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"I talked a bit too much today. Why'd I run my mouth like that... Idiot."
She monologued, a mix of self-reproach and self-questioning, and then Yamana-san stopped moving.
After I finished observing that, I listlessly lowered my hands, which had served their purpose as earplugs.
The ringing in my ears had protected me from the TV's explosion sounds, even demoting that annoying thing to merely something I noticed because it was irritating.

I let my butt slide sloppily down the sofa and collapsed onto the floor. Using the sofa as a backrest, this time, I really didn't think I could get up. I looked up at the lights. ...I wished, just a little, that they would change to the color of dusk. Come to think of it, I'd come to ask Yamana-san a question.
Should I really die?
Just kidding. It wasn't something that extreme.
What was it again? I really can't remember.
I did fall down the stairs in between, after all. There's a chance I bumped into someone then and only our minds swapped. Maybe I forgot because of the impact.

If that's the case, who am I now? Who do I want to be?
...Let's see. Since it's all a dream anyway, I'll just say whatever I want.
Mii-kun... wouldn't that be nice? As if it were just for a little while.
Mayu-chan smiles. She smiles at me. She laughs at me.
If that happened, surely. Even someone like me could probably manage a smile.
How stupid. To think about something like this.
And I just said I can't cling to the past.
I regretted flipping a different switch than I had thirty minutes ago. What part of this is a lie, I wonder.
How much of the heart is made of lies?

And then, a few weeks later.
And then, three days after the "first come, first served" person had appeared.
The fine May weather on the rooftop was baking me.
"Hmm..."
I turned over on the bench. Sweat felt slick between my ear and the back of my hand, which I was using as a pillow.
You just can't dream about becoming grilled meat, can you?
A heat that made you imagine summer, as if you could hear cicadas chirping in the distance. Lying down, it felt like hot water was being poured into my ears. I turn over. Hot water in my ear, I turn over.
I want an air conditioner.
"It's hot."
But it's impossible, since the rooftop has clearly become off-limits.
Yamana-san committed suicide three days after she finished destroying the fence.
No notification that it was available for use came to me. I think she probably struggled to break it and wanted it all to herself. Whether that's true or a lie, only I wouldn't know.
I knew it was finished because I went to observe or check it out every day, though.
It was briefly mentioned in the news, and the town made its first TV appearance since my incident.
Inside the hospital, the topic didn't even last three days. She didn't have many close friends, after all.

A distant death.
It's a bad way to put it, but even if someone from the next class in elementary school died in a traffic accident, we'd just go, "Huh." It's the kind of thing where some kids would be happy that first period math class was canceled during the morning assembly.
The hospital, for its part, was blamed a little for inadequate management, and after that, Sensei just had a bit of trouble changing the location of the flowerbeds. Yamana-san's family also showed almost no reaction.
They took measures to completely prohibit use of the rooftop, and after that, life continued peacefully.
But if they're going to be thorough, they should have just destroyed the doorknob. Because if there's a key, you can get in like this.
Though the fruits of Yamana-san's efforts have been completely sealed off.

Why did Yamana-san leave me with her life story?
I don't think she wanted someone to mourn her.
The wind, seeming unreliable, covered the bench.
It wasn't an air conditioner, but it had the strength and welcomeness of a medium-setting fan.
My eyes started to hurt, maybe from some dust, so I closed my eyelids.
"...Sleepy," I willed.
If I sleep during the day, I won't be able to sleep at night. Then I'll end up walking the hallways at night like everyone else. And Sensei will get mad at me again.
"I'm hungry." I think lunchtime has already passed.
"I'm thirsty." A pain like the color red attacked my throat.
But right now, I want to sleep like I've drowned in a river. Because it's hot. But the dream I just had was so empty, I don't want to see it again.
Even if I went to heaven, I wouldn't be able to spend time with my family.
Dad, you were definitely headed for hell, weren't you?
Yamana-san, which one are you?
Which one can Mayu-chan and I go to?
I don't want anyone to answer. Because it's more convincing if God doesn't exist.

