Outside Miyajima


“They are most appropriate for my desires. You kill without feeling?”

Hayashi considered this question for a moment, shifting neither his posture nor gaze despite the turbulent ride. He killed without anger, without pleasure, without satisfaction. He killed because he was told to kill. He felt just the same being told not to kill. Or did he? His apprehension of this man left him uncertain.

“Of course”, he told the man.

Minutes later the truck rolled onto a smooth surface and came to a stop. Hayashi and the men from his unit opened the back doors and climbed out into an old airplane hangar. Some parts of the roof and walls were missing; removed by American bombs.

Unit Commander Tamiya Heibei Narimasa took Hayashi aside from the other men and whispered, “Follow him.”

Hayashi understood perfectly and needed no elaboration. His curiosity for this man was intense, and he knew nothing about why he was captured nor where he was headed from this air base. The other men departed in another truck idling outside and Hayashi climbed a ladder, sequestering himself in the darkness by the demolished roof.

. . .

When he was sure his compatriots had left, he climbed back down from his place and soundlessly affixed a tarnished black transmitter to the undercarriage of the truck.

. . .

Five men dressed in the garb of a sultan’s personal guard strode into the hangar an hour later. Hayashi couldn’t understand a word they were saying. They fanned out, examining every corner of the space with powerful flashlights. Beams played over his hiding place, but he of course remained unseen. The leader of the men took the passenger seat, leaving one to drive and the other three to the prisoner in back.


SMR 99.11.22