Chapter VII - This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore (V)

I couldn't look at Akise. 

I couldn't bear to see the betrayal in his eyes. I'd folded like cheap paper, surrendering without a fight the one thing that mattered to him.

With friends like me, who needed enemies?

"I-I'm... sorry."

It was the best I could manage, a pathetic whisper that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. My hands were shaking, my heart pounding like a rabbit's, and I felt sick.

Silence.

"Well," Akise finally started, his voice strained but attempting levity, "I guess that went about as well as a level one mage challenging the final boss."

I remained silent, shame burning through me like acid.

"It's not the end of the world, Shouma. We'll find a way. We always do." Akise began gathering his scattered papers.

Always do. As if our entire friendship was an endless cycle of me failing him and him forgiving me.

Always do. As if we hadn't just watched the only thing that mattered to us get torn to shreds.

Always do. As if the future wasn't an endless expanse of darkness.

"Actually, this might be the perfect opportunity! We could rebrand as a music club!"

My head snapped up.

"Think about it," Akise continued, warming to his idea. "We already have the piano! We could recruit a couple more people, maybe do something for the Cultural Festival, and Arisato couldn't touch us! It'd be the Four Symbols Club 2.0! The sequel. The return of the legend!"

"Akise—"

"We could perform something. You could play like you used to—"

"Shut up."

The words escaped like shrapnel.

Akise froze, his eyes widening.

"Just... shut up."

My fists were clenched, my nails biting into my palms, the pain grounding me. I couldn't let myself be dragged back into that world. That hell that I shed from myself five years ago.

"Shouma, I—"

"I said shut up. I don't play anymore. You know I don't play. I won't play."

"I was just—"

"No!"

I slammed my palm against the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor.

"You don't get it. You never get it. I don't WANT to play. I don't WANT to be in your club. I don't WANT to be your project."

Each word felt like a knife I was driving into my own chest, but I couldn't stop. Years of repressed anger, shame, and grief erupted like a geyser. It was fated to scald all things in its path. It was my own, personal Pompeii.

"Do you think this is a game? Do you think any of this matters? The club, the festival, your stupid light novels—"

Akise flinched as if I slapped him.

"It's childish! It's all childish! Acting like the world is this... this magical place where efforts are rewarded and dreams come true. It's not. It never was. This is just... this is just bullshit to pass the time until—"

"...Shouma?"

I turned away as I saw the horror etched on his face.

Until I die. That's what I wanted to say.

Because that was the only thing that mattered, the only destination worth aiming for, the only release from the guilt and the pain and the emptiness.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The room felt suddenly too small, too close, too real.

"I need to go," I mumbled, grabbing my bag.

"W-wai—"

But I was already moving, stumbling toward the door, yanking it open. As I lurched into the hallway, a flash of crimson caught my peripheral vision—someone moving quickly around the corner, the hint of a skirt, the lingering scent of smoke and perfume.

I didn't stop to verify. I ran.

Past classrooms filled with students.

Past teachers calling my name.

Past everything that tethered me to this life I was failing at.

I didn't return to class that afternoon. What would have been the point? Kagami Shouma, class representative, top student, reliable helper—it was all a lie, a mask that had finally cracked beyond repair.

Instead, I wandered the school grounds, avoiding the areas where I might be recognized. The storage shed behind the gym. The unused emergency stairwell in the east wing. The narrow strip of land between the school fence and the service road. My mind replayed the scene with Akise like a broken video, skipping and stuttering over the moment his face fell, the moment I betrayed not just his club but our entire friendship built since elementary school.

The hours passed in a fog until the dismissal bell rang and students began flooding the exits. I waited until the crowds thinned, then slipped back inside the now-quiet building. My feet carried me upward, floor after floor, until I reached the door to the roof.

The key turned easily in the lock. The evening air greeted me like an old friend.

The sunset painted Yokohama in shades of orange and gold, the sea reflecting the dying light. From six floors up, everything looked small, insignificant. Cars became toys. People became dots. Problems became...

Well, problems remained problems.

I walked to the edge, to my usual spot by the railing. The concrete courtyard waited below, unchanging and indifferent. I closed my eyes, listening.

For her voice. For the song that had saved me before. For any reason to step back.

Minutes passed. The wind rustled through my hair. A distant siren wailed somewhere in the city.

But no song came.

I opened my eyes, looking down at the drop that had occupied so many of my calculations. Terminal velocity. Impact force. The human body's breaking point. The physics was sound. It would work.

I should do it now. I should end it. There was no music to save me this time.

My fingers gripped the railing. I leaned forward slightly, feeling the familiar vertigo, the pull of gravity like a seductive whisper.

Just let go.

Just let go.

Just let go for God's sake!

I couldn't.

My hands refused to release their grip. My body refused to move. My lungs kept drawing breath after unwanted breath.

It wasn't courage that held me back. It wasn't hope or purpose or any noble sentiment.

It was fear.

Simple, primal, pathetic fear.

I was afraid to die.

After all my scheming, all my calculations, all my certainty, when the moment came, I was just a scared kid who couldn't follow through.

I slid down against the railing until I was sitting on the cold concrete, knees pulled to my chest, laughing and crying quietly at my own cowardice.

Even in this, I was a failure.

The stars began appearing overhead, indifferent to my crisis. The moon rose, casting silver light over the school grounds. And I remained, neither living nor dying, suspended in the purgatory of my own making.

Kagami Shouma. Class representative. Honors student. Failed suicide.

Too afraid to live honestly. Too afraid to die completely.