got into a minor traffic jam with others who were trying to escape to higher ground.
Yuki first noticed the water on the ground vibrating and then someone in the fish market yelled, ‘earthquake!” She stepped away from one of the markets where a garage door came crashing down. Bins of fish slid around the side of the streets, fish and water slopping everywhere. Market workers slipped in their rubber boots and fell to the ground. The rumble of the quake became a background noise to the screaming and shouting. Yuki had been through earthquakes before but this was obviously the worst. A few minutes later, it was over and her heart was pounding. Then she heard others scrambling and shouting, again.
“Get everything in!” someone exclaimed.
“We need to get out of here,” another cried.
“What is it?” Yuki asked. “Will there be another one?”
“Could be; might be,” a man answered. “But there may be a tsunami!” Yuki looked around at the people scurrying about. She had seen pictures and videos of tsunamis and heard about them in her upbringing, but had never seen one. She stood mesmerized for a moment and then recalled the pictures of Phuket. An upwelling of fear grasped her and she thought of Makoto and Kenta. She began walking briskly back toward her neighborhood. Then she thought of Hiroshi who was down on the coastline and caught her breath. She stopped and got out her cell phone to call him.
Hiroshi and Yamada finally got through traffic and made their way along a short cut that Yamada knew through an agricultural area. They were moving well along a narrow two-lane road when Hiroshi looked out his passenger window.
“Oh, no; look at that!” To his left, Hiroshi saw a massive wall of brown water filled with debris, cars, and demolished structure moving toward them. Steam, or smoke, ascended from the water. The foaming mass was a couple of hundred yards away but coming rapidly. “Turn around!” he cried.
“I can’t!” Yamada said, but he was already trying to make a U-turn without getting into the mud on the side of the road. The wall of water was upon them and swept the van off the road. Hiroshi felt like he was in a boat, but the water was coming in through the door seals even though the van was afloat. Both men were yelling, cursing, and screaming as the van rocked in the unrestrained wave action. Water washed over the windshield. The engine died.
“We have to get out!” Hiroshi shrieked and then heard the ring tone of his cell phone. Too late, he could not get at it before the water soaked his pants pockets. Hiroshi pushed the down button on the window and because the keys were still in the ignition it thankfully came completely down but not before letting in more water. Hiroshi unbuckled himself and scrambled out of the van before it sank. He knew how to swim but debris battered him on all sides. He swallowed salt water and then a large piece of wood hit him on the side of the head. He tried to dog paddle but the bombardment of debris continued. Vomiting dirty salt water, he tried to clear his eyes and look for something stable, anything. He lost track of the van and could not see Yamada. He rode the flow with his head just above the surface looking for anything that floated. There was a large roofline within reach and he grabbed for it, cutting his hand on a rain gutter. Hiroshi held on anyway, pulled himself to the rocking structure, and tried to maintain his grasp. The water carried him toward a set of apartment buildings.
The flow pushed him under again, and washed him over a highway concrete wall, banging his hip and right arm on concrete, forcing him to swallow more dirty salt water. He broached the surface and vomited again. Above him, he saw people standing on a four story building watching. Hiroshi tried to yell for help but could not catch his breath. He grabbed the door handle of another car floating by. Inside the car, he saw a middle aged, panic-stricken woman on the other side of the glass. The car was filling with water and she could not get out. Hiroshi began pulling on the door handle but it wouldn’t open, and then it slipped from his hand. The current carried him away as he watched the car upend and sink. The rapid current moved him along and he found himself unexpectedly washed up on the second floor of a parking garage. He grabbed a pillar and held on to a grounding cable. He pulled himself above the flow of water and climbed to the third level where the water had not reached. Standing on the ramp, he listened to the sounds around him that were deafening. Hearing the roar of water, screams, crashing of debris, sirens, and public address systems calling for evacuation and escape to higher ground, he dug in his pockets for his cell phone but it was gone. He began shivering from the cold. His lacerated hand was bleeding, but not badly.
