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"Heave-ho." Thanking Jarao-san, I stand up.
Waiting for the bleach in my eyes to gradually wash away, I then slipped between the two of them.
I stop at the entrance.
Since I'm such a good boy, I decided to tell Sensei where I was going. Just kidding, though.
"I'm just going to get some air."
Because, well, the windows don't open.
So, I have to go to the rooftop.
I walk down the hallway. A little behind me, the *pitter-patter* of footsteps follows.
Today, the weather being so nice, I ignored Yamana-san's beckoning.
As I was doing that, my back was yelled at with a "Don't go thinking stupid things!"
Sensei can be pretty rude, too.
Even though I'm just trying to deal with things proactively.
I forgot to put on my slippers, so maybe I *am* stupid, though.

Before going to the rooftop, I stopped by the bathroom and threw up. While Sensei, who had chased after me, rubbed my back.
This time, too, I used my designated seat for when I vomit.
The vomit shot out with such magnificent force, it felt like even my heart could sing the praises of youth along with it.
After easily shedding some tears too, I wiped my mouth with water, and then, off to the summit.
Lightening my steps, my head, and my stomach, I scurried away.
"Okay, you absolutely are not to do anything dangerous."
I gave a noncommittal reply to her reminder, and Sensei went back to work.
I climbed the stairs, fighting against the torrent of wind, and powerfully flung open the door.
I stepped onto the sun-warmed concrete floor with bare feet. Right now, the sun was hidden by clouds, and I was enveloped in a brightness without direct sunlight. I carefully closed the door.
The wind is especially rough today. It's a different kind from the gentle breeze that sways the tips of grass and offers a certain charm. It's like a newcomer of a gale, the kind that could kick up a sandstorm on a beach—or not, just kidding.
"Well then,"
I have no business with the blue bench. As if it were my daily routine, I circled around and headed over to give some relief to the damaged fence. Oh, just kidding.
The suicide fence was about sixty percent complete. Just a little more.
Just looking. Just touching. Just falling. Just kidding, though.
It's okay, Sensei. I'll keep my promise.
"Whoa, my foot slipped—"
I tried slamming my body full force into the fence in an unforeseen accident. Correction, I *ended up* doing it.
Like an orange hitting a wall, the wire mesh crumpled without any issue. Perhaps elementary schoolers weren't the target audience for its embrace, as it only functioned like a soccer goal net.
The lid of the bleach bottle opens. My head and ears are turned pure white, scattered like insecticide killing bugs.
*Guuh*, I leaned my body into the bent fence, savoring the moment of suspense.
I even ended up gazing at the scenery directly below, something normally impossible to see due to the angle.
It was so, vividly blue.
"*Hhha, hhhhhhhhhahahaha, hah!*"
Stumbling, I staggered back a few steps. Scraping my body badly on the right-hand fence.
I collapsed. Every bead of sweat was dutifully reported and felt with sharp sensitivity.
My legs lost all their vigor and vitality, turning deathly pale, unable to move... huh, when I tried, I could stand up easily. But the director got mad at me, so I went back to sitting with my legs tucked under me like a girl. My hip joints ache a little. "......Phew." Deep breath. I choked.
If an Ozeki sumo wrestler or someone had given me a push from behind, I really would have fallen and "adorned" Sensei.
And then, every year, beautiful red flowers would bloom in that spot, and the villagers would call it... The story isn't progressing, so let's gently put this good old folktale back on the shelf and scream.
"Dying is, so scaaary!"
My mind aside, my body is rejecting it like crazy.
"Whoaa... my heart's going nuts."
Or rather, it's like, where even *is* my heart? My wrists, my neck, even the tops of my legs are all throbbing *thump-thump*.
The cold sweat is intense too. My hands are all clammy in no time. ...Or so I thought, but it was just leftover soap from when I washed my hands.
"...How lame."

Someone who can't live well, can they not die well either?
Kneeling here, so pathetically.
I wonder if there's a trick to it.
Maybe I should ask someone who's trying to take flight from the fence.
"Yeah, let's do that, let's do that."
"I'll be back."
I straighten my clothes and lift my dusty knees. I pat the fence once with my palm, then turn around. This isn't a lie, probably.
"La la laa, la laa la laa, la la laaa laa."
Since no one's around, I indulge in my hobby of karaoke and leave the rooftop. Just kidding, though.
Or rather, why am I flipping so many of these switches in myself?
I'd been holding back because if I overdo it, this might become my default.
Pushed by the wind, I opened the door and looked down the stairs from the very top. At the nearby danger, my eyes spiraled down, the stairs turned sideways, then aimed upwards.