When I woke up, there was a gentle breeze.
The bench my body was on also felt soft, but only under my head. Did it melt from the heat?
I pushed the hair from my forehead, wiped my sweat, and then opened my eyelids. Koibi-sensei's face appeared, somewhat dark.
"Mornin'," a short greeting. I tried to reply, but my throat ached with thirst. After reluctantly swallowing, I said, "Good morning." It was then I also realized I'd ended up on my back at some point.
Just kidding.
It seems I was getting a lap pillow from Sensei. No wonder my head felt so soft.
And she was fanning me vigorously with a paper fan. Talk about being pampered; I could die happy right now.
"Sleeping in a place like this, planning to turn into dried fish?"
"I thought I'd get a head start on summer." She poked me with the handle of the fan.
"Honestly, the rooftop is off-limits, so what are you doing casually napping here?" Tap, tap, she poked my forehead as if scolding a poorly-behaved student.
"Ah, I'll get up for now," I said, trying to lift my body, but she poked my forehead with the handle again.
"I'm going to talk to you while you're lying down, so you don't run away."
"Haaah..." And so, the lap pillow continued.
"Isn't it heavy?"
"It's light. Too light." It felt like she was talking about the contents of my head.
I felt a little restless.
She started fanning me again. I decided she was sending the breeze to keep me from moving and quietly accepted it.
Sensei was providing just the right amount of shade, so the blue sky didn't hurt my eyes.
I took this chance to gaze at it intently, as if searing it into my eyes. So that when I closed my eyes, blue would well up instead of time. ...That would be unpleasant in its own way, though.
Wouldn't that make me like a blue-eyed foreigner? Just kidding.
"Finished with your farm work?"
"I'm not a farmer, you know. It's a flowerbed. This time, I decided to grow watermelons instead of flowers." Saying that, she took out a few bags of seeds from her right pocket and showed them to me.
"Watermelons, you say?" Truth be told, I wasn't a big fan.
"After all, it's more fun to grow things you can eat, so I quit with the flowers."
Sensei was the type to literally prefer dumplings (or crops shaped like them) over flowers.
"So, what did you come to the rooftop for?"
Sensei's hand touched my cheek. It was cool, yet calming.
"I wanted to think about Yamana-san for a bit."
Maybe because I'd just woken up, I was surprisingly honest. The reason and all, that's a lie, though.
"...I see." Her expression was one of understanding, as if she'd expected it.
"Sensei." "Hm?"
"I knew Yamana-san was going to commit suicide."
"Mm-hmm." Sensei wasn't surprised.
"...Yeah."
"But I didn't try to stop her, not even once."
"Am I..." a murderer? "...wrong?"
"I'd like to know that too."
Without pause or hesitation, a curt, perverse answer came back.
Words like being hit by a dead ball from behind.
"I also knew that girl was preparing to commit suicide. About half a year ago, I found her in the middle of the night once and made her stop."
Ah, so that's why she knew that spot was dangerous.
Sensei shifted her gaze from me to the rooftop entrance.
"But when I stopped her, she became like a wreck. It seems she was the type of girl who'd lose her reason for living if she didn't die."
Her tone wasn't sentimental, but it was hard.
How she felt about Yamana-san's contradiction was immeasurable.
It was a realm Sensei couldn't understand. Probably, my situation too.
"I think if I'd kept stopping her, she wouldn't have committed suicide. But I couldn't judge which was better: living while wanting to die, or vividly wanting to die. I never learned that there's meaning in just being alive. So I told her to do as she pleased."
Did Sensei have no choice but to say that? I don't really understand Sensei either.
Or rather, there's no one who understands.
Though anyone can understand what Mayu-chan wants.
"So, I let a patient die."
Sensei said, lightly self-deprecating.
Yamana-san might have argued that she was able to die thanks to Sensei. Because there was someone who acknowledged her, no matter in what form. More so than her family.
But only dejected, listless words spilled from Sensei's mouth. As if lamenting that she doesn't understand the feelings of someone who wants to die.
"I'm unfit to be a doctor." "...........Yamana-san said so too." "Mm, as I thought."
I don't think so. There's no way I'd think so.
Because I'm getting a lap pillow. Mmm, that's subtly not a lie.