Chapter 3
Yuki called Hiroshi’s cell again, but there was no answer. She heard a roar behind her and, dropping her bags, she began running up the hill toward Satou’s store. Others in the street, gawking at what was behind her, began screaming and running. Yuki turned to look behind her; the water washed through the fish market, sweeping tubs of fish through the streets. Many market workers were running right behind and some passing her. Even though the street angled slightly upwards, water soaked her feet; she splashed a few more feet before the water depth, and a wave, knocked her down. She began floating and moving down the street crashing up against the side of a building. The man she talked to from the fish market picked her up and carried her inside the building. They both scrambled up the stairs to the second floor where there were others, yelling, shouting, screaming, crying; Yuki looked out a window and saw the sea water flowing by like a river. Amidst the water were debris, cars, and the heads of people, trying to stay afloat. Water was filling the stairway and rising to the second floor. Some of the people climbed up a pull-down ladder to the roof. Yuki scrambled up the ladder with the help of the same man. On the roof, she felt the cold. She stood at the edge and watched the devastation the tsunami wreaked on the city. Sirens blared and the public address system directed people to seek higher ground. The water continued to rise and approached the roof of the building. There was no time to think, and soon the rapidly rising water washed everyone off the roof.
Hiroshi walked to the edge of the parking garage to look at the destruction. The city had become a river of rapid flowing current. He could see floating cars, boats, and buildings falling apart. He ran up the parking garage ramp to the fourth level where there were several people standing. He asked to borrow someone’s cell phone. One person handed him a phone and with shaking fingers, he tried to call Yuki’s phone. There was no service. He handed the phone back and with his arms around his body, he tried to figure out where he was. He groaned to himself as he recalled leaving Yamada in the sinking van, and he bent over with his face in his hands. A woman came over and tried to console him. Hiroshi stood back up, took a deep breath surveyed the area and knew that he was several blocks from the train station, though everything was covered with moving water. He wanted to get home. The structure of the parking garage held firmly and the water didn’t rise much higher than two and a half stories. Hiroshi looked around and saw a 20-foot johnboat with an outboard motor floating by. He ran down to the third level and the edge of the garage. Looking for an open spot of the debris, he jumped feet first into the water and swam to the boat, which was now caught in a small whirlpool by one of the buildings. Scrambling into the boat he found a life jacket stuffed under one of the seats and put it on, more for warmth than anything else. He checked the engine in neutral and pulled the starting cord once, then again; a third time and the engine came to life. Almost immediately, a floating car hit the boat and Hiroshi almost fell out, but regained his balance. He put the engine in forward, and tried to make his way through the debris as if he were on a swift river. He passed someone barely floating in the water and calling to him for help. At first, he wanted to move on, but turned the boat back. Hiroshi grabbed the man’s outreached hand and told him to grab the side of the boat. Turning the boat back to the parking garage Hiroshi dragged the man to people waiting at the edge who pulled the soaked survivor up to where they were standing. Hiroshi immediately turned around and sped off in the direction of the train station.
Yuki broke the surface and spit out the foul-tasting water. She grabbed a small tub turned upside down forming an air pocket and floated that way until she caught her breath. She was shivering in the cold salty water, her teeth chattering. Kicking her feet to warm up, she tried to get to a large piece of flotsam, a boat that had capsized. The boat was slick and hard to hold onto, but she grabbed a cleat near the stern. Then amazingly, the boat uprighted itself, pulling her in. Yuki gasped for breath and threw up her lunch. The boat, a small sailboat with a now broken mast, bounced along hitting wreckage, cars, and buildings as the current carried it along. She tried to see where she was and soon figured out she was not far from the Satou store, though the store was surely under water. She wanted to get home and help Momo and Isao with the boys, but the current pushed her farther away. Yuki shivered in the cold, and folded into a fetal position on the boat’s deck. The boat listed slightly but remained afloat.