It looked like it would take time to fix, so I just kept going.
About halfway down, this time I really did slip and miss a step on the stairs.
A spectacular landing failure.
I fell on my right shoulder.
"Oww—"
My face, my sense of taste, my ankle too.
This guy called "me"... what on earth am I?
After my life in the basement ended, I was taken into police custody.
There, a kind-faced lady asked me this question:
"Do you think you were unlucky?"
"Or do you think you were fortunate to have survived?"
It was a mean question with no right answer, but I'd be troubled if they expected a brilliant reply.
Because I didn't answer at all.

"Oooh? What's up, kid? Did you become the leader of a sentai hero team or somethin'? You're all red, whoosh!"
When I tried to talk to Yamana-san, who isn't some little kid in front of the TV, the first thing I got was her surprise.
Still barely moving her eyes towards me, if I were to judge calmly, her tone sounded more like she was about to burst out laughing than be shocked.
Once she pointed it out, I checked and finally noticed the injury and bleeding. My forehead was split open, exposing my heart (also known as a lie-manufacturing device). The wind makes it feel all breezy. Just kidding, though. The blood didn't really get on my fingers; it seemed like a large scrape stuck to my skin. Even staring at the blood, it doesn't turn purple and reveal I'm human, or anything like that. Yep, I'm fine. Overcome. A few switches got flipped on my way here, after all. My mind is so blank now I can only grope for memories. Mixed with the red on the surface, it's like one of those red and white school caps, ohoho.
"A little red fruit just burst open."
"Whoa, nostalgic! Back when I was born in the Heisei era..." I let her nonsense flow past me.
Today, I settled my body onto the sofa next to Yamana-san, leaving just one person's worth of space between us.
Glancing at the smoking area, usually there were four or five people making the air unhealthy, but today, there were no shadows or smoke.
The reason for that, I realized so quickly, was because Yamana-san had the volume turned up higher than usual. Truthfully, I probably should have noticed from about thirty meters away, but my current self is the standard. "But it is red. Truly red," Yamana-san assessed in the style of a critic, without looking at me.
"I was just about to be disappointed, thinking you'd failed at a suicide attempt."
"Ah, my apologies for that," I said, playing the good boy and bowing my head.
As I bowed, I thought.
...Suicide. And Yamana-san.
Since the topic came up, might as well ask.
"...So, Yamana-san, you're the one making the suicide fence on the rooftop, right?"
Yamana-san's eyeballs recoiled. They contracted, etching caution onto her face.
Her fingertips dug into her lap, her veins reaching the peak of self-assertion.
Nothing of the sort happened at all.
The only reaction was from her mouth.
"Whaaat?!"
Being surprised like that without her expression changing just makes *me* uneasy. And your scream is a little late. I wonder if she's aware of that herself; with acting far more wooden than Jarao-san's, she coughed to buy some time. Meanwhile, I was straining my eyes, trying to see deep into the CRT screen.
"So, what's this about?" Her way of speaking was quite manly.
"Ah, so, the one trying to break the rooftop fence and jump off, that's you, Yamana-san, right?"
"...Hmm, me and the fence, eh? The fence isn't me, so that possibility isn't entirely out of the question. Kiddo. Words come with responsibility, y'know. Since you said it, go on and treat me like the culprit. I am the culprit, and you make the culprit me."
Yamana-san, laughing vacantly, yet not looking like she's enjoying anything. Her eyes don't change, only her mouth moves ceaselessly; I realized for the first time that this is why she always gave off that impression.
This person... I wonder if she has any intention of hiding it.
"The reason I figured it out is because you were mistaken about something, Yamana-san."
"What did you sayyy?!"
"That was perfect this time." "I was aiming for it."
Hmph, the lady, more triumphant than a child. I wonder if she planned to react the same way no matter what I said.
Which means, if I had, for example, asked, "What's your name?" the lady next to me would have changed her name to "Ms. What-Did-You-Sayyy?!" without any paperwork, or if I'd yelled, "Silence, knave!" she would have retorted with "What did you sayyy?!" and I could have had her beheaded. A pity I missed that chance. Just kidding, though.
"So, can we get back to the topic now?" "Mm."
"It's about how I heard your mistake, Yamana-san, and realized you were the culprit."
"Are you talking about how my 'a's and 'd's often get mixed up when I write?" Shut up.
"What you were mistaken about was the flowerbed behind the hospital."
Bee, bee-bee-beeep. Yamana-san duets with the TV's time signal.
"You made that mistake because you've never gone to see it directly."
Yamana-san's gaze turned to me for just a second. Perhaps her interest was piqued somewhat.
