KOBE -- Etsuko Sato, a resident of the Hyogo Prefecture city of Kakogawa, receives an email on Jan. 17 every year -- the anniversary of the 1995 Great Hanshin Earthquake -- from her "sister" she never knew she had until 30 years ago. It was during a search for her mother, who went missing in the disaster, that their paths first crossed.

The now 61-year-old Sato was living with her two daughters in Kakogawa when the magnitude 7.3 earthquake struck directly beneath south Hyogo on Jan. 17, 1995, causing catastrophic devastation in the area including the prefectural capital Kobe. The following day, she learned that the apartment building in Kobe's Suma Ward where her then 65-year-old mother Masako had been living had collapsed and caught on fire.

Starting three days after the quake, Sato searched the site six times, combing through the debris for her mother. Despite help from Self-Defense Force personnel, all they found were her mother's cherished hand-wound wristwatch and the remains of her beloved white cat. "Where could she have gone?" Sato wondered.

Sato had grown up in that very apartment with her parents and older brother. Her mother worked tirelessly from morning till night at a flower shop and as a cleaner. She was a calm person and rarely got angry. Sometimes, though, Sato heard her parents arguing late at night. The discord puzzled her. She left home after graduating from high school.

'Come pick up your souvenir' -- Their last conversation

Sato's final conversation with her mother was about three days before the earthquake. "I went to Kyoto. Come pick up my souvenir for you," her mother had said over the phone. "What was the souvenir?" Sato still wonders. In the year before the quake, they had discussed the possibility of her mother moving in with her, but her mother had resisted the idea.

"If only I had insisted on taking her in," Sato later thought with regret.

During the search, Sato distributed flyers at evacuation centers seeking information on her mother's whereabouts and asked relatives for any news. Then one day, her brother called and said, "Apparently, we have an older sister. Did you know?" She was stunned. While searching for Masako, police had uncovered this fact and made contact. When Sato asked her father about it, he replied, "I didn't know directly, either."

Before moving to Kobe, Masako, originally from Fukuoka Prefecture, had divorced her first husband and given her firstborn daughter up for adoption. She had kept this secret when she married Sato's father. However, her father had once overheard Masako talking to relatives about the daughter she had given up. "So this was the source of their discord," Sato realized.

Meeting her sister for the first time

Sato met her older sister for the first time in April 1995, three months after the earthquake. Her sister traveled from Gunma Prefecture to Kobe to meet her. It didn't really dawn on Sato that she had a sister just by hearing about her, but seeing her in person brought the fact home. The woman she greeted at a train station had the same facial contours and body shape as her mother.

Before the earthquake, her sister had not been in contact with Masako. "I never imagined I'd have a younger brother and sister, so I'm happy," her sister said. She was 12 years older than Sato. A surge of thoughts raced through Sato's mind.

"When my mother gave birth to me, what was she thinking? Was she reminded of my sister? Had she always wanted to see her again?"

Six months passed without the mother being found, and a funeral was held in July. Sato's sister wept. Masako's remains were never found, so they placed debris in the urn instead. Sato was left without a sense of closure.

Sato had divorced in 1991, and was raising her two daughters on her own. She had been forced out of a job because she couldn't work overtime due to child care responsibilities, leaving her in a tough financial situation. Amid the lack of progress in finding her mother, anxiety, anger and sadness consumed her. Her sleepless nights increased, and she was eventually diagnosed with depression. She felt reluctant to share this with her sister, whom she hadn't seen since the funeral.

One day, when she could barely bring herself to clean the house, her eldest daughter, then of elementary school age, ran up to her, complaining of itchy eyes. It turned out to be conjunctivitis. "If I keep going like this, I might end up putting my daughters' lives at risk," she realized. This became a turning point. She began looking for work again, jumping from job to job while focusing on raising her children. At times, she wished she could ask her mother for advice, but she laughed away such thoughts, saying to herself, "Oh, that's right. She's not here." Staying busy helped her keep moving forward.

Both her daughters eventually married, and Sato now has a grandchild in high school. As for her mother, Sato has come to think, "Even if she somehow survived, she'd be 95 by now. She's surely resting peacefully in heaven." While she gradually came to accept her mother's absence, her sister remained on her mind.

Closing the distance

It has been about five years since Sato last saw her sister when she stayed at her home in Gunma. They have kept in touch through seasonal gift exchanges and emails, but the messages were initially formal. "I want to call her 'sis,'" Sato thought, but gauging the emotional distance was difficult since they suddenly became aware they were siblings as adults.

Still, as they grew older, Sato started to think, "We don't know which one of us might go first and when. We are family, and I want us to be closer."

Over the past decade, the sisters have been exchanging more casual messages. In December 2024, Sato emailed her sister to wish her a happy birthday, something she often forgot. "I turned 73. Not that I'm happy about it," her sister replied.

"I wish we could do things normal sisters do, like eating together and chatting," Sato says. Slowly but surely, the distance between the sisters brought together by the earthquake is beginning to close.

(Japanese original by Kotaro Ono, Kobe Bureau)