Eastbourne, East Sussex.
Miyahira Tsuki couldn't believe it when she felt the first familiar trembling through the soles of her shoes. Such events were common in Japan of course, but here in England? Surely this was not possible? But then after four months living here she doubted anything about this strange country could surprise her further.
Tsuki, a student at Nagoya university, was spending a year in England as part of her International Development and Cooperation course. Two months into her stay she was still struggling to cope with the shock of a total immersion in an alien culture and doubting if she ever would be able to do so.
It wasn't just the absence of anything familiar here; it was the fact of everything being so different, such as the way English people used their family names after their first names; that had caused some initial confusion and mild embarrassment before she fully grasped the fact. Then there was the spoken english itself; the vernacular and the way it was used here was far different to what she had learned or expected. Tsuki wondered exactly what language she had been studying all of these years because she was having trouble both understanding and making herself understood: It was almost as if she had become an uncomprehending small child again, and she found the experience a humiliating one.
What she also found stressful was just coping with daily life in the UK. This was the case as well for many natives, but for a young Japanese woman it was far worse. Incredible though it seemed, the cost of living here was actually higher than in Japan. And getting to grips with the public transport system was an ordeal in itself; the fares were so expensive and many of the buses or trains were decrepit or obsolete; the timetables a vague hope rather than something to rely upon: Back home such a poor service would be regarded as a national disgrace. Not only that, but travelling on it brought her into close contact with british people. While some of them were really nice and helpful, many more were standoffish or occasionally even rude; though Tsuki had yet to suffer any incidences of the racism she had been warned about during her student induction briefings.
British food was another thing to be endured; she absolutely hated it. Though international meals were available in the form of takeaways and fast food was more or less homologised whether it was served in London or Nagoya, Tsuki still felt nauseated at the thought of what the average Briton ate, and obviously enjoyed: She found the cuisine disgusting.
The UK both geographically and culturally was indeed a long way away from Japan: Tsuki was suffering from a bad case of homesickness. She'd spoken to counselors and fellow students who had been here longer than she about her problems; they told her this was a temporary thing everyone suffered, and she like them would eventually adapt to living here. Tsuki wondered when that might be as nothing ever appeared to improve. Without the support of her close friend Nakagawa Ishi, also from Nagoya, Tsuki felt certain she'd have admitted defeat by now and flown back to Japan in tears of shameful failure.
But though Tsuki didn't notice the fact, she was acclimatising just enough; day by day, week by week, to make staying here more bearable, though she was very much looking forward to returning home. In the meantime she resolved to make the best of her time here, which was why she'd agreed with Ishi's suggestion they spend a day on the coast.
The girls planned to do all of the stereotypical english seaside things this pleasantly warm summer day; to take a bus tour of the genteel town; have a meal of fish and chips; go paddling on the beach... Already they'd eaten some of the strange pink cotton wool candy floss (it was quite nice actually) and seen the various attractions on the victorian pier. They'd also taken plenty of giggling selfies to share with their online contacts and family back home. The friends were admiring the floral displays in the busy Carpet Garden running alongside the beach next to the pier when they felt the shaking and knew at once what it was.
Oh! This is a strong one! Tsuki thought as the panicked crowd swirling around her were thrown sprawling to the ground. Cars on the Grand Parade road running parallel to the gardens slammed on their brakes but some of them couldn't avoid shunting each other with crumping thuds. Rattled by the trembling lawn she'd fallen on to Tsuki's vision was blurred, but she could see pieces of rendering falling from the stately Georgian frontages of the seaside hotels on the other side of the parade, and hear only too well the crunching, rending, sickening sounds of destruction.
Japan being such a seismically active group of islands prone to being struck by strong earthquakes, every citizen had bousai disaster preparedness training drilled into them from an early age. Once Tsuki got over her initial shock she remembered exactly how to react: In her case this meant staying on the garden's lawn curled up with her arms and handbag shielding her head until the tremors were over.
After what could be no more than a minute the earthquake ceased. The immediate silence was broken by the moans of people in distress, the keening of activated car alarms, and the clatter of still falling debris. In the aftermath Tsuki expected to hear the shrill blowing of police whistles as the immaculately uniformed officers began to attract the attention of those nearby and yell orders at them; but those sounds were absent, for this was not Japan. Nor was there the electronic whooping of street corner public address loudspeakers issuing advice. She remembered being told the UK had very little in the way of organised civil defence; how very neglectful of the government! she thought.
"Ishi?" Tsuki called out to her friend in japanese. "Are you OK?"
"Yes, I think so! Wow, that was powerful! Look at all the damage and the dust in the air! What are we going to do?"
"We must do what we can do to help these people." Tsuki gestured around her to where some of the stunned, silenced crowd were beginning to rise, slowly and sometimes painfully to their feet. "We should call for help and give first aid."
"Good idea!" Ishi replied.
A distant male voice shouting interrupted their conversation. "Hey! The tide's going out!" The girls looked round to the source of the bewildered cry. The man was right; the sea was swiftly retreating from its current high water level.
Dame! Both Tsuki and Ishi knew what the phenomenon meant was coming, and obviously so did some of the gaijin. Those who understood the danger the receding sea foretold ran off along the streets leading inland; some of the aimlessly confused herd following them. The rest of the gathering stayed put, collectively gawping at the unprecedented spectacle and waiting to be told what to do.
Didn't these people understand the imminent danger they were in? Did they not know what they must do in these circumstances? Tsuki's observant vision noted the lack of blue and white tsunami evacuation route signs; obviously there was no contingency plan in operation here. She felt torn in a way only a Japanese could understand; on the one hand she was a stranger here, it would not be the done thing to speak out of turn, or worse cause a needless panic in which people might be injured. However she could not remain silent and allow casualties to occur as a result. In the end Tsuki's public spirited ethos gained the upper hand.
"Ishi, we have to warn them!"
"Hai!"
Two faint, high pitched young female voices rose above the crowd's uncertain murmuring. "WARNING! GREAT DANGER! TSUNAMI IS COMING! PLEASE, YOU MUST ALL GO INLAND AT ONCE!" Slowly, like a fire catching hold along the length of a flat sheet of paper, the understanding spread and a human tide began to flow inland toward the town centre. With remarkable speed and calmness the gardens, beach, and the pier emptied of people, leaving Tsuki and Ishi among the last to go. They set off after the nervous crowd, anxiously looking behind them all the while for the expected wave.
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