Tatsumi (辰巳) (Tatsumi)

February 9th, 1995 Seventh anniversary of

the death of Osamu Tezuka.

I started visiting him,

when I was only 15 years old.

It has been approximately 34 years.

It's a great honour for me

to have lived

the same age as Mr. Tezuka.

Mr. Tezuka traversed the Showa era

at lightning speed.

I regret that he didn't have longer

to work on his creation.

He's gone too soon.

Time absorbs all men

without distinction,

whether great or ordinary.

I felt it sorely.

The world of Manga is very empty

without Mr. Tezuka.

Haunted by memories of the past,

I could not stand it

and left the ceremony before it was over.

I felt so tired.

The days of my youth

devoted to the passionate pursuit

of my dream of Gekiga

I miss sorely.

Three years after the end of war,

the sound of hammers echoed again

and Osaka finally seemed to come back to life.

But for us ordinary people,

the lack of food was a day-to-day routine.

I was born in Osaka,

in 1935.

At the end of the Second World War,

I was only 10 years old.

August 6th, 1971

Peace Park in Hiroshima

Get lost, Minister Satô!

Calm down!

Get off me!

It was raining that day.

A black rain ...

for 26 years,

black rain continues

to fall on my heart,

never letting me rest.

In 1945

August 6th

at 8:00 am,

an atomic bomb exploded

480 meters over Hiroshima

instantly turning the world into hell.

Appointed by the press service of the Department of War

I was immediately sent to Hiroshima.

A black rain ...

Gloomy ...

The passengers were sitting quietly, in the burned out tram.

As I got closer,

I realised they were burnt on site.

The powerful radiation of the bomb

had printed a human shadow on the steps of a bank.

The shadow of a spiral staircase engraved forever ...

I pressed the trigger like one possessed.

I walked through the debris

to reach an alley where a burned out house stood.

I discovered a sight so upsetting, that I immediately

burst into tears.

On a wall,

two human shadows were printed clearly.

Probably a mother and her son?

The devoted son was massaging his mother when the bomb

surprised them.

Sobbing,

I pressed the shutter button.

My eyes filled with tears,

I was blinded.

Does God not exist?

How can such things happen?

Not stopping to cry, I helped to carry

victims to a health centre.

I was completely numb when I returned to the department.

Looking at the prints that night,

I burst into tears again.

Three days later, I returned to the location of the photograph.

The wall on which the shadows were printed

had disappeared.

Excuse me ...

Do you know who lived here?

It was the house of the Yamadas.

They lived here in pairs, a mother and her son.

They were found burned, both.

My hunch was right ...

a devoted son massaging his mother.

Despite the smell of dozens of thousands of corpses

burning all around,

the sight of the sunset was incredibly beautiful.

Then the war ended.

Japan barely recovered,

signed the Treaty of Peace

in September 1951.

Journal Sanyô Maiasa

This photograph is exceptional.

It could move all of Japan ...

Who knows, even the world?

I'd like to sell it to you.

For over 6 years I kept it without showing anyone.

Today, I need money.

Thanks to the treaty, we can finally publish pictures of the bomb.

We offer you a good price.

The money I got for the photo allowed me to feed my family

despite my unemployment.

But I was tortured

by the voice of my conscience.

Mom ... let me massage you!

What's gotten into you?

You're soaked in sweat!

A bad dream ...

A devoted son and his mother! The moving shadows of the Yamadas

The photograph upset all of Japan.

The Maiasa published a series of articles on the sacrificed mother and son.

The faces of the son Kiyoshi and his mother Mado are finally revealed

Let's raise a fund to build a statue in their memory.

Their image must live forever!

Poems and movies dedicated to the devoted son

Another article calling you a great photographer!

With the impact of my photography,

my guilt faded.

I even developed a secret pride.

Fantastic, right?

A famous sculptor created this statue.

The Maiasa decided to send him abroad

to represent our campaign

No More Hiroshima worldwide.

Mr. Koyanagi, take the lead of our movement!

Me travelling the world?

I'll do my best.

I carry with me the memory of the 200,000 victims of the bomb.

I'll spread No More Hiroshima in the world!

We count on you, Mr. Koyanagi!

Every day, when the limousine of the journal

came to pick me up with its flag,

I was carried in pride.

Rest in peace Our mistakes will not be repeated

You are Mr. Koyanagi?

So you're the one who invited me here.

I'm in a hurry, tell me what you want.

Will you attend the inauguration ceremony of the statue?

You became famous!

With nothing but a miserable picture.

What a charade.

The photo of a devoted son?

Takes a lot of nerve to pass a murder

for a simple massage.

What do you say?

That it was the image of a murder.

He was going to strangle her when the bomb exploded.

What?

I have proof!

Who are you?

You're crazy!

Tell me who you are!

Don't you recognise this face?

Remember. I was in the newspaper!

I'm Kiyoshi Yamada.

The devoted son of the statue!

What are you talking about?

The mother and her son were dead on the spot.

They were found burned!

They are on the list of victims.

There has been two deaths ...

but the boy was one of my friends.

I asked him to kill my mother.

On the day of the bomb,

I was mobilised in Kure in a weapons factory.

My friend had to take care of my mother during this time.

The bomb was dropped that morning.

I quickly returned to Hiroshima.

I saw the printed image,

the murder that I commissioned.

I rushed to tear down the wall.

The wall ...

It's true that it has been collapsed.

Yes,

it was I who destroyed it.

I thought I had cleared all the evidence ...

But then your statue

and all the fuss.

That I didn't expect!

What do you think? You have before you the devoted son

that makes people cry in their cottages!

Why kill your mother?

I wanted money ...

Sell the house ...

Money for my pleasure.

I had enough of labouring like a maniac.

But everything is screwed.

Now, here I'm deprived of identity,

forced to live hidden like a rat.

I can not believe it.