The day you killed yourself.

“AKIRA!”

My eyes snapped open.

Harsh sunlight cut through the curtains and drove into my skull. I squinted against it, then pushed myself upright.

“AKIRA!”

Mom again, sharper this time.

I shut my eyes. Maybe if I stayed still, she’d leave.

Another knock came. The door creaked open.

“It’s time for school.”

“I’m not going.”

“You’ve said that every day.”

“So?”

“You can’t stay in this room forever.”

I rolled onto my side and stared at the chipped paint near the corner. I knew every crack by heart.

“Akira…”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“…Do you?”

“You’ll tell me to move on. That Kamiya wouldn’t want this. That life goes on.”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“…It does.”

A dry laugh escaped me.

“No.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t want it to.”

Mom looked away, twisting the edge of her apron—the same one she’d worn the morning the police came. Her eyes drifted to the picture on my desk.

Kamiya, smiling.

She hated having her picture taken.

“…She always looked so peaceful before…”

“What?”

Mom lowered her head.

“I’m sorry.”

My jaw tightened.

Before she met me, she did.

It was all my fault.

“I’ll go.”

I stood before she could say anything else.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll go.”

The door shut between us.

Downstairs, breakfast sat untouched and cold.

“Akira.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Mom rose so quickly her chair scraped the floor.

“I’m your mom. I’m here for you. Please… don’t shut me out.”

I stopped.

She looked exhausted, dark circles beneath her red-rimmed eyes. She seemed older than she had five months ago.

“I’m here,” she said quietly. “…Whenever you’re ready.”

She reached toward my face.

I stepped back.

“I’m late.”

The front door clicked shut behind me.

The heat hit immediately.

The walk to school felt unfamiliar. Five months wasn’t long enough to forget the road — just long enough for everything else to change.

People looked at me, then away. A woman with a bicycle slowed as I passed. Two middle school boys whispered behind me.

The school gate stood exactly where it always had.

Five months since I’d walked through that gate.

Five months since they found Kamiya at the bottom of the cliff.

My feet stopped. Eventually, I forced them forward.

The hallway was loud—lockers slamming, someone laughing, a basketball bouncing outside.

Life.

Normal.

It made me sick.

As I walked through, the noise shifted into whispers.

“…Isn’t that—”

“He’s back?”

“I heard—”

“Shut up.”

“…Poor guy.”

I didn’t look at anyone.

Outside my classroom, I stopped. Through the door’s small window, I could see my desk.

For a moment, I almost turned around.

Instead, I slid the door open.

“Akira Inei.”

The class president glanced at the attendance sheet.

“Absent.”

A few people laughed.

“Why does he even still call his name?” someone muttered.

“Present.”

The teacher looked up. His chalk slipped from his fingers.

Every head turned toward me.

Nobody smiled. Nobody waved.

I walked to the back of the room.

A boy occupied my seat. When he recognized me, he stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.

I dropped into it.

The lesson continued, or the teacher tried to make it. Nobody listened. Neither did I.

I rested my forehead against the desk. The voices blurred until they sounded distant, almost underwater.

Then a breeze brushed my face.

Cool.

Too cool.

The windows were closed.

I lifted my head.

Kamiya sat in the chair in front of me, turned around and watching.

My throat tightened.

“…Kamiya.”

She smiled, small and shy, the way she always had.

Tears blurred my vision.

“I miss you.”

She said nothing.

“Are you… angry?”

Silence.

“I looked for you.”

Her eyes lowered.

“I should’ve answered. I should’ve noticed.”

My voice cracked.

“…I’m sorry.”

I reached toward her.

“I couldn’t save you.”

My fingers passed through her shoulder. There was no warmth or resistance, only freezing numbness crawling up my arm.

I jerked my hand back.

Was this a dream?

“AKIRA!”

Kamiya vanished.

The classroom snapped back into place: orange sunlight, empty desks, dust floating through the air.

Nobody else was there.

School was over. I’d slept through every class.

Three figures stood by the door.

Takahiro. Daichi. Ren.

My old friends.

“Damn,” Takahiro said. “You look like shit.”

I said nothing.

“We’ve been trying to see you. You ignore our calls, our messages, everyone.”

“What do you want?”

“Thought we’d drag you out.”

“I’m good.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m tired.”

“So sleep later. Come hang out.”

“No.”

“Just for tonight.”

“No.”

“We’ll hit the arcade.”

I didn’t answer.

His smile faded.

“…Still crying over her?”

The hallway went quiet.

“You don’t get to talk about her.”

“Oh?”

“What are you going to do?”

He laughed.

“That’s what I thought.”

He shoved my shoulder. I barely moved. He shoved me again.

“…Fight back.”

I stared at him.

“…Akira.”

Nothing.

His foot slammed into my ribs, sending me into a row of desks. Another kick followed, then another. I curled up, arms over my head.

“Enough.”

Daichi grabbed Takahiro’s arm.

“He isn’t fighting.”

Takahiro shook him off.

“Exactly.”

He looked down at me, disgust twisting his face.

“The old Akira would’ve broken my nose.”

He leaned closer.

“…She died.”

A pause.

“…Not you.”

An ache spread through my head.

Takahiro straightened.

“Let’s go.”

At the door, he stopped.

“The trains.”

I looked up. He waited for a reaction.

I gave him nothing.

He scoffed, and the three of them left.

Silence returned.

I stayed on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Getting up felt pointless.

“…Are you okay?”

A girl’s voice.

Misao stood in the doorway, a textbook pressed against her chest. She must’ve forgotten it.

Her eyes moved from me to the empty classroom and back.

She approached carefully.

“You dropped this.”

She placed my notebook on the desk, then held out her hand.

I looked at it.

She waited.

I didn’t take it. Instead, I pushed myself to my feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I walked past her.

I wasn’t sure I’d come back.

Outside the gate, Takahiro and the others were still waiting. He glanced at me, then turned away.

I didn’t feel like going home, so I walked.

My feet already knew where they were taking me.

The cliff.

The railing was cold beneath my hand. Wind rolled in from the sea, carrying salt against my face.

I lit a cigarette.

The first drag burned.

Good.

I deserved worse.

The rocks below hadn’t changed. Neither had the drop.

Kamiya used to stand here, leaning over the railing just enough to make me panic. I’d grab her wrist before she could go any farther.

She’d laugh.

“You’re too serious.”

“I’ll fall one day.”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

I stared at the rocks below.

…

I didn’t.

The cigarette burned to the filter. Ash loosened and disappeared into the wind.

I watched it go, then looked over the edge.

The rocks waited below.

Patient.

Exactly where they’d been five months ago.

I stood there until the sun disappeared.

Then I turned around and walked away.