Chapter 1
As a child, the idea of dying comforted me. It wasn’t something I chose to think about—it simply appeared, unbidden, as if it had always been there. Dying seemed like the simplest solution to escape the harshness of life: the suffocating expectations of my parents, the emptiness that stretched endlessly inside me. If only I had never been born, I thought, perhaps I could have avoided all this. Every day felt unbearable—an existence I wished had never begun. If only I had died before consciousness took hold, I could have been free from this life.
Empty.
That’s what I was. Yet, I found a strange solace in knowing that even emptiness could be defined. But an empty vessel, no matter its form, serves no purpose. A glass meant to hold water is meaningless if there is no water to fill.
As the ever-so-empty person that I am, friendships eluded me. I questioned their value and always reached the same conclusion: they were exhausting. I once had a small circle of friends. We played, talked, and spent time together. But gradually, it all felt like a chore. I began to wonder if I mattered to them, or if I was merely filling a space. The disconnection grew, and soon, I started distancing myself. It was easier that way.
How could they enjoy such meaningless interactions? Did they pretend for the sake of the group? If so, I admired their endurance. Pretending, after all, is no small feat. It requires effort to maintain appearances, to craft responses that aren’t monotone, to fool others into believing you belong.
After a while, they stopped asking me to join them. I didn’t blame them. If I were in their shoes, I’d stop, too. Who would want to be met with indifference and refusal every time? It didn’t affect me much. Our friendship had been circumstantial, born out of proximity in class. If that’s all it takes to form a bond, then wouldn’t everyone be my friend?
In a moment of idle curiosity, I searched online: “What does it mean to be friends?”
I found a thread with two replies. The first read, “LOL, this thread is cringey. Friends are overrated. Just find a good video game and forget about real life!”
The second said, “Seriously? Who cares about loyalty? It’s just people pretending to care. Half of you probably stab each other in the back anyway.”
Both replies resonated with my skepticism. Friendship seemed meaningless—or so I thought.
The fact still remains I was friendless.
When you’re alone, the emptiness grows. It’s an insatiable void. I tried to fill it—making friends again, playing with my neighbor’s child, reading light novels. But nothing worked. The emptiness consumed everything, transforming it into something even more hollow. It was a vicious cycle: action brought failure, and inaction deepened the void. School, too, became unbearable. Surrounded by people, I felt the isolation even more acutely.
My stomach churned with unease until I decided I’d had enough.
One dinner night, a news about a middle schooler who committed suicide appeared on the news.
“I don’t understand why anyone wants to kill themself.” My father said, his voice indifference.
Ah, you just had to say it. I don’t think my father can help me. If anything he would ridicule me.
…
When the emptiness grows larger, you can’t fill it. No matter what I do, the feeling persists. I tried doing all sorts of things. I tried to make friends in class, again, however it ended the same. I even played with my neighbor’s child, but I didn’t know how to act or behave to a child far younger than me, so I was in an awkward situation that I didn’t do it again. Reading light novels helped a little, but was insufficient.
Nothing filled the vast emptiness.
All the contents I poured in simply vanished.
It didn’t fill anything, it had simply transformed into another form of emptiness, causing what’s already empty to grow even emptier. It worsens when you’re alone by yourself. It’s ironic because, no matter what I did, all were complete failures. If I also do nothing, the emptiness expands. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, finding the very thing to fill yourself with. Perhaps there isn’t any need to, but only to accept and live with it.
I wanted to do something but I don’t have the energy to act upon it. So Instead I remain motionless, exposed to all the factors eating me away. Only to find it intensifiying when you share the same space with different people, making attending school all the more unpleasant. My stomach churning equivalent to the same amount of emptiness within, I’ve decided I had enough of it—
One Monday morning, my parents received a call from the school. I had skipped class, and they were furious. But their anger didn’t matter. School didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. If life were a dark tunnel with no light at the end, why keep walking?
I questioned the need to attend school. It didn’t seem to be all that important to me. For a person of hollowness, I didn’t need a diploma. After all, I can’t even imagine my future, all I see is that it was dark.
If someone told you that you had a month left to live, what would you do?
Many would reflect on their life, spend time with loved ones, or rush to complete a bucket list. But for me, the answer was clear: I would detach. I would let go.
