2012-08-06 Little Boy

From http://www.japansociety.org: The Japan Society is an American nonprofit organization supported by individuals, foundations and corporations that brings the people of Japan and the United States closer together through mutual understanding, appreciation and cooperation. More than a hundred years after the Society's founding, its goal remains the same-the cultivation of a constructive, resonant and dynamic relationship between the people of the U.S. and Japan.

Today, Japan Society has evolved into a world-class, multidisciplinary hub for global leaders, artists, scholars, educators, and English and Japanese-speaking audiences. At the Society, more than 100 events each year feature sophisticated, topically relevant presentations of Japanese art and culture and open, critical dialogue on issues of vital importance to the U.S., Japan and East Asia.

Today is August 6, 2012. 67 years ago on this date, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, killing 140,000 people. No one in the student delegation from the Xavier Institute, visiting the Japan Society today, was alive during that time. Professor Grey and Mister Guthrie decided to take some of the middle-school aged students to give them some perspective on just how devastating war can be. They're at the age where it's good to let them know not to take such things casually, and that what they see on the news isn't like a movie. It's real, it effects people.

Jean is dressed in a grey tweed pencil skirt and a black sleeveless blouse, with dark tights and black riding boots. Her hair is pulled back in a chignon at the back of her head and each hand is holding that of a 12 year old, one boy, one girl, both of whom are not remotely human in appearance. Their teacher is maintaining an illusion of them looking perfectly normal.

They are in the waiting area, waiting for their appointed time with a tour guide.

Sam's neatly dressed as well, grey slacks and a black dress shirt, black boots of the kind that he can wear into a set-to if anything goes sideways. He's herding three other kids, one arm around the shoulders of a skinny fourteen-year-old who's feeling a bit shy about being out in public, even if no one can see what she looks like. The other two kids, just a little older, look normal enough but are both far from it if they get going.

This isn't the kind of thing Sam necessarily looks forward to, not the solemnity of the subject matter, but being out with the kids is always great. He absent-mindedly stops the girl leaning on him from picking at her nails.

"It's all good," he says calmly. It really is.

A young Japanese woman steps out and gives a traditional bow to the teachers and their students. "Welcome to the Japan Society. Thank you for coming here to learn about the importance, significance, and lasting effects of this day and what occurred on it in Japan in 1945. Please follow me." She leads the group into a theater and there are plenty of seats. "We will start with the recorded interviews from 2009, by Mr. Sasaki, and Mr, Sadako, who lived through and survived the bombing."

Jean makes sure the students get seated properly, and she sits on one end, beside Sam, where they can converse quietly. "Keep an eye on some of our more emotional kids," she whispers to him. "This might be hard for them to listen to."

The first of the two filmed interviews is very moving. Mr. Sasaki, who was four years old when the bomb was dropped on August 6, 1945, did not suffer any injuries. However, his sister, Sadako, developed leukemia and passed away 10 years later at the age of 12. Sadako, who became one of the inspirations for the anti-nuclear movement in Japan, has had versions of her story chronicled in many books, including the popular children's picture book Sadako and 1000 Cranes. Mr. Sasaki tells the story of his sister and its meaning, and shares one of the cranes his sister made, in this film.

Sam's prepared. The bag he brought with him has tissues, snacks, bottles of water. He has to hand out the tissues pretty fast. It's not always the ones who look like they're going to get emotional who do.

One of his 'tough' kids hunches down in his chair--exactly why Sam had him sit close instead of at the far end, and not as punishment. It's all very well and good to be cool, but it's nice to get a tissue and a hand on the shoulder when you're sad. Sam slips him some tissues and pretends that didn't happen. It's hard stuff to take in.

Beast had been neglecting doing the whole 'Teaching and Mentoring' thing, so when the oppertunity arose... he jumped at it. He did love the school and the students, even if he didn't agree with it's Headmaster about everything. Hank was of course wearing a suit and mostly haunting the back of the group. He was also packing extra supplies if Sam's first line of defense fell through. He listened respectfully, offering the occasional look or throat clearing behind any students who looked like they might not be taking things seriously.

