I was surprised, and so were Kei and Anou-kun’s girlfriend.
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“W-what? What’s wrong?”
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“Anou-kun?”
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“Huh?” He looked up, apparently surprised by his own tears.
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He rubbed his cheeks, amazed. “Why am I crying?” he asked, bemused.
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I moved away. I just couldn’t watch anymore without feeling guilty.
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Just to be on the safe side, I looked around, making sure that I couldn’t be seen.
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“Okay. . .”
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I clambered up and over the railings of the locked fire escape behind the school. This was the only route left to the roof these days. The door to the roof from the inside set of stairs was locked, and you couldn’t get outside. It was locked because Minahoshi Suiko had jumped off the roof, killing herself.
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The fire escape made a racket as I climbed, surprising me, so I put my feet down as softly as possible.
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It was windy on the roof. Keeping my hair out of my eyes, headed towards the spot where Minahoshi Suiko had jumped.
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I knew I would gain nothing by coming up here. I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I can’t claim that a simple visit to the scene will tell me everything, my dear Watson.
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But I hoped I would at least catch a feeling.
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To be honest, despite all the books I’d read on abnormal psychology, I didn’t know squat about suicides.
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Of course, I had read interviews with the survivors of botched suicide attempts, but that was ultimately just the words of people who didn’t die. More than half of those people made no further attempt at suicide, and just went on with their lives.
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But those who actually succeeded must be dramatically different. For example, I had read an essay by a writer who had been involved in a number of attempted suicides before finally managing to die. He wrote, “I myself do not particularly want to die, but I am pulled along by my obsession with the woman.”
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Then when he did manage to die, it was in a botched display of attempted suicide which apparently succeeded.
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But the real deal, the ones that intentionally die...even if they leave a note, it feels to me like they die without ever really communicating the true reason.
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But what about Minahoshi Suiko?
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Was she for real? Or was it a failure? Or had everyone misunderstood her, and it was only an accident? Or even worse, was it actually.
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I shivered as I walked slowly forward. Then. . .as I reached the spot, I nearly shrieked. "............?!"
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There was a girl standing there, hands on the railings, with a face so desperate she looked like she was about to jump right then and there.
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Even if she had, she could hardly have disobeyed, and as far as tests went, she had enough academic ability implanted in her to pass any test put in front of her, so that was no problem.
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"............"
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She had come for the new students’ orientation, but there was still some time left before it started, so she had gone up to the roof.
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She wanted to see the sky. Why the gate was barred, she didn’t know, but she simply climbed right on over it.
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Since she met Taniguchi Masaki, she had begun to like looking up at the sky. When they were walking together, he would often say, “Gosh, the sky sure is beautiful.” And sure enough, she had begun to think it was.
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"............"
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When she looked at the sky, she felt like her body was melting, like things would be easier.
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She sometimes almost believed Masaki might forgive her...
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“............”
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But that was impossible.
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It was unforgivable.
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When she thought of all the danger she had put him in, how she had deceived him, how she had kept him from the truth. . .she could hardly complain, even if he killed her.
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Somewhere deep inside, Aya wanted Masaki to kill her.
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She thought, ‘If that happened, what a weight off my shoulders that would be.’
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Before she knew it, she was gripping the railing around the roof tightly, shaking like a leaf.
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“Uh. . .um,” a voice stuttered from behind her.
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She turned around, and a girl from this high school, her sempai, was coming hesitantly towards her.
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Aya remembered her face. She had seen her before. Not directly, but in a file. Her name was Suema Kazuko.
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“Yes?” Aya asked.
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“No, um. . .I know I might have read things wrong and this may just sound stupid, but. . .” Suema Kazuko ventured. “But, um, if you’re thinking about jumping, then, uh, please don’t. Someone already jumped from there. And. . .and that’s not good...”
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"........." Aya’s eyes widened.
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“I.. .I know there’s no guarantee that things will get better if you live, so it’s too simple to say so. But, I mean, if you die, then.
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the things you hate, and all those things you can’t tolerate. . .they won’t go away. So, uh, my point is...”
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While Suema was rambling, she closed the gap between them, and suddenly grabbed ahold of Aya’s arm.
