Shared Room

January 12, 2020

Do you remember when we were back in that cell? No beds, no blankets, no tea or cards. I mean, the reds weren’t known for their hospitality, but couldn’t they go easy on us?  It’s not like we killed anyone they knew personally! 

         You weren’t having it at all. I remember you banging on the cell bars yelling, “Damn Rosuke! Let me out of here and I’ll kill you! You hear me!” Really don’t think you were helping our case there, buddy. You’re lucky they didn’t have enough soldiers to stand guard or you would’ve died young. Actually, no, I’m lucky you didn’t get ME killed alongside you. Honestly, I thought it was kind of funny at the time. Seeing you blow your top was much more of a comfort than that concrete they called a bed. I know you weren’t really used to prison life yet, Eno, but I couldn’t help but chuckle at your expense.

         We got captured at the absolute worst time, didn’t we? Wonder who was in that cell before us. Piss and vodka are not an incense I’d enjoy. Well, at least the moonlight glistened off the ice on our window. We could watch the sunlight shimmer in puddles that crept into our home. Not to mention how it all shaded the dull-colored interior a cool pale white. Silver linings. You used to have enough silver for the both of us before the war—your home and your hair. Before we shipped, you always wore a smile like a proper newbie! You know, you really pissed me off.  Always singing, “For the honor of my country! For the honor of my family!” and other groomed bullshit. Our enemies were saying the exact same thing. 

         I already knew I was dead by the time I got to the training camps. You didn’t. But when we got captured, I think you realized what fate had in mind for us. I didn’t like you very much at all. That’s why I think I had fun observing how even you can become like me if we’re in deep enough shit. When even the snow couldn’t cheer you up, I began to become sympathetic. Just a little. Wasn’t fun anymore, to just see you throw yourself on your bed, forgetting concrete is not quite as soft as what you had back home. But that’s war. All we could do was hope for the war to end and for our captors to not, get, bored.

         Don’t know how they managed. Guns, cards, vodka, cigs, and freedom, how did they still manage to grow tired of all that? We had our hands, our mouths, our eyes, ears, and noses but we made our own games out of them. You were shit at nearly all of them but at least I actually enjoyed talking after prison humbled you a little. Any arrogance that remained was just a pleasant reminder that you weren’t completely broken from this. I worried you might just go back to your old self after we got out, but the thought never lingered. Was actually having a good time again. Perhaps even more so than the country you still called “home”. 

         We should have stifled our laughter. Didn’t think the reds would get so jealous. Guess they wanted to know why you were just so splendidly charming. I remember the lot of them strolling in and grabbing each of us forcefully. As if I’d resist someone with a rifle pointed in my face while this malnourished. Oh, if I were properly rested and fed, I would have wiped the floor with them, you know that? Maybe the war was over, I thought. Maybe they’re just getting their last bit of aggression out. I had forgotten what the layout of the prison had looked like. Was a lot bigger than I remember. Perhaps anything would look enormous after being cramped in that cell for so long. I remember you were asking them what was going on as if they could understand you, made me chuckle again. Meanwhile, I was throwing every slur I could think of. Your eyes were daggers. Not like they knew I was throwing slurs; they probably thought you were. 

         When we got outside, I actually smiled. I couldn’t see a thing, but it was different from how we couldn’t see from our cell. Darkness replaced by intense light. I thought I knew the sun from how it shined through our window, but I forgot just how beautiful it could be. It was warm. Not the light on our skin but the surroundings. We could see the snow from last night melting, and I swear a saw a deer off in the distance. What I didn’t see was someone to take us home. That’s when my smile disappeared. I don’t remember if you ever smiled that day. I hope you did. 

         The soldiers took us to an empty field and kept pushing us forward. They were just bored after all. They got a kick for torturing prisoners that are already living in a frozen hell. Figures. I might have done the same in their position. Power and nothing but time can make you shitty. I’m sure you learned that. When the soldiers’ boots stopped squishing against the melted ice, I almost decided to run. I couldn’t look at you. I wanted to. I felt like shit. 

