It was as if the entire world were gathered in one place under the clear autumn sky. The air was fresh and crisp.
The opening ceremony was about to begin. The Emperor and dignitaries were already making their entrance to an electronic music fanfare.
Back then, the wartime propaganda machine made fun of him.
Cartoons and radio skits gave him buck teeth and coke-bottle glasses, made him sound like a clown who stumbled into power. A man whose name, once spoken in fear here, had been reduced to a punchline.
And now, here he was. The same man. Smaller than she imagined. Thinner. Older. Still bowed to, even by American diplomats.
And now, the man, who almost two decades ago was a solemn, almost divine figure, a guardian of old values, was entering the place with a touch of modernity. The image his nation was trying to project.
And now, they were in the same venue. The man who once led the land against her own nation was now sharing a space with her, even if he was far in a spot so removed from his own subjects.
It was a strange feeling.
But also relieving, in a sense.
"It's the first time they are using it, okami-san! Neat, huh? I thought they were going to use some boring old music," beside her, Yamatani declared. She had practically begged her to come along. Jerry was busy with Embassy business, so he had no choice but to decline. A little regretful, but he had a lot on his plate.
Atago and the others apparently opted to just watch from the comfort of their abode. Takao, though, didn't seem to be all that interested. Maybe when it was time for the judo competitions, she would start paying attention.
And so here she was, with a student eager to see the many facets of the outside world...and the shy airman from Yokota.
Yamatani had saved up money from a month before just so she could afford a ticket. It wasn't exactly cheap. But Jerry had secretly pitched in, though the girl didn't know this. Her own ticket was from him, who received his due to his position. The ticket for the shy young airman came from a regular who helped with the event, but didn't feel like coming. Told her maybe someone else would get better use out of it. So she gave it to Yamatani, who was delighted, and insisted that he come along.
The airman, whose name she later learned was Clark Delaney, was only 19. It was just a coincidence that the last time he came to the izakaya, his usual spot by the counter had been taken by a drunkard. Yamatani ushered him to the only free spot left—a spot across from her, at the other side of the counter. Apparently, she was impressed with his rudimentary Japanese. He could barely hold a conversation, but he knew enough to convey basic greetings and order food. Or maybe she was just fascinated by Americans, like she was with her and Jerry. It helped that their age gap wasn't too big, and she had been learning to speak English—a rarity among her peers.
Whatever the case, and she wasn't sure who started the conversation, they talked more than a patron and a server should have that night, and she let them be, as long as Yamatani didn't slack off and attend to the other patrons.
Of two worlds, they became friends, and now they were sitting in a stadium filled with thousands, uniting for the event meant to symbolize peace.
The Parade of Nations was now underway. Yamatani leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better look at the various athletes representing their respective countries.
As per tradition, the Greeks had the honor of leading the procession. She remembered reading that in Ancient Greece, the Olympic Games were used as a ceasefire during the internecine wars among city-states.
It was fitting that the first event was a tribute to the past.
She thought of her comrades, those who fought and bled and died and survived.
And here, there was nothing like that.
Clark was not as excited, huddling deeper into his jacket, his eyes occasionally darting around. But whenever Yamatani was talking about people from countries she had never heard of, he would nod along, his nervousness dissipating. He would even offer what little he knew about Canada, or the two Germanies, coming as a single delegation, or even Northern Rhodesia. Though a little off the mark, he proved to be more than just an airman who didn't go to college.
The United States delegation finally made its appearance, marching proudly, with heads held high, and their flag carried at the front.
Clark clapped a little, but Yamatani, unexpectedly, clapped harder, earning her a few glances from the spectators around them. She didn't seem to care, or even notice. Clark told her that the flag-bearer was shot put champion Parry O'Brien, the gold medalist at Helsinki and Melbourne, and that he knew because it was a big deal back then.
The USSR was next, and Yamatani clapped just as hard, much to her surprise. Two rivals, coming one after another, and here a bright-eyed Japanese girl was cheering on both.
And even when war was ravaging their homeland, the athletes of South Vietnam marched on, undeterred. Clark averted his eyes when the delegation passed them, and Yamatani noticed, but didn't comment.
Japan entered last, and Yamatani, who had been holding herself back, cheered aloud. Clark clapped louder. The people in their row, who had been watching, also cheered.
After every national delegation had passed, a recording of Baron de Coubertin's speech from the 1936 opening ceremony was played on the loudspeakers. The Emperor declared the Games open. The Olympic flag was carried into the stadium to the Olympic fanfare and Hymn. Preceded by a children's drum band, the Mayor of Rome presented a flag to Governor Azuma.
The sky was soon dotted with balloons, released to the wind as cannons fired and laughter filled the stadium. The children pointed and waved at the balloons drifting above them.
The explosion of colors against the blue, cloudless sky was soothing, and for a moment, she felt as if she were looking at a painting.
That was the prelude to the most important moment of the ceremony.
Yamatani gripped the edge of her seat. Even Clark leaned forward a little.
