Tsunami Tremor: March 13, 2013

Fictionalized version of the very real events that occurred in March 2011 in Japan - Made on 12/19/13

"Are you sure?” I asked, my fingers shaking.

      “Positive. The seismograph’s off the charts. I also got a text warning, man. This is definitely not a false alarm. We have to go, now!” demanded Kosei.

      The resounding roar ringed out, challenging my existence.

      My time had come. Though only a beginner in the field, I prepared for that day for years…

      The warm, soft touch of the sun’s rays reached down, giving the clouds their luminescence – it was a perfect day. Umi no Hi, or Sea Day, had begun approximately three weeks ago, signaling the start of summer vacation. My family and I planned to go by Sea of Okhostk to catch the last of the summer’s rays.

      My eyes glinted with excitement! That used to be my favorite place to go. School would begin in two weeks. Thus we wished to enjoy one another’s company with one last family gathering. Together, we moved on out: my oniichan, older brother, Kosei, my neechan, older sister, Kari, my imouto, younger sister, Sakura, my otosan, dad, Yoshinori, and my okasan, mom, Tomiyo. The weather forecast promised us clear skies and a full day of sunshine.

      “Hayaku Sosukue! The day won’t be here forever!” barked my okasan.

      “Hai! I’m coming!”                                        

      I scrambled to change from my button-down shirt and jeans to a more aquatic-friendly outfit. I picked up extra belongings and head down the stairs. Just before leaving, I examined my home. It's quiet, unusually so, and vacant. A smile played on my lips as I clenched the door handle leading to the vacation that would soon be mine.

           “Come on!” yelled my otosan, gesturing toward the car. “We’re going to miss the sun rising!”

           “It’s not going to go anywhere, silly!” answered my older sister, Kari, walking toward the van. “The sun doesn’t move.”

           “It doesn’t?” asked Sakura, carrying her favorite princess doll. She looked up to my mother, Tomiyo.

           “No, of course not. You’ll learn soon enough when school comes around.”

           “Okay!”

      We planned to make no stops, for our town of Monbetsu in the Okhotsk Subprefecture in Hokkaido resided on the coast of the Sea of Okhostk.

      Light still shimmered in the afternoon hours. I can almost taste my excitement (not what you would think--a bit salty). Although we lived so close to the water we hardly ever went out to it, especially together. Jobs, school, life—all prevented us from seeing the flights of the cormorants or the fish frenzy feedings of the striated herons. This was good for all of us: a time to relax and take stock.

      The moisture content of the air and the lack of vast amounts of sea-goers failed to raise alarm; we trudged forward, despite ominous fore-warnings.

      The water enticed us, its outstretched hands reached out as if to embrace us. We welcomed it. Swimming and laughing, we had so much fun. 

      However, on that particular day the tide was especially aggressive. We continued our splashing, our laughing, and our singing, nonetheless. Our unquenchable hysteria propelled us deeper and deeper out to sea. The distances between us lengthened. Isolation inundated inward.

      “Watashi o tasukete! Help me! Watashi o tasukete! Help me! Tasukete! Help!”

      The hysteria broke apart, giving way to a more frantic and delirious range of emotions.

      I flinched, searching for the source of the scream.

      “Sakura,” I said, my voice but a whisper.

    “Sakura!” my confidence and urgency rising like the oncoming ocean tide.

      “SAKURA!” my family shouted, our voices in complete and utter unity.

      She swam too far out. The water raised its hands, grabbing all in its path. Our options were limited to die saving Sakura or swimming to our individual salvation.

      My otosan urged, “Swim!” his eyes fixed, staring somewhere far off. Knowing what must be done, we nodded to one another.

      We split, him propelling toward Sakura, and the rest of us swimming toward shore. Our groundswell of piercing and purposeful strokes slices through the surface of the water. We swim with all our might from the abominable and hydrated beast. Our tears mix with salt which splashed as our despairing strokes for salvation rendered us liquid. A numbness in me rushes every fiber of my being. My breathing metamorphoses into gasps and my motions escalate into desperate, frantic, and jarring agitations.