"The other day, you said there was nothing in the flowerbed right now, but that's wrong. There are two flowerbeds, and the one on the near side of the hospital has blue flowers blooming in it."
"Mmm-hmm." "Um, a slightly more specific reaction, please?" "Hmm-mmm." I'll continue.
"But you insisted there was nothing in the flowerbeds, Yamana-san. To understand it that way, you'd have to be looking down from the broken fence on the rooftop. If you don't go there directly, you can't see the flowerbed in the front from up there." Unless you lean out, you can't see it from there.
"You wouldn't go to such a corner of the off-limits rooftop without some purpose. Besides, anyone would notice the cut wire mesh. If you knew about it and didn't report it to anyone, well, that person would seem suspicious, I thought."
However, I think there's one more person who meets those conditions.
Sakashita Koibi-sensei.
But compared to Sensei, Yamana-san looks slimmer and weaker. It would take time and effort to break the wire mesh, and considering that, plus the slow speed at which the mesh was being broken, and then thinking about which of them, Sensei or Yamana-san, is more inclined towards suicide...
"So, that means Yamana-san is the culprit."

"Let's go with that theory, please." Perhaps my enthusiasm got through, as Yamana-san nodded exaggeratedly.
"Yep, I'm the culprit, *desu*. Welcome."
For some reason, she started wringing her hands. On the lunchtime news, a panda at the zoo was fighting with a bamboo pole vendor. Just kidding, though.
Come to think of it, it's lunchtime. I wonder if Sensei and the police guy have left the room already.
"Well, if someone didn't notice, all my hard work would be for nothing, right?"
A little abruptly, Yamana-san muttered that to herself.
"Someone...?"
"What's with that suspicious pause? I was doing this for everyone's sake, you know."
Yamana-san looked miffed, as if to say, "How offensive!" I went "Mff!" too. Just kidding, though.
"That thing... are you really doing it thinking it's for other people's sake?"
"Yep. But for that someone to be you, kiddo, I guess I have a good eye for people."
She praised herself, even taking it to self-affirmation with, "It's precisely because I have a good eye that it's me." "All my facial features are top-class, you know." "Well, at a glance, they do seem that way." "I'm confident in this too." "Huh." "The other day, I even found a ten-yen coin." Did she suck it up?
"So, how exactly is it for everyone's sake? I think it's causing a lot of trouble for the hospital." If a patient jumped, it'd be on the news and everything.
"Oh my, I thought a kid like you would empathize without words. How should I put it, look, it's about sharing the sense of security that comes from knowing you *can* jump, with everyone." That's incredibly unsettling, though.
Perhaps sensing my skeptical gaze, Yamana-san said to the news anchor, "This is too much trouble, so hire a narrator." She narrowed her eyes and rubbed their dry corners with a finger.
"Then shall I just make up a reason myself?" "Mm, I leave it to you." "First off, Sweet Pea is..."
"Ah, never mind, I'll talk. If I leave it to you, kiddo, it'll turn into some shameless girl's story."
Without any particular blush on her cheeks, she put a hand to her face and acted cute. Rather than "shameless," I'd prefer a "brunch" to pierce through the top of her head.
Yamana-san straightened her posture. Then, she turned up the TV volume another notch.
"Well, shall we indulge in a little talk about the old days?"
"That line, it was in the movie shown on TV last night, right?"
"Mm. Well, I guess I'll tell you, kiddo, the secret story behind the creation of my special fence. You're the person I've taken to the most in this hospital, after all—"
Yamana-san began to speak, in a way that sounded somewhat like she was leaving her last will and testament.
"Basically, when patients here wish they could escape their suffering, they can't even properly jump to their deaths, right? The point is, when they're cornered, the outlet for their mental distress is blocked. So I thought if I removed the fence, whether they actually do it or not, it might alleviate that feeling of being trapped."
Yamana-san shrugged like an American. As if to provoke, "Get it?"
Honestly, about sixty percent of it, I understood. Though I'm not depressive.
"That said, making a big announcement would cost a lot in advertising, so it's a special privilege just for those who notice." "Congratulaaations," she blessed me vacuously. Instead of a thank you, I returned with a question.
"But, there are also people hospitalized *to prevent* them from committing suicide."
"Hey, hey, kiddo, why do you think this is a hospital with nurses and doctors, and why do patients have families? It's their duty to stop it, and conversely, it's my role to encourage it."
Yamana-san's lines, delivered without puffing her chest, without a shred of responsibility, as if completely unconscious of the word "role." I thought about giving a flippant retort, but while I was mulling over the wording, she added more.
"I admit, I also considered the possibility of using it myself, but if it were there, you'd make use of it too, wouldn't you, kiddo?"
