Captain Takara — deep behind enemy lines. Slowly, I swept from side to side, as the huge American flag flicked on its pole, casting a shadow over the GIs who were ambling amongst the stalls below. Easy targets, I thought. One bullet left. Aim for the heart — There was a flash of colour over by the station as three girls flounced toward the market. I fumbled with the aperture of my Leica and urgently twisted the rangefinder. Through the lens, I focused on the stocky one in the middle, the one they called Yotchan. I could almost make out the shadow that curved between her breasts. Fire! I pressed the shutter and the flutter lens closed. Bull’s eye! A hand cuffed me on the back of the head and I spun around to see Mr. Suzuki, laughing at me, hands on his hips. The shoulder holster of his pistol showed beneath his grey silk jacket. “Getting some cute pictures up here, are you, little shit?”
