A Japanese Soldier’s Comfort Women Confession

Introduction – Yuichi’s Opening Monologue (Act 1)

YUICHI (softly, reflective)

When I left home, the cherry blossoms were still in bloom.

People waved. The village cheered.
They told me I was brave. That I’d make my family proud.
I believed them.

I was young. I thought I understood what duty meant.
I thought honor was something you earned with obedience.

I didn’t know that silence could grow heavier than a rifle.
That one step through a door could make a man lose his name.

They trained me to forget.
Forget my softness. My hesitation. My eyes.

But I remember everything.

I remember the scent of apricot blossoms.
The weight of her silence.
And the sound I never made… because I was too ashamed to cry.

(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event.) 

Act 1: What I Swore Beneath the Blossoms

FADE IN

EXT. RURAL JAPANESE VILLAGE – TOHOKU REGION – SPRING 1943 – MORNING

The wind is gentle, carrying the scent of melting snow and damp earth.
Beyond the fields, mountains still hold pockets of white.
A path of stone runs through the village, flanked by modest wooden homes, tiled roofs streaked from winter’s retreat.

At the center of the village stands a massive cherry blossom tree, just past full bloom.
Petals drift like quiet snow across the dirt square, where villagers gather in somber silence.

A small makeshift stage has been built from crates and tatami mats.
Standing upon it is the Village Chief, dressed in formal black kimono, his face grave beneath his white eyebrows.

Behind him, a cloth banner reads:
“Send-off Ceremony – May the Brave Return in Glory”

VILLAGE CHIEF (projecting voice)
"Yuichi, son of Ishikawa.
You’ve been raised with integrity. With loyalty. With discipline.
Now, carry those virtues to the front lines.
Serve the Emperor. Serve Japan. Serve with honor."

A beat.

He steps forward and places both hands on Yuichi’s shoulders.

VILLAGE CHIEF (lowering his voice)
"And above all… come back whole."

Yuichi nods. He doesn’t speak.

The crowd erupts into a tired yet proud chorus.

VILLAGERS (shouting)
"Banzai! Banzai!"

Some eyes are wet. Others, unreadable.

Yuichi stands stiffly, a khaki duffel strapped across his shoulder.
His uniform is slightly too large, the sleeves rolled once.

A faint wind brushes the stage. Petals land on his cap and shoulders.

He does not brush them off.

INT. YUICHI'S FAMILY HOME – EARLY MORNING, HOURS BEFORE THE CEREMONY

MOTHER (50s) stands in the kitchen, rolling two rice balls with care.
She wipes her hands and places them in a cloth, folding the edges as if packing something sacred.

In the adjacent room, Yuichi kneels beside a wooden chest.
He ties the last knot on his satchel.

Neither speaks.

She approaches and quietly places the wrapped bundle beside his bag.

MOTHER
"...You don’t need to write.
Not unless you want to."

Yuichi lowers his head slightly.

MOTHER (gently)
"Just… live.
Come back breathing. That’s all I ask."

He turns to her, but only nods. He cannot speak.

EXT. OUTSIDE THE HOUSE – MOMENTS LATER

Yuichi steps into the morning light.
His father waits outside, tall and silent, arms crossed in front of their vegetable patch.

The two exchange a stiff glance. No embrace. No smile.

The father raises his hand and brings it down hard on Yuichi’s back.

FATHER (gruffly)
"Don’t cry.
You’re a man of this village."

A pause.

FATHER (softer)
"Don’t bring shame to your name."

Yuichi bows once, then straightens with clenched fists.

Suddenly, his younger sister, barely ten, runs out from behind the gate.
She holds something small, wrapped in crumpled paper.

SISTER (panting)
"Yuichi! Look! I caught it before it hit the ground!"

She opens the paper: a single cherry blossom petal, pale pink and perfect.

Yuichi kneels, takes it gently, and places it in the small paper pouch already tucked inside his breast pocket.

