Two red roses. Tied together. Laid at the USS Arizona Memorial, once a month. One for the Americans who died at Pearl Harbor. One for the Japanese. For twelve years, the same man laid them. Then he played taps on his bugle. His name was Richard Fiske. On December 7, 1941, he was a 19-year-old Marine bugler on the USS West Virginia. He watched his ship get torn apart. He carried that morning with him for decades. The roses were paid for by Zenji Abe. A Japanese dive-bomber pilot. He flew in the attack that morning. One of his bombs hit Fiske's ship. They met at Pearl Harbor fifty years later. Abe had come to apologize. Fiske could have walked away. Nobody on earth would have blamed him. He gave him a bear hug. Abe asked for one favor. He would send money every year. Would Fiske buy two roses each month and lay them at the memorial? One for each side. Fiske said yes. He kept his word every month until he was too sick to stand. The last time was December 7, 2003. He died the next spring. When he gave tours, he would pull out a photo of Abe and show it to visitors. This is the man who bombed Pearl Harbor, he would tell them. And he is my friend. That December, Abe came to Honolulu one last time. He was 88 and fighting cancer. He stood at the place where his friend rests, pressed his hands together around his prayer beads, and bowed for a long time. That same month, a seven-year-old girl stood at the memorial and played taps on her violin. For both of them.