“Oh, come on—I’m just messing with you. Though I really do want you to go on living. And I really do have a thing for older guys.”
She then took me by the hand. Her fingers were ice cold, but her touch felt oddly warm.
“I’m really grateful to you, you know,” she said. “If you hadn’t come along and found my body, I might’ve never made it back home to my mom. I wish nothing but the best for you in life, Tomoya-kun. I don’t know if there’s a god out there, so I don’t know to who I could possibly pray to make it come true. But just know that there’s one dead girl out there who’ll always be thinking about you, and who genuinely hopes you’ll have the most incredible life imaginable. So don’t forget that. I’ll see you around, Tomoya-kun—bye now.”
As soon as she said those words, my eyes shot wide open, and I was left staring up at my bedroom ceiling—basking in the afterglow of a dream I wished I could have savored just a little bit longer.
As winter came around the bend, Ryo’s health really began to deteriorate. The disease was rapidly taking over more and more of his body. And it was just as this progression seemed to be taking a turn for the worse that I got a rather unexpected update—he and Aoi had officially become an item.
I had no idea they were even somewhat romantically interested, so it came as a pretty big shock to me. However, I didn’t take it personally; apparently, they privately stayed in touch and got to know each other pretty well over the fall. I sent them a quick message of congratulations, and almost immediately received a photo in reply: a selfie of the two of them sitting next to each other in Ryo’s hospital bed. He looked awfully emaciated.
December 24th—after finishing my studies at cram school, I headed not for home, but for a tall department store building near the station. The pedestrians passing me by on the sidewalk were all bundled up in thick coats and scarves. Christmas music played all throughout downtown, and colorful lights adorned the trees lining the road. The windows of a street-level café were decorated with Santas and crucifixes—the latter of which reminded me of my father and his beloved rosary.
I had scoped out the building beforehand, so I knew that anyone could easily reach the rooftop just by taking the elevator all the way up. As I peered down over the edge onto the streets below, I was reminded once again just how tall this particular building was—the chances of surviving a fall from this height were miniscule indeed. There were also very few pedestrians walking by on this side of the building, so the chances of accidentally hitting an innocent bystander were slim to none. Sure, there was a small fence around the perimeter of the roof, but it was nothing I couldn’t hop over. Basically, all there was left to do would be to actually take the plunge.
The cold wind brushed against my cheeks. I set my heavy backpack, full of reference texts and practice workbooks, down at my feet. I gripped the railing with my fingers and gazed down at the city below. Being so close to the station, the buildings around here were densely packed together. I couldn’t hear any of the Christmas music I heard down on the streets a few minutes ago—only the howling of the wind.
My original intent was to end it all before the year was over, but I just couldn’t get the conversation I’d had with Ayane in my dreams that night out of my head.
“I really wanted to live, you know. Maybe that’s why I feel so strongly about wanting the same for you.”
I knew it had only been a dream, and that it wasn’t the real Ayane who’d said this to me—just a figment of my imagination. But even so, I assumed my subconscious showed me that dream for a reason. Perhaps it was because somewhere deep down, I really did want to go on living, and so my brain conjured that facsimile of her to beg me not to end it all—using her face, and her voice. Either that, or it really was a message from the real Ayane, who came back to visit me from beyond the grave to thank me for all that I’d done for her.
I hoped that by the time I was out here on the rooftop I’d know for certain whether or not I still wanted to die, or if that urge had left me. But even now that I stood here, I couldn’t say for sure.
Perhaps I should jump the fence and lean out over the edge? Maybe putting myself one step, one false move away from letting it all go could force some honesty out of me. Perhaps I might even do it too—let go, right there and then.
And yet the moment I gripped the railing to jump over it, it started to snow. The world was gently bathed in a whirlwind of white, powdery specks that danced through the air like tiny feathers. I gazed up into the night sky and watched them fall down over me, and the entire city, from the billowing clouds up above.
“I wish nothing but the best for you in life, Tomoya-kun.”
For whatever reason, what popped into my mind was her expression—the look she gave me as she said those very words. I ruminated over the full depth of their sentiment, and a strange warmth filled my chest. With it came a familiar pang of longing—one I knew all too well. It was the irrepressible urge to sketch this image down on paper as soon as possible, lest it vanish from my mind forever. I wanted to leave this mark, this final impression of her on the world forever.
And so I didn’t end up jumping from the rooftop that day. Instead, on my way back home, I stopped by the little art supply store I used to visit back in middle school and bought myself a crisp new sketchbook—one just brimming with possibilities.
“Sooo… You dead yet?” Aoi asked me via DM over the New Year holiday. Apparently, she remembered what I told the two of them before about my ideal suicide timeframe.
“Nope. Not yet,” I wrote back—even though it was pretty redundant to type, as I wouldn’t be able to respond to begin with if I were. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, I added, “I think I’d like to try seeing what actually being alive feels like for a while.”