He doesn’t say thank you.
Instead, he touches her head once, stands, and turns toward the road.

EXT. VILLAGE PATH – LATER THAT MORNING

The procession to the station begins.

Children run behind.
Mothers bow low.
Elders raise hands in quiet salute.

Yuichi walks at the front, alongside two other young men also called that season.

He doesn’t speak.
He barely blinks.

The cherry blossoms fall behind him, scattering across the stone path.

EXT. TRAIN PLATFORM – SHORTLY AFTER

A soot-covered train idles, groaning softly.

Steam escapes in bursts from beneath.
Soldiers already aboard stare blankly from open windows.

Yuichi stands on the platform, back straight.

His eyes scan the village one last time—
the slope of the mountains, the crooked power line, the tree behind the schoolhouse.

Then he sees his mother.

She stands apart from the others, hands folded in front of her apron, eyes lowered.
She does not wave.

His sister waves for her. Both hands. As hard as she can.

The train bell rings. Time.

Yuichi boards.

INT. TRAIN CAR – IN TRANSIT

The car rattles along rusted tracks.
Yuichi sits by the window.

Across from him, another conscripted youth chews dried radish.
Someone coughs. No one talks.

Yuichi looks at his reflection in the glass.

Then slowly reaches into his breast pocket.
He unfolds the paper.

The cherry blossom petal has begun to dry, curling at the edge.

He places it gently back into the paper and folds it again.

He closes his eyes.

YUICHI (inner monologue, voiceover)
"I will return.
I will not shame my family.
I will not falter."

A pause.

YUICHI (continued)
"...The cherry blossoms…
they will bloom again next spring."

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT 1

Act 2: Between Orders and Righteousness

INT. MILITARY TRAINING GROUNDS – DAY

The sky is white with haze.
Mud cakes the training field.
The sharp bark of orders breaks the silence like a blade.

YUICHI, now one of dozens of recruits in faded khaki, stands barefoot on cold, wet earth.
He wavers slightly, but doesn’t collapse.

His face is pale. His lips, dry.

Before him, a sergeant paces with a bamboo staff, eyes wild with righteousness.

SERGEANT (shouting)
"Who do you belong to?!"

YUICHI (hoarse, almost broken)
"To the Empire of Japan!"

SERGEANT
"And who decides if you live or die?!"

YUICHI
"The Emperor!"

SERGEANT (striking the ground)
"Forget your mother! Forget your name! Forget your self!
You are a weapon now. You are purpose, not person!"

Other soldiers stare ahead, blank-faced.
Some tremble. Some do not.

INT. BARRACKS – NIGHT

Dim lights. Tatami mats lined tightly on the floor.
Sweat and gun oil fill the air.

Yuichi lies awake, eyes wide, hands clenched under his blanket.

Beside him, another conscripted soldier, Tajima (20s), leans over.

TAJIMA (in a low voice)
"You hear what they said?
Next camp’s got… something different."

YUICHI (barely responds)
"What?"

TAJIMA
"Women. A special facility.
They call it a ‘comfort station.’ For us."

Silence.

TAJIMA (chuckling softly)
"I mean, we’re putting our lives on the line. A man’s got needs, right?"

Yuichi doesn’t respond.
His breathing is shallow.

EXT. ROADSIDE – MARCHING TO NEW POST – A FEW DAYS LATER

A line of soldiers walks under a grey sky.
Their boots crunch over gravel, their uniforms heavy with dust.

In the distance, barbed wire, a small guard shack, and a concrete building with no windows rise behind a bamboo fence.

No signs. No sound.

Just the faint smell of disinfectant and something… metallic.

TAJIMA (nudging Yuichi)
"There it is. The place."

Yuichi stares at it.
His stomach tightens.
He looks away.

INT. BUNK ROOM – SAME NIGHT

An officer reads from a typed paper.

OFFICER (flatly)
"As part of your regular health maintenance, you are required to visit the army-designated hygiene station.
Non-compliance may be subject to disciplinary action."

The room is silent.

