My name is Kawamoto Kazuko, and I am thirty-five years old.
I was born in 1943 in Shizuoka Prefecture Hamamatsu City Prefecture. My real name is Suzuki Kazuko.
That year marked twelve years since the mushroom clouds rose over Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The war is over.
But the image of Japan, burned to ashes and stripped of everything, remains deeply etched in everyone's memory.
On the street, you can see many people missing arms or legs, and their eyes are empty.
Living, but not knowing why I'm living.
Resources were scarce; everything was lacking.
The adults silently rebuilt their homes, while we children ran between the ruins and the newly built wooden houses.
The sky was overcast, but I still felt that tomorrow would be a little better than today.
My father founded his own precision machinery company in Hamamatsu in 1920.
He was a typical old-fashioned businessman.
Rigorous, old-fashioned, and valuing family reputation and company survival more than life itself.
In the chaos of the post-war period, he saved the company by virtue of his excellent skills and connections.
Furthermore, as Japan's economy took off, the family became increasingly wealthy.
I am the eldest daughter in my family, with a younger brother and sister.
As the eldest daughter of the Suzuki Trading Company, my childhood and adolescence, while not luxurious, were certainly without any knowledge of poverty.
I attended an all-girls school, where I learned tea ceremony and Hanamichi, and was taught how to become a proper, respectable woman.
Even how to arrange a marriage that would benefit the family in the future.
I don't know when it started, but the way my father looked at me became like he was looking at a piece of porcelain that needed to be sold for a price.
When I was sixteen, I encountered Shinsaku.
Kawamoto Shinsaku.
It was at an industry conference, where he was the youngest section chief in his father's partner company.
He was tall with broad shoulders, wore a well-fitting suit, and possessed a composure rarely seen in young people of that era.
His eyes lit up when he talked about his work; his thoughts were clear, and his competence was astounding.
Completely different from the others who fawned over my father and talked big.
My heart felt like it had been gently bumped by something.
We started dating secretly.
Shinsaku from an ordinary working-class family and works hard to get into Waseda, gradually climbing the ranks.
He is intelligent, hardworking, ambitious, and capable.
Being with him, I saw a completely different world.
That was an atmosphere I had never felt inside the high walls and deep courtyard of the Suzuki family home.
The father soon found out about it.
There were no blessings, only fury.
In his eyes, this was not only a lack of self-respect on his daughter's part, but also a desecration of the entire Suzuki family.
My mother would only weep and urge me to be obedient.
My younger siblings are still young and ignorant.
The father issued an ultimatum.
Either immediately sever ties with the Shinsaku and prepare for a blind date with the son of another company's owner.
Either get out of the Suzuki family and never come back.
I chose the latter.
This was an almost shocking decision at the time.
But at that time, my heart was filled with the romance of sacrificing everything for love.
I long for the life I create with my Shinsaku, and for a free and unrestrained future.
I even feel that leaving that suffocatingly wealthy family is a relief.
I married Shinsaku against all odds and became Kawamoto Kazuko.
The wedding was simple, witnessed by only a few close friends.
My father didn't come, but my mother sent a small amount of money as a gift through someone else.
It doesn't matter.
We have each other, and that's enough.
Their newlywed life was simple but sweet.
The Shinsaku project is developing rapidly.
He switched jobs to an American-Japanese joint venture electronics company in Hiratsuka.
With his outstanding abilities, he became a key middle-level manager in just four years.
We moved into a company-provided apartment that wasn't big but was very cozy.
In 1952, our son was born.
The Shinsaku names him Kazuki.
He said he hoped his child could be like a tree, taking deep root and growing straight upwards regardless of wind or rain.
That was the happiest time of my life.
My Shinsaku job keeps me very busy, but when I get home I always play with my son and clumsily help me with the housework.
In the evening, we squeezed around the small dining table, listening to him tell interesting stories about the company and plan for the future of Mingming.
He said that once things are more stable, he will buy a detached house with a yard so that Kazuki can run and jump around.
