I wear eyeglasses. They are very fashionable and I’m proud of them. Some people attempt to make fun of me because I wear them but I do not respond to their jokes because I don’t consider my eyeglasses to be shameful in any way. I was sure that I could find a way to stop Yatsusuki from jogging himself to death. My mission was aided by the arrival of Colonel Konko Asatsuba.

One evening, our team, all but Corporal Yatsusuki, was enjoying the company of Colonel Konko in the mess hut. Colonel Konko was a Tokyo man who ate only meat and could never get used to all the lizards and the abundance of rats everywhere. He was based in Vientiane and was a master of telling stories about his experiences in the army. He was a born comedian. He’d just told one hilarious anecdote about an adventure in Nanjing and we were in tears. Captain Jame confessed he was about to pee himself.

“Tell us another one,” said Hokofugu.

“I’ll have to start charging you,” said Colonel Konko. “But you’re a good audience so I’ll give you one last story for free. It was something that happened in Korea. We Japanese were very popular over there for obvious reasons. I was stationed in Seoul and I was about to—”

He stopped talking and was looking toward the door through which Yatsusuki had just arrived.

“My god,” said Colonel Konko.

We followed his gaze but none of us was surprised to see Yatsusuki standing there. He was on guard duty that evening and had stopped by to fill his canteen. He waved at us and made for the water jar.

“I don’t believe it,” said Colonel Konko.

“What?” said Major General Dorari.

“He’s here,” said Colonel Konko. “I’ve found him.”

“Yatsusuki?” said the major general.

“That’s what he’s calling himself?” said Colonel Konko.

“That’s his name,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” said Colonel Konko. “His name is Erai Ko-oji.”

He pronounced the name as if each syllable was molten gold. We looked across the table at each other then looked to the door where Yatsusuki was just about to return to his duties outside. Colonel Konko sighed.

“Ko-oji,” he repeated.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jame.

“Do none of you follow sumo?” Colonel Konko asked.

There were some of us who checked the honbasho results from time to time. But we’d been overseas for so long we’d lost touch with sports back home. We all shrugged.

“When did he join your unit?” Colonel Konko asked.

“December 1940,” said the major general.