Some soldiers smirk. Others look at their hands.

Yuichi stares at the floor, unmoving.

EXT. “HYGIENE STATION” – NIGHT, DAYS LATER

A low, unmarked building.
Wooden steps creak under the weight of boots.
A warm glow spills from a single lantern.

Yuichi stands at the end of a slow-moving line.
Ahead of him, soldiers exchange dirty jokes and elbow one another.

Tajima steps back and murmurs in Yuichi’s ear.

TAJIMA
"You can’t refuse this.
You do, and they’ll call you weak.
Or worse, a sympathizer."

Yuichi doesn’t answer.

The door opens.
A soldier exits, adjusting his belt.

A female figure stands in the shadows inside the doorway.
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t lift her head.

She simply raises a hand and gestures.

INT. HALLWAY – INSIDE THE COMFORT STATION

Yuichi follows in silence.
His boots echo in the wooden corridor.

A woman—her name is Jungsook, though he does not yet know it—leads him without words.
She wears a plain blouse, hair tied back.

She stops before a closed door.

Without looking at him, she speaks in a flat voice.

JUNGSOOK (quietly)
"Go in.
When you're done… turn off the light."

She turns and walks away.

Yuichi stands frozen before the door.

INT. OUTSIDE THE ROOM – SAME MOMENT

He reaches for the doorknob.

Stops.

From inside the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out the small paper pouch.
Inside is the cherry blossom petal, now dry and curled at the edges.

He stares at it for a long moment.
Then returns it to his pocket.

He takes a slow, trembling breath.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"This is war.
This is expected.
This is what they told me I must do."

His hand closes on the knob.

INT. OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR – UNSEEN

Soft candlelight flickers.
The air is still.
No words are spoken.

A young girl sits on the edge of a futon, her knees drawn up to her chest.
In her hands, she clutches a cloth embroidered with a single apricot blossom.

She does not lift her eyes.

The door begins to creak open.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT 2

Act 3: The Girl Beyond the Door

INT. COMFORT STATION HALLWAY – NIGHT

The corridor is long and dimly lit.
Flickering bulbs sway slightly from the ceiling.
The air smells of wet wood, mildew, and something sterile beneath it all.

YUICHI walks slowly, following the silent footsteps of Jungsook, the Korean woman assigned to guide the soldiers.

Her back is straight, her face expressionless.
She never looks at him.

They stop at the end of the corridor, before a sliding door.

For a moment, only the sound of rain pattering on the roof can be heard.

JUNGSOOK (quietly, flat)
"Go in.
Turn off the light when you’re finished."

She turns and walks away, leaving him alone.

YUICHI stands still.
His hand hovers above the door handle.

He hears nothing from the other side.

He looks down at his boots, caked with dried mud from earlier drills.
Then to the worn wood beneath his feet.

Slowly, he raises his hand to his chest, reaching inside his uniform.

He pulls out the folded paper pouch.

The cherry blossom petal—once vibrant pink—is now crinkled, its color faded to the pale of old rice paper.

He stares at it, breath caught in his throat.

Then—folds it back, tucks it away.

He opens the door.

INT. COMFORT ROOM – SAME MOMENT

Warm candlelight flickers faintly against the cracked plaster walls.
The floor is covered with a thin mat. A small futon rests at the center.

Sitting there, barely moving, is a young Korean girl—Eunhee.

She appears no older than fourteen.

Her long black hair is tied back loosely.
She clutches a cloth in her lap—embroidered with a single apricot blossom.

Her knees are drawn to her chest.
She does not look up when Yuichi enters.

YUICHI (stunned, whispering internally)
"...She’s just a child."

His feet feel glued to the ground.

He had imagined something different.
Or maybe he had tried not to imagine anything at all.

He stands there, unable to move.

EUNHEE (softly, without looking up)
"...Please… come in."

The voice is nearly a whisper.
Mechanical. Lifeless.

She doesn’t speak Japanese well. But she knows enough.

