Yoshiro cried in Japanese. His brow furled against the warm metal, waiting for the burning blast. The commander remained still, gazing without comprehension. Again, it elicited no response. He did not struggle, for it would have been useless.
Memory often blurs time.
Moments may pass like ages, weeks or months may become lost, unheeded. For Yoshiro, the period between his capture and the end of the war felt like the latter. Yoshiro never answered in words, but his brothers knew the truth and remained far away afterwards. Then Yoshiro found himself stepping upon the soil of his homeland. He searched the faces of his people.