"What are you saying?" For a rabbit, the moon doesn't quite suit you, so I demurred and denied it.
Still, "making use" of jumping off... That's nicely sarcastic.
Yamana-san snorted "Hmph," and gripped the TV remote. The volume shot up, two notches, three notches. If this were the "Stairway to Adulthood," she'd have already run all the way to the funeral. ...Is that what "Stairway to Adulthood" is supposed to mean?
The sound, distorted, reached my eardrums. The wild birds and the lady newscaster all uniformly became Gian.
It was becoming an environment where I couldn't stand it, couldn't sit still, without covering my ears.
"It's so obvious you're forcing yourself to live, kiddo, yet you still act all tough, don't you?"
"Have I seemed that way to you since before?" Even though she's only been facing the TV screen.
"Even to someone like me, your painfulness comes across," she finished, licking her lips.
Hmph. We were both straining our voices to a level that was almost shouting.
"Certainly, kiddo, you have aspects that are happier than mine. Since you assume that leave permits are solely up to the hospital."
Unusually, she hurled words at me that were laced with nothing but sarcasm, caustically.

And at that, with sharpness covering her eyes and nose, she laid bare her seriousness.
I simmered those words in the pot of my thoughts, along with the roaring sound emitted by the lady from "3-Minute Cooking."
- Leave permit. Overnight stay. Place to return to.
Meaning, the one not permitting it is...
"Yamana-san's... family?"
"Ding-ding-ding, I'd like to say, but time's up, so your answer is invalid."
Without a care, her eyes first, my neighbor smiled.
"Y'see, I... can't go home."
Yamana-san cheerfully, as if to gloss over something, let her voice rise at the end as she exposed that weakness.
"A home you can't return to... can you even call it a home?" she grumbled, further strengthening the TV's volume.
That it was at its limit was displayed at bottom of the screen.
"I've been told not to come back from the hospital... especially by my younger brother."
Yamana-san's younger brother. Abbreviated: Yamana Brother. Too straightforward, maybe? I want to shorten it as much as the "World Ethnic Music Research Society" becomes "Seminken." Just kidding, though.
Yamana-san's gaze dropped to the lower part of the screen. Looked at another way, she was slightly looking down.
"Did you have a fight with your brother or something?"
"Mmm, we got along well, but not enough to fight. He was like you, kiddo, plus some random baby, all multiplied by about three," she boasted about her family member reflectively. I felt like moving away a little.
"However, even such a brother had a fatal problem." Her fist clenched tightly. I, too, held my breath and covered my ears. Ahh, it's so loud.
"My brother was... human!" *Dun-dun-duuun!* Yamana-san fanned the flames.
"...That is indeed a predicament."
It's too fundamental.
"You see, I hate the sounds people make, so much it gives me goosebumps. TV sounds and spoken voices are fine, but when my brother nearby walks, there are footsteps, and if his skin touches my ear, there's the sound of muscles, and if we sleep in the same futon, there's the sound of breathing. I can't just let those things pass by; an error occurs, and it all goes to my stomach."
Yamana-san's left hand went to her stomach, and her right hand made a gun-like shape, pressing and grinding against her temple.
So that's why she didn't even come to the cafeteria in the hospital. It clicked.
"Huh, but you're talking with me right now."
"Ah, the TV sound is the main source, and if I listen to your voice mixed in with that, it seems to be pretty okay."
I see. So that's why she's always in front of the TV, which conducts an orchestra of noise.
"This is pretty selfish of me, but the wonderful thing about me is that I'm fine with my own sounds even by themselves."
"You're busy, aren't you, criticizing and praising yourself."
"Gotta vary the pace, you know," Yamana-san ended it with a non-answer, as if nothing was amiss.

Her gaze returned to horizontal, and her fingertips began to search for a preferred channel.
"My relationship with my brother, well, I was the one enduring it, but it wasn't that hostile, you know. On the surface, we were quite close. My insides were screaming in agony, but human relationships are about whittling yourself down to make room for others, so I'd accepted that."
Yamana-san's thumb stopped. A drama rerun was playing on the screen.
It was a show that had been rebroadcast somewhat regularly since I was much younger.
"But it wasn't that long until the day came when I realized that even forcing things has its limits."
Yamana-san made a gesture like throwing a small stone. What sprouted instant wings was the remote control.
It slammed into the shelf below the TV, where videotapes were stored, and helplessly fell to the floor.
"You know those sandals that make a sound when you walk? The kind kids often wear."
"Um, yes, I pretended to know. My dead little sister... I wonder if she wore something like that."