Jean's own eyes are glittering by the end of the initial interview, and she takes one of those tissues from Sam, dabbing at her eyes. It's ok to see Professor Grey cry. It makes her human. She's carefully maintaining the illusions of humanity for a few of the clearly-mutant students as well, but she doesn't seem to be struggling with her split focus like she used to.

The second interview has an element of more modern and recent, tragedy, though these kids were still too young to remember it. Mr. Ito, who was ten years old at the time of the bombing, lost his older brother shortly after the bomb fell. Tragically, on September 11, 2001, Mr. Ito lost his oldest son in the attacks on the World Trade Center. Speaking publicly about these events for only the second time in his life, Mr. Ito shares these stories and their meaning to him.

It's a lot to take in. Sam looked it all up before they came, but it's different to watch in the dark when he has nothing else to focus on except for a handful of sniffling students. The kid beside him mutters, "I hate people," under his breath when the part about 9/11 comes up.

Sam totally gets that but he presses a pack of tissues into the kid's hand and murmurs, "Pass those down." The break in focus sometimes helps a little when the kids are getting frustrated.

Hank glanced between Sam and Jean, and then back to the presentation. It was getting to him also, and also reminding him this is why the X-Men do what they do. So that it's not the Mutants who end up telling these stories. Or there's not enough tragetety like with the Ukraine. |"How the students holding up, Jean?"| There's a perk to having a telepath teacher.


 * "Well, considering they are used to such things being just stories, in two dimensions, with just the facts,"| Jean replies to Hank.

The film ends and the lights come back up in the theater, and a half dozen tough kids hide their tissues while the rest don't seem to mind being seen with teary eyes. The tour guide returns then and bows once more. "Thank you for hearing these first hand accounts of history. Please follow me to our gallery studio, where everyone shall learn how to make paper cranes, like Sadako made while she was ill. They have become a symbol of well-wishes for the health of loved ones, friends, and even strangers, so perhaps you can teach other friends to make them once you've learned." She leads the group out and to the gallery section, where long tables with pre-cut squares of paper have been set out. She prepares to lead the group in the origami lesson.

Jean hovers near the door, watchful. "This is really a good thing. It gives them some way to focus grief, to make something out of their pain," she murmurs to Hank and Sam. Some light candles, but for the non-religious, this is the same sort of therapy.

"It's a good thing to know--they may need it more than most," Sam says quietly. "I'm going to go sit with them. We can make more when we get home if they like." As much as he'd like to hang with the adults, some of the kids keep looking over so he'll go keep them company and learn to make cranes, too. And he can help the kids whose hands may not be quite as nimble as they should be.

"Speaking of focusing grief... how's Kitty doing?" Henry asks of both Jean and Sam. He'd been busy with work, so hasn't had much time to double check on her. "Ok, Sam." Hank claps Cannonball on the shoulder and leans on the wall to watch the kids at work. "Piotr's right. I should be at the school where I belong."

As the children make their cranes, the tour guide continues instructing them on historical facts. "Can anyone tell me the name of the plane which dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima?" she asks.

A few hands go up, and one of the girls replies, "The Enola Gay."

"That is correct," the guide praises. "The airplane was a Beoing B-29 Superfortress of the 393rd Bombardment Squadron of the United States Army Air Forces. They code named the bomb "Little Boy" with the second bomb, dropped three days later on Nagasaki, named "Fat Man." Can anyone tell me the name of the project that developed the bomb?"

More hands go up, one of the boys Jean is providing the illusion for answers, "The Manhattan Project."

"Correct." She continues teaching them to fold the paper.

Jean looks proud of their students for knowing the answers to these things, now that they can put them into a different context. She smiles at Sam learning origami then looks over to Hank at his question about Kitty. "She seems to be better since her therapy session downstairs," she murmurs, meaning the danger room session. "She also seems...like she's grown up."

The kids at Xavier's are fast learners, that's certain. There's a lot for them to learn, though, and proof that it's worth doing. Sam gets the same girl as before worming back under his arm and he gently disentangles himself.

"You're fine," Sam says, nudging her back into her seat. "You're doin' better at this than me. How about you show me what I'm doin' wrong here." Showing an adult how they're messing up? Irresistible. That gets her right back in her seat and showing off how she's been paying attention.

