---

---

"And, one more thing." "Hm?"
"What's in that right pocket of yours?"
It's bulging, even though your hand isn't in it.
"Hmm," Sensei's voice trailed off, a little hesitant to answer.
"It doesn't look like your usual manga or anything."
And what reason would she have for bringing something unusual to the rooftop?
"Well... for now, it's a secret."

In the end, she just curled her lips mischievously.
"More importantly, Mii-kun?" Sensei turned, leaning closer. She let go of my hand and bent down. Taking my hand, she examined my fingertips... ah, right, the wound and blood must have caught her attention.
"What did you do here?" Sensei asked, touching the peeling scab on my index finger.
"It's a growth spurt, so this just happens naturally, you see." "Don't be ridiculous, you're three years too young for that." She poked my forehead. But since she didn't deny the phenomenon itself, I grew fearful of growth spurts. Just kidding, though.
"Honestly, you're always getting fresh wounds. Were you looking for acorns on the rooftop or something?"
Muttering complaints, Sensei continued her examination. Just like any other doctor.
"We should probably disinfect this, just in case. There's a rather deep cut here too."
"Um, sorry. I have an appointment with my uncle this afternoon about my appendix..." "It's fine. Come on, let's go."
Just kidding, though.

Sensei took my left hand. It's her break time, I feel bad, I thought, offering a silent apology to her back.
Jarao-san and others often tease Sensei, saying things like, "You're so overprotective." I don't really get it, but old folks usually rely on intuition, so I've decided not to believe them. Their Japanese is careless, and besides, it's a lie.
"Straight to the cafeteria after treatment?" "Ah, yes."
"Try not to leave too much food today, okay?" "I'll do my best." How does she know?

Sensei opened the exit door, and I followed, leaving the rooftop. Her pace descending the stairs was slow, and I realized she was matching my stride.
As she led me by the hand, my lips diligently engaged in self-study. Thinking it might be useful for something, someday.
"Sensei." "What is it?"
"Sensei," *Did you destroy the fence?* "have you ever thought about wanting to... commit suicide?"
"Not particularly." Sensei answered curtly, without stopping or looking back.
"Maybe I have occasionally, but suicide isn't an item on the list of emotions I can recall directly linked to any specific event. I'm a happy person, you know."
Despite her boastful tone, the profile of Sensei's face, visible from diagonally behind her, was sullen.
"Maybe I really shouldn't be ignorant of those kinds of feelings, for this job,"
A sigh, and self-deprecation. Exhaustion and sarcasm floated on her face.
Surely she wouldn't have tried to destroy it just to become familiar with such feelings. Probably.

If Sensei has no intention of committing suicide... then maybe it's for a patient? No, it's not like it's been decided at all that Sensei is the one breaking it.

"Ah, but maybe there are things I can do precisely *because* I don't know... It's difficult, isn't it?"
Sensei became lost in her own thoughts.
I, too, refrained from lying and fell silent.
...Huh, but wait.
I see. That, from earlier, I might be able to use it as a test.
I try to contact my heart. It's mostly noise, but I barely manage to establish communication. *So, it is interested.* Good.
Alright, I'll check on it later then.
Just kidding, though. My father was there at the beginning of my using this phrase.
My father was tyrannical towards his family, or rather, he was a man who resorted to violence, but he kept up a good appearance to outsiders. After watching from the corner of the room as he put on a good attitude for visitors, I'd add "Just kidding, though" in my mind, and before I knew it, it became a sort of catchphrase.
But I never imagined the brunt of those lies would turn back on me. Just kidding, though. Because they say I resemble my father. Whether it's my personality or my face, I don't know.

After Koibi-sensei dabbed disinfectant on me and whatnot, and after a quick check-up, I finally stuffed lunch into my stomach in the cafeteria (leaving about thirty percent) and was on my way back to my room. As expected, Yamana-san was enthroned in the common room, sucking on the mouth of an oolong tea plastic bottle, and beckoned to me with a face like a Hyottoko mask. This time, I decided to accept her invitation with little hesitation. The reason is, just kidding, though, I don't know.
I sat on the edge of the sofa, making sure to keep a proper distance from Yamana-san. It's important to respect one's elders, in accordance with etiquette. Just kidding, though.

