Chapter 10 — Like Soap Bubbles

The second July 1st since I gave away my lifespan.
Wednesday. Sunny.

On this day, Ichinose attempted suicide for the twentieth time.

This time it was a jumping suicide—from the usual bridge. Even though it was one of the easiest ones for me to interfere with, it still left me breaking out in a cold sweat.

Normally, I arrive more than an hour early and wait at the scene.

But this time, Ichinose was already standing on the bridge before I got there.

If she had acted on a whim and jumped earlier than usual, everything would have been over.

“I thought you might not come today.”

Ichinose said that while looking out at the distant scenery.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since morning.”

It was already past noon.

That meant she had been here for several hours. She’d had plenty of chances to jump.

And yet she was just standing there, gazing at the view.

“I was waiting. If you had been a little later, I was planning to jump from here.”

“Waiting?”

“There’s somewhere I want to go today.”

She had waited for me to arrive—and now she was the one suggesting we go somewhere.

That had never happened before.

I pinched my cheek, wondering if I was dreaming.

But Ichinose only looked at me coldly.

“What are you doing?”

She beckoned me over.

When I asked where we were going, she only said, “It’s a secret.”

That was the complete opposite of her usual behavior.

As I followed behind her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off today.

Just in case, I pinched my cheek again.

Ichinose looked at me with open disdain.

“Mr. Aiba… you’re acting kind of strange today.”

“You’re the strange one,” I shot back.

“You’ve always said there’s nowhere you want to go. What’s with the sudden change?”

“Well, once in a while is fine, isn’t it?”

She said that, but it felt like she was dodging the question.

I had no intention of prying further, but there was definitely something unusual about her today.

After about twenty minutes of walking, we arrived at a national park in our town.

It was so large that you couldn’t possibly explore the whole place in a single day. People even came from far away to visit.

I’d been here a few times when I was little.

At the entrance, visitors had to pay an admission fee.

Ichinose tried to pay for both of us, so I stopped her.

But she clenched some coins in her hand and refused to back down.

“Today I’m paying.”

There was no way I could let a middle school girl treat me, so we argued for a few minutes.

In the end, we decided the winner of a game of rock–paper–scissors would pay.

I won.

So I paid.

After passing through the entrance gate, a large canal stretched straight ahead like a river.

Water spouted out at regular intervals, and the sound of splashing echoed through the air.

On both sides of the canal were tree-lined paths stretching forward.

We walked along one of them.

Families with small children and elderly couples were strolling along the paths as well.

Since it was now July, the weather had grown a little warmer, and the sound of the water felt refreshingly cool.

When the wind blew, the leaves rustled.

Occasionally, the sound of a twig snapping underfoot echoed.

It almost felt like being in a forest.

“I like quiet places like this.”

Ichinose looked peaceful, unlike her usual guarded self.

As she gazed at the scenery, her eyes looked gentle.

“I like it here too,” I said.

“I’m glad.”

She smiled softly.

Walking along the canal, we eventually reached a large pond.

Several swan boats and rowboats floated on the water.

The blue sky reflected clearly on the surface.

At a nearby stand, I bought two bottles of ramune and handed one to Ichinose.

Looking at the bottle made me feel oddly nostalgic.

Not that I had any particular memories connected to it.

The marble dropped inside the bottle with a clink, and bubbles fizzed up.

Ichinose struggled to open hers, apparently unfamiliar with ramune bottles.

I opened it for her.

She gave a small clap.

The carbonation burst inside my dry mouth and instantly refreshed me.

Ichinose seemed to dislike carbonated drinks.

She slowly sipped while staring at the marble inside the bottle.

Her lips looked more moist than usual.

After finishing the drink, Ichinose leaned over the pond’s railing and waved toward the water.

Dozens of koi fish had gathered at the surface.

They must have thought they were about to be fed.

Come to think of it, the stand had sold koi food too.

I went back and bought some.

When I handed it to her, her eyes sparkled.

Nearby was a boathouse.

So we decided to feed the koi while riding a swan boat.

The swan boats were the typical two-seater ones you often see at tourist spots.

They creaked the moment we stepped on.

The paint was peeling in places, and the steering wheel was rusted.

Before getting on, I had been worried about getting seasick.

Now I was worried about whether the thing would sink.

We pedaled together, but the boat moved slower than expected.

The pedals were heavy.

Looking at Ichinose’s thin legs, I couldn’t help worrying they might snap.

“Mr. Aiba, watch the right side. I’ll watch the left.”

Ichinose searched seriously for koi.

But before long, they started approaching us themselves.

Or rather—

Before we knew it, we were surrounded by a massive swarm of koi.

There were too many to count.

Ichinose even shrank back a little.

“This is… kind of scary.”

When we tossed the food, the fish splashed wildly, sending water flying everywhere.

For a moment I thought the boat might tip over.

Despite that, Ichinose leaned out over the boat, completely absorbed in feeding them.

I grabbed the back of her clothes so she wouldn’t fall.

But she didn’t seem to notice.

