“Jii-chan?” Old withered hands gripped the window ledge and distant clouded eyes looked out past the glass of the window into another world. 

    “Grandpa, are you hungry?” Not even her question could move him and she swallowed, glancing at the caregiver who appeared solemn. 

    “How long has he been like this Mere?” The caregiver, a sweet caring girl of 22, swallowed thickly. 

    “Mr. Matsuda has been talking about her again. All day.” Her. 

    “Grandma?” The younger woman nodded. Eyes glanced back towards the man who seemed unmovable from the window. 

    “It’s been like that since she passed away.” It had been 15 years since her grandmother had passed away. And ever since then… his health had been on the steady decline. 

    “He misses her terribly. In his sleep he talks to her. When he wakes, his eyes search for her.” Giving a small sad smile, she cleared her throat. 

    “Mere, why don’t you leave us alone for a bit? Has Grandpa’s clothes been washed and folded?” The girl blinked back tears and straightened up. 

    “No ma’am. I’ll-I’ll go do that now.”

    “Okay. I’ll see if I can convince him to lay back down.” 

    “Sure.” Meredith quietly exited the room, the soft click of the closed door the sign of her complete departure. Swallowing, she took a breath. 

    “Grandpa?” Still he hadn’t moved. 

    “Grandpa, maybe you should lie back down.” 

    “Who are you?” His voice that had once been smooth and clear now gritty and gravely. His diagnosis of Laryngeal cancer had only grown worse over the years and she knew he was in a lot of pain. He refused medication. He refused treatment of any kind. Rather, he was for some reason punishing himself silently. It hurt her to witness. 

    “It’s Asami-chan. Your granddaughter.” His hands which had been tight on the window sill loosened and palms fell flat against the cool surface. 

    “Ah…Asami. Have you went out to garden with Grandma yet?” Her fingers balled into fists and she couldn’t respond immediately. Mentally, he still viewed her as the energetic little girl she’d once been. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that now she was an adult. 

    “No not yet.” A short stiff grunt of a laugh came from him and it twisted her heart. 

    “That woman still rises so early in the morning to tend to her plants. Creature of habit.” Feeling her heart break, she slowly came closer. 

    “Grandpa…” Another gruff chuckle. Letting his hands fall from the sill, he slowly began to turn. Facing her, his small little smile fell away at once. She didn’t say a word as the cloudiness in his eyes began to clear up. He seemed to return to himself. The present self. Jaw tight, he blinked once or twice before glancing at her again. This time, recognition of her in her present self existed. His eyes drifted past her to the bed behind her. 

    “I suppose you’ve come to coax me to lie down.” Eat. Bathe. Change clothes. Accept treatme-

    “I’ve had enough of lying down.” 

    “Then what about a walk?” Jaw tight, his once gentle eyes lifted hard as stone. 

    “Ten minutes. Nothing more.” Smiling softly, she bowed her head slightly. 

    “Of course Grandpa. Whatever you would like.” Though the hardness in his eyes didn’t wan, the tightness in his jaw did and with a sigh it all fell flat. Outstretching his hand, he waited until she took hold of it. 

    “There is so much of her in you.” He said quietly, eyes on her face as she pulled him closer. 

    “That is why you’ve always been my favorite.” Coming to lean her head against his shoulder, she didn’t speak as they started to head towards the door. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip as they stepped into the pale sunlight of the day, lids closed to prevent the tears from escaping. 

*** 

    Her grandfather had never been a talkative man. He’d always been reserved. Cool. Observant. That’s what made the two of them so perfect for each other. Her grandmother was outgoing and headstrong. Outspoken too when the time called for it. She also knew when to reign it in and be silent when it too called for it. Full of elegance and refined poise, she was the real definition of femininity and grace. Where he was unmovable and upright, she seemed to bring down his walls and birth a softer, gentler man. Watching the two of them love was beautiful. The small little touches here. Soft smiles there. Quiet yet tender words. They had been like living breathing art. Unreal. Until…until it became very real. Until she had left before he did, leaving him without a soul. 

    She believed that was what triggered it. The cancer. The grief of losing her forced it to spread like a thick black sickness throughout his body. The man who once smiled and laughed so hard his eyes crinkled at the corners was gone. The one who grinned and smirked and teased…the one who had cradled her to his chest and read bedtime stories…all the while pressing sweet kisses against her forehead…that man had long since died. 

*** 

    It had been hours since he’d been asleep. She’d checked on him not too long ago before she headed towards his office. As a child, she had been forbidden to enter the room. All of the grandchildren were. The only person allowed past the glossy cherry doors was him. And of course…grandma. For years the curiosity of what lied behind them kept her awake. She’d always believed that the two of them were hiding something. 