The TV was starting the seventh episode of a daytime soap opera. When the opening credits faded, I looked at Yamana-san to see her spitting out the plastic bottle, its contents now drained. The empty bottle bounced and skittered across the floor, reveling in a brief moment of rest with its entire being.
"Didn't you eat lunch?"
"I've got a bit too much stomach acid today."
She said, rubbing the back of her neck.
"By the way, why do you always beckon me over when I pass by?"
Even though she claims to be a misanthrope. Yamana-san snorted and burst out laughing (looking like she was about to run out of oxygen).
"Because Sho-nen is the hospital mascot. Besides, y'know, what's it called, I'm the type to steal lovers."
*Netori? Is that short for nettori (sticky/clingy)?*
"Imagine me snatchin' Sho-nen from Sakashita-sensei, then the two of us sharin' a juice or a cigarette, whaddaya think? How 'bout it?" *I think we'd get scolded.*
"She'd cry, no doubt about it. Whoa, I'd love to see that just once."
Yamana-san smiled, looking unusually cheerful. ...Hmm.
"Do you dislike Sensei?"
I couldn't hide my surprise that such a human being could exist. Just kidding, though.

Yamana-san went "Hmm," "Ah," "Well, yeah," affirming it in a somewhat roundabout way.
"Sakashita-sensei, y'see. As a person, she's one of the better ones, but as a doctor, she's a failure. A disqualified doctor who's worse than one without a license."
Yamana-san exposed her petty dislike for Sensei, seemingly without any need to hide it. I somehow protested.
"I think she's a good doctor, though."
"Well, that's 'cause she's soft on Sho-nen. She probably has a weak spot for precarious kids like you, that one."
"It's not just me, she does it for other people too... Like, she puts flowers in the hospital rooms, doesn't she? Look, those."
I pointed to the vase on the stand where the TV was.

"Oh, I know. She grows them in the flowerbed out back, right? It doesn't suit her, or how should I put it... She's pretty, sure, but she lacks glamour, that woman. Unlike me. Ah, well, right now I don't have flowers, or rather, I have nothing, so maybe my solid presence suits me. ...Oh? Did you get angry 'cause I badmouthed your beloved Sensei?"
"No, not particularly."
"My bad. The only thing I can boast about is my face, so I can't help but show it off. If this were peeled off, I'd be too devastated to recover."
*The former aside, I think the latter is true for most people.*
"Even so, back when this ol' sis was a little brat, y'know, I was super popular."
Yamana-san, using old-lady-like gestures towards the TV, recounted her past glories. Her speech aside, watching her actions from the side, she seemed to be of *that* kind of age.

On the TV, in contrast, a woman who had started a barber shop was moving around hectically inside the store.
"When I played dodgeball, none of the boys would even try to hit me, and I'd be left standing alone on the court until the next game started." *Doesn't that just mean you were being ignored?*
"Well, such is this beautiful face of mine, but it's obvious that even if it's not peeled off, it'll be worthless in another ten years."
"Hmph." Yamana-san's demeanor turned rough again as if spitting something out, and she straightened her back, running a hand through her hair.
"Humans have become too long-lived. It's like being long-lived is what it means to be human now, and that's just... not right, y'know? If the average Japanese lifespan were at least a third of what it is, things would be much more fun."

If Yamana-san's wish came true, the number of patients in this hospital would probably drop to two, for starters.
"Sho-nen, you should refrain from living too long too. Especially someone like you. You know how they say, life should be lived thick and short... or was it small and stout...? Something like that?"
*Could anyone actually do that? You're saying way too many contradictory things.*
I didn't answer Yamana-san's rhetorical question and stared straight ahead.
The TV next to us hummed away, putting on a display of neighborhood nuisance.
"Anyway, Sho-nen, you wanna commit suicide and stuff, right?"
She declared my desires in a flippant tone.

Yamana-san tossed the TV remote into the air, and then— "Ack!" —failed to catch the spinning thing with one hand. In fact, she spiked it. The remote collided with the floor, making a dry sound. Perhaps because of that, the TV turned off, and the common room fell silent.
Yamana-san, expressionless, stared at the CRT screen broadcasting blackness.
"Sho-nen." "Yes." "Is girls' volleyball fun?" "Sorry, I haven't learned about that in elementary school yet."
"Sho-nen." "Y-yes." "Pick up the remote." She was a persistent one.

Like a dog dashing to retrieve a frisbee, I picked up the remote and placed it in Yamana-san's outstretched left hand. Yamana-san turned the power back on and changed the channel. A screen full of static appeared, looking like it might be broadcasting a message from aliens.
"Getting back to what we were talking about before volleyball,"
"...Me, suicide?"
"Yeah. Your eyes are dead, and you're kinda insect-like."
*Even if you compare them to your excessively fluorescent eyeballs, Yamana-san...*
"If I were to give you some big-sis advice, don't do it in a troublesome place like this. Make sure you die outside, properly."
"Even if you say that..." *I'm a shut-in, you see.*
"Sho-nen, you have chances to go outside."
"...?" *"Have?"*
As if reading my unspoken question, Yamana-san added, "Unlike me, y'know."