He said that Kazuki gets a little older, he'll take us to visit the United States headquarters.
His eyes held the entire future.
When Kazuki was two years old, his wish to build a detached house came true.
Later, the company where Shinsaku took on a large government project, and he became the head of the core technology team.
During that period, he was extremely busy, his eyes were bloodshot, but he was in high spirits.
He said that if the project succeeded, he would have enough capital and experience to bring a better life to his family.
However...
The nightmare began without warning.
A major accident occurred at the project site.
Complex and sophisticated equipment malfunctioned during testing, causing a fire and explosion that resulted in injuries and fatalities to several on-site engineers.
The accident investigation results came out quickly, concluding that the core parameter settings were due to human error.
And the name of the person identified as primarily responsible is none other than Kawamoto Shinsaku.
My Shinsaku boss and I were both stunned.
The Shinsaku is done with extreme care, making it almost impossible for him to make such a basic mistake.
We want to appeal and have an investigation.
However, the company's senior management, especially the representatives of the American capital side, suppressed all objections.
They need to quell the situation as soon as possible and give an explanation to the investors and the government.
A Japan section chief who died in an accident due to his own negligence became the perfect scapegoat.
There was no compensation, no relief, not even an apology.
The company's legal counsel coldly told me that, given that Shinsaku was the main person responsible for the accident, the company's decision not to pursue the losses we caused was already a great act of leniency.
If we continue to pursue this matter, the company reserves the right to take legal action.
The ruthlessness of capital was on full display that day.
life...
clean...
The future of a family...
Faced with enormous profits and cold, hard legal provisions...
Light as dust.
The company that he worked so hard for to Shinsaku life turned around and crushed him.
Holding the bewildered Kazuki, I stood in that suddenly empty and cold detached house, feeling as if the whole world had lost its color.
I even considered just going with the Shinsaku.
But when I looked down, I saw Kazuki gazing at me with longing in her eyes.
Seeing him clumsily reach out his little hand to wipe the tears from my face, calling out, "Mommy, don't cry..."
The maternal instinct is like a wild grass that has sprouted from the ruins of despair.
I cannot die.
If I die, what will happen to Kazuki?
What will happen to the only remaining bloodline of the Shinsaku in this world?
With nowhere else to turn, I returned to the Suzuki family home in Hamamatsu, clinging to my last shred of hope.
My father has aged considerably; his hair is now gray, but the sternness and disappointment in his eyes are even greater than before.
He looked at me, and at Kazuki, who was timidly hiding behind me.
There was a long silence.
" Kazuko, when you chose that man and left this family, I pretended you weren't my daughter anymore."
Whether you live or die is none of the Suzuki family's business.
The door slowly closed in front of me.
The last vestige of family ties and hope has been severed.
I could only take Kazuki back to Hiratsuka.
That was in 1945, during the early stages of Japan's economic bubble.
The economy is booming, and jobs are being offered everywhere.
However, it is not an easy task for a single mother who has to raise a young child on her own.
A legitimate company requires full-time employment, and I cannot balance Kazuki.
I can only do odd jobs, such as arranging shelves in convenience stores, washing dishes in restaurant kitchens, and taking on piecework for families.
Income is meager and unstable.
Kazuki is very sensible, so sensible that it breaks your heart.
While other children are at the age where they play with toys and act spoiled, he has already learned to heat up his own lunchbox, wait quietly for me to get off work, and never asks for anything.
Years of overexertion, taut nerves, malnutrition, deep-seated, unhealed wounds, and immense financial pressure...
They are slowly eroding my body.
In 1942, Kazuki was 9 years old.
I suddenly fainted at the convenience store where I worked.
After being taken to the hospital, the diagnosis was left main coronary artery disease.
The doctor said this was a very dangerous situation, like a severe blockage in the heart's main blood supply lines, which could stop flowing at any moment.
The cure is a heart surgery called off-pump coronary artery bypass grafting (OPCB).
