Akira didn’t seem all that convinced, but she did as I asked. She rifled through the woman’s jacket and skirt pockets and removed everything she found: a phone, some cough drops, a pen, a handkerchief, and some medicine tablets. That was it. Nothing to even help us identify who she was, let alone a reason she might have attempted suicide.
“Yeah, nope. Can’t even check her phone, look—it’s got a passcode,” said Akira, showing me the ten-key entry display on the lock screen. “Now can we please just leave it at that and go? Hate to say it, but there’s nothing else we can do for this lady.”
“…Doesn’t that feel a bit irresponsible, though?” I said.
“Whaddya mean?”
“Well, like… We don’t know the first thing about this person, or what she was going through… And yet, we still stepped in to stop her, despite not being able to do anything to make her life any better going forward… So I guess I’m just wondering if we really did the right thing here. Like, for all we know, this could have been her very last resort to escape the pain, you know what I mean? What if all we did was make things even worse for her? I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling unsure.”
“So, what—you’re saying we shouldn’t have saved her, then? Just left her there to plummet to her death? You think that was the right thing to do?” Akira asked, her tone getting sharper as she glared at me with a hint of umbrage in her eyes.
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say… It’s just…”
“Just what?”
Whatever words I’d been trying to say next, I couldn’t find them. Instead, I just lowered my head. “…Sorry. Forget I said anything. Guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Yeah, no kidding. I mean, just look at her,” said Akira, gazing down at the woman. “She obviously had to be at work or something, right? I mean, she’s wearing a suit. Probably had something really terrible happen to her early in the day, and she just ran up onto the roof and jumped off in the heat of the moment. No way she was thinking straight, I guarantee it. Just look at the random junk she had in her pockets. If she was really suffering and we could tell she’d obviously planned it all out way in advance, maybe that’d be one thing… But if it was just some spur-of-the-moment impulse, then we absolutely did her a huge favor by stopping her. I mean, hell—we just saved her life.”
“…You’re totally right, yeah.”
She hadn’t left me any room to even attempt a counterargument. I was a little taken aback, honestly; I hadn’t known she was capable of rationally rebuking me so thoroughly when it came to moral dilemmas like this, as rude as that might sound.
“Now c’mon, let’s go,” she said, heading over to the rooftop door. As she walked off, I took one last glance down at the woman. Even I didn’t know why I’d been so determined to learn more about her, nor why she inspired such a jumbled haze of conflicted emotions deep in my chest. But it was time to go now, so I supposed I’d never know the real answer there.
Just as I was about to turn to leave, I noticed something.
“Hey, wait up!” I shouted.
“Ugh, what is it this time?” said Akira.
As my companion begrudgingly turned around, I knelt down by the woman’s side to take a closer look. Sure enough, there was a small piece of paper poking out from between her clasped hands.
“She’s holding something,” I said.
“…And you want me to take a look?” said Akira.
“Oh. Well, I mean, uh… Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Akira let out a heavy sigh of disappointment, then walked back over.
“Fine,” she said. “But after this, we’re leaving for real, you got that?”
She grabbed the woman by her hands—which seemed to be clasped quite tightly, judging from the amount of effort it seemed to take to pry them apart. Eventually, Akira managed to pry them open, revealing a torn scrap of notebook paper that bore only a single sentence scrawled in pen:
“Take me to a world without lies or pain.”
This was the woman’s prayer: to be allowed into some safe haven, some sanctuary she was no doubt envisioning as she leapt, painted in soft-hued shades on the backs of her tightly shuttered eyelids. It was neither despair nor hope that had pushed her to take the leap—just a tiny, humble wish for somewhere slightly better than here.
“Hmph.” Akira scoffed with contempt, then ripped the paper to pieces.
“Hey, what the—?!” I gawked in disbelief.
“Keep dreaming, lady. Ain’t no such thing.”
Akira tossed the shreds aside, then walked down the stairs. Reluctantly, I chased after her—leaving the woman lying out on the rooftop, her prayers unanswered.
We ultimately settled on a little hole-in-the-wall café to sleep in that night. It met all three of our main lodging criteria: not too many people inside; something we could lie down on (sofa-style seating, in this case); and best of all, dimly lit.
Akira set down her things and promptly crashed onto the nearest sofa, letting out a great big yawn as she grabbed one of the decorative seat cushions to use as a pillow. I sat down in a nearby armchair and began leafing through the café menu. Not that I was looking for something to eat or feeling particularly parched. I just wanted something to do to kill time until I felt more ready to fall asleep. According to my wristwatch, it was already 10:00 p.m.—pretty close to the time when I usually started nodding off. Yet for whatever reason, sleep was being strangely elusive to me tonight.
“You’re not still thinkin’ about that lady from earlier, are you?” said Akira, still lying flat on her sofa. I could tell from her tone that she was trying to be considerate, despite the undercurrent of impatience implied by her phrasing. Who knows—maybe she was genuinely feeling a little concerned about me from the way I was acting. In which case, I figured I should just come clean and not try to hide it.
“Yeah, kinda,” I said. “Feeling a little shaken up, to be honest.”
“Doesn’t that sorta thing happen, like, every single day down in Tokyo? Heard they’re always having to stop the trains and stuff because of it.”
“It’s probably a lot more common there than in other prefectures, yeah. But I wouldn’t say it’s an everyday thing or a constant inconvenience or whatever. Not that I would really know, since I don’t ride the train myself, but still…”
“Right, yeah. Don’t you guys usually just walk unless it’s more than a couple stations away or something crazy like that?”
“Well, a lot of people do, yeah. But in my case, it’s just because, well… Lots of people on the train, you know.”
“Oh. Gotcha…”
There was perhaps nothing more terrifying to me in the entire world than the thought of being trapped in a rush hour train, packed together with like a bunch of sardines with all the other commuters. I was one hundred percent sure that if I ever took the train and saw a group of students or businesspeople walk aboard, I’d have a panic attack.
“Man, that’s gotta be rough,” said Akira.
“Believe me, it is,” I said with a sigh. “Really wish there was some miracle cure so I could get the hell over it, already…”
I felt bad for letting the conversation take this somewhat depressing turn, especially since Akira had clearly only been checking in to see how I was holding up in the first place. I needed to just shut up and stop talking before I made things even worse, so I rose from my chair and moved to one of the nearby sofas.
“Sorry, I think I should probably get some sleep,” I said.
“…’Kay,” said Akira. “G’night.”
She’d said this last part in a voice so soft it was almost imperceptible, but I knew I hadn’t misheard her. This was the first time she’d ever wished me a good night—and it felt pretty damn good to hear, honestly. I returned the sentiment as I lay down and closed my eyes, now all but certain that sleep would find me soon enough.