"My mother bought those for him, and my brother, in a good mood, wore them and walked round and round me.
That idiotic sound pierced me in a special way, and my patience completely failed. My discomfort level went into a major fever, and I hustled like I was about to turn my brother's original form into confetti." "What did you do?" "Let's just say, a 'giant swing.' To avoid damaging my public image."
She turned her palm towards me, indicating that specific details could not be mentioned.
She worries about strange things. Her title as "TV Woman" is already unshakable within the hospital.
"Man, back then, it felt like horns and wings were swapping out rapidly. My growth spurt peaked before puberty, huh."
What kind of creature is she? Even a tengu doesn't sprout that many different things.
"So, my brother was left breathing faintly, and I was promptly sent to the hospital. I was about your age, kiddo."
Yamana-san smiled sweetly, like an older sister (it'd be terrifying if she wasn't) (at the TV).
"I see," I replied noncommittally, maintaining my focus on listening to her story.
"My hospitalization history is contemporary with the old shogi guy's. Yet, mysteriously, I was born in the Heisei era."
Why does she insist on pushing only that unreasonable setting? If that's the case, then I'll claim that it wasn't actually a confinement incident but a group hikikomori project! Just kidding, though.
Could I do such a thing? To make dying, living, kindness and malice, all of it, as if it never happened...
"My family's reaction after I was hospitalized was really indifferent, you know. As dry as a fish right after laying eggs. Besides clothes and hospital fees, they provide me with absolutely nothing. It's not like I ordered room service and said 'no words necessary.'"
Yamana-san's left hand reached out towards me, more purposefully than before. Was she going to strangle me? She tormented my throat by grinding her thumb into it, then perhaps changed her mind and pulled away.
I let out a small breath, but didn't create any distance, staying seated as I was.

"The clincher was that: 'You're not my sister,' he said. My brother, whom I'd snuck out of the hospital to see, told me. Because I'm not his sister, I get treated like *this*. Even though I was apologizing, rubbing my head on the gravel path. But from my brother's perspective, he couldn't treat me as a sister anymore; I was someone else. Of course, no matter how much a blood-related stranger apologizes, they won't forgive you, right?"
Yamana-san, not seeking agreement. She completes her words alone.
But, I... I wouldn't have minded if she'd asked for a handshake.
I should have been able to become one of these comrades.
Because it felt similar to what I directed towards Mayu-chan.
"When I understood that, I fell to the very bottom of what it means to be me."
*Just like you are now, kiddo.* Yes, I saw an auditory hallucination pass over our heads.
"That's why I'll kill myself now. My past still remains on my exterior. I'll die embracing it," she said, and as declared, hugged her own shoulders.
That attitude, it's like she's clinging to the past, and I can't bring myself to like it.
Is the reason I can't like it because she *can* cling to the past?
For me, that doesn't seem very possible.
"And you, kiddo, you want to die even more than someone like me. Even though you have things I'm not blessed with." Spreading her hands wide with a *fwump*, Yamana-san re-evaluated me, feigning openness.
Somehow, it felt like there was a little bit of envy mixed in. Just my imagination, though.
"You won't concede on that point, huh?"
"Because, you said it yourself, didn't you? That corner of the rooftop, you wouldn't go near it unless you had business there. So, what was your business, kiddo?"
She poked a sore spot.
However, her counterattack gouged my throat, and the pain in my face was shaken.
What I discovered, it certainly wasn't possible by chance.
It wouldn't be strange for me to be suspected. In fact, it wouldn't be strange no matter how much I was suspected.
But that was because I was bored, because I had nothing to do, because I was aiming to be a repairman.
There were lots of other reasons; it wasn't that serious.
It's not like I wanted to die that badly.
"Kiddo, if you let time pass like this, you'll even lose sight of the value of dying and living. You'll forget their meaning. That's right, by the time you reach my age, it'll definitely happen."
"Yamana-san, born in the Heisei era, how old are you now, I wonder?"
"Secret. Though it's also sad that the one who wants to die more is you, kiddo, not me."
She shakes her head vigorously from side to side. Does your mouth loosen into a smile when you're sad?
"When the jumping-off fence is complete, I'll report it to you first thing, kiddo. The premiere of the no-rope bungee jump. Of course, you can use it, and I'll even cut you a fifty-yen-off ticket."
First come, first served, one person only.
"Though you'll only be able to use it until I kill myself."
Declaring that, Yamana-san lay down on the spot. "I'm starving—" she wailed, rolling over in the opposite direction from me, bending her knees and curling up. "I'm thirsty—"
"Go to the cafeteria without needing to be prompted," I didn't think. Just kidding, though.