text: It is Monday, August 6, 1945. It is approximately 8:00 am just a few miles outside of Hiroshima, Japan. Hitsugaya Kuchiki is rushing out the door of his home because he is running late for work. Ever since the war began, those unable to serve in the Imperial Army have been forced to work at the many factories and farms that support the war effort. Hitsugaya is just one of the many older men forced to work at the factory, even though he is against the war. As he kisses his wife, Nami, she pleads with him to just stay home today. “I have a bad feeling “she states uncomfortably. He embraces her and says, “You know I can’t my love, I’m surprised they haven’t already come knocking at our door.” “I love you, please be safe,” she says. One last kiss runs out the door, unknowing of the impending doom his eyes will befall in a few short minutes. Walking at a brisk pace, he still can’t help but admire the quaint beauty of his town. It is a beautiful summer morning. The smell of salt water and flowers fills the air. The streets are already bustling with his neighbors and countrymen. As he turns onto the main road to his factory, there is a sudden, brilliant flash on the horizon. The time is approximately 8:15 am. Hitsugaya shields his eyes almost instinctively. A second or two screams by followed by a deafening roar. Hitsugaya falls to his knees as he feels a rush of force and hot air entomb his body. 15 seconds pass, breathing, he is still alive. “What the hell is happening?” he thought, almost screaming in his inner voice. As he opened his eyes, his heart fell through his feet at what he saw. The city that he admired, the city he grew up in, had been reduced to flaming rubble. He ran towards the city center, “surely there must be survivors that need help” he thought. After what seemed like an eternity, he came across a soldier who was being aided by other victims. The man was severely burned. Although Hitsugaya could see the soldier, just a boy of maybe 18, was hurting and just as scared as the rest of them, he decided to approach him. “What happened?!” Kuchiki shouted. In a strained voice, the soldier replied, “The *Gai-jin (which is Japanese for a person not of this land, slang used for Americans in the Second World War)* dropped a new bomb on us.” The radio call for an air raid had gone out just minutes before the Little boy had fallen from his crib. Hitsugaya was stunned. “Just one bomb did all of this? One bomb had wiped his hometown from the face of the planet?” he thought. “How is that even possible?” He knew at that moment that if the United States, the gai-jin, possessed this type of terrifying power, the Empire did not stand a chance and would surely lose this war.