Even after the food ran out, the koi refused to leave.

“Sorry… we don’t have any more food.”

Ichinose said that to the fish like she was talking to them.

It was a heartwarming sight.

If only she wasn’t someone trying to kill herself.

After getting off the swan boat, we continued exploring the park.

We ate a slightly late lunch at the food court.

What we ordered was just ordinary udon in disposable bowls.

But somehow food tastes better in places like this.

After finishing her udon, Ichinose also ate a soft-serve ice cream.

As she brushed her hair behind her ear while eating, she looked a little more mature.

The shop also sold toys like balls and frisbees.

Since I didn’t feel like doing anything too physical, we bought soap bubbles and a picnic sheet, then headed to the open field in the center of the park.

A vast green lawn spread out before us.

Picnic sheets were laid everywhere.

An elderly couple ate homemade lunches.

A father played ball with his child.

A couple threw a frisbee for their dog.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

In the center of the field stood a single massive tree.

It was basically the symbol of the park.

From here it looked small in the distance.

We walked across the grass toward it.

When we reached the shade beneath the tree, we spread out the colorful picnic sheet and sat down.

The ground was uneven.

Ichinose sat formally on her knees.

Didn’t that hurt?

The wind blew.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves.

The quiet rustling of branches filled the air.

From outside the shade came cheerful voices.

I couldn’t help glancing over.

A young couple was playing badminton.

Because of the wind, when the girl hit the shuttlecock it flew far past her boyfriend.

When he hit it, it barely moved forward.

It had long since stopped being badminton and become some other kind of game.

But they were laughing.

They looked like they were having fun.

Watching them like this, it felt like the world inside the shade and the world outside were different places.

And I was just an observer in the shaded world, watching the other one with envy.

Honestly, if Ichinose wasn’t sitting next to me, I’d probably feel completely out of place.

Almost nobody in the park was alone.

Even the ones who were alone blended in somehow—sketching scenery or napping on picnic sheets.

But if I had come here alone, I knew I wouldn’t blend in.

I couldn’t explain it well, but it felt like I was fundamentally different from the people outside the shade.

That difference isolated me.

Unless that difference disappeared, I would never want to live.

The grim reaper had said I would regret things if I stayed with Ichinose.

But that was impossible.

If Ichinose ever gave up on suicide, we probably wouldn’t come to a park together like this again.

Things would simply return to the way they were before.

No matter what happened, there would never come a day when I regretted giving away my lifespan.

While I was thinking that—

Ichinose suddenly jumped.

“A bug! A bug!”

She grabbed my clothes and pointed at the edge of the picnic sheet.

A small ant was walking there.

“That’s nothing to freak out about.”

I caught the ant and placed it on the tree trunk.

Even after that, Ichinose kept checking the sheet repeatedly.

To distract her, I took out the soap bubble set from the bag and handed it to her.

Inside were two green straws and four pink containers filled with bubble solution.

We split them and started blowing bubbles.

Countless bubbles floated gently away from the straws.

They drifted outside the shade and soon disappeared.

“Mr. Aiba… soap bubbles really don’t suit you.”

Ichinose chuckled as she blew bubbles outside the shade.

“I know that already.”

On the other hand, soap bubbles suited her perfectly.

Like the fragile bubbles that burst at the slightest touch, she looked delicate and fleeting.

It matched her strangely well.

I watched her from the shade the entire time.

“Hey… want to make it a contest?”

I asked when she came back.

“A contest?”

She tilted her head.

“Whoever blows a bubble the farthest wins. The loser has to do whatever the winner says.”

She thought for a few seconds.

Then she looked at me suspiciously.

“If you win, you’re going to tell me to give up on suicide, right?”

“Who knows.”

“Hm.”

She clearly didn’t believe me.

“Fine. ‘Give up on suicide’ is off the table. How about that?”

After I said that, she still looked suspicious—but she accepted the challenge.

We decided on the rules.

Blow bubbles once from the same position.

Whoever sends them farther wins.

Ichinose went first.

She puffed out her cheeks and tried to blow hard.

But the result was just a large bubble.

It burst before even leaving the shade.

I was certain of victory.

When I blew mine, the bubbles drifted smoothly away.

Just a little more and they would pass the edge of the shade.

Several were still floating.

This was easily my win—

That’s when it happened.

Pop!

A small hand burst the bubbles.

A little boy and girl had popped them.

They both looked about kindergarten age.

Their faces were similar—probably siblings.

As I stood there confused, Ichinose struggled to hold back laughter beside me.

“That one doesn’t count. I’ll blow them again.”

I tried again.

But those bubbles got popped by the two kids as well.

The kids were even jumping around excitedly.

“They seem to want more bubbles.”

Ichinose said with a smile.

I asked the kids to move aside.

They didn’t.

After that, I tried persuading them while continuing to blow bubbles.

Every single one got popped.

Before long, I had completely become their playmate.

And while I kept blowing bubbles—

Ichinose suddenly reached over and popped one with her finger from the side.