"Good... " Hank slips off his glasses, sliding them into the inside pocket of his suitcoat. His fingers rubbing lightly at the bridge of his nose as he considered both the message of what this place was teaching. And also Xavir's own message. It's true that humanity is capable of great things, as well as horrific things. And sometimes it was hard to determine which fell into which category. "Did we force her to grow up too fast? And what about Sam? And the others? Or is the world at fault for that."

"Many atomic bomb survivors, known as 'hibakusha', oppose both military and civil use of nuclear power, pointing to the tens of thousands who were killed instantly in the Hiroshima blast and the many more who later died from radiation sickness and cancers linked to the attack," explains the guide as she teaches them the final folds.

As the crane projects get finished up, each student having made three, the guide gestures. "Now we will go to our Japanese garden, and you may set one or more of your cranes in the reflecting pool there, to send your good thoughts to those one-hundred and forty thousand citizens who lost their lives on August 6, 1945. Pray for peace, hope for peace, and may mankind learn the kind part of our name." She leads them out into a beautiful space, all honey-toned wood, glass windows above to let in the light, natural greenery, and a pool surrounding a staircase. One wall is stone with water flowing down it peacefully. She steps forward and sets one of her own cranes to float on the water.

Jean shakes her head at Hank. "I think we have to play the cards we've been dealt. It's not like we can snap our fingers and change the opinions of others. It's part of why I came here today, to show the kids that no matter how important it seems to be to do something, you may not realize the repercussions of your actions for lifetimes to come. That the quick end or easy solution may be far worse than the one that takes more effort, or more time. And this is a good glimpse of what the end of a World War looks like, from the civilian perspective. It's not just the soldiers who die, or just the adults. It's civilians, children, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers."

Sam takes his turn with the kids and then counts them all as they finish up--he's not too worried about losing track of them, Jean's got a handle on it--just habit. He could sure use that power back home. His tough kid from earlier is looking better and comes over to lean on Sam like Sam's a convenient lamp post, hands in his pockets. Teacher? What teacher. He doesn't want a hug or to be friends of nothin'. Nothing's happening here.

"You could.... if you really wanted to. So could Charles. And I'm sure it is tempting at times." Hank offers quietly to Jean... knowing it must be hard to have such power. And especially with seeing such a painful world. Hank offers Jean's shoulder a warm squeeze, focusing his attention on Sam and the Students.

Jean leans her head against Hank's hand on her shoulder in a moment of quiet understanding. "That would be using a figurative atomic bomb to end a problem, Henry," she murmurs. As the kids finish floating their cranes, she steps forward. "Everyone, let's thank Miss Nakamura for teaching us so much today, and for giving us an understanding of something we may not have considered before." She leads the kids in applause. A few move to hug the tour guide as a thank you.

"Now we're going down the street to get some lunch at McDonalds!" Jean announces. That gets whopping and hollering of joy. Happy Meals do make kids happy. And fat. But it's only for the field trip!

"Oh, sure, be the fun one," Sam grouses playfully, giving Jean a wink. "Thank you for taking us to McDonalds, Miss Grey," he intones in a sing-song voice, to be echoed by the kids around him.

It's good to have a change of mood, let the kids shake off the seriousness. Sam knows they've taken it in and that they sometimes think about these sorts of things--he did when he was a kid, especially when he first knew how different he was. Each of his hands gets claimed before they get very far, which never gets old.

"Oh, do I need to hurry up so we get there faster?" he asks, as he gets towed ahead.

"Ooooooooo, Happy Meals. Dibs on any of the toys that nobody wants." You might think he's joking, but he's not. Hank does indeed gather any of the toys that nobody end up wanting at he end of the meal. He's such a kid at heart.

Jean can't help but chuckle at Sam's greatness with the kiddos. "Have I mentioned, Mister Guthrie, how very pleased I am that you've come back to Xavier's to teach? You've made quite an impact." She's smiling now, as they depart the building and walk in careful lines, each pair of kids holding hands to make sure no one is ever alone. She's also giving Hank the hint-hint look like she could be pleased with HIM too if he came back to teach. But surely there will be more guilt for him over McNuggets and fries. It's been a good day.