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Final impactSeppuku would not do it. His failure was of so great a magnitude that even the ritual suicide would not attenuate his shame. That was the only reason he had not taken his life. At least twice before he had written his death poem, laid out his tanto for the killing stroke, and kneeled on a makeshift tatami-in reality, an old cardboard box. But the temptation to live, the thought that he might strike one more blow against the barbarian hordes, had proved too great. Plus, of course, he had no second, no kaishakunin to observe his sacrifice or perform the daki-kubi, the final cut that would all but decapitate him, with his head left hanging by just a thin strip of flesh. No, Hidaka was alone in this cave, alone with his grief. He’d fled up here into the Choshiu Range-known as the Ko‘olau to the gaijin-during the chaos of the Americans’ counterattack. He had intended to lead an insurgency that would have rendered the islands useless as a base for the Allies, but he had been cut off, and as far as he could tell all his forces had been destroyed-a good many of them in the first thirty minutes of battle ...» |
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