" Um Yukaba” and the rest, the take off song, started low, a hum-drone, built to a roar and ripped open the dream. I was a Japanese pilot, chosen sacrifice, on the carrier deck, waiting with my suicide squad at attention before the admiral, weighted down with medals that looked like body armor. I understood everything he said, after all, the dream chose me.
From the blue interior a shout, jump overboard, get out your side’s going to lose anyway.
Oblivious, I heard the admiral saying: “your actions will cause great losses to the enemy, it will be your eternal victory.” Ill-ordered frenzy churned at my intestines, my face showed military calm, stern obedience.
Inside me, the situation’s design took form; duty was inscribed on the inside curve of the wedding ring: Forever my love, forever was the plunge, commitment. Climbing betrayal’s steps ended in fire straight into the looming smokestacks.
A haunting voice of requital moved out to the horizon, beyond (edited "horizontally" out) our ships, the voice I heard last night as I wrote the one last letter to the children.
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