"Yamana-san advised me that I should commit suicide too."
While I could still make that judgment.
"Ah, no, that's no good. Rejected."
I was denied incredibly simply and swiftly. More dismissive than a mother refusing a child's plea for a toy.
I'm pretty sure I said something quite serious, though.
And for some reason, she slapped the fan she was waving like she was cooling sushi rice.
"You are not to beat me to death. Even if I live long enough to be called Kin-san herself, you have to outlive that. Okay, promise."
She stuck her pinky finger into my ear canal. Hooked it inside like a key, "Oooow-ow-ow-ow!" I was subjected to the torture known as a pinky promise. I couldn't help but arch my back. I felt like I could do a bridge with just my head and toes.
"Alright, pinky swe~ar." It was pulled out with a plop.
"Man, I'm looking forward to the day you become a decrepit old geezer."
Having bullied me, Sensei was now in a thoroughly good mood. Aggressive people are like this.
"Um, Sensei..." "What is it, lad?" Why the manly way of speaking? Let's change the subject already. While pressing my ear canal, this was something I had to ask before I could be convinced. "Why can you so decisively stop me from dying?"
To my question, feigning simplicity, Sensei somehow made a difficult face. She looked somewhat displeased, even. She even turned away.
"Why...? I told you, didn't I? I'm unfit to be a doctor."
It was a curt way of speaking.
"Satisfied now?" "Not at all." A fist, not the sky, came down. Abeshi.
"I'll give you a gold star, so say yes." "Is thaaat so?" I got slapped on the forehead.
Instead of a gold star, I got a maple leaf.
As I was feeling perplexed, thinking this was completely incomprehensible no matter how I looked at it,
*Shonen is still such a brat, huh.*
A misheard voice echoed in my head.
Followed by: *Keh keh keh, he's shonen because he's a brat, right?*
The blue sky seared into my eyes and the broken wire mesh that had already occupied a corner of my memory mocked me.
Borrowing Yamana-san's voice.

Oooh, I'm being tormented by illusions even though I haven't been huffing paint thinner.
Do you want me to die that badly, Yamana-san?
But that's impossible.
Because after it became possible to jump, I never once came to the rooftop.
I was waiting for Yamana-san to fall first.
...Oh well, whatever.
Her thighs are soft, after all.
So, let's just establish that I'm not someone who wants to die yet.
But also implanting the idea that when I do die, I'll jump.
And so, for the first time in a while, I felt like I had been touched by someone soft.
My heart's escape route was decided: the rip in the fence and the blue sky.
Idiots like high places, after all, so it suits me.
"...That's a lie, though."
Converted, and it's a lie.

What I met in summer was.
My precious, not-so-precious friend.

Summer: "Friendship Plan"