Yuichi's throat tightens.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him.
The candle sputters slightly, throwing shadows across the wall.

He kneels near the edge of the futon, careful not to come too close.

Silence stretches between them like a wall.

Eunhee remains motionless.
Her fingers twist in the fabric of the cloth.
The apricot blossom embroidery is stained in one corner—red, faint and dried.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"I could leave.
Say I was sick.
Say I wasn’t ready.
But the others…
They’d say I was weak. Disloyal.
Some would laugh. Others would report me."

He stares at the candlelight dancing across the girl’s face.

He can’t look at her eyes.

He can’t look at himself.

Eunhee finally moves.
She lays down, her back to him.

Still clutching the cloth.
Still silent.

Waiting.

Yuichi lowers his head.
He sets his hand down—
It brushes the edge of her cloth.

He flinches.

YUICHI (inner monologue, trembling)
"This isn’t her choice.
This isn’t mine either…
Is it?"

He reaches forward, hand trembling violently.

Her shoulder twitches.

He freezes.

Time stops.

The candle flickers once…
Then settles again.

INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE – LATER THAT NIGHT

Jungsook passes by, silent as ever.

She pauses before the room.

Inside, the light is still on.

She doesn’t knock. Doesn’t call out.

Instead, she continues walking—her footsteps absorbed by the dark.

INT. COMFORT ROOM – LATER

Yuichi sits on the edge of the futon, still dressed.
His head is bowed, hands between his knees.

Eunhee lies under the thin blanket, curled up like a winter leaf.

Her face is turned toward the wall.

The cloth is pressed tightly to her chest.

She has not spoken since the first words.

After a long silence, she speaks again.

Softly. Quietly.

But clearly.

EUNHEE
"…You didn’t cry, did you?"

Yuichi’s shoulders stiffen.

He looks over, but she’s still facing away.

A beat.

EUNHEE (still soft)
"You didn’t cry…
but I think… you wanted to."

Yuichi lowers his gaze.

His hands are shaking.

He looks at his fingers.

They are clean now.

But they feel soaked in something he can’t wash off.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"I was supposed to follow orders.
I did.
And now… I can’t feel anything.
Or maybe I feel too much, and that’s why I want to vanish."

He slowly stands.
Walks to the corner.
Extinguishes the candle.

Darkness returns.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT 3

Act 4: I Pretended Not to See

INT. MILITARY COMPOUND – COMFORT STATION HALLWAY – NIGHT

Rain pours outside.
Inside, the hallway is dark and narrow.
Yuichi leans against the wall, his uniform damp, boots loosely laced.

A thin line of red-streaked cloth slips out from beneath a closed door across from him.
He stares at it but does not move.
He does not ask.

Behind the walls, muffled voices rise and fall—moans, orders, silence, stifled sobs.

He blinks. Slowly.

INT. MESS HALL – THE NEXT DAY

Soldiers sit in clusters, slurping soup, stuffing rice into their mouths.
The fluorescent light above flickers faintly.

Laughter bubbles up from a corner.

TAJIMA (chewing with mouth open)
"She started crying, so I slapped her once.
After that, she went real quiet. Like a good girl."

SOLDIER B (grinning)
"They get soft after a few rounds.
You just gotta break the will, that’s all."

Yuichi picks up his chopsticks.

But he doesn’t eat.

He stands and walks away, his bowl untouched.

INT. COMFORT ROOM – LATER

Eunhee sits curled in the corner.
She no longer holds the embroidered cloth.
It lies folded beside her, untouched.

Her expression is blank.
Not asleep. Not awake.
Just… suspended.

Yuichi sits nearby, arms around his knees.

They say nothing.

Even silence has grown tired.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"It gets easier.
Or maybe I just feel less.
That scares me more than the act itself."

He glances at her.

She doesn’t return the look.

He bows his head.

EXT. COMFORT STATION BACKYARD – NIGHT

A narrow patch of gravel and rusted drainpipes.
Rain falls in slanted sheets.

