My sister's death is an exact match with the novel. It was one week
after the end of the war. At the countryside of Fukui prefecture where I
was, it was the day the restrictions on lighting were removed. It must
have been the 22nd. It was evening, and I was picking up my sister's
bones. I was coming home in a daze when I saw the village lit up. There
was nothing like my surprise then. My sister died in my side of the
world, and the light was coming back in the other.
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Honestly speaking, there was also relief that she died and my burden
was gone. No one would wake me up in the night like she did with her
crying, and I wouldn't have to wander around with a child on my back any
more. I'm very sorry to say this about my sister, but I did have those
feelings too. That's why I haven't gone back to my novel (Grave of the
Fireflies, published in 1967) to re-read it, since I hate that. It's so
hypocritical. It must be absolutely true that Seita must have thought of
his sister as a burden too. He must have thought that he could have
escaped better if it weren't for her.
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There are many things that I just couldn't get myself to write into the
story. During composition, the older brother got increasingly
transformed into a better human being. I was trying to compensate for
everything I couldn't do myself. I always thought I wanted to perform
these generous acts in my head, but I couldn't do so. I always thought I
wouldn't eat and would give the food to my little sister, but when I
actually had the piece of food in my hand, I was hungry after all, so
I'd eat it. And there was nothing like the deliciousness of eating in a
situation like that. And the pain that followed was just as big. I'd
think there is no one more hopeless in the world than me. I didn't put
anything about this in the novel.
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