Drawn by that, I uncharacteristically glanced sideways at Yamana-san, and she clicked her tongue, "Oops, slip of the tongue."
"...Can't you get permission for overnight stays?"
*Even I get it. And even if I have permission, I don't leave here, though.*
Yamana-san's expression turned openly sour. If the window glass wasn't melting from the heat, then her prized looks must be twisting out of shape. It seems that, like with her younger brother, home and family are Yamana-san's weak spots. Though I can't judge the rights or wrongs of that.
"If you talk to Koibi-sensei properly—" "Shut up! I don't wanna go home!"
I was rebuffed. I decided to keep my mouth shut and wait for a chance to leave. That chance would probably come when Yamana-san stopped her restless leg-shaking, I figured. Just kidding, though.

"........." *Staaare.* "........." *Observing.* "........." *Witnessing.* "........." *Oh?* "........." *Ah, it stopped.*
And then, Yamana-san, who had turned her face away from the window glass, muttered something that vibrated my eardrums. "Sho-nen, do you like the sound of people?"
"...I don't know what that's referring to."
"Sho-nen, you're a person too, right? You're Sho-nen *because* you're a person. So, if you don't get it, just think about it yourself, and you should understand right away."
*If you can't, then I guess you're neither Sho-nen nor a person, huh.*
Yamana-san laughed like that and stood up. ...I feel like this is the first time I've seen her walking on two legs.
"Today, I'll yield this glorious seat to Sho-nen. You should sit there and proactively consider dying."
With a hunched, forward-leaning posture, Yamana-san started walking. She stepped on the plastic bottle and left without picking it up. She left me with some rather ominously cheerful advice.

"So considering death is being proactive!"
I tried imitating her. Yamana-san stopped walking for just a moment, but didn't turn around.
"...That was rash." I should have said it after I got to the stairs.
I let out a breath, let the tension break in my shoulders, and sank deep into the sofa.
Cupping my hands over my ears to shield them from the noise, I noticed sweat trickling down.
I wiped my face. Tasted it. It was unbelievably awful.

After making sure the smoking area and hallway were empty, I asked myself in a mumble.
"Do I... have to die?"
Enough that someone would recommend it to me as an act of kindness.

Dying... But, on the rooftop, I...
"That's true, but that's why... I discovered it."
The fence on the rooftop, that someone made for someone else. The sky. The ground. The wind that makes your hair stand on end like a cat's.
I feel like I'm about to be swallowed up by these things that keep surfacing, starting from my right hand.
Maybe I should try thinking about it seriously for once.
Adults really do keep hitting me with nothing but sharp opinions.

But before that, this TV screen.
Old noise inside my eyes, new noise rapidly gathering outside my eyes. Like this, I can't concentrate at all.
I feel dizzy. I feel irritated. I feel listless.
.........That's a lie, I'm trying too hard to watch the screen.
My eyeballs are going to be used by someone else.
I have to turn it off.
No. I'm still not "someone else."
I search for the remote with my own eyes. Good, good, they're still mine. I was able to find it.
I reach out my hand. Enough to want to tear it off.
But the remote was out of my hand's reach.
Even though I tried so hard.
"...Just kidding, though."
Now, what was that referring to, I wonder.
As my eyes and ears were invaded by static and garbled lines, I just kept repeating the same words. So that everything, to the very end, would be a lie.

A hospital room is the closest place to heaven. Hmm, hmm.
But we're an exception; our hearts are drawing near to heaven. *Scribble, scribble.*
"Young master, what're ya doin'?"
"Kanji writing practice."
Jarao-san, my hospital room neighbor, heard this and chuckled, "Fuhoho"... or so he did, right?
On Jarao-san's bed were a portable shogi board and a book of shogi puzzles. The *click* of nail clippers echoed in the room. The ringing in my ears from the TV two days ago had finally stopped, and sound effects were now vibrating my eardrums normally.