           “Sakura,” I whispered, watching the waves engulf her, my hands reaching out...

           “Sosukue! Hey, Sosukue, snap out of it!”

           “Uh, huh,” I mumbled.

           “Are you okay? Is this another of your 'moments?'”

           I flinched in his direction. “Oh, I guess so.”

     “Just be grateful that your mother and older sister are still alive. Besides, we have to go, there's no time! The seismograph shows disastrous readings: There’s a 9.0 earthquake centered 72 kilometers east of Tohoku. My hometown, man. We're first responders; we're the ones who rescue others at the expense of our own lives.”

      I stood, fixed to the point right below me: the epicenter, then sway, my balance barely sustained. Autonomously, my eyes locked, “I know that. Let's go.”

      We were a special task force part of a larger organization commonly known as the Red Cross. Small divisions of two to three people made up these forces. Our unit was Terraemotus, which is Latin for “earthquake.” Our sole purpose was to prevent damage, injury, and loss of life to all persons, especially in times of seismic cataclysm. 

      We moved on into the emergency vehicle. Kosei revved the engine.

    “So this earthquake started at 2:46?” I asked.

    “Yes, and it sent a tsunami in its wake.”

     I checked my watch: 3:00.

     I turned on the radio, and it cackled to life: “...Fatalities are estimated to be in the thousands, with the majority being deaths by drowning. Sendai was hard-hit, as well as other cities along the eastern coast. However, Tokyo residents received a minute warning before the earthquake. Seismic building codes, government officials say – in addition to the early warning system – additionally prevented, and is currently preventing, innumerable casualties –”

     Having enough bad news, Kosei turned off the radio. “They say it’s a record-breaking earthquake, making it one of the costliest disasters in history.”

     “How'd you know that?” I questioned.

     “You were out for a while. I listened in on the radio and got ready for when you woke up.” I nodded.

     The vehicle turned sharply, heading downtown. And devastation showed its face.

     All around, in all proximities, lay debris and rubble; broken pieces of buildings and construction. SUVs and Toyota Camrys—washed away by the wave of misfortune and destruction. 

     A vein in my temple popped. 

      "How could this happen!” I shouted, gesturing at my surroundings.

     “Calm down Sosukue,” he urged. “There's more important things to worry about.”

     “Like what?!” I demanded.

      “Like her!” he said, pointing toward someone screaming rightward. 

      I shook my head and blinked my eyes a few times, attempting to recognize the issue at hand. The woman appeared to be struggling out of some debris.

     “We should be able to push the furniture aside,” said Kosei.

      I agreed, and we sprinted to the site. 

           “Help! Help! Someone, anyone, help!” shouted the woman.

           The woman laid juxtaposed to a couch and some other pieces of furniture; they blocked her from making any movements. 

           “It's going to be all right. We're from the Red Cross,” I said, attempting to soothe her.

           “What's your name?” asked Kosei.

           She shook, shock soaring senselessly through her. “It's Akane.” 

           “Well, Akane, we're going to help you out of there, okay?” I said.

           “O-okay,” she answered, gasping. “But first, my daughter. I don't know where she went. She was here with me a moment ago. Kanako mustn't have gone far; maybe it was the water that, or the...”

           “We'll do what we can,” said Kosei. “First, we need to get you out of here.”

      I smiled assuredly, “Yeah, don't worry. I'm sure we'll find her."

      “Okay. Just be quick, please. My daughter may have her doll with her, but that won't protect her much; she needs her mommy.”

           “We'll try our best,” replied Kosei, pulling drawers out of the way.

           I started pushing a cupboard and a shelf out of the way. “Now let's move this couch.”

           “Yeah, grab the other end,” said Kosei. “Since we don't have room to move it, we'll just lift it up and Akane can crawl underneath it.

           “That sounds best."

           “I can do that,” answered Akane.

