The oxygen mixture purifies my lungs of the stifling breath of rust and whale guts. Under the Pacific I don’t even feel the cold. I dive, slowly making my way toward Tokyo Bay, the darkness, the solitude of the deep: almost like returning home.
The Japanese navy’s giant engines thrum overhead as I slide beneath their hulls. Yumi’s heavy accent plays in my mind.
My own lunatic voice.
I slowly kick my fins, breathing the cool oxygen. My skin feels clean. I feel the ocean nudging me forward.
Seaweed and mud.
Welcome to Japan, Wayne.