The sacred flame arrived, borne on a torch. The scent of chrysanthemum filled the air. An amateur athlete named Yoshinori Sakai had the honor of lighting the cauldron. He was not chosen for feats or notable achievements—no, he was a symbol.
Having been born the day when atomic fire devastated Hiroshima, he now represented the reconstruction and healing of a country, a nation, and a people.
Yamatani was solemn, and Clark bowed his head as the girl blinked back tears.
The cauldron burned bright against the sun.
A flame of hope, not of conflict.
No more burning hulls and sinking ships.
No more shattered glass and falling bombs.
No more ashes and charred bodies.
Maybe not today, but someday.
Her eyes got a little moist, but she smiled nonetheless.
Her sisters would have loved this.
Would have forgiven, too, the fact that she was here, with former enemies, celebrating.
They would understand.
A chorus performed the anthem of the Tokyo Games, followed by the Athlete's oath, and the release of a flock of pigeons, which fluttered in the air before flying away. A wish, maybe?
Yamatani tugged at Clark's sleeve to let him know of the Blue Impulse jets soaring overhead, the colorful trail they left forming the five rings. His eyes didn't leave the sky until the planes were gone, and his smile was a touch bigger.
***
"That was really something, huh?"
Yamatani still had that look of wonder in her eyes even after they had long left the National Stadium. Beaming, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her face had yet to lose the rosy tint it had gotten after the parade and the torchlight procession.
The forest surrounding the Meiji Shrine was a stark contrast to the pomp and glamour of the ceremony. The trees seemed to absorb the sound and clamor from the city, giving the area a tranquility that was hard to find anywhere else.
She stopped walking and turned to them, the wind blowing through her hair.
"Thank you for coming along, okami-san, Clark-san. I had so much fun!"
"Me too," Clark admitted. "Never thought...I would ever watch the opening of the Olympics. That was a first."
"Hm? Have they ever held the games in your country, Clark-san?"
"...I think...my dad once told me of one in 1932...Los Angeles. Few cared about it because times were hard. My dad was just a boy back then. His family was even poorer than ours."
Yamatani tilted her head, the wind tugging gently at her hair. "So...he didn't get to see it, huh?"
Clark shook his head. "Nah. Said it was hard to care about games when you're trying to find dinner. And besides...it's too far from home, anyway."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, her voice softer, she said, "That's kind of like here, after the war. My mother told me she used to wait in line for hours just to get rice. So did my father. That's how they met, actually. No one thought about sports or music or even school. Just...getting by."
The airman nodded, and his voice was just as soft.
"I'm sorry. It must've been rough."
"Ah, it's okay, Clark-san! It's in the past. We're getting by just fine now."
He looked away, as if trying to find something to say, and she was sure the girl noticed, but Yamatani kept smiling and gently pulled him toward the shrine. He dutifully followed as if she were his commanding officer.
She opted to keep her distance from the two because of the looks directed at her. Not hostile, certainly, but questioning. Few and far between, but the looks were there.
It wasn't new to her.
But it didn't matter. A little smile, and a bow at the precise angle, and they would return the gesture and move on, their curiosity not quite sated, but not enough to linger, either.
Maybe they would see her as less of an outsider now. If not, maybe it would take more time.
Yamatani waved her over, her smile just as bright as it had been all afternoon.
"Okami-san! Over here!"
It soon became clear why the girl wanted to come there.
There were rows of charms on display. Some were for good luck. Others were for safe journeys. A lot of them were for a safe birth.
"You are buying charms?" Clark, for the first time, was the one to initiate the conversation. It seemed to please Yamatani, judging by the way her eyes shone.
"Yeah! I'm thinking of getting Gakugyō-jōju for myself."
"Oh...uh...that's..."
She smiled, remembering the charm still inside her drawers.
"That means she wants a charm for academic success," she explained, and the airman blinked and then chuckled.
"Oh. Well...are you thinking of going to college, Yamatani-san?"
The girl perked up and nodded.
"Mm. I'm looking to enroll at Tokyo U. It's hard, but I'm working on it. Study, save up money, and maybe I can do it. I'm thinking of majoring in economics. Or maybe education. Either way, I'm going there."
It wasn't surprising, she thought. It seemed like the right field for a bright, inquisitive young lady.
"Sounds like a good fit," she agreed, and the girl blushed.
"Ah...thank you, okami-san. What do you think, Clark-san? You seemed...surprised, earlier."
Curiously, his expression darkened for a brief moment before returning to its default state.
"Oh, well, uh...I just didn't...expect that...you are that serious about going to college. I...uh, never mind. Sorry. I think it will suit you."
"What's wrong?"
Yamatani looked at her with a bit of concern. Clark rubbed his neck and smiled, albeit a little forced.
"Well, it's just...a lot of people back home are not really big on women getting degrees. Not all, of course. Some are okay. But where I live...yeah. Dad told me that it's just a waste of time, money, and effort if they are just going to marry and have children."
The girl blinked, and her smile fell, before she caught his arms, her gaze imploring.
"But what do you think, Clark-san?"
"...Huh...?"
"What do you think?"
