[Picture Book] The Upside-Down Clock

One, two, three, four.
The clock ticks time.
The short hand and the long hand turn together.
The clock’s hands move to the right — that’s the law of this world.

One day,
I was a child full of questions.
“Why? Why? Why does the sun set? Why do people die?”

“Why? Why?”
“Why do birds fly? Why do waves come to shore?”
At school, they called me ‘Miss Why’.
Why, why, why…
I always had questions.
I didn’t really have any close friends.

One spring day, a windy day, cherry blossoms dancing in the air—
I asked my grandfather,
“Hey grandpa, why does the clock turn to the right?”
“The hands, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
He hummed softly. “Hmm, why indeed? That’s just the way of the world,” he said, chuckling.
“What does that mean?”
“It means—the rule of this world. Adults call it ‘the law of nature.’ The world is full of such rules.”
“Hmm, but it could go the other way too, right?”
“Maybe, if you used a little magic,” he laughed.
“Magic?”
“Yes, magic.”

One summer day.
The sky was high and bright.
My questions always spun round and round.
My grandfather lived deep in the mountains, in a small cabin he built himself.
He made tiny machines and wooden trinkets—clocks, toys, strange gadgets.
People called him a genius, a hermit too clever for the city.
But he always answered my “whys.”
He never said I asked too much.

“Why is the sky blue?”
“Because the sea is reflected up there, maybe…”
“Why is summer hot?”
“Because a spirit called Natsutarō lives in the sun.”
“Why do people grow up?”
“To learn the truth of this world.”
I didn’t know if it was true, but I liked it.

“Why are crows black?”
“So they can melt into the night.”

After school, I’d run to the mountain cabin.
That’s where I spent time — and time spent me.

One autumn day.
A rainy day.
Wet leaves outside.
It was my birthday.
Grandpa handed me a wooden box.
Inside was a clock — but the numbers were upside down, and the hands turned left.

“I used a little magic,” he said.
“Broke the rule of the world.”
“Eh? You’ll get arrested by the police, Grandpa!”
“Maybe, since I did a bad thing,” he chuckled.
“Nooo, let’s turn it back!”
“Ha-ha-ha, I’m joking.”

I kept it by my bedside every night.
The hands always turned backward.
Leftward.
One, two, three, four.

One winter day.
A snowy day.
Grandpa died.
It was a cold day.

I asked my mother,
“Why isn’t Grandpa here anymore?”
She sighed, “Well… why indeed.”

I didn’t cry.
“Why did he go away?”
She looked at me gently. “Because you loved him very much.”

My “why” floated in the air.

Maybe… Grandpa broke the law of the world,
and the police took him away.

My mother said nothing,
just held me tight.

One, two, three, four.
Inside the mountain cabin, alone.
Everything felt still.
Snow kept falling, quietly piling up.
For some reason, I couldn’t cry.

Then I had an idea.

I’ll fix the upside-down clock!
If I make the hands go right again,
I can set the world back to normal!

So I locked myself in the cabin,
using Grandpa’s tools.

It took all day,
but I did it.
Twelve, eleven, ten, nine—
The clock’s hands now turned to the right.
It was perfect.

For the first time since Grandpa left, I smiled.

Now time will come back!
I waited.

Tick, tick, tick, tick…
The hands moved.
Only time passed.

Why, I wondered?

And then—
I realized I was crying.