The Morning That Changed the World

August 6, 1945 – Hiroshima, Japan

The morning was warm and clear. Twelve-year-old Aiko ran through the narrow streets of Hiroshima, clutching her schoolbag, waving goodbye to her mother. The city was calm, unaware that death was already on its way—silently flying high above, carried by a B-29 bomber named Enola Gay.

At 8:15 a.m., the sky split open.

A flash brighter than the sun lit up the city. Aiko, standing on the school’s staircase, saw it for a second—then felt her world explode. She was thrown to the ground, her ears rang, and everything went dark.

When she opened her eyes, the sky was on fire.Buildings had vanished. Streets had melted. The river was filled with people, their skin hanging like rags, their mouths calling for water. Smoke covered the sun, and silence was replaced by screams.

Aiko searched for her mother, but there was nothing left of her home. She wandered the ruins, barefoot and burnt, among tens of thousands who suffered the same fate.

Days passed. The survivors—burned, sick, hopeless—looked up