“Since our return, we hadn’t gone into Thakhek town. Before the war I would go often. As you can see, Sawan is geographically close but ideologically very far away. There was a lot of Japanese activity in the town. I thought it safer for him to stay here. If anyone came from civilization we had the caves to retreat to. But we weren’t bothered that much. Someone from the village would go in for supplies and he’d tell us what was going on. There was a large troop presence by then, new buildings going up, tent suburbs, roads being blasted through the mountains. Hiro would listen to all this news like a dog with its tail wagging and he’d run off to write his diary. But I knew he wanted to go there to see for himself. I was against it but he was determined. He would dress like a bum, dirty his skin, and resummon the facial expressions from the early days of our journey. He’d take the boat through the tunnel and wander around Thakhek ignored and avoided by everyone. He’d be gone for a day or two but always came back and he’d go straight to his diary.”

“He let you read it?” Daeng asked.

“Eventually he became proud to show it to me,” said the teacher. “And he was such a brilliant writer. I loved his fictional stories about Toshi, his alter ego. And I wanted to believe they were a gift to me.”

“Did you send the diary to us?” Siri asked.

“No. I really don’t know how it got to you and I don’t know who was asking for your help. I haven’t seen it since ’75.”

“How often did Hiro leave the village?” Daeng asked.

“For his clandestine trips into Thakhek, he’d go about once a month. But his missions took longer.”

“His missions?” said Daeng.

“Yes. He arrived at the school one day in his uniform with his helmet under his arm. It was the first time I’d ever seen him dressed up. He saluted and went down to the dock and he vanished. We were—or perhaps I should say I was—frantic. I didn’t know where he’d gone. I wanted to put his photograph up on trees and offer a reward for his return the way the French do for lost dogs. I suppose I hadn’t realized how functional he’d become, how independent. He’d learned French and Vietnamese.”

“But he didn’t speak,” said Siri.

“I believe he could understand both and had learned to read and write. He’d also taught himself carpentry, plumbing, agriculture. He improved our fishing system. We had always been poor but Hiro did all he could to improve our lot. It was only to be expected he’d leave one day. I was afraid that was the day.”