         Turning around, I could hear them laughing. Probably talking shit about our people and country. I’m typically no nationalist, but that day I was. Usually, I tune out all the bull shit they spout. All their taunts and jokes. I couldn’t right then. Despite not knowing an ounce of their language, I knew exactly what they were saying. Not sure how you didn’t kill them right then. I never gave you enough credit for your composure. I remember them pointing over to a spot of tossed grass revealing a land mine, gesturing us to move close to it. Had they not brought three men with rifles I wouldn’t have budged, but I had to. I enjoy being alive. Eno, you didn’t move. You knew what was going to happen before I did. You figured out the game before me this time. When they threatened you again, I thought you weren’t going to move and be shot dead in front of me. You would have to be a real bastard to make me watch that.   

         I remember that soldier, you know, the one with the cheap blonde hair parted in the middle. Those eyebrows that always seemed upset to be a part of his face, billboarding that massive forehead, and disgusting sideburns that led to his cuspate chin. I’ll never forget that face. A face of a coward hiding behind his powder.

When he gestured to the both of us and then the mine, I was confused. Did he want us to disarm it? To just kill ourselves? If one of them just got a little closer, I thought. Usually, you’re the one who thinks too much Eno. I wish I didn’t think. I sure didn’t know what to think when I saw your foot on that landmine. I don’t know how long I was standing there; how much time did I miss? The soldiers cheered and some exchanged currency while that man yelled at me and gestured off to the distance. That’s the first time I looked to you. I was lost and this time, I wasn’t okay with it. I’m a liar. I was never ready to die. Didn’t really know I wasn’t ready for someone else to die for me. 

You didn’t look at me. Wouldn’t. His rifle blast shook me out of that daze, and I ran. I tripped and stumbled and tried to look back at you, but I could only see the shimmering of the puddle in our room. Not as pretty as I remember. Reaching the tree line, I heard another gunshot but everything after… everything was so loud. My footsteps, the snapping of branches, and rustling of leaves. Just had to keep running. But you never got to know the rest of the story.

Good thing too. If you knew I got captured again, I’m sure you would have put one through my skull. Nah, you’re too much of a softy for that. Anyway, there wasn’t much I could do. Six armed soldiers versus one damaged man, not much of a fair fight. So, they caught me and brought me back to their camp where they just instructed me to sit and wait in the mud. I’ve never been more still in my life. Maybe not moving long enough would allow me to camouflage with the shit I sat in. Couple hours went by and some officer showed up who knew a bit of our tongue. You know it’s ironic. You were right. The war was over. Those soldiers back at the prison were just having a last bit of fun.

Few days passed and a transport showed up to take me back home, not a cell thankfully. The reds threw me in with a few other prisoners of war, but no one felt like chatting. I couldn’t say a word. Probably for the first time in my life. The ride home was long. Gave me a period to think. What if I fought? Could I have saved you? Do I deserve to live? You were always better than me. Born good. I was jealous but you were good. That’s why you didn’t hesitate while I just pissed myself. Would have been better if you were the one to live because now I have to live up to your legacy.

By the way, I met your family. First thing I did after the war was brought news of your death to them. Didn’t have anyone to go to myself. No one cared if I survived. But your family, they’re good. They brought me in, treated me like an old friend. Lots of tears were shed for you that day, they really love you. I told them stories about how brave and talented and humble you were, how you are a hero and everyone looked up to you. The great Enokida Hirashima! All lies but I think it’s what they needed to hear. Oh yeah, they built this grave for you. You’re on top of a hill overlooking the city. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms should be a comfort for you here. Provides some nice shade in the summer, a beauty to behold in the spring. Sorry, we never recovered your body but your family believes your spirit followed me home. I sure hope so. I miss sharing a room.