Japan

Hana is twelve, and there is a paper crane half-made in her hand when the whole street is called to the hall to hear the wireless.

Japan is at war. Her brother Taro says they'll win quickly, and says it kindly, to stop the women worrying. Her grandmother says something else on the walk home, and it is the only instruction Hana is given: keep folding.

So she folds — one crane, then another, and a number she keeps to herself, because a number you say out loud is a number somebody can ask about. Then Taro's call-up papers come, and she makes him the best crane she has ever made, and he buttons it into his breast pocket and goes. His first letter, when it comes, is six sentences long and never says where he is.