"This news just in. Around 4 p.m. yesterday, May 31st, scores of female middle and high school students waiting at the Shinjuku train station jumped into the path of the express train on the Chuo downtown line. According to eyewitnesses, the girls held hands and yelled out as they jumped. It was probably a mass suicide…"
Shifting uneasily in her father's recliner, Echo Tsuneta read over the article in the June 1st 2001 newspaper with interest. Pushing her ebony hair behind her ears, she switched from the front page to A4, where the story continued to tell the story of the mass suicide in Tokyo, Japan. "…according to recent news, 54 bodies were counted at the scene. No one knows who conducted the suicide. The only baffling clue was a white duffle bag found at the scene with a roll of human skin inside…"
How could so many girls decide to do that? What could possibly motivate them? And 54 girls! 54 young girls!
Echo shivered. The mere thought of 54 bodies being crushed and smeared along the track of a fast-moving train made her stomach twist and turn in moaning disagreement. She felt nauseous, and suddenly reconsidered the thought of heating up the leftover spaghetti her father left in the freezer; the thought of it reminded her of guts drenched in thick blood, mixed with gravel and dirt, twisted and --
Echo threw the paper in the recycle bin next to the recliner, where the rest of the newspapers went. Three days away until recycle day…Echo thought, eager to get the story out of her head and out of her sight.
The remote was only inches away, but somehow it seemed so far. She reached for it, her arms seeming to shrink as the distance between her and the remote seemed to stretch out. She felt dizzy.
Why am I so upset from that story? I didn't know any of them! I wonder why…Echo's question ran through her head repeatedly. At that moment she felt able to pick up the remote. Exhaling slowly, she turned on the TV and watched in utter shock as the national news covered the same story in terrible detail.
"Interviews with some of the parents of the girls who threw themselves in front of the Chuo line train proved to not be helpful in the investigation. All of the parents interviewed stated that their children showed no sign of suicidal desires." The camera then switched to a traumatized mother, who said between trembling sobs, "My daughter seemed perfectly happy! She got good grades, she had a handsome boyfriend…she said she had joined a new club at school, and this is…this is what…" She stopped, crying even harder. An English voice translated her statement, although her Japanese could be heard behind it.
Then to Echo's horror, they showed the scene.
Blood. Human insides. Tattered and stained school uniforms. Book bags. Body parts. More blood. None of the bodies were recognizable.
"How can they show such gore on national television?" Echo cried out loud. She turned the TV off and threw the remote across the room, running to her bedroom to call her friend Addie.
The phone rang twice before Addie picked up, evidently eating something. "Heh-ro?" was the muffled sound that emerged from the phone line.
"Hey Addie," Echo said, twisting her hair around her index finger.
"Hey you," Addie replied, swallowing whatever she had in her mouth. "Please forgive my rudeness. I was eating dinner."
"Ugh, please don't mention food to me right now…" Echo moaned, clutching her stomach and falling back on her bed. Her pillows jumped out of their place and surrounded her head.
"Why not? You sick?"
"You could say that. Have you read the paper yet?"
Addie took another bite of food, swallowed, then after a time said, "No…anything traumatizing?"
"Yes! You should read the front page…54 girls in Tokyo jumped in front of a train!"
"You serious!"
"Sure am. Go see!"
There was silence for a moment, then the sound of shuffling paper. The silence continued until Addie's voice broke through. "Ugh…that's disgusting! No wonder!"
"No wonder what?"
"No wonder my mom was talking about something weird going on in Japan! I swear! Japan's suicide rate is ridiculous."
Echo nodded as if Addie was in front of her. "Especially with an act like that! They must all have some sort of mental disease to just organize something like that."
"Or they were brainwashed."
"Yeah…maybe…" Echo's voice trailed off. Nothing like that ever happens in America. I wonder why Japan…
"Well, I better go. I still want to eat my dinner, you know." Addie's mouth was stuffed again.
"Sorry about that. Hopefully you can stomach it now."
"Maybe not, thanks to you!"
Echo laughed. "Yeah, I try."
"It's funny though…have you ever thought that those people who died are the same nationality as you are?"
"Huh?"
"You're Japanese. Haven't you thought of that? Your own nationality has the worst suicide rate."
Echo was silent for a moment. She never thought about it. She always considered herself American, although she and her parents were Japanese immigrants. Her mother died just two months after moving to Portland, Oregon from a tragic car accident, and her father seemed determined to Americanize her afterwards. "Learn to rely yourself and become strong," he would say in broken English. "Not rely on me always." Such a dependant trait was typical of the Japanese, Echo supposed. Echo was ten years old when her mother died and her father told her these things. Since then, she had been forced to grow up, and had always disregarded the slant in her eyes, the accent in her voice, and the color of her hair. She enjoyed her life in America.
Echo snapped back to the phone conversation and said, "Yeah, must mean I am suicidal by genetics."
Addie laughed, and then said she had to go. After hanging up, Echo closed her eyes and tried to think about Japan. She remembered going to elementary school and learning to read and write Japanese, and faintly remembered a girl named Yumiko. "Yumi-can," Echo had said, "Anata wa watashi no ichiban suki na tomodachi yo." (You are my favorite friend.)
The thought was rather depressing, so Echo got up and went to check her email. As she loaded the website, she remembered what her mother said about her name in Japanese. "We named you Echo because your heart's song can be heard in mountains and valleys," her mother said fondly on her eighth birthday. "An American name, but a mysterious one to the typical Japanese. You are our life's beautiful mystery."
Her email displayed three unread messages. One from Addie…a silly site with a weird video about llamas. One from her boyfriend telling her he was going out of town in a week, and was inviting her along. Fantastic. Three days with his parents in San Francisco. Why not…The third message was from someone by the name of Yumiko. Echo thought it was creepy to see the name Yumiko after just thinking about her childhood friend. She knew it couldn't be that Yumiko, as she never told Yumi-chan that she was moving to America. She never saw her again, and furthermore, never gave anyone from Japan her email address by the time she was old enough to have one.
She opened the email. The message read:
安心のために黄色い線の後ろに待って下さい。
"Anshin no tame ni, kiroi sen no ushiro ni, matte kudasai," Echo read to herself. "For your safety, please stand behind the yellow line…what the--?"
She closed her email and turned off her computer.
