Morning light fell straight down onto the river’s stone bridge.
The railing , carved with the Dragon God’s design, glowed faintly warm in the spring air. Minico stopped at the foot of the bridge and took a single deep breath.
“…I’m going, bro.”
“Right.”
Kopo stood on the far side of the bridge, arms crossed, waiting. For some reason, he couldn’t cross it. More precisely, he wasn’t allowed to.
Sonchō had told him the night before: “Don’t look back, not once, until you’ve finished crossing the bridge. If you look back, what you were granted will return.” There was an old custom that anyone crossing the Dragon God’s bridge must walk facing only forward — carrying whatever “something” they had been granted firmly in both hands, and walking it all the way through without turning around.
The problem was Kopo.
As Minico began crossing the bridge one step at a time, Kopo grew strangely restless. Every time that small back swayed , something rose up in him, wanting to be said. Are you facing forward properly? Don’t trip. Almost there.
But he swallowed every word.
If he spoke, Minico might turn around.
When Minico reached the midpoint of the bridge, the wind blew. The cherry blossoms were almost entirely gone by now, but the river’s surface rippled and caught the light. Kopo held his breath.
Minico could hear it. The weight of his brother’s silence seemed to travel to him through the boards of the bridge. He wanted to turn around. He just wanted to see his brother’s face.
But he didn’t stop his feet.
He could see Kopo, arms spread wide, waiting. Minico finished crossing the bridge and took the last step.
“…I’m here.”
Kopo placed a hand on his head. Neither rough nor gentle — just a hand, resting there.
“Did you get something?”
Minico thought for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“Yeah. …I got the fact that you stayed quiet, bro.”
Kopo said nothing. Only the tips of his ears turned faintly red.
Margin note: That afternoon, when Sonchō asked, “How did it go?” Kopo answered, “He just didn’t trip, that’s all.” Sonchō laughed, “Feh-feh,” and set a pot of freshly brewed, fragrant tea down in front of the two of them.
【Today’s Drop】
- Jusan Mairi: A Japanese tradition in which a child of thirteen (by the traditional counting) visits a temple or shrine dedicated to Kokuzo Bosatsu, to receive wisdom and good fortune. On the way home, custom holds that one must not look back until fully crossing the bridge — looking back is said to return the wisdom one received. Observed mainly in the Kansai region, around April 13th.
- Coffee Shop Day: On April 13, 1888, Japan’s first full-scale coffee shop, “Kahiichakan,” opened in Kuromon-chō, Ueno, Tokyo. A day marking the beginning of gathering somewhere warm with someone else.
This is an English translation of “橋を渡ったら、振り返るな”, part of Tales of Amencho Town (蛙鳴町奇譚).