Rising Fire

Revenge

I hold Chikashi until he falls into a fitful doze, shaking and crying in his sleep. Leaving him on our only bed, I slip into the darkest clothes I can find and abscond into the night, quietly locking the door behind me.

Aika San is working and I doubt she'll be home before dawn. No-one will hire me - an aphonic, useless Japanese girl.

I'm tired, so tired, of people hating me for who I am when I have suffered more than all these perfect little Australians in their perfect little homes. My broken life doesn't even compare – at least they have jobs and healthy brothers and loving fathers.

Sometimes I wish I could protest like others used to. Yelling in the streets is a comforting thought, though impossible. No, it is time the Australians discovered they aren't the valiant heroes they think they are.

The Japanese have suffered too.

Main street is filled with factory workers, rushing to their homes. Business is slow and working hours have increased. Ex-soldiers linger; jobless.

The victorious Australian flag flies in front of the police station. It's surrounded by wreaths and bouquets of spring flowers, left in honour of lost loved ones. Flowers Haruaki used to collect on his birthday. I wonder if these are left in his memory as well as the Australians.

Standing in front of the flowers, I laugh. What good will flowers do for those who have already died? A dry, raspy sound leaves my mouth, attracting the attention of two men. I can tell they're ex-soldiers.

"Whatchu think we got 'ere?" one asks, an unpleasant scowl plastered on his face. I swallow nervously and shake my head. "Hey, Derrick!"

"He asked you a bloody question, squirt." Derrick shoves me backward and I fall, terrified, lying at the mercy of the men. Policemen watch from inside the police station but make no move to intervene. Frantically I sign at the men; vague actions scarcely resembling sign language.

"Hahah mate, look at that! She's dumb!"

Derrick bends down to my level and stares at me unflinchingly. His breath, hot on my face, reeks of old fish and rot, making me scramble backward. The men howl with laughter.

"What you think, we're gunna bloody leave you now you've lost your war?" Derrick follows me backward. "You're as bloody dumb as you look. But if you think you can bloody laugh at our bloody brave soldiers that died because of you...You're gunna be bloody dead."

Derrick kicks me in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me, and the other man pays me the courtesy of stepping on my hand when they walk away.

That's when I decide what I'm going to do.

When the pain has receded to a dull ache, I slowly stand, ignoring the laughing policemen from within the station.

Unnoticed, I walk down the street, pausing to duck into an alleyway and double back behind the police station. The roof is flat and the brick wall chipped and worn away.

I can do this. I quietly make my over to a metal trash can and move it below the drainage pipe running up to the side of the station. I climb on top of the bin, shoving away the fear and pain gripping me in an iron hold. Slowly I rise from my crouched position, and pain shoots through my side. I lean against the wall for support. No, Lyn. Don't give up. Think of Chikashi. And Haruaki.

I swing myself around the pipe and begin to climb, shaking with the effort. When I finally reach the top I collapse in pain. Stupid Derrick didn't have to kick me so hard.

Dragging myself to the edge of the roof I judge the distance from the roof to the flag pole. Looking closer I see that the joining beams of steel have begun to rust, flaking away. Slowly I back away from the edge and stand on shaky legs.

Taking a deep breath I run, leaping across the empty space and balancing precariously on the connecting joint of the flag pole. The structure sways with my momentum, and I think I cried out in fear.

That's when a policeman came out and threatened to shoot me.

Except I don't care anymore. I'm tired of obeying the very same laws by the people that sent my brothers to war and killed Haruaki.

I reach into my pocket and pull out Father's lighter. It's the last part of him I have left, and it never leaves my side. Catching the victorious flag, I hold the lighter to the edge of its deep blue material.

The flame catches, and I grin. It's been so long since I smiled.

"STOP HER!"

The howling wind has already extinguished my flame.

"KILL HER!"

"GET DOWN NOW, OR I WILL SHOOT!"

I ignore the shouts from below, attempting to light the flag again, ignoring the burning pain in my side. This time it catches hold, and the flames begin to lick the slowly turning sky.

I hope stupid Derrick is watching me now.

Shots ring on either side of me and I cower in fear. Unbalanced, I fall straight into the flowers below and my vision blurs. Filled with adrenaline I jerk to my feet, ignoring the throbbing pain, and try to run but a policeman yanks my wrist.

Father taught me to fight before we moved to Australia. "Just in case." He'd said, grinning. That's when it happens.

The policemen, attempting to extinguish the flames, have brought down their precious flag – but the flames leap in ecstasy and begin to devour the timber of the fire station. The policeman holding me is distracted and I take my opportunity, kicking my opponent in the knee and twisting my hand away.

I don't look back when I run for my life.