It was the beginning of July when school changed from a building on TV to something I would attend once more.
One week after being discharged (made to be discharged) from the psychiatric hospital.
"Don't tell me you plan to live as a shut-in for the rest of your life? If not, then get used to school again." My aunt urged, so I ended up leaping out into the summer sky, terrible with the screeching of cicadas.
My uncle suggested, "Wouldn't it be fine to wait until after summer vacation ends?" but my aunt flatly rejected it, saying something like, "Having two months of summer vacation is ten years too early for you."
My aunt doesn't treat me like something fragile, which is tough in its own way. It would have been easier for me if she had been more considerate, a little more distant.
In my room, which smelled of nothing, I packed my school backpack, the one still bearing the scars inflicted by my little sister. A season when nose-melting heat streamed in through the window. But the textbooks prepared for me had no creases or doodles on the pictures of great figures; the grime from studying, a testament to learning, was only now beginning to accumulate. While checking the brand-new timetable, I put math and social studies textbooks—whose characters I felt I'd already forgotten how to write—into my backpack, and stuffed in as many notebooks as there were classes. The textbooks and notebooks were new, so my name wasn't written anywhere on them, and a sigh escaped me.
All that was left was the blue bag containing my pool gear. Elementary school had already started its swimming season, and it seemed today's P.E. class was set to be swimming too. On this bag, a name was written in black letters on a blue background. "Class 4-1, Edase XX."
"...Ugh, I saw it again."
A taut twist, as if a moth were struggling to flap its wings inside my temples. I bit off the distortion and shook my head. I felt like dousing my head with cold water.
I wish she hadn't written my name.
I have to be so careful about how I hold it and how I walk; it's becoming a pain.
I feel like I'm going to start hating summer.
"...And besides, fourth grade."
At school, there were fifth graders who used to be my classmates, and I was still in fourth grade. In other words, held back a year. Not because I'm a notorious delinquent... but because the year I spent deeper underground than earthworms or moles was judged to have not made me grow at all.
"That's not true, you know." I developed a distrust of people, so my heart grew a whole size larger—just kidding.
Mmm, but I only ate nutritionally unbalanced meals, so I haven't grown much taller. Or rather, maybe not at all? Maybe my feet got smaller because I lost so much weight; even the shoes I wore at my old house are loose. Mmm, regression, perhaps?
"Hey! It's time!!"
My aunt called from downstairs. She banged on the wall, hurrying me. "Coming now," I replied, my voice clearly lacking volume, and for some reason, the image of a certain Sunday anime mom floated in my mind.
If it were the hospital life I'd always envisioned, by now my eyes would be burning at the scenery outside the window. I miss the life of TV, walks, and the rooftop—just kidding.
"...Ah, ah," just kidding. I'm still not used to the conversion.
Maybe I'm overreaching. When my feet aren't even on the ground.
I recall what Koibi-sensei told me when I was discharged.
"First, try not to stumble on the idea that you *have* to try hard."
What Yamana-san had said also shook my eardrums at that time.
*"Heh heh heh, it's not 'cause getting a job is a pain, y'know."*
Not this one.
*"Shonen, if you go outside, you'll definitely be isolated."*
...I can't make Yamana-san a liar, can I? I thought. That itself is a lie, though.
I shouldered my backpack. I gripped the string extending from the pool gear bag. Lastly, I picked up my hat.
The yellow school cap that everyone wore back when I had perfect attendance in elementary school was no longer mandatory. But I wear it. Because the scar on my head from being hit with a metal bat is the easiest for others to spot. "...Huh?" When I put on the hat, my bangs covered my eyes, and I couldn't see ahead.
I tried walking like that. It's not like my future was particularly bright to begin with, so I figured I could somehow walk the rest of my life like this— "Guh!" I tripped at the border between the hallway and the room. My shins are crying.
I adjusted my bangs so I could at least see my feet. I carefully descended the stairs and got a light tap on the head from my aunt. "At least answer when you're called." "The process doesn't matter. What's important is producing the result of me hearing you." I was tapped again for talking back.
Then I was given lunch money, put on shoes so big my toes were in a void, was handed the key to my aunt's house, and went outside. Outside, many objects other than green or brown were growing or built, and flesh-colored people were walking around.
It was then, after going outside, that I first truly realized, ah, this is a different house from before.
Outside, it was hot enough for the cicadas clinging to the trees to drop dead one after another. I looked to see if people were also dropping dead on the roads or anything, but I didn't find any in particular, so I decided against lying down too.
If I face forward, I can't see anything, so I walk with my head down. Doing so, I fall into the illusion that the trapped dampness and heat never escape me, but swirl around.
That's why things I usually wouldn't try to think about float to the surface of my brain, like I'm getting heatstroke.
...Since then.
That guy, Mii-kun, what's he doing?
And, Maa-chan?
"..." I turned around.
My shadow was stuck to the road as usual, looking very hot.
There was no one else.
"...........Hmm."
I felt like the backpack I was carrying was lighter than before.