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Aya looked at that powerful grip, and then at the other girl’s face.
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“Dying is useless. That’s all I can say,” Suema said forcefully, staring directly into Aya’s eyes. She showed no signs of letting go.
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"............" Aya had no idea of how to clear up the misunderstanding.
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Was it really a misunderstanding?
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Had she, deep down, really wanted to jump?
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She wasn’t sure.
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But either way, Suema Kazuko probably wouldn’t let go. She was sure of that.
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“Useless. . .?” Aya said, quietly.
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“Yep. Perhaps you think your life doesn’t have any meaning, but dying has even less.”
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"............"
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Was that true? If she died here, then at least Masaki would be protected, indirectly.
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Aya hung her head.
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“I want to die,” she said, letting herself say it.
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Suema frowned. “Really?”
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Aya nodded weakly.
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“I see. But you can’t now. . .because I found you.”
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Suema pulled on her arm, dragging Aya to the center of the roof. She forced her to sit down.
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“I’m sorry, Suema-san,” Aya whispered.
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Mm? Suema looked at her, startled. “You know me?”
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‘Oops,’ Aya thought, but her conditioned reflexes took over, and she said smoothly, “Yes, I know someone who goes here. They told me about you. You are Suema Kazuko-sempai, right?”
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“Who...? What did you hear? Oh, nah, never mind. I can guess,” Kazuko said ruefully, a little exasperated.
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“I’m sorry.”
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In fact, her photograph had been in the follow-up subject data file. She had nearly lost her life in an incident six years before, but Suema herself had been unaware of that, so she was not even on the Towa Organization’s checklist.
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“No need to apologize,” Suema gave her a gentle smile.
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Aya was silent for a moment, then asked, “Um, Suema-sempai, can I ask you something?”
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“What’s that?”
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“What do you think about Boogiepop?”
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“Er. . .” Suema looked confused. “What do I think? Don’t take this the wrong way, but that kind of rumor’s a little...”
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“You don’t believe it?”
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“Mmm. . .yeah, basically. But more than that, I just don’t know anything about it.”
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“Really? But all of the girls...”
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“Yep, all of them. Except me,” Suema sighed. "They all think I’m morbid...like I know everything there is to know about murder. So nobody ever thinks to tell me about stuff like
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‘Boogiepop’..."
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“Oh...”
✦ ✦ ✦
“But you know, like, that sort of killer, or shinigami or whatever. . .it’s so blah. Typical adolescent imagery. Everyone’s anxious about something, so part of them feels like it would be just great if everything around them were destroyed. Like they want to be killed.”
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"............" Aya stiffened.
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“And grown-ups are all irresponsibly saying crap like, ‘This period of anxiety is only a phase. Things will get better soon.’
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Ha! Like that helps. Things just aren’t that easy, right?” Suema’s shoulders slumped. “That’s where he comes in.”
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“Boogiepop. That’s why he exists. To protect an unstable heart and. . .and keep it like that. That’s all he is, 1 think. Course, you’re probably happier believing in him,” Suema added with a shrug, as if joking.
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This unexpected answer confused Aya. “Protect?”
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“Even though he’s a shinigami? But that kind of thing’s the product of romanticism, bred without much knowledge of actual assassins. Anyone who’s actually killed someone would never put on some goofy ass costume. I mean, seriously!”
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"............" Aya lowered her gaze. Whatever Boogiepop was, he would not protect her, she thought. “Sempai, can I talk to you?”
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Her mouth moved before she thought. She had never before tried to talk to someone of her own accord like this.
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“Sure,” Suema nodded.
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So readily that Aya’s little mouth opened, “A boy. . .likes me.
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I think.”
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“Mm.”
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“But I. . .I’m no good. I can’t do something. . .1ike that.”
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“Mm.”
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“I’m no good for him. . .but I don’t know what to do.”
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“Mm.”
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“I’d do anything for him. . .but there’s just nothing I can do.
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And instead, I’m just causing all sorts of problems for him. What can I do. . .?” As she talked, she found herself shaking again. Her hands clutched her own shoulders, but that couldn’t stop it.