I was reading in National Geographic a couple of months ago about a kid, Kawamoto, who survived the Hiroshima blast but was orphaned. A man that owned a soy sauce business in a different town took Kawamoto in and promised him a house of his own if he worked for free for twelve years. Kawamoto was eleven at the time of the blast. He worked six days a week from 2:00 AM until 4:00 PM. When Kawamoto was twenty-one, he met a girl, Motosura (I'm making that name up because I can't remember her name). They fell in love. When Kawamoto turned twenty-three he had finished his twelve years. The gentleman who had taken him in was good for his word and bought Kawamoto a house. Kawamoto went to Motosura's father to ask permission to marry. The father denied permission because Kawamoto was from Hiroshima, and he feared the children of the union would be deformed. Depressed, Kawamoto quit his job, walked away from his house, and joined the Yakusa. Kawamoto never saw Motosura again. Years later he found peace by returning to Hiroshima. Now, in his late eighties, Kawamoto works at the Peace Museum in Hiroshima handing out Origami birds and planes.
I another story, a lady tells of her mother who survived the blast and living to an old age. When the mother died, she was cremated. In her ashes were pieces of broken glass.