When I entered the classroom, the room, which had been about as lively as a coffee shop, fell as quiet as under the earth.
I got to easily experience the feeling of being a transfer student. Though it wasn't exactly easygoing.
I stopped near the classroom entrance and looked around. Where was my seat? Even if I tried to ask the boy with the baseball-player haircut (prejudice #1) or the girl with the Japanese-doll hairstyle (prejudice #2) nearby, they'd just avert their eyes, so all I got was a barrage of "there's no one there" messages.
Even though my surname had changed, it seemed everyone knew what my family had done and roughly what had happened to me, the person in question.
"Ah, um, it's here."
One of the boys, apparently sensing my predicament, tapped the desk behind him, sending me the information. I gave a small nod and then moved towards it. On the way, as per tradition, someone tried to trip me, so I hastily floated about three centimeters in the air. Just kidding.
After I reached my seat, the boy who had twisted his body halfway back managed to move his seemingly hard-to-open mouth and spoke to me.
"Ah, I'm, uh, Kaneko. And you're, um, Edase... san... kun... right? ...Well, is it okay to talk casually... or something?"
"Yeah... Nice to meet you." I hesitated quite a bit before saying it.
What that pause implied seemed to have gotten through to Kaneko clearly, as he returned an ambiguous smile.
"Uh, if there's anything you don't understand, other than math, feel free to ask."
Kaneko concluded the conversation with an unfamiliar classmate with a kindness that maintained an appropriate distance. He faced forward and resumed chatting with his other friends. He might actually be a good guy.
I took off my hat and fiddled with my hair to secure my forward vision. Then, along with the pool gear bag, I hung it on the hook on the side of my desk. Finally, I transferred the contents to my desk drawer and headed to the back of the classroom with my empty backpack. Even on the way, gazes stuck to my skin like sticky fingerprints, making me grimace.
My locker was number four, one before Kaneko's. A small rectangular sticker was on it, with a name written. First, I peeled it off, then took out another kid's recorder, library books, and a few clumps of dust that were in the locker, and shoved my backpack in instead. It fit easily. So, what should I do with these sticks and scraps of paper? Hmm... It feels childish to get angry or demand money for unauthorized use, like with a parking spot. Just kidding, but can I just leave them on the floor and say goodbye? Partly due to the influence of my mother, who was neat and loved tidiness (though when she was bored, she'd tear books apart and play with them like puzzles), I was a bit bad with sloppiness. But I tend to leave my own problems unresolved, so I guess this is fine too.
Hoping that classmates would swarm in front of the locker like carp in a pond, I stretched my bent back and knees. I looked around at the gathered gazes, surely scattering them, and tried to return to my seat.
That's when I noticed a girl in the very back seat staring at me brazenly, as if she wasn't done yet. Chin in her hand, lips slightly curled at the edge. Long hair that looked like she'd say she'd only cut it two or three times since she was born. A white shirt and shorts, active-looking attire. But her skin was also pure white, matching her shirt. A girl who gave the impression of a cicada's shed skin, her whole skin seeming thin, as if a scrape would immediately draw blood. Well, her face was more well-featured than a cicada's or a normal kid's, though.
"Hiyah!" A pretty yet childish shout from the girl.
The girl extended her leg to the desk to her right, making a bridge, and, without any thought of hiding it or surprising me, blocked my path. The boy in the adjacent seat, whose desk now had her indoor shoe pressed firmly against its side, looked at the girl's face with incomprehension. The girl ignored him, completely absorbed in observing me.
I tried observing her back.
First, I noticed a mosquito bite on the girl's leg. I traced my finger under my nose, trying to deduce the meaning of this action from that tiny piece of information. ...It certainly wasn't that she wanted me to lick the affected area with my tongue as a substitute for anti-itch cream, so I couldn't even imagine. That much is obvious.
The surrounding classmates neither helped nor stopped the girl; they were just murmuring. They were just amusing themselves by watching and pretending not to see, thoroughly committed to the opportunism of being background characters.
If I stood there rooted to the spot and drew any more attention, my annoyance felt like it would explode like popcorn, so I decided to imitate the girl and ignore her.
I circled around to the right, avoiding passing next to her, and returned to my seat. After sitting down, I glanced back briefly and saw the girl had let her bridged leg fall and had also removed her hand from her chin.
However, her glare at me had changed... Her round eyes had narrowed, and her gaze, which had been merely touching, had transformed into something piercing. Did she want me to kick her aside and move forward? Maybe she was a girl who had converted to some "Slow and Steady Wins the Race" rebellion cult. I'd hate it if she tried to recruit me.
What could she possibly want from me, who could no longer walk a straight path in a straight line?
.........Ah, so maybe she extended a helping hand—or rather, foot—to try and rehabilitate me. I arbitrarily imagined things about her, pretending to be annoyed or scared. Just kidding.
But what's with that girl? Does she find me instinctively repulsive? I hope she doesn't pick fights with me over various things. ...Yeah, no, it's fine. She shouldn't have any interest in someone like me.
I think there was a manga character who said they wanted to live like a plant... When it comes to school, I strongly agree.
An environment where actions involving five or more people—my definition of a group—are demanded many times throughout the day. It makes you suffocate, burns a hole in your stomach, and ruins your liver... that was my uncle. Apparently from drinking too much.
But I digress. Anyway, school seems far more troublesome than anticipated or advised.
Unless the nurse's office is a ten-second walk away and open 24/7 or something, I really don't think I can manage this job. That said, I also somehow dislike the idea of being cooped up in my aunt's house all the time.
The hospital really is the most comfortable place, isn't it? The atmosphere isn't so edgy there either.
Why did Maa-chan hate the hospital and go outside?
...Ah, right. I should probably check properly, just in case.
I checked left and right to confirm that Mii-kun and Maa-chan weren't in the same class. Next, I glanced at the clock, got bored, and looked out the window.