The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

Masako was running and stumbling, with her hands wiping the tears that ran from her eyes. But fortunately, by the time she had reached the end of the bridge, Bunichi caught up with her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said. “That’s so dangerous. You weren’t looking where you were going! What if you’d run into one of those rails?”

“I didn’t mean to!” cried Masako as Bunichi put his arms around her. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

It had all happened eight years ago, when Masako was only seven years old. It was autumn, but it had been a humid day, with the distant mountain range turning grey under cloudy skies and rain threatening to fall at any moment. No one else was there, and there wasn’t a sound, except for the cries of the frogs by the water below. Masako was on her way home, having finished the shopping her mother had asked her to do at the other end of the bridge, and she was walking deliberately down the middle — as her mother had always told her to — away from the dangerous rails along the sides. That was when it happened.

“Do you remember?” asked Bunichi, kindly, and Masako gave a sheepish nod.

Etsuko, who had been running behind Bunichi, caught up.

“Masako! I’m sorry! I had no idea you were suffering so much! I mean, it happened eight years ago!”

“But I remember! Etsuko, I remember now!”

“But it was my fault!” said Etsuko, gripping Masako’s hand. “That day, I’d taken the Prajna mask hanging on my father’s wall without asking. I thought I could wear it and surprise someone. That’s why I was hiding behind the pole on that bridge. But it wasn’t like I was planning to play a prank on you. I was just waiting for the first person to cross the bridge. It could’ve been anyone. I didn’t even know it was you until I came out from behind the pole. Please believe me!”

Masako played the incident again in her mind: Etsuko jumping out in front of her with the Prajna mask on and her hair flailing wildly in the autumn breeze. She remembered how she’d screamed in sheer terror, and how she’d pushed Etsuko in the chest with all her strength. She recalled the sound of Etsuko’s back hitting the rail behind her and the crack of the wood giving way behind her. How Etsuko had seemed to hang in mid-air for just a moment before plunging with a scream into the waters below.

EVENTS THAT FOLLOWED

“Luckily, I fainted while I was falling,” said Etsuko, “so I didn’t actually swallow much water.”

Masako tried hard to listen, but Etsuko’s voice seemed as if it were coming from far away.

“Then I floated a little way downriver and came to rest on the bank,” continued Etsuko, putting her hand gently on Masako’s shoulder, “and that’s where somebody found me. Luckily, it was someone I knew, so they carried me straight back home. Unfortunately, I ended up getting pneumonia, so I was bedridden for quite a long time. But by the time I’d finally recovered, you were already gone. Your family had already moved into town.”

“I felt so alone,” sniffed Masako, with her eyes still staring blankly into the distance. “After I pushed you into the river, I ran back home crying. And after that I came down with a fever. All the time I was in bed I kept having horrible dreams. I was delirious and talking in my sleep. And when I was finally able to get up…”

Masako’s voice trailed off and she hung her head.

“And then you didn’t remember what happened, right?” said Bunichi, stepping in to help his friend explain. “You’d forgotten everything!”

“That’s right,” Masako nodded.

“When you threw Etsuko off the bridge, you thought you killed her,” Bunichi continued. “The feeling of guilt was so strong that you couldn’t handle it, so unconsciously you erased everything from your memory.”

Bunichi was exactly right. Masako must have been so worried about Etsuko that she’d come down with a fever and felt so bad about what had happened that she’d erased it from her memory. But somehow, she’d always remained afraid of Prajna masks. Or was she? Perhaps it wasn’t that she was afraid of Prajna masks at all. Perhaps she was simply afraid that the mask might make her remember the terrible incident. Maybe that was why she was scared of heights too. And maybe that was why saving Bunichi from falling hadn’t been enough to cure that fear of heights — but it had served to remind her that something like that had happened before and that there was somebody else who needed saving.

Now everything was clear to Masako — everything that had happened that day. It was as if the mists had risen from her mind and set her emotions free to settle down again. Masako took a breath, then she looked up and smiled at Bunichi and Etsuko.

“I’m all right now. Again, I’m so sorry for making you worry.”

Bunichi and Etsuko both looked relieved.

“Etsuko, I did a horrible thing to you, didn’t I?” said Masako, taking Etsuko’s hand and blushing with embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Thanks, Bunichi-san,” continued Masako with unusual politeness. “It’s all thanks to you.”

“You’re so silly, Masako,” said Bunichi, turning bright red again.

“Hey, why don’t you guys come over to my house?” said Etsuko suddenly, brightening the mood. “We have lots of fruit!”

Masako remembered how every autumn Etsuko’s house was filled with pears and grapes sent from friends of her family who worked in an orchard, and together the three of them headed towards her house — walking in a single line down the middle of the bridge, with Etsuko’s pigtails swaying in the cool mountain breeze.

YOSHIO STANDS UP

About a week after her visit to the countryside, Masako was walking home from school when she came across Hisako, Atsuko and Yoshio squatting down on the ground and playing a game together.

“Here we go,” said Masako to herself, “playing with the girls again.”

But Masako didn’t really mind. In fact, seeing them all playing together and having fun made her feel warm and happy inside.

I wonder what it is they’re playing? she thought to herself. And with that, she decided to hide behind a nearby wall and listen in on them.

“You must be tired after a long day,” said Atsuko in a surprisingly grown-up voice.

“Yes, I’m exhausted,” replied Yoshio, imitating his father’s usual comment on returning home every night, and nearly making Masako laugh out loud.

“Did you do your homework?” asked Atsuko.

“Yes, I did,” replied Hisako.

So Yoshio is playing the father, thought Masako. Atsuko is playing the mother and Hisako is playing the child.

Suddenly, Yoshio called out in a loud voice.

“I was fired from my job today. But I don’t mind one bit. Another company insists that I join them. So I don’t care that they asked me to leave.”

Yoshio made it sound as if it was fun to be fired, and Masako buried her face in her bag to stifle her giggles. When she finally felt as if she could breathe without giggling, she lifted her face from her bag and listened in carefully again. But it had suddenly fallen very quiet. So Masako decided to sneak a peek over the wall to see what was going on.

When she lifted her eyes above the top of the wall, Masako saw that the three children had fallen silent. They weren’t playing their game any more, and she could see another boy walking towards them. Oh no! thought