by Tetiana Korchuk

Mari nervously took a glimpse at her watch: it was 10:58, Two minutes left until her annual time travel. She already made it twice in the past, as obligatory part of her social studies class, first time when she just turned 13, and last year – at the age of 14.

Where is she travelling today? she closed her eyes and tried to hold her breath. 30 more seconds to go. Her first travel took her just a couple years back, to her first day of elementary school, second one was a little more exciting – from the glass hospital window she was able to witness her family just after her own birth. Mari softly smiled remembering her mom, looking exhausted but happy, and dad – pale and shaky, as if he just saw a ghost.

She felt a light wind breeze on her skin and almost instantly opened her eyes. She moved indeed and this time she also could easily recognize the area, as it hasn’t changed a bit in …how many years?　Her watch gently vibrated and she saw white numbers appearing on the screen. Reiwa 5th year, February 25th.

– Reiwa… – Mari gasped trying to remember what year it was. 2022? 2023? History was not her strong point. Maybe somewhere around that time. Wow, more than 30 years ago!

Of course, Mari heard about adults traveling so far as to the dinosaurs era but for her 30 years felt almost the same. What happened that day that was so important? She slowly started walking towards the big torii in the background, shivering in her light sweater. Somehow it was much cooler than in February now. Kitano Tenmangu, she last came here with her mom just a couple months ago. Restaurants alongside the street haven’t changed a bit, the same long queues of people waiting there. What had definitely changed were the clothes. And those masks?

As Mari made her way through stalls with food, kimono, pottery and antics of the flea market, she couldn’t stop wondering why everyone were wearing masks. Was it that big covid pandemic? She couldn’t remember. But the thought of the flea market happening on 25th every month in those times too, suddenly made her feel some unexplainable warmth inside. Some things just don’t change! Too bad she can’t pay with her watch here.

Karaage from one of the stalls smelt delicious and Mari even considered for a moment asking one of the teenage boys to buy a pack for her. But talking would be considered a violation of time travel rules. Same as eating…

She reached the main part of the temple, after some hesitation threw a coin to a wooden box. No one used coins in her times anymore, but she always had some on her as her little talisman. She observed girls in pastel kimonos taking a million plum pictures with their smartphones. Mari wondered for a second how it feels to have a phone on you all the time. Must definitely be tiring.

She tried to observe as much as she could around, but nothing really happened.
Snow started flying in the air and she was fascinated by this beautiful contrast of pink plum flowers and white snow. Was she here to see the snow? It hadn’t snowed for years in Kyoto, as it didn’t’t snow almost anywhere in Japan anymore. Was that the reason?

Her hour ended and she found herself sitting in her room again. Snow on her clothes melted, and made her sweater cold and heavy. Mari’s tablet screen changed and a new assignment appeared. ‘Write an essay in free form about your time travel titled “Day when my parents met”.’ Mari’s heart started racing. Did she miss them? Was her father one of those teenage boys? What should she even write about?

She kicked her chair with frustration. What even was she thinking? Dreaming about karaage! She gasped and tried to calm down. She needs to write something. But then the solution came. Mari almost instantly became calm again. Thank god she has better relations with her mom than other girls in her class. She dashed from her room and rapidly entered the kitchen.

– Mom! Mom! Can you tell me really quick about that day you met dad?
Pleeease, it is for my school assignment.

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Tetiana Korchuk was the winner of the Unohana Prize in WiK’s Seventh Writing Competition