Storytelling
Naomi Watanabe and Toshiro Ueda believed that the world was new.
Like all the kids. Because they were new in the world.
Also, like all the kids. But the world It was very old then, in the year 1945,
and it was at war again.
The Second World War. Naomi and Toshiro did not understand very well what was happening.
They lived in the Japanese city of Hiroshima with startles,
between quiet and sad adults,
eating the few grains of rice that floated in the daily soup,
and listening with fear to the news of the radio,
they talked about war and death for all parts.
However, Naomi and Toshiro believed that the world was new
and they waited anxiously every day to discover it.
Ah ... and they were also discovering each other!
They looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes when walking to the school.
They almost did not talk. It was not necessary ... because Naomi knew that she was in love
with that litle thin boy,
who more than once was left without lunch for giving her the ration of food that
he had brought from his house.
I'm not hungry
Toshiro lied to her, when he saw that the girl barely had two or three cookies to
eat.
I'll leave you my food - and he would run with his classmates until the recess was over,
so that Naomi was not ashamed to eat his ration.
And Naomi was everything to Toshiro.
Shee was knotted in his dreams with her long black braids.
It made him want to grow up suddenly to be able to marry her.
But that future was still far away.
And after Spring came Summer, and with it the school holidays.
But neither Naomi nor Toshiro wanted it to start neither Summer nor holidays,
because that meant they would have to stop seeing each other during the holidays,
until the new course began.
June ended, and Toshiro ripped happily the last sheet of the almanac ...
July was over, and Naomi ripped happy the last sheet of the almanac ...
And even if they did not know it: Finally it arrived August! -The two thought at the same time.
In August Toshiro traveled, together with his parents, to the village of his grandparents.
And Naomi? She stayed at home, helping to her mother and her aunts to sew clothes.
she liked that.
When sewing she imagined that with every 222 stitches she could hold a desire to be fulfilled.
Naomi's needle came and went, without stopping.
So, sewed on his brother's pants small the request that it end soon
that dreadful war,
and on the cuffs of his dad's shirt the wish that Toshiro would never forget her ...
And the wishes were fulfilled. But the world had its own plans ...
Eight in the morning of August 6, 1945 in Hiroshima.
Naomi adjusts her kimono and remembers her friend Toshiro:
What will he be doing now?
Toshiro is fishing in his grandparents village, while asking:
What will Naomi be doing now?
At the same moment, an enemy plane flies over the sky of Hiroshima.
From that plane, the atomic bomb furrows For the first time a sky. The sky of Hiroshima.
A sudden glow illuminates the city.
In it, a mom breastfeeds her son for last time.
Two old men plaited bamboos for the last time.
A dozen guys sing a song for last time.
Hundreds of women repeat their usual gestures for the last time.
Thousands of men think about tomorrow for the last time.
Naomi goes out to do some errands.
Silent the bomb explodes. Boiling, suddenly, the waters of the river.
And half a million Japanese, half a million of human beings, disintegrate that morning.
And with them disappear buildings, trees, streets, animals, bridges, and the past of
Hiroshima
Already, none of the survivors will be able to return to be reflected in the same mirror,
nor open the door of their house again, nor take back any lovely path.
No one will be who he was before.
Hiroshima razed by an atomic mushroom.
Hiroshima is the sun that August 6, 1945 aA sun bursting.
Four months later, in December, Toshiro managed to find out where Naomi was.
And he knew she was still alive!
She and her family were interned in a hospital near Hiroshima. And towards that hospital
Toshiro left one morning.
Winter had just begun, and Toshiro did not know if it was the cold outside or his thoughts
what made him shiver.
He found Naomi lying on a bed next to the window. Looking to the ceiling.
With open eyes and immobile gaze. She no longer had her braids.
Of the hair she only had a faint little hair dark
On her nightstand there were a few cranes of paper scattered.
- I'm going to die, Toshiro ... - she whispered, when his friend approached her bed.
