Lonely Castle in the Mirror

by Mizuki Tsujimura

Kokoro pushed her line of questioning a little further. “I don’t mean immediately, but at some point in the future, we’ll probably be able to meet. Won’t we?” “Only if you get home safely now,” the Wolf Queen said.

“Please, Aki. I’m . . . in the future. In the future, where you are too. Where you’re all grown up!” The voice came closer. In her confused mind, Aki suddenly thought, What the hell? Kokoro sounded as though she was crying. Crying and pounding on the door. “The times we all live in—the years—they’re all different!” Kokoro said. “We’re not in parallel worlds at all. We’re all students at Yukishina No. 5 Junior High, but we live in different time periods. We are all living in the same world!”

Ureshino called her “Kitajima-sensei.” She was different from the Ms. Kitajima Kokoro knew. But she knew instantly who she was. She was just much older than the woman Kokoro knew. In Kokoro’s reality, Ms. Kitajima was a much younger teacher, with no grey hair or wrinkles.

But what really confirmed it all for her was her experience of Fuka’s memory. When she played the piano there was a calendar beside her, with the date of her summer piano competition marked in red. The calendar year was 2019. Not 2005, which was last year for Kokoro.

“Kokoro!” a voice said. Not Aki’s, but someone from behind her. She barely had time to think before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around with a jolt. It was Fuka. Fuka, and Subaru, and Masamune, and Ureshino, and Rion. They’d all come back. Her wish had been granted.

Without warning, they became aware of the sound of hands softly clapping. They knew without even turning around who it was. They also knew that their last hour of friendship was here. They knew, and they were ready.

Subaru was in 1985. Aki, 1992. Kokoro and Rion, 2006. Masamune, 2013. Fuka, 2020. Ureshino, ?

Listening to this exchange, Kokoro said quietly, “Just wow . . .” In the 2006 that she lived in, Ureshino wasn’t even born yet. It was hard to wrap her mind around it.

“We really might have met,” Kokoro said. Rion raised his head. Kokoro explained, “In the nurse’s office back in January, at the beginning of the third semester.” It warmed Kokoro’s heart to think that she and Rion were from the same period. Hawaii and Japan—if only the distance hadn’t separated them, she might really have met Rion in the nurse’s office that day.

Subaru stopped rummaging too, and caught Masamune’s eye. He sat up. “I’ve been thinking about it. In 2013, the year you live in now, I’ll be, what, forty-three . . . or forty-four? Hard to believe, but a decent age, I was thinking, though to you I’d be an old guy. An adult, in other words.” Subaru laughed. “That’s why—that’s what will be my goal from now on. To become a game designer. Then you can say, ‘A friend of mine designed this game,’ and it’ll be true.”

“Ureshino,” Fuka said, “if I bump into you, I might not remember you, but you’ll understand why, won’t you? If you remember me, then you can tell me the whole story and convince me to go out with you. I can be a bit stubborn sometimes, so I might not believe you.”

“My name’s Akiko Inoue. Inoue’s a common name,” Aki said, “but the aki in Akiko is the character for ‘crystal,’ and ko is just the word for ‘child.’” She shook her head, and turned to them. “Honestly, I didn’t want to share last names at the start because my mother had just remarried and my last name had changed. And I didn’t want to tell you my new last name.” “I’m Rion Mizumori. Mizumori means ‘protecting water’ and I told you before that Rion is the ri in rika—science—with the character for sound, on.” “I’m Fuka Hasegawa. Fuka’s written with the characters for ‘wind’ and ‘song.’” “I’m Kokoro Anzai. Kokoro’s written in hiragana, not Chinese characters,” Kokoro said. “You all know my name. Haruka Ureshino. Haruka is the character meaning ‘distant.’ Ureshino is written with the characters meaning ‘happy’ and ‘field.’” Masamune had remained quiet throughout. Frowning for some reason, he said, “Aasu Masamune.”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the future,” she whispered. Akiko’s eyes widened. “I’ll be waiting, in 2006, fourteen years in your future. Come and see me, OK?” Let her understand. All she could say were a few words that she wasn’t sure would ever get through to her.

“I had my suspicions from the very first day.” 30 March. “The day the castle is due to close is the anniversary of your passing.”

“At first, I thought my dead sister had come back since she wanted to see me. But when I saw the way the seven-year timeline seemed incomplete, I finally understood. That you must be traveling here from that hospital room, too. Your reality is still in that room with me when I was six, isn’t it?” Rion’s voice began to crack as he fought back tears. “You were coming over here every day back then, weren’t you?” He gazed around the castle. “That last long year—you spent it in here, in this very doll’s house, together with me and all the others.” He finally began to understand what her last words to him really meant. Rion . . . I’m sorry I scared you. But I had a good time. On that day, when he was just six, he’d thought she was referring to her frightening him by dying. But she wasn’t. Those were the true feelings of this Wolf Queen who now refused to turn and face him.

She remained facing away and he continued to address her back. “I want to remember this,” he said. “I want to remember it all. Remember the others, and remember you. I know you might say that’s impossible, but still I want to.”

“Hey.” Eyes narrowed in the blustery wind, Kokoro looked towards the voice. The fallen blossoms stopped swirling and her field of vision began to clear. She saw a boy straddling a bicycle, and he was looking in her direction. He was wearing the boys’ uniform for Yukishina No. 5 Junior High, the school badge showing clearly on his chest. The embroidered name tag said Mizumori. I feel as if—I know his name, Kokoro thought. Her eyes widened. Because she sometimes had a dream. A dream of a transfer student arriving.

she finally decided to allow Ms. Samejima to help her. She knew she was in trouble. She couldn’t keep up with schoolwork. She didn’t even know what it was she didn’t know. And she simply felt that this was the time to ask for help. And she started to want to study again. She’d thought there was no one who could help her, but now she saw that there was Ms. Samejima, offering a hand.

Meeting Mio had a tremendous impact on her. Mio wanted nothing more than to go to school, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t pessimistic or gloomy at all, but instead was eager to absorb and learn everything she could.

But from long ago she’d always had a scene etched in her heart. And a strong, sharp pain she felt in her arm. The memory of someone yanking her, hard. I was rescued. There are children somewhere who, trembling, and at the risk of their own lives, pulled me by the arm and brought me back into this world. It’s OK, Aki. Grow up to be an adult. I’m in the future, where you are too. Children who said these words to me, kept me tethered to the world, gave me the chance to grow up. Their faces weren’t clear, but somehow she always saw Mio’s image overlaid on them. Why, she didn’t know. But this thought came to her, every time the stabbing pain in her arm returned. Now I’d like to pull those children by the arm.

Publisher’s Note According to a recent UNICEF report, Japanese children were ranked second-to-last in an international survey assessing children’s mental health across thirty-eight developed and emerging countries. While Japanese children were ranked first in physical health and often live in relatively prosperous economic circumstances, instances of bullying in schools, as well as difficult relationships with family members, lead to a lack of psychological well-being.