Yuichi steps outside, alone.

He lights a cigarette. The flame flickers against his face, but he doesn’t inhale.
He just holds it.

Something shifts near the fence.
He turns.

A girl—Minja—stands barefoot in the mud, spinning slowly in the rain, her arms out like wings.

Her hair sticks to her face.

MINJA (laughing softly)
"Mom… give me the pink rice cake…
The one with the flower on it…"

She giggles. Then stops.

Suddenly she drops to her knees and begins folding something in the mud—a paper doll.

Yuichi watches from a distance.

She never sees him.

INT. BARRACKS – EARLY MORNING

A scream.

Then another.

Soldiers rush down the hall.

Yuichi follows slowly, already knowing.

At the door of Minja’s room, a crowd has gathered.

Inside, she hangs from a beam.
Her face is turned toward the window, now gray with dawn.
A ripped paper doll dangles from her fingers.

Jungsook stands nearby, not crying, not speaking—just watching.

EXT. BACK OF THE COMPOUND – LATER

Minja’s body is wrapped in a blanket, carried out on a stretcher by two men in silence.

Yuichi stands far away, barely breathing.

Only her feet show, exposed and pale.

Something in his chest caves in—but makes no sound.

INT. YUICHI’S ROOM – NIGHT

He sits alone, back against the wall.

Rain taps the windows.

In his lap, a scrap of paper—a fragment from Minja’s torn doll.

On the back, scrawled in uneven Korean script:

“나는 꿈을 꾼다”
“I am dreaming.”

Yuichi stares at it for a long time.

He opens his palm.

Inside is the cherry blossom petal, now pressed flat, brittle and colorless.

He holds it and the paper together.
Then sets them down and closes his eyes.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"I told myself this was duty.
That it wasn’t my choice.
But that’s not true.

I had a choice.
I could’ve said no.
I could’ve looked.
I could’ve screamed."

He opens his eyes.

"They screamed."

INT. COMFORT STATION HALLWAY – SAME NIGHT

Yuichi walks the corridor alone.

He passes door after door—
each one holding a memory.

He stops at one in particular.

Inside: silence.

He doesn’t open it.

He just leans against the wall.
And slides slowly to the floor.

EXT. TREE LINE BEHIND THE BARRACKS – DAWN

The rain has stopped.

A few cherry trees, far from home, bloom awkwardly in the corner of the compound.

One petal detaches, falling quietly into the mud.

Yuichi watches.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"They told me to serve my country.
They never said it would mean destroying someone else’s.
Someone else’s body.
Someone else’s voice."

He looks down at his hands.

"They stopped shaking long ago.
I don’t know if that means I’ve become stronger…
Or just empty."

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT 4

Act 5: I Didn’t Survive to Speak

EXT. TOKYO – BURNT CITY STREETS – WINTER 1946

Ash drifts like snow through the narrow streets.
Walls stand half-crushed. Telephone poles lean.
Children pick through rubble while women carry buckets of water from broken fountains.

YUICHI, now 26, walks through it all with a tattered coat and eyes like glass.

He carries a small cloth bag and a paper bundle tucked inside his coat.

The war is over.

But something inside him hasn’t stopped burning.

INT. FAMILY HOME – TOHOKU VILLAGE – EVENING

The house is silent.
No fire in the hearth. No voices. No smells of dinner.

Photographs sit above the kamidana shrine—his mother’s, his father’s.
Both passed during the war.

Yuichi kneels in front of them, his head low.

He unwraps his satchel slowly.

Inside: the cherry blossom petal, now nearly crumbled into dust.
A blood-specked paper doll fragment.
The embroidered handkerchief.
And one unopened letter he never sent.

He lays them in front of the shrine.

And speaks aloud for the first time in days.

YUICHI (quietly)
"I made it home.
But I couldn’t bring anything worth carrying."

INT. SCHOOL CLASSROOM – MODERN DAY (DECADES LATER)

A group of high school girls listens to their teacher read a passage from a history book.

