Fumiko and a Tokyo Tragedy by Susan Griner

Author:Susan Griner [Griner, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure story; chapter books for girls; diverse author; female hero; historical fiction; own voices author; Tokyo; earthquake; fires; survival stories; I Survived; Girls Survive; perseverance; grit; girl stories; girl power; Japan
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2022-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sumida River, Tokyo

September 1, 1923

7 p.m.

“Mama!” She couldn’t be too far away. I struggled to keep my head above water and moved my arms to keep from sinking. I had to find something to hold on to.

I remembered what my father said to me, to paddle my arms, not to fight the water. “Suijin, the water god, will protect you,” he had said.

I held my breath and reached into the water with my arms outstretched. I kicked with my legs and felt for anything floating on the water.

My mind was weak, and I began to see strange things. I thought I saw a sea monster rising in front of me, but it was the prow of a charred fishing boat. I hugged it and felt part of it crumbling to ash. Enough of it was still solid wood to keep me afloat. I would not drown after all.

“Mama! Where are you?” I called.

There were others struggling in the water around me, calling for help, splashing wildly. I feared my mother was weighed down by her kimono and couldn’t come up for air.

Soon there were fewer voices calling for help as people disappeared under the water. I heard my mother’s weakened voice, “Fumiko! Beloved daughter!”

I kicked my legs and steered the broken prow toward her. I reached out for her, catching her by the strands of her long hair and pulling her to me.

She latched on to my arm and grabbed the broken wood we shared.

We leaned our heads against each other and cried. I forgot about creatures in the water trying to eat me and thanked Suijin for protecting us.

We spoke with shivering breaths. “You saved me,” my mother said.

“Your long hair saved you,” I said.

“I’m glad I’m not a Moga girl,” she said.

We laughed and shuddered at the cold.

“How long can we hold on?” I asked.

We looked at the bridge burning on both ends and at the fires on either side of the river. The ferries floated downstream, where the wharves might be safe from fire.

“A ferryboat might rescue us,” my mother said.

“Yes, Takeo said he would catch one too,” I said.

“We’ll meet again on the shore,” she said.

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