    Lifting fingers to the door knobs, she grew still. He’d stay inside this room for hours on end and when he’d emerge from it he always looked different. Pained. Tormented. Even as a child, she’d seen it. And it troubled her. Stay in a child’s place she did until….until she didn’t have to anymore. No, she was no longer a child, fearful of disappointing them. She was a fully grown woman who needed answers. Swallowing, she pushed open the doors and stood still, taking in the surroundings. It appeared like a normal office. Thick bookshelves lined the walls and a singular matching cherry wood desk in the center of the room. Go. 

    Taking a tentative step inside, she swallowed thickly as she neared his desk. The room had not been occupied in years. Evidence of that was the dust that lined the chair, books and shelves. Turning eyes down, she simply glanced at what lied across the surface of the top of the desk. Books laid open, documents strewn about. Newspaper clippings and articles. Lifting fingers down, she carefully plucked one such up from underneath the dust. Dated 10th of December, 1937. The title read “Incredible Record in the Contest to Behead 100 People—Mukai 106 – 105 Noda”. She froze, chills dancing up her spine. Letting the article slathered in Japanese political rhetoric drift from her grasp, she saw yet another. Titled, “Nanking Terror— Chinese report on Atrocities”. Her chest felt heavy and her fingers began to shake. 

    They all knew that he had served in the war. They had all been told the story of how the two of them met and fell in love. They’d seen his medals and military accolades. Eyes drifting across the frantic mess before her, she felt her eyes tear up. How much of it was true? How much of it was a lie? Letting a shaky breath escape her mouth, she straightened up. Tears now slipping past her eyelids, she allowed them to freely as her eyes and fingers continued their search. The part of her that gave caution had been silenced and now she had let herself be under the direct influence of curiosity. She had to know the truth. Even…even if it tore her up inside. She had to know who he was. Who her grandmother had been. Stopping her pursuit, her eyes found what appeared to be a notebook. 

    Brushing off the dust hastily, she grabbed hold of it and lifted it. A picture of her grandmother met her eyes first. In a never before seen view. She stood amongst three other women. Young. Her feet were bare and she wore what appeared to be a cloth dress. Her hair had been tied back with a rag. Her eyes were empty and her body appeared tight and nervous. The three others appeared the same way, an expression of fear, anxiety and even a brave attempt at a smile. Under the photo a caption appeared and it made her stomach turn. Ianfu. Mukden. 1945. Taking another shaky breath, she slipped the picture away from the written words underneath. His writing was neat. Proper. Orderly. Just like him. 

    1937 

    Imperial Capital of Tokyo 

    It seems that they have done a good deed for our country. Mukai and Noda. They boast and brag upon their return. In the quarters they talk of their kills. Laughing and toasting over cheap sake, they detail the many men women and children they beheaded for sport. How many they shot dead or buried alive. They smirk as they share how many women they took advantage of. Mukai tells of one who bit him until blood drew. It turned him on he said. To see his own blood well up past the teeth marks stabbed into his skin. Because of that, he took to biting her back, biting harder and harder until his teeth went straight through, separating a piece of flesh from her cheek. Blood from her face proved copious but the harsh violent way he took her produced more. He grins as he tells of her screaming as she bled out, digging her nails into his face as he went for another bite, taking her entire her ear lobe. Spitting it onto the ground he spread her blood across his lips and I imagine the same grin he wears now to be the one he wore then as he proceeded to beat and strangle her. Once she had grown unconscious, he brags of cutting off her nipples and slicing her neck. Noda asks if he fucked her one more time before setting her on fire. To which he replied yes. Still warm and wet, her abused swollen hole provided no fight to his shaft now and he pleasured himself greatly inside her bloody mutilated corpse. 

The words beneath her turned her stomach and she felt herself retch. Dear God….

    They did what is best for our great country. So my commander says. So my father would say. But I wonder… Why did I feel my stomach toss and turn like the sea? Why did I having been told that the Chinese are rats to be exterminated feel complete and utter disgust at what was told to me?  Am I not a proud son of the Sun? Am I not a great soldier for the greatest Empire on the earth?

    The journal was left where it was and feet rushed out of the room, door left ajar as she tried to make it to the nearest bathroom before she vomit all over herself. When her stomach stopped heaving, she began to sob, pressing her face against the bowl of the toilet. Now it made sense. Now she knew why he had forbidden her to step past those doors. Now she knew why neither one of them spoke of their past…not in great detail anyway. Now she understood…why he refused any kind of treatment. In that journal he spoke of his deepest darkest secrets. His darkest sins that only God and his wife had known about. Refusing treatment…suffering this while was his way of trying to atone. His own form of repentance. 

    Lifting up, she wiped her eyes and remained on the floor. As much as it would change her… she…she needed to read it. She needed to know who her grandfather was. She needed to know who her grandmother was. In an attempt to understand…to carry on his story…their story. What legacy they had tried to leave…she wanted to know it all. She was indeed too much like her grandmother for her own good.