Chapter 4
Hiroshi checked the level in the gasoline tank of his commandeered boat and found that he had plenty. He turned toward the agricultural area where the wave swept their van away and he could see in the distance the hills near his neighborhood. He dodged buildings, cars, and boats bobbing in the muddy water. At times, he could not make it through the immense wreckage and had to back track. The water seemed to be slowing and no longer flowing, which he knew was not a good sign since it had gone as far as it could inland, and now would be flowing back to the sea, carrying more remains with it. There would be no way he could maintain a few miles per hour against that flow and the tsunami would sweep him out to sea, as well. He maneuvered his way past what he knew was the train station and followed the power lines toward his neighborhood. He stayed away from the electrical towers just in case there were any that were still live. Twenty minutes later, he found the train station where he left that morning. The water was now moving inexorably the other direction. Hiroshi tried to find a tower or pole where he could tie his boat. Near the station was a walk-over bridge where commuters could walk from one train platform to the other. The building was still standing and the bridge was slightly higher than the water level. He pulled up to a window, broke it with a paddle in the boat, opened it, and crawled through. He tied off his boat, not really thinking of what would happen next. He waited as the tsunami, now spent in its inland assault, was now flowing back to sea. Hiroshi watched the same debris, flowing in the other direction, and buildings that were left standing in the original flow, now torn from their foundations. The motion picked up speed. There were no screams or sirens blaring, but the crashing of wreckage continued. Hiroshi felt the vibration of his shelter and became concerned about whether it would collapse. As the flow continued, the water level dropped. His boat hung by the rope on the bow. Hiroshi started down the rail platform stairs as the water uncovered them. Finally, he could step out onto the street. He ran, still with his life jacket on, down the street, past the Shinto shrine, which was gone, and up the block to his flat. The tsunami heavily damaged his home, but it was still standing. He ran inside shouting Yuki’s name, and Makoto and Kenta. No one was there. He ran next door to the Yamamoto’s, but their house was a pile of rubble. In a wave of despair, he squatted on the street and cried, looking around.
Yuki continued to shiver and she could feel the boat banging on the sides of buildings. She tightened herself into as tight a ball as she could. The boat swayed but she just stayed in the middle of the deck. After what seemed an interminable time, the boat leaned and then was quiet, no movement. The boat leaned sharply and Yuki was now laying next to the inner bulkhead. Yuki looked up after a few minutes and found the boat was no longer floating but was sitting on the street, wedged between two buildings. She pulled herself up and crawled out of the boat, her teeth chattering. She saw a wet blanket lying on the street, picked it up, and wrapped it around her. She looked around and knew she was back at the fish market, though no one was around.
Hiroshi saw a few people walking around surveying damage. He didn’t recognize anyone. He took off his life jacket and flung it away. He stepped over rubble and ruins. Shards of wood and roofing cluttered the streets. Faint moans emanated from all directions. He was alive, but his family was probably dead. He leaned against the outer wall of his house when he heard a familiar voice call his name.
“Kobu-san!” It was Isao. Hiroshi turned and saw the seventy-year-old trotting toward him. “You are here, you are here!” Isao waved and smiled that broad smile.
“Isao-san! Are you okay, where are Yuki and Makoto and Kenta?”
“The boys are up the hill,” Isao said. “We felt the earthquake, so I knew there would be a tsunami, so I took them up there. It was hard to get Momo up there because she is so fat. But everyone is safe.”
“Yuki, too?”
“No, Yuki never came back. We don’t know where she is.”
Yuki trudged her way up the street to the now destroyed Satou store. Looking briefly, she did not spend any time there and continued the twelve blocks toward her home. She was weak, wet, and dispirited, but she forced herself onward. She had to know what happened to her kids. Who knows what happened to her husband. At some moments, she closed her eyes, but plodded along, opening her eyes only to ensure she was walking in the right direction. Finally, she turned the last corner and stopped, looking at her house, still standing. She could see people standing next to it talking. She did not know them at first, but then recognized Isao’s tall figure, and then she saw Hiroshi.
The reunion was tearful, joyful, and lengthy. “Are the boys okay?” Yuki asked.
“They are. Isao and Momo have them safe,” Hiroshi responded, looking at his bride while Isao took off his jacket and wrapped it around Yuki, now shivering uncontrollably.
“Where is their house?” Yuki asked.
“Don’t worry,” Isao responded. “We are alive.” The three continued to laugh and cry and briefly told their own stories of survival. After a few more minutes, they saw Momo shuffling down the hill with Makoto and Kenta. Both boys ran to their parents hugging them. They told about their adventure with their surrogate grandparents. Yuki hugged Momo and Isao with ‘thank you’s’ for saving her boys. Momo and Isao stepped away to survey the ruins of their home. Hiroshi and Yuki wandered, holding their boys’ hands, over to their flat that was still standing. Tentatively, they stepped inside and looked around.
“We’ll have to inspect it to see if it can still stand,” Hiroshi said. “It may have to come down.” Yuki just looked around. On the floor was a large blue cod gasping its last.
“I guess I could have thought of a better way to bring home fish,” Yuki said with a weak smile. They looked at each other and laughed.
“This is probably no time for jokes,” Hiroshi said trying to be serious.
“By the way,” Yuki responded. “How was your first day at work?” They looked at each other and laughed again.
END