A story as dark as mine, should be kept in the dark forever. I always wished that someone would ask me about my story, longing to be free from its chains. Yet when I was asked, all I could say was, “?????????????.’’ A Japanese proverb which means “Let what is past flow away downstream.” And with every word, more regret leaked from within me. My world, your world, they are total opposites. Like fire and ice, water and steel. This is my story, if you dare to listen, listen closely and know the pains and troubles of a servant.

1899. A year where the whole world was amidst in chaos. Everyone was scared of what may happen. Except those with money. Only they could buy their safety. Only they had enough power to control their fate. My family and I lived in Osaka at the time. I was one of 3 sisters and 4 brothers. We lived a quaint life, barely getting by on the low amount of money that came in. In fact, 2 of my sisters were so desperate for money, they sold their bodies. I was only a young girl of 4 when it had happened, but I understood it. Mother and Father did not want, “whores” in their home, so they kicked them out of the house. I never saw them again. And as the years went by, I had nearly forgotten they even existed. My brothers had left home once they turned sixteen and joined the army or went to America. Father had died during a harsh winter when I was 10. And soon, it was just me and Mother, but that all changed when a rich man came to Osaka. He proclaimed he had more money than the emperor. One day, I was in town, getting medicine for Mother because she had fallen ill with pneumonia. The rich man was traveling through the town as well, and I accidentally ran into him. I fell to the ground, and I dropped the medicine meant for Mother. He looked at me on the ground and said, “Girl, I am sorry I was in your way. Let me take you home in my carriage.” The rich man took me to his carriage, and I got in. I’m not quite sure why I got in. Perhaps it was his shiny complexion or his warm smile. Whatever it was, I bought it. We left but we seemed to be leaving the town. “Mister, my home is the other way.” I said to the rich man.
“I do not care.” The rich man said.
“But my Mother needs-“
“I do not care what your Mother needs. Nor what you need. You now belong to me. You are my servant.” The rich man said. He stared blankly ahead, as though this was something that happened every day. His warm smile turned cold and his complexion turned to that of evil. I felt fear crawl inside my body. I was terrified and upset all at once. It was though a hurricane was inside my stomach. All I could think about was my mother and how she would not get her medicine and probably die from her condition. Too terrified to even speak out, I sit next to the rich man and silently cry. So many sorrows in my life at such a young age and soon, I will be an orphan child. No one to miss me, or remember who I was or who I am.
14 years later…..
“Girl, tell the cook that this steak is raw. Do it again! And bring me my blueprints! Hurry up!” the rich man, Nobura Tamatsu, said. Quickly, I ran to the kitchen and informed them of Nobura-san’s order. Then I received the blueprints from his office. On his desk, I see a letter. I briefly catch a glimpse of what it said: Nobura????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????.
The letter told of coming war and that it was in Nobura-san’s best interests to escape from Akita. But that is none of my business at the moment. I return to the rich man and give him his blueprints. He snatches them from my hands. I bow and begin to exit the room.
“Stop right there.” The rich man said. I freeze instantly. He sits in silence for a moment, which seemed to last forever. “I’ll be going away soon and you will be in charge of my home until I return. If I come back and there is chaos, you will be punished harshly. Understand?” Nobura says to me. I knew that Nobura probably would not be coming back and that he was heeding the warning the letter gave.
“Yes, Nobura-san. I understand.” I say, petrified. He gets up from his mats and exits the room, leaving the scent of cigar smoke and sake floating in the cold winter air. I stood in place, reflecting on what I would do after the rich man left. And with word of war, this place is sure to crumble.
2 weeks later….
When I was a girl, before my family fell to pieces, we played a game called Hide the Face. In the game we had to pretend to be someone we weren’t and act as they would. As I grew up I found it to be a silly game, but I recognized that I played the game every single day after I had been captured by Nobura-san. After Nobura had left, everything had crumbled just as I predicted. Towns nearby had been burned down and raided by American soldiers. And people living in Akita were unable to escape, at the risk of being captured. Doom impends upon everyone here. But I’m not afraid. Because I have some hope of knowing that I will be free from my chains that Nobura-san. No longer would I have to deal with his insults. No longer would I have to fear that his drunken fits would end in my death. No longer would I have to clean the sheets he and his many, many prostitutes used. No more staying up all night, obeying his every order. No longer would I have to wonder what happened to Mother that day the rich man stole me away.
December 30, 1930. 15:16. Tuesday.
It happened. They came in and raided Nobura’s house. They stole all of his priceless jewelry and the kimono he collected. They burned what they did not find of value. As for the servants of the house, we were taken with them. They took us to camps and committed horrible acts upon us. The women were separated from their children and husbands. We were raped every night by a different soldier. Many after a while stopped calling it rape. They said they couldn’t even feel anything anymore. They, like my sisters had given up their souls to the sin of lust. Weeks rolled by. Disease, hunger, and death plagued the people of the camps. I had nearly given up my own soul when a miracle occurred. Nobura-san came to the camp, and he bought me from the soldiers. Although I felt bad for the ones still left in misery, I could not pass up a chance to escape. I had believed Nobura-san came for me because he favored me, but in truth, I was so very wrong. The weeks that followed my release were those worse than the ones I’d spent in the camp. Nobura-san used me as his own sort of persuasion. He made me have sex with many different drug dealers and gang members, all in the sake of money. Until one day, a man named Hikiro Hamaki shot Nobura-san dead in his head. I belonged to him now. My purpose changed however. Now, I delivered drugs to Hikiro-san’s associates or clients. For 5 years, I lived a life that wasn’t mine. I had seen the worst there is to see in the world. No kindness, no light, no relief. Only constant fear, darkness, and despair. I didn’t even know where in Japan I was anymore.  In 1937, Hikiro Hamaki and his gang of drug dealers had been discovered by Japanese officials. They all disbanded and disappeared. I was left to start anew. But all I knew was how to be miserable. The only job I could find was working in a factory where I sewed clothes for Americans. It was hard and difficult work, but at least it kept me off the streets.
20 years later….
“You! Number 478, get over here!” the guard yelled at me. I stop sewing and ease off of my rusty, uncomfortable chair. I hobble over to him and a man dressed in a military outfit. “This is your brother’” he said to me, “he is taking you from here.” My heart, after so many years of aching and darkness, began to beat again. Hope ran through my shattered bones and grey skin. My brother had gotten old. His hair was grey, his face looked worn, and his eyes seemed to have lost the hazel color I vaguely remember. But he was still my brother. I hug him as tight as I can, hoping that his skin would heal all the terrible things that I had endeared over the years.
11 years later….
“Sergeant Renuko Tanamico, a brave soldier, a wonderful husband, and a faithful brother. He will live in remembrance every day. He, along with his memories and good deeds, will not be forgotten. Rest in peace…. Brother.” January 4, 1968 on a Tuesday morning in Blue Rose Hospital, my brother died in his sleep. He had brought me from my misery in Japan, to a brighter life in America. Before him, I was not sure, love and light existed anymore. Now that he is gone….
March 13, 1970
I checked myself into a nursing home. A 75 year old woman, my hair the brightest color of white, my skin weak and my bones hardly able to move, checked herself in a nursing home. After they brought me to my room and laid me in bed. I laid there and thought about my life. How for so many long, painful years, I played as a servant. No matter where I went, I was a servant. And when I had been saved from servitude, it was too late for it to matter. So perhaps the reason I don’t tell my story to those who ask, is because in a way, it would be like serving them. And I believe that I have done that enough.

May 5, 1970
I serve no one anymore.

The End