           I positioned myself to one end of the sofa – which most likely washed away due to the tsunami – and grasped it with both hands. “Okay,” I said. “On three. One, two, three!” We exerted force from the bottom, lifting it up. 

      Akane crawled slowly underneath the sofa. 

           “Okay. I'm out,” said Akane.

           “You sure?” questioned Kosei.

           “Yes."

We released our hold on the sofa, being careful not to hit our toes. It slammed with a simple thud.

           “Domo Arigatogozaimashita! Thank you!” said Akane, bowing. 

           “You're very welcome,” I said, bowing back. “Are you not in any pain?”

           “Not anything major. I think I just have a few scratches, since it wasn't really on me; it was only blocking me. I apologize for causing you trouble.”

           “Oh, we were just doing our job; no need to apologize.”

      “But now we must find my daughter, Kanako. She has black hair, just like me. She also has on, um–” She scoffed. “I can't even remember what she was wearing. I'm a horrible mother!” She began crying.

           “It's okay,” soothed Kosei, “we'll find her.”

           We scanned the area, looking far and wide. I checked behind buildings, while Kosei examined harder-to-see places like where Akane was stuck. Trudging aimlessly, Akane called out, "Kanako!"

           Thirty minutes passed.

           On my walkie-talkie Kosei said, “I don't think we'll find her anytime soon. We should head back.”

           We composed ourselves and confronted Akane. 

           “Yes, now well, we will take you to a shelter,” replied Kosei. “It's far too dangerous to be wandering about here.”

           “Okay, thank you. I know you're very busy, so thank you for the time you allotted me to look for Kanako. Despite this situation, I'm sure she'll be found soon.”

           We walked back to the emergency vehicle when I heard a crackling from my pocket.

           “Sosukue, come in Sosukue! This is ugrent! Sosukue!”

           “Who is it?” asked Kosei.

           “Lemme check.”

           “This is Kyoko. The Prime Minister Naoto Kan will go to your area for a news conference, so we need more back-up, just in case. He will be going to the Takinoue Hotel Keikoku. Be there on the fifth floor of the hotel when he arrives.”

           “Sure. We can do that.”

           “Be punctual. Anything could happen.”

           “Affirmative.”

           The radio ceased its crackling.

           I scanned over to Kosei. He nodded. Then I turned to Akane. “We have to go to a news conference. We can drop you off at that location. There, you'll be safe, and we can discover a means of transportation for a securer location.”

           “That sounds good,” said Akane, stifling back tears.

           Kosei replied, “Okay, let's go.”

           We arrived at the emergency vehicle and situate ourselves inside. 

           Static crackling sounded once more: “– will be heading down to the site of disaster: Monbestsu. Prime Minister Naoto Kan says, 'In the 65 years after the end of World War II, this is the toughest and the most difficult crisis for Japan. The tsunami has caused a cooling system failure at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. This resulted in a level 7 nuclear meltdown and the release of radioactive materials. The evacuation radius is 20 kilometers from the plant. I repeat the evacuation radius is 20 kilometers from the Fukishima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.' That is all from Prime Minister Kan at his current position. As I have stated, he will be heading to a news conference in the prestigious Takinoue Hotel Keikoku in Monbetsu.”

           Kosei shut the radio off...

           We arrived on time: 4:00 on the dot. 

           Entering the hotel through revolving doors, Susan, Kosei, and I contacted the manager of the edifice.

           “Excuse me,” I said to the manager.

           “Yes?” 

           “Please find a safe haven for Susan here. We found her stuck in Monbetsu.”

           “Sure thing.” The manager turned toward Akane. “Is there anything I can get you?”

           “No thank you. I just wish to find my daughter,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “She was with me the entire time, for she was not stuck. Then she suddenly, well she's gone.”

           “I'll see what we can do. In the meantime, please help yourself to some refreshments,” said the manager, gesturing toward the lobby. “We have miso soup, sushi, sashimi, and many other delicacies.”

           Akane meandered to them, then suddenly stumbled and fell over. I rushed over to her side.