"Homework from Sensei, eh?" Jarao-san added, twirling a pawn between his fingers.
"This is voluntary," I replied, placing the memo pad, filled to the brim with black lines, and the ballpoint pen on the shelf. Tracing the shadow of the pen on the side of my middle finger with another finger, I surveyed the room. Everyone was here, but it felt like only Jarao-san and I existed, as usual. In this four-person room, Jarao-san was the only one with whom a conversation could be held.
The person in the bed opposite me just glared at me and wouldn't attempt a single word of conversation. They either smoked in the smoking area or just wrote something in a notebook, having no interaction with others. I think that's a fine way to live, in its own right.
The person diagonally to my right was a middle-aged man with paranoia. He hardly listened to what others said and was always boasting, spreading it around, that he had secret connections that could move the country. He and a politically ignorant child like me wouldn't get along. But more than that, I've always thought he should fix his poor time management that makes him late for dinner. Just kidding, though.

A shogi piece clicked. I glanced at Jarao-san's face; with a look of severity and few wrinkles, he was engrossed in his book. This old man, over fifty, had made a joke of spending about ten years of his life in the hospital. But I couldn't point out what was "abnormal" about him.
My father was far more warped.
"Wanna give it a try?"
Noticing my rude stare, Jarao-san's cheeks relaxed into a smile. Seeing a glimmer of hope in cultivating a shogi partner, the speed at which the knight piece twirled in his fingertips increased. But I declined.
"Sorry, I'm saving period dramas, shogi, and sea bathing for my old age."
Just kidding, though. I'm just terrible at these kinds of games, so I didn't want to embarrass myself.
The memory of narrowly losing at Othello to my five-year-old sister is still preserved in my mind. The contrast of green and white was beautiful. It seems I lack the ability to think ahead, or rather, even before that, the very awareness for it is weak in me.
Ephemeral, and strawberries, um, a pack of strawberries for 320 yen. That's the kind of guy I am.

"Now, now," Jarao-san reproached me with a childish pout. Then, he looked dejectedly downcast. He started grumbling things like, "Back when *I* was an old geezer..." *I can't tell if he's joking or serious.*
"Such a cold country boy, aren't ya?" *Why the old lady tone? And with gestures, too.* "I'm sorry."
"It's more fun to be all chummy with a young female doctor than with a shabby old fart like me... I guess. I can't say I don't get it." He seemed to convince himself, as if playing catch against a wall rather than with words.
"I, too, wished I could've become a lovely young woman instead of an old man, y'know, buying yokan as a souvenir or wanting my boyfriend to buy me a shogi board for my birthday." *You wanted to become one? What's with this guy, he sounds like someone you'd find in a temple for changing professions. And the fact that his tastes are still thoroughly those of an old man makes me keenly feel the impossibility of it.*

"Hmphh." Jarao-san crawled up from his dejection and stared intently at me, breathing heavily through his nose.
"Um, if you're having any trouble, please go to the nurse station." I copy-pasted a nurse's line.
"No, no, I was just admiring myself, thinking how the young master is the spitting image of me in my youth." *Uwaah.*
As my eyes fled from Jarao-san in an attempt to escape reality, I made eye contact with Koibi-sensei, who was passing by in the hallway, hunched over and looking weary. I gave a small nod. At that, Sensei seemed to have an idea and changed her course.
She ducked through the entrance of my hospital room. But where was she planning to go? There's only an emergency exit beyond this room.

"By the way, young master," Jarao-san, oblivious to Sensei's approach, said with an innocent smile, "Got any smokes?" "Like hell he would!" Sensei's open palm smacked Jarao-san on the head.
"Woah!" Jarao-san, propelled by surprise, scooted back on the bed using only his butt, putting distance between himself and Sensei. But after confirming who it was, his expression immediately relaxed again.
"Ah, the guardian Sensei makes her entrance, eh?" At this teasing, Sensei pouted.
"Is there a problem with that?" she retorted, not particularly denying the content of his remark. Then, she sat down on my bed.
"How are you feeling physically?" These are the words Sensei always asks first.
"Ah, yes. Perfectly normal."
Sensei nodded "Mm-hm, mm-hm," then continued, "Well then, make sure you eat your breakfast properly. I got a report that you left some again today," which turned into a lecture.

"I think the food we serve here is actually pretty decent, y'know."
If it's not a complaint about the taste, then what's the issue? she polled me indirectly. I wanted to deflect with some small talk like "The neighbor's hedge is..." but that wouldn't work on Sensei. Silently waiting for the topic to change was the most effective strategy. Still, I did ask myself the question in my head.
......If I had to name a complaint, it would be the cafeteria, I guess.
Because I'm still not used to the feeling of eating in a group.
That's why the thing I'm most anxious about when I return to elementary school is lunchtime. Just kidding, though.
"Oh, by the way, are those sleeping pills I gave you working?"
"Perfectly," I said. Though I've only taken one once.