"If..." he began, meeting her eyes. "...If I'm being honest, I think it's a great idea. You should. If it's what you want, you should go for it. You are a hard worker, Yamatani-san, so you should have no trouble."
Firm and soldier-like, like a report, unhesitating and honest.
The girl's cheeks turned red, and her hold loosened for a moment before she tightened it again and laughed.
No second-guessing, no doubt.
"Hahaha! Thank you, Clark-san! You said it nicer than my cranky old uncle! He thinks I'm wasting my time, but I'm still going to submit my application. You can't stop me, uncle!"
He joined in on her laughter, albeit more subdued, and they continued down the road, and her thoughts wandered back to a different time, a different place.
Back then, KANSENs were not only women who fought. She thought back to Captain McAfee—Mildred. The first woman commissioned in the U.S. Navy, who led the WAVES with quiet authority and unwavering resolve. A woman who once stepped into a man's world and commanded it with grace. On bases, on ships, they wielded no weapons—just charts, radios, typewriters, and determination to hold everything together behind the lines. Different battles, same importance. Often enduring hostility from supposed allies, they had persisted.
And now, here was Yamatani, dreaming of university and defying expectations with a bright smile and iron will. The line between past and future was thinner than she thought.
She joined them in browsing the selection. Befitting the shrine's stature, the rows of charms were lined in immaculate rows, a rainbow of colors. A miko was behind the table, eyeing the browsing crowd with an attentive gaze.
Clark lingered a moment, scanning the kanji with his brows furrowed. Then he brightened and plucked the first blue one he saw from its hook, holding it aloft like he'd just found buried treasure.
"Uh—this one?" he asked hopefully.
It wasn't. Not even close.
"That's...en-musubi, kid."
The miko, who had been politely silent for a while, let out a conspiratorial giggle.
"Madam is correct. That's a love charm, sir."
Clark's face turned scarlet, and he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Yamatani, whose ears seemed to have grown a shade redder.
"Oh. Uh—sorry!" He mumbled.
"It's okay!" Yamatani squeaked.
Another giggle, and the miko handed him the correct charm, with a teasing glint in her eye, but she said nothing more. His hands were so shaky that he could drop it anytime now, but Clark managed to offer it to the girl with a nervous grin.
"Here."
Yamatani looked at him, and though her cheeks had yet to lose their rosiness, she smiled and gently pushed the charm back.
"Clark-san...I still remember that you said you couldn't afford, um, what's it called...Buri...Bu—"
"Brigham Young, yes. I figured I'd give the Air Force four years so my little brother could get four in college. It's...a fair trade."
Yamatani just shook her head. Maybe even she knew that while he tried to be blasé about it, there was a part of him that hung the dream by a thread, hoping, wishing.
"Well...here," she said. "You believed in me, and I believe in you, too. It's not much, but...I hope you'll find a way."
He looked at the charm, then at her, then back at the charm, and she didn't miss the way his eyes glistened, or how his breath hitched for a brief moment. Even his thanks came out as a hoarse whisper.
She decided to look the other way, giving them their moment. As for her, she could do this much.
Yakuyoke was easy to find. Kaiun was almost sold out, which made sense because people were drawn to the prospects of fortune.
She caught up to them, the two still avoiding each other's eyes, though not without the occasional furtive glances.
"Here," she passed the yakuyoke to Clark. "Let this charm take a little of that weight from you, even if you don't know why. It's yakuyoke. To ward off misfortune."
Or maybe he did know, deep down. Or he would, eventually. He was a serviceman, and the crucible was ever near.
"Thanks, Skipper. I...uh, hope I gave you the right charm back then."
It was hard, seeing him respectfully take the charm from her hands.
"Yes. Yes, you did."
Yamatani giggled as Clark's face reddened.
"And you, young lady. Take this," she slipped the other charm into Yamatani's hand, and the girl's eyes widened at the sight of it.
"This is...a kaiun?"
"For you, Yamatani. I don't think you'll need it. You are smart and strong, and I can tell that you are going to succeed. You've got the fire already. But having the wind on your back never hurts, does it?"
"T-Thank you, okami-san. For the kind words. And the charm," she sniffed and bowed.
Clark cradled the charm, looking at it intently, before pocketing it. He seemed a little more determined, then turned to the girl, his shoulders set.
"...Um, you will be working tonight...right?"
"Yeah. Need all the money I can get, you know? What about you? Are you coming? Come a bit early if you want the counter seat."
"No...it's fine."
At least, for now, those two would not be going anywhere else.
"Actually, Yamatani," she began. "You can take the night off."
"Really, okami-san?! But what about work...?"
"I can manage. There are...more important things, I think. You will still get paid, so don't worry."
"Oh. Are you sure?"
"Yes. And, oh...if you want to come, you don't have to order anything."
Yamatani cocked her head, and then realization dawned on her—quickly, it seemed—and the girl smiled shyly, and then nodded.
"Well, that's okay, too."
"Good."
Clark didn't look at her, but she saw the corners of his mouth twitching.
She smiled and waved them goodbye, watching as the two ambled away, their steps a little slower.
When they were far enough, she turned and headed toward the train station, feeling lighter.