On the page: a black-and-white photo of a small cloth embroidered with a blossom.
A caption reads:

“Recovered in Korea, believed to have belonged to a comfort station survivor.”

STUDENT A (softly)
"Whose was it?"

STUDENT B
"Maybe one of the girls...?"

TEACHER
"Perhaps. But it may also have come from the other side.
Some things are found in silence, not in words."

EXT. PARK – SPRING BLOSSOM SEASON – PRESENT DAY

A figure sits alone on a bench beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree.

He is old.
His face weathered by time and regret.
It is Yuichi, now in his 80s.

In his hands, he holds a thin envelope, still sealed.
And a wrinkled petal, dry and gray.

Around him, families picnic. Children run. Laughter fills the air.

He hears none of it.

He looks up into the blossoms.

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"I didn’t die in the war.
But I never returned, either."

FLASHBACK – INT. TRAIN – 1943

Young Yuichi stares out the train window, holding the petal freshly picked by his sister.

Hope flickers in his eyes.

BACK TO PRESENT

YUICHI (inner monologue)
"I thought I’d return with stories.
With medals. With honor.

But the only thing I brought back… was silence."

He looks down at the envelope again.

Then back to the blossoms.

A breeze carries petals down like snow.

He opens the envelope for the first time.

Inside is a single sentence, written decades ago but never read.

“If I survive, I promise to remember her name.”

He lowers the letter.

And closes his eyes.

EXT. SAME PARK – LATER THAT DAY

The bench is now empty.
But on the seat, resting gently, is the folded letter.
And a petal.

The breeze lifts the petal into the air.
It floats—higher, slower—then disappears.

NARRATION (FINAL MONOLOGUE – YUICHI)

"I was told to be strong.
To serve.
To forget.

But the truth is…
I didn’t survive to speak.

I survived
because someone had to remember
what silence looks like."

FADE OUT

TEXT ON SCREEN:

Many soldiers returned home.

Some lived proudly.
Others lived silently.

But for those who bore witness to what should never be repeated,
silence was not peace.

It was a burden.

THE END

Final Thoughts – Yuichi’s Closing Monologue 

YUICHI (older, tired, voice breaking but steady)

The war ended a long time ago.

But some battles… don’t end with gunfire.
Some never even echo.

I didn’t die back then. But I didn’t return either.
What came back was a body that aged.
A man who couldn't speak, because what needed to be said…
no one wanted to hear.

I held on to a petal. A letter I never sent. A promise I never kept.

They all withered in my hands.
Just like her voice.

They told me I was a survivor.
But I wasn’t meant to survive to speak.
I survived to remember.

And now…
as the blossoms fall again,
I ask no forgiveness.
Only this—

That silence…
not be repeated.

Short Bios:

Yuichi (祐一)

A quiet, dutiful young man from rural Japan, Yuichi joins the Imperial Army believing in honor and national pride. But as he’s drawn into the moral gray zone of the war—especially through his forced involvement with the comfort women system—he becomes a symbol of silent guilt and emotional collapse. As an old man, he carries the weight of what he witnessed and what he never dared to say.

Eunhee (은희)

A soft-spoken Korean girl taken from her family under the pretense of factory work, only to be forced into a comfort station. She communicates more with her silence than with words. Her embroidered apricot-blossom cloth is the only link to her lost innocence. Eunhee’s quiet presence haunts Yuichi long after the war.

Minja (민자)

A once cheerful and bright girl around the same age as Eunhee. Over time, the trauma of captivity fractures her mind, leading her to behave like a child. She folds paper dolls to escape reality. Her eventual suicide becomes the turning point in Yuichi’s ability to keep pretending.

Jungsook (정숙)

An older comfort woman who has learned to survive by closing off her emotions. She manages the rotation of girls in silence and obedience, suppressing her anger and grief. While she barely speaks, her every gesture reveals the buried rage and numbness that come from witnessing too much for too long.