Fortunately, Bunichi managed to swing one of his legs onto the overhang, so Masako was able to grab him by the belt and pull him in.
For several moments they sat on the narrow overhang in silence, looking at each other, listening to their hearts pounding away and waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Both of them were thinking about what might have happened, and both of them felt a chill run down their spine.
THE SCARY BRIDGE
“You know what?” Masako said to Bunichi several days later. “I’m not at all scared of heights any more.”
“Well, my psychologist uncle told me that people can sometimes have fears that come from guilt. So maybe your sense of guilt was replaced by the wonderful fact that you saved my life!”
“A sense of guilt, huh?” Masako wondered out loud.
Masako thought about what Bunichi had said. Could she have done something bad when she was much younger? Something she was too young to remember? Or could it be that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but something bad had happened and left her with a sense of guilt that had remained until that day? Perhaps it was some sort of secret from long ago. Something related to a Prajna mask and high places perhaps? But where could such a place be? And what could have happened? No matter how hard Masako tried to remember, nothing came to mind. Even though she had felt that something similar had happened before when Bunichi almost fell from the clock tower.
Several weeks later, just after the end of the autumn festival, Masako and Bunichi took a walk along the river that ran by the side of the town. The red spider lilies that had bloomed so beautifully in summer were nothing more than a memory now, and the two of them made their way down to the edge of the river to skim stones, before making their way over to the foot of a long bridge.
“Masako?” said Bunichi. “You know, it’s still early. Shall we walk across the bridge and down into the suburbs?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Masako. But then she noticed that the rails on both sides of the bridge were very low. “Actually, I think it might be time to head back,” she added, feeling that indescribable fear coming back.
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“Do you have other plans?”
“No, not particularly.”
“Then why not?” said Bunichi, suddenly noticing the anxious look on her face. “You’re not going to start telling me that you’re scared of crossing the bridge, are you?”
Bunichi had hit the nail on the head — so Masako didn’t even bother to reply. Instead, she glanced at the long white bridge, with its telegraph poles dotted along it at intervals of several metres and the low, wooden rails in between. Masako was now getting quite scared.
“I don’t want to cross the bridge,” Masako suddenly said.
“You really are a strange one,” said Bunichi as he took a few steps onto the bridge and peered over the handrail into the waters below.
“I guess it is a little high up,” he added. “But then, I thought you’d already overcome your fear of heights.”
“I just don’t like this bridge!”
“Suit yourself.”
Bunichi peered over the edge again and listened carefully. There was nobody around except for the two of them, and all he could hear was the rushing of the water and the occasional croak from a frog.
“I’ve got it!” said Bunichi. “It’s not heights you’re afraid of it. It’s the rails and handrails in high places that scare you! You were able to climb up that clock tower because there were no rails! Don’t you see — that made it easier for you!”
“But why would I be scared of rails?”
“I don’t know. But there are plenty of people who have random phobias.”
Masako wasn’t sure if Bunichi was making fun of her, so she started to pout a little.
“Well, I can’t help what I find scary, can I! I just feel as if something might come jumping out from behind one of those telegraph poles.”
“What, like someone wearing a Prajna mask?” smirked Bunichi.
“Stop it!” yelled Masako, surprising Bunichi.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look, I’m scared! I’m really scared!”
Masako covered her face with both hands and sank down onto the ground. She suddenly felt like she might be able to remember something that happened a long time ago. But at the same time, she was too scared to remember it.
“Are you not feeling well?” asked Bunichi, looking genuinely worried.
Masako said nothing, but gave a small nod.
“Okay then,” said Bunichi. “Let’s go home.”
THE HEAD IN THE HALLWAY
Masako felt as if she could remember whatever it was that had happened if she really put her mind to it. But she was afraid the memory might be too painful for her to bear. So several frustrating days went by. It was actually during that period that Yoshio started to wet his bed again.
“What is it this time?” asked Masako. “The woman with the scissors isn’t there any more, right?”
“No, she isn’t…” replied Yoshio. “It’s just that…” Yoshio’s voice trailed off into incomprehensible mumbling.
Later on, long after they’d gone to bed, Masako awoke in the middle of the night and tried again to help Yoshio overcome his fear.
“Come on, Yoshio,” she said, shaking him awake, “let’s take you to the bathroom.”
“But…” Yoshio mumbled, sleepily.
“Come on, hurry up, or you’re going to wet the bed again.”
“But I don’t want to go yet.”
“But you have to go. Oh… I see. You’re scared again, aren’t you? You’re back to being a big scaredy- cat!”
“No, that’s not why.”
“Well then, go!”
Yoshio pulled back the covers and got out of bed. Then he walked out into the hallway slowly. As for Masako, she was feeling quite satisfied with herself, so she rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes. But before she could fall back to sleep, Yoshio came back into the room with his face as pale as a sheet. Then he sat down next to Masako and began to cry.