I will never get to fold the thousand cranes that I need to survive ...
Says a Japanese legend, that if someone gets to fold a thousand paper cranes, will achieve
to have a long and happy life.
With a heavy heart, Toshiro counted the paper cranes that were scattered
on the nightstand.
Only twenty. Then he put them together carefully and put them in a pocket.
"You're going to heal, Naomi," he said then, but his friend did not hear him anymore: she had falled
asleep.
The boy left the hospital, drinking his tears.
Neither the mother, nor the father, nor the uncles of Toshiro understood that night
the reason for the mysterious disappearance of almost all the papers that were in the
house.
Newspaper sheets, pieces of paper for wrap, old notebooks
and even some books seemed to have vanished magically.
But it was too late to ask. All the older ones fell asleep, surprised.
In his room Toshiro waited until he was sure that nobody but him was
awake.
Then, he got up quietly and opened the closet where the blankets were usually kept,
He pulled out the stack of papers he had collected secretly and returned to his bed.
He had scissors hidden in his clothes.
And so, in silence and in darkness, Toshiro cut out, first, nine hundred and eighty squares
and then he folded them into cranes, one by one, until completing the thousand cranes that
Naomi needed,
after adding the ones she had done herself.
When dawn broke, Toshiro was passing threads through the paper silhouettes.
He separated the fragile cranes into groups of ten and placed them to mimic the flight,
suspended as they were from a thin thread of sew, one on top of the other.
With the injured fingers and the trembling heart,
Toshiro placed the hundred strips inside his backpack
and left for the hospital before his family will wake up.
For the first time, he took, without asking permission, the bicycle of his cousins.
There was no time to lose.
Impossible to walk, as the previous day, the kilometers that separated him from the hospital.
Naomi's life depended on those cranes.
Visitors are prohibited at this time
a nurse told him, preventing him from accessing to the huge room
at one end was the bed of Your dear friend
Toshiro insisted:
-I just want to hang these cranes on their chest. Please…
No gesture denounced the emotion of the nurse when the boy showed him the little birds
of paper.
With the same apparent impassivity with moments before she had blocked his path,
She stepped aside and allowed him to enter:
But only five minutes, okay?
Naomi was sleeping Trying not to make noise, Toshiro put a chair on the table and then
he climbed.
He had to stretch more than he could reach ceiling. But he reached it.
And in a moment there were the thousand cranes hanging of the roof; the one hundred threads intertwined, firmly
subjects with pins.
It was when he got off his makeshift staircase when he realized that Naomi was
looking at them.
She had her head thrown to one side and a smile in her eyes.
- They are beautiful, Toshiro. Thank you…
-There are a thousand. They're yours, Naomi. Yours -and the boy left the room without turning around.
In the midday brightness that now it occupied the whole enclosure,
a thousand cranes began to swing propelled by the wind that the nurse let in,
when opening the window for a moment.
Naomi's eyes were still smiling.
The girl died the next day. An angel out in the open in the face of the impiety of the
adults.
How could a thousand fragile paper cranes overcome the horror of war?
30 years later, in February 1976,
Toshiro Ueda turned 42 and lives in England.
He got married, has three children and is a manager in a branch of a bank.
As he is very serious and not very communicative, none of his employees dares to ask him
why
between papers, reports and telegraphic messages on his table,
there are always some scattered paper cranes at random.
Cranes made by him, but when no one See him
Cranes displaying their wings in which they they discover the numbers of the calculator.
Cranes born from paper napkins of different restaurants ...
Cranes and more cranes.
And the employees comment, as if in jest, that the manager must believe in that superstition
Japanese legend
-Some day will complete the thousand ...
they whisper between laughs.
Will he then be encouraged to hang them over his desk?
None suspects the endearing relationship that these cranes have
with the lost Hiroshima of his childhood. With his lost first love .
A thousand cranes, by Elsa Bonermann. In "We are not unbreakable. "
Anaya and Alfaguara publishers.
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