And from then on his son Toshumi learned firsthand what it was to feel like a stranger, to be made fun of and feel humiliation. It had been a relief when he returned to Tokyo and his old friends, but four years after the family’s return the Maritime Self Defense Force called on Akagi Tanaka again, this time to attend the US Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. By then Toshumi Tanaka was a young teenager, watching the beautiful, rich American girls stroll the beaches and streets of the town, and knowing only rejection. Finally he convinced his family to allow him to go back to Japan and his friends. It was a happy reunion — abruptly interrupted by the news that his mother Orou was dead from breast cancer. From then on Toshumi’s life was a charcoal sketch, done in shades of gray and black. The pain of losing his mother would always be with him and he felt his father responsible. If only his father hadn’t insisted on dragging the family to America, Toshumi reflected bitterly. Two years later his father, now a captain with friends at the Maritime Self Defense Force Academy in Yokosuka, was able to secure an appointment for Toshumi, although Toshumi had begun to hate the navy, connecting it with his father, with the foreign assignments, with his mother’s death. But to say no to this opportunity was to be forever behind his peers, at the bottom of Japanese society. When Toshumi Tanaka finished school he had chosen to go into submarines, finding the surface navy boring, and found a natural, unsuspected talent. Tactically he was far ahead of his contemporaries and drove a submarine like it was part of himself. For the first time in many years he felt happy doing something; when he was driving a sub he could almost forget his mother’s death, his anger at his father. He was promoted years ahead of his contemporaries from lieutenant to lieutenant commander. As one of the youngest lieutenant commanders in the force, he was made the first officer of the first Destiny-class submarine intended for Japanese use — until then they had been manufactured for export sale. This had been the Destiny II class, the first submarine in the class, named Eternal Spirit. After two years in the building yards and three years at sea Toshumi was promoted to full commander and given command of his own new Destiny II ship, the Winged Serpent. That had been only a year ago, and now he was a senior officer and submarine commander at age thirty-five. His father, Akagi, was now an admiral, the chief of staff of the MSDF, and though some outsiders thought that Toshumi’s position was based on his father’s commanding the force, those who knew Toshumi Tanaka also knew of his extraordinary talents for commanding men and his ship. Tanaka forced his thoughts back to the present, forced his eyes to see the naval base stretching out to the horizon on either side. Below the ridge, piers pointed out to the bay, fingers reaching seaward. There was a large gap between the closest piers, with a squat outbuilding located half on the concrete of the pier, half hanging out over the brackish water of the slip. Tied up to the bollards on the seawall was a submarine, one of the Destiny I’ll-class ships, the computer-controlled unmanned vessels. Abruptly he heard footsteps behind him, and a shadow of a man materialized beside him. Tanaka did not turn. “I thought I might find you here. Captain,” a young voice said. Still Tanaka didn’t turn. His second-in-command, Lt.
Comdr. Hiro Mazdai, was as different from himself as a first officer could be. Tanaka was the son of a navy officer, Mazdai was born to wealth, the son of a Panasonic chief financial officer and board member.