And in that resignation, I found a strange relief.
The weight lifted, and the world seemed kinder, if only for a moment.
I decided that in the summer, one month away, I would die.
With that decision made, I began searching for a place to end my life. I left school during a lecture, causing the chair to screech loudly. My homeroom teacher, unfazed, asked, “Is something wrong, Shiragane-kun?”
“Can I leave the school?”
“Why do you need to leave the school?”
“Just because.”
“I see, just because, huh?”
“Yes, just because.”
“I see. Well, I’ll allow you to leave my class, but you’ll be expecting a call from the school.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
And with that, I left. Her peculiar nature struck me, but I didn’t dwell on it. The hallways were quiet, a rare emptiness that felt refreshing. As I walked, I was comforted by the thought of finality. This would all end soon. The town was extremely peaceful, I doubt I’d find any suitable place.
When you keep seeing the same scenery every day, you’ll find it boring. It’s a psychological process where we become less responsive to stimuli after repeated exposure. However, when we experience novelty or achieve something exciting, the brain pays heightened attention to it, releasing dopamine—a neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and motivation.
I found dying to be a novelty, so my brain’s releasing more dopamine than what it normally releases, the most likely reason why I suddenly feel better. However, in the context of repetitiveness, this novelty of dying is temporary once I get used to it, the feeling of emptiness will eventually return, but I had hoped not.
When I walked out to the front gate, the street that was usually filled with cars and full of people was empty, too. Only a few passing cars were seen. Usually so, it’s normally filled with parked cars and students rushing out to go home. This time, there wasn't any of that, it was outstandingly clear, so clear that I could smell the asphalt melting away in the rising heat.
There is only a month left until summer officially starts, it’s already hot as it is and it would get even hotter leaves an unpleasant impression. I don’t want to be walking out in the scorching heat. It’s a good thing I chose to die at the start of summer, that way, my body will decompose quickly in just nine days. That is if I’m not found—though no one will most likely notice of my disappearance.
The moment I got close enough to the sea, I could smell the salty tang of the ocean. I didn’t know it had a smell before. I stopped and contemplated for a moment whether the beach would be the ideal place, but immediately gave up. The beach was beautiful, but I remembered an elderly couple who walked there every morning. I didn’t want to scare them.
The park was also unsuitable; I couldn’t bear the thought of a child finding my body. My search continued, but I found nowhere fitting.
At one point, a police officer stopped me. “Why aren’t you in school?” the officer asked.
I had completely forgotten, I was casually walking on the streets, today is Monday, so it’s unusual for a student to be on the streets.
“I’m sick,.” I lied, but essentially, aren’t I sick?
He studied me, unconvinced. “You look fine to me.”
“No, I’m sick.”
“Right. Just sick.”
“Yes, just sick.”
The officer paused, studying me for a moment, deciding whether to ask more or not. “Alright, be sure to go home, okay?”
“Okay.”
He let me go, perhaps unwilling to delay his lunch.
My search continued the next day.
On the intersection, I saw a couple flirting. They were caught up in their own world. Their hands were only brushing against each other as they exchanged playful banter. But still, it’s all the same to me.
What I can’t understand is liking another person. I have never experienced falling in love, so it’s all the more a mystery to me. I don’t understand any of it and I’ll never be able to. I recalled asking my mother what love is, she responded with different types of love which complicated things. So, I asked her.
“You know you’re in love,” she said, “when their laughter becomes your favorite song, when you find comfort in their presence, and when every moment apart feels like an eternity. It’s when you care for their happiness as fiercely as your own, and even in silence, there’s a language only you two understand. Love isn’t always grand gestures; sometimes, it’s the little things—the way they hold your hand, the way they see you when you feel invisible. It’s a feeling that transforms the ordinary into extraordinary, making you believe that you could face any storm as long as you’re together.”
Then I’m sure that I’ll never experience love, after all, for an empty being that consists of a heart, wouldn’t be empty anymore. All the more reason that I wouldn’t experience it is I'd be dying in the summer.
…
“Is something the matter, Shiragane-kun?” she asked as I stood to leave.
“Can I go home?”
“Oh, what’s your reason for today?”
“Just because.”
“I see, just because, again, huh?” the teacher smiled faintly, “Alright. But come with me to the faculty office first.”
