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16.09.2026, 13:42
“There could be a dozen of them. A hundred. Thousands all over the island,” Yuriko continued, and a string, stretched to the limit, rang in her voice. “In the jungles, in the fields, in the caves, at the bottom of the ocean. Okinawans. Japanese. Americans… What difference does it make now? They all stayed here, under this brown clay. Without names, without memory. A year will pass, and nothing will be left of them but white bones in the grass. We have to bury them. Every single one”
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