"I see, I see," Sensei said, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Big sis here feels reassured by that side of you."
"Yes..." I verbally agreed vaguely, while question marks pulsed through my bloodstream.
"Sometimes, you're such a good boy," she said, patting my head. I accepted it, though both her words were incomprehensible.
"Ah, speaking of which, did you read that manga I lent you?" Sensei's remaining hand took a book from the shelf.
"About halfway." "Ah, so around where the girl's identity is revealed? It gets really good from here," she said, opening the manga and starting to flip through the pages.
In the middle of this, Jarao-san started coughing loudly, "Gohoggho," drawing our attention.
Actually, it was less "gohoggho" and more "gwhegghh-gwhehhohh," with his eyes half rolled back, his bronchial tubes giving it their all. It was the kind of cough that, even knowing it was an act, didn't reassure you in the slightest.

"What's wrong? Don't go spitting out your dentures now," Sensei said, being overly solicitous.
Jarao-san let his shoulders slump, looking solemn.
"Watchin' you two interact makes me wanna see my grandkids' faces, y'know."
"Then please get married quickly." "With you, perhaps?" "May your bloodline end."
I watched this heartwarming exchange from the sidelines.
From a position with just a little involvement.
Just that alone makes me feel like I'm interacting right now.
The unease in my chest gradually increases.
But it passes by into the past without any particular resistance.

"Excuse me for interrupting while you're busy."
The three of us turned our eyes to the entrance, each at our own speed.
*Pathetic.*
A man in a suit stood there, with a smile clearly unaccustomed to being directed at children. He looked to be in his early thirties. Probably a police officer. Since I was hospitalized, he's been visiting like this from time to time.
Under the pretext of a "get-well visit," to ask about the incident.

There's nothing left, so why do they want to know?
Jarao-san tilted his head, "Hm? Hm?" (This man, being an outsider, doesn't know about the incident), while Sensei greeted the policeman with an overtly hostile glare. Sensei had said she hated the police.
The policeman stood in front of my bed. He greeted me with "Good afternoon," so I replied, "Good morning." It was still 11:52 AM.
"I'm this sort of person, you see," he said, showing his identification with a notebook. I couldn't quite see the name field.

"So you're..." A bad feeling about what would follow—
"XX-kun, right?"
My eardrums shattered.
My senses are being stolen by all sorts of things.
The sensation of people dying resurfaces.
I have to cover my ears. I have to stop my brain from melting.
MY NAME IS, HUH, WHAT'S WRONG, XX-KUN.
It's harsh.
The world's distortion becomes a super-sized serving. Something white oozes from the corners of my eyes, and I can't even see half of what's in front of me. The sound of muscles, heard from the hands covering my ears. Ah, this is it, the sound of people.
I curl up. On the bed? No way, that's a lie, so I got down, fell.
After hitting the wall, I put my words into practice. *Fuhoho, am I a good boy?*
But since I took three steps forward, I have to lose two. Breathing, I've properly forgotten it.
ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU OKAY? whispered in my ear. So I tell them *I'm okay* with my heart. Oh, it's not getting through at all.
XX-KUN? XX-KUN?
Teeth grinding, wall, head. Blood.
Don't call me that.
Don't call my name.
Please, don't give me a name anymore.

"Are you an idiot! Shut your mouth and get away from him!"
Sensei's roar. The man being pushed away. He had an unpleasant look in his eyes. A face that seemed to pity and look down on me, seeing me as nothing more than a crazy person.
Yamana-san's words were finally sinking into my guts now.
But more than that, right now, I have to eat air. Picky eating is no good.
"If you want to ask this child questions, come back when you understand him a little! Get out!"
Sensei yelled furiously. Watching her snap at an older person like that, through my blurred vision, I realized that "overprotective" might actually be accurate.
Even though I'm totally fine, perfectly okay.
Right? I tried asking the person on the ceiling.
The two adults are arguing. The person in the opposite bed watches with a scowl, and Jarao-san has gotten out of his bed and is supporting me. I'm grateful.
Yes.
The discussion between Sensei and the policeman seems to be centered on me. The raw display of their emotions isn't ugly or anything. I felt a sentiment towards Sensei akin to the "I want to marry Mom" that kids supposedly say at least once in their childhood. Just kidding, though.
Now then, as the person concerned, what should I do in this situation?
"Don't fight because of me!" ...Better not say that.
Hmm, if I weren't here, their reason to be hostile would disappear, and their tongues might get some rest.
Besides, children shouldn't butt into adult conversations.