Confused but resigned, I followed her. She led me to her desk and gestured for me to sit. Then, she said nothing. For thirty minutes, silence hung between us. Finally, I broke it. “Why am I here?”
“You’re free to leave if you want,” she replied, her tone calm.
I doubt she’d let me go.
“.....”
“.....”
She went silent for the whole 30 minutes.
. “Right,” I spoke in a prolonged inflection, “So, why am I held against my will here?”
“What are you talking about? You’re not held here against your will. I told you you’re free to leave, remember?”
“.....”
I don’t know what’s going through her head right now. But it doesn't seem like she’s furious, rather, she seems to be taking advantage of the situation. If I were to start walking out the door now, I can already surmise she’ll tell me to stay. So I decided to stay.
Eventually, she dismissed me, leaving me bewildered. What was her purpose? Amusement? Concern? I couldn’t tell. But her actions delayed my search, and as night fell, I returned home empty-handed.
My enthusiasm began to die down.
The days passed, each one bringing me closer to summer.
Closer to the end.
…
Soon, summer break came to be a day away, I was absentmindedly sitting in class gazing outside the window. I don’t know what to think of it, it’s just that the day is finally near. When class was finally over, I didn’t know what to do. Everyone eagerly left all while talking about their plans for the summer, I felt somehow empty, I didn’t want to do anything.
When everyone left, it became lonely. It's somewhat comfortable, but at the same time all the more excruciating. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to cry but I don’t even know when’s the last time I cried. I don’t even remember anything about my childhood. I remembered how I kept wishing for someone to come and find me, but nobody came.
Considering tomorrow will be my last day, there’s no need to wish for a companion. The day after tomorrow will never come, and I will cease to exist. So, for today, I should do things that I wouldn’t normally do.
I wanted to go to the rooftop, I’ve always wanted to, but most of the time it’s locked.
I went to the faculty office, looking for the teacher. “Sensei, could I have the key to the rooftop?” I asked.
“Hmm? Why?” she replied, looking up from her desk.
“I just felt like it.”
“I see, ‘just felt like it’, this time, huh. Not going with the ‘just because?’” she teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
“Not really.” I shot back, maybe this wouldn’t work.
“I thought that would be your catchphrase.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why ask me? Her eyes narrowed as if she knows what I'm up to.
“You’re the only one I can ask.”
“Alright, I can agree to that, but on one condition.” Her tone shifted, becoming more serious.
“What condition?” I replied casually, not thinking of the change in her tone.
“You have to offer me your soul.” She said with a strange look in her eyes.
“Huh? What does that even mean?” I said stupefied.
“It means what it means.” She replied cryptically.
“Are you playing with me?” I asked with a serious frown on my face, I couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not.
“No, no, I’m not. I mean what I mean, so do you want the key or not?”
“......” Finally after a few seconds, “Fine,” I resigned without much thought. I figured she only said that as a joke.
I left the faculty office. She had a strange look on her face. Almost as if she knows what mischief I could possibly be up to. She said something in the lines of my desires coming true. What does she know?
With a key in hand, all that is left to do is the rooftop. The hallways were empty and quiet, except for the faint echoing noises I could hear. Most likely coming from the baseball club practicing.
After a minute of walking, I found myself standing at the last stairway before the rooftop. I suddenly came to recall memories—memories that were not mine—of a girl eating her lunch just exactly 2 steps from the top. She sat alone, her movements graceful yet solitary, and something about her presence made it clear she was the kind of person who could vanish without anyone noticing.
Suddenly, I snapped back to reality, my gaze fixed on the empty stairs.
How strange, to recall a random girl's memory so vividly. Maybe it was just my imagination running wild, or maybe the thought that tomorrow would be my last was playing tricks on me. Was I more broken than I thought? Perhaps I wasn’t ready after all...
I exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts aside, and continued my climb. At the top, I inserted the key into the door and pushed it open. A cool breeze hit my face.
The rooftop was almost empty, save for the high guardrails and patches of grass poking through the cracks in the concrete. It wasn’t pristine, nor was it filthy—it simply felt neglected, just as I had imagined it would.
My eyes swept across the space, and I noticed some damage to the guardrails. I supposed it was to be expected, given the neglected state of the place.
…
