Miki Tokita/“The Girl” Character Analysis

If, for example, a gunman came from the future and fatally shot a customer—as long as the customer was living in the future, he could not die, even if he had been shot in the heart.

That was the rule.

[…]

The surgeon might say later that if the ambulance had been one minute later or if the bullet had been located one millimeter to the left, the patient would not have survived. All the staff would say that it was a miracle the patient survived. But it wouldn’t be a miracle. It would be because of the rule which dictated that the man who was shot in the past must survive.

“Will Mama’s baby be lonely? Will that make you cry?” [Kei] talked to the child as she always did. “I might only be able to have you, my child. Will you forgive me?”

She listened, but no answer came.

A stream of tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I’m scared…the thought of not being there for my child is frightening,” she said, looking directly at Nagare. “I don’t know what I should do. I want my child to be happy. How can such a simple wish be so terribly scary?” she cried.

Nagare gave no reply. He just gazed at the paper cranes on the counter.

The woman in the dress closed her novel. She hadn’t finished it: a white bookmark with a red ribbon tied to it was left inserted between the pages. Hearing the book close, Kei looked over at her. The woman in the dress looked back at Kei and just went on staring at her.

With her eyes fixed on Kei, the woman in the dress gently blinked just once. Then she smoothly got up from her seat. It was as if that blink had been meant to communicate something, yet she walked behind Nagare and Kohtake and disappeared into the bathroom as if she was being drawn inside.

Her seat—that seat—was vacant.

[…] People don’t see things and hear things as objectively as they might think. The visual and auditory information that enters the mind is distorted by experiences, thoughts, circumstances, wild fancies, prejudices, preferences, knowledge, awareness, and countless other workings of the mind.

[…]

Until now, Kazu had never sought to challenge or influence people’s opinions or behavior. This was because her own feelings didn’t form part of the filter through which she interacted with the world. Whatever happened, she tried not to influence it by keeping herself at a safe distance. That was Kazu’s place—it was her way of life.

[…] But this was different. She had made a promise. She was encouraging Kei to go to the future, and her actions were having a direct influence on Kei’s future. It crossed Kei’s mind that Kazu must have her reasons for her out-of-character behavior, but those reasons were not immediately apparent.

I was so absorbed in the things I couldn’t change, I forgot the most important thing.

Filling in for her, Fumiko had been by Miki’s side for these fifteen years. Nagare had been there for Miki as her father, showering her with love, no doubt going some way to make up for her absence. Also filling in for her, Kazu had lavished Miki with kindness, playing the role of mother and big sister. She realized that there had been all these loving people around Miki, earnestly supporting her growth for the fifteen years she had been gone, wishing for her happiness.

The magazine piece on the urban legend had stated, “At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present does not change. So it raises the question: just what is the point of that chair?”

But Kazu still goes on believing that, no matter what difficulties people face, they will always have the strength to overcome them. It just takes heart. And if the chair can change someone’s heart, it clearly has its purpose.

But with her cool expression, she will just say, “Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”