           “Please,” she begged, “please find her.”

           “Um, I'll try my best,” I replied.

           “Promise, promise me you'll find her! Promise!” 

           “I'll see what I can do after the conference.”

           Akane composed herself, dusting off her jacket. “Thank you,” she said. She walked over to the lobby, with a skip in her step.

           Kosei walked over to me. “Poor thing. We have to find her daughter.”

           I nodded, wiping my eyes with my shirt.

           “Are you okay?” 

           “Yeah, I'm fine,” I said, turning away.

           “Well, let's go to the conference.”

           The two of us entered the conference room without being a minute too late. There, on March 13, Prime Minister Naoto Kan emphasized the gravity of the situation: "I think that the earthquake, tsunami, and the situation at our nuclear reactors makes up the worst crisis in the 65 years since the war. If the nation works together, we will overcome."

         The speech was interrupted many times with applause. The Japanese citizens united around the Prime Minister's words, knowing they must be strong during this time. 

           Afterwards, due to the fact of the there being no pressing problem, Kosei and I decided that it was time to search for Kanako. We departed from the Takinoue Hotel Keikoku and head off to Monbetsu. There, we were sure we would find her. 

           I began looking for clues to her location. 

           “Remember Kosei: black hair and doll.”

           “I know,” he said. “However those hints probably won't be enough.”

           This time, we searched farther and for a longer period of time. We looked out into the far reaches of the town; department stores, office buildings--we checked them all. The situation grew dismal. 

           “Let's go back,” said Kosei. “It's already been two hours. If she was here don't you think she would've turned up by now. It's hopeless.”

           “No, I'm not stopping this time. We have to find her. If you stop, then leave; I'll stay here.”

           “Suit yourself. But there's only one way to go back: the emergency vehicle. So I'll just wait for you. Yet if you take more than thirty minutes, I'm leaving you here,” explained Kosei, walking back to the vehicle. 

           I blinked. The nerve of that guy! 

           “Yet at least he's still going to wait a little while for me,” I thought. I shrugged and continued my search for Kanako. 

           I examined every single place in the city but still failed to find her. I contemplated, “She has to be around here somewhere.” I looked under every nook and every cranny with no luck. Then it hit me: Maybe she is not here, in this city.

           I turned around and looked to the east. That may be where she is; maybe a mile or two away may lie Kanako. Instantaneously, I checked my watch: I only had ten minutes to get back before Kosei rides off without me. 

           My feet stuck to the floor. “Should I stay, or should I go?” 

           Autonomously, my eyes locked, “I know what to do.”

           I started my journey eastward, moving at a slow pace. I gradually began to pick up speed, striding from a jog to a run. My legs extended with new drive and purpose, slicing through the spring air. Within minutes I was by the water's edge.

           I checked the perimeter, my eyes wide and observant. Yet, inevitably, time dragged on. 

           “She may have wanted to see the water. That's why she's here,” I said aloud. “She has to be here.”

           Destruction and devastation were evident everywhere. It became increasingly clearer that finding her would result in days of search. But if I can't find her, how can I ever call myself an emergency officer again? 

           Nevertheless, I started to turn around, heading back west, when there in the distance – not ten feet away – an eddy, an obscurity, caught my eye. 

           Doll in hand, a little girl – no older than eight years old – ascended, eyes fixated to a point where memories once formed, where life was ripe with sweetness. She stood where rubble lay; destitution touched all, leaving no subsistence--no life: extirpation wasting away the hope, the dreams, the memories—everything, gone.

           I rushed to her side, my hands outstretched. “Are you okay?” I questioned, my eyes brimming with tears.

           Turning, she looked over, a smile playing on her lips. Luminescence shone brilliantly around her, then slowly dimmed, ebbing back over and out, flowing to the water's shore.

Bibliography:

https://www.episcopalrelief.org/press-resources/effects-of-japan-earthquake-and-tsunami-widespread/

Marine Day - Wikipedia