But the doctor regretfully told me that this technology is cutting-edge even in the United States and is not widely used, and there are almost no successful precedents in Japan.
I can only rely on expensive imported medications to maintain my condition and slow its deterioration.
That medical bill was an astronomical sum for me.
I secretly increased my workload and took on more odd jobs.
We try to save money wherever possible, using most of our funds to buy medicine.
I told Kazuki's mother it was just a minor ailment and that she would be fine after taking the medicine.
I can't fall!
It absolutely must not fall, at least not until the Kazuki reaches maturity!
The days passed by in the bitterness of the pills and the exhaustion of working.
Kazuki grew taller and taller, became more and more silent, and worked harder and harder.
When he was eleven, he started working, and he gave me almost all the money he earned.
"Mom, from today onwards you don't need to go out to work anymore, I can earn money now."
I know.
He understands everything.
He knows everything.
This made me both relieved and heartbroken.
I still want to work, but my health won't allow it.
Six years have passed in the blink of an eye.
Heisei 4, 1992.
The turning point came some time ago.
Dr. Kitakura of Kanagawa General Hospital, who had been treating me, told me this with rare excitement after a follow-up visit.
Professor Minamino, a cardiac surgeon, has recently successfully performed several off-pump coronary artery bypass grafting procedures.
Surgery might be a viable option for me given my condition.
Hope is like a faint flame that suddenly ignites in the darkness.
But a few days later, Dr. Kitakura's words shook it to its core.
He frankly stated that Professor Minamino indicated he had successful cases.
But even he wasn't entirely confident about my complex left main coronary artery lesion.
Moreover, the surgery is extremely expensive, and medical insurance only covers a small portion of it.
This technology is now becoming more common in the United States, but the cost of United States there is an astronomical figure that I cannot even imagine.
Dr. Kitakura looked at me, his eyes filled with the compassion of a healer and a sense of helplessness.
" Kawamoto. Kawamoto, I can offer some very limited financial support privately, but there's really nothing more I can do."
"Although your condition is currently stable with medication, based on my experience, you will need surgery within five years at most. Otherwise..."
He didn't say anything more.
But I understand.
"I will... consider it. Dr. Kitakura, thank you."
I whispered, my mind a jumbled mess.
The surgery offers little hope and is extremely expensive.
Without surgery, five years...
Kazuki was only twenty years old at that time.
Before leaving, I hesitated for a long time, but still bowed deeply to Dr. Kitakura, my voice filled with pleading.
"There's another thing I'd like to ask you. If... I mean, if my son, Kazuki, comes to the hospital and asks you about my condition... please tell him that I've recovered and can stop taking the medication. Is that alright?"
Dr. Kitakura was stunned.
" Kawamoto, as a doctor, I cannot conceal the true condition from a patient's family; this is a matter of principle."
I became quite emotional, and tears welled up uncontrollably.
" Dr. Kitakura! This is a mother's plea! My son... he's suffered so much! He worked himself to the bone for me, even giving up his dreams! If he knew the truth, he would definitely do even harder, even more dangerous things, to save up that surgery fee that we could never afford!"
"I can't be a burden to him anymore! Please, just tell him I'm better, so he can live for himself for once, even if it's only for a few years!"
I was practically begging.
Dr. Kitakura remained silent for a long time, watching me with tears streaming down my face.
Finally, he nodded very slowly.
"I understand. I will do so. Kawamoto, please... take care. And... don't give up hope!"
Thank you so much! Thank you so much!
I bowed deeply once again.
The tide of memories slowly recedes.
I heard Kazuki's words in my ear.
"Mom, compared to your health and smile, basketball... is just a speck of dust in the sunlight."
I wiped away my tears and forced a smile through them.
She took a deep breath, looked at her son, and said very seriously, " Kazuki, Mom has something to tell you. The doctor came for a follow-up visit a few days ago and said that my condition has stabilized a lot, and I can gradually stop taking those expensive medications."
So... you don't need to work so hard anymore.