"Sakuraba."
Sakuraba Ema turned her head, those pink eyes looking at him.
"About what you said just now," he began, "the thing about the rooftop.
You said I 'helped a girl who was being bullied.'
That girl—who was she?"
The wind blew between them, bringing a slight chill.
"...It was me." Her voice was very soft.
"The person on the rooftop that day was me.
That's why I remember it so clearly—because it happened to me."
She looked up at him.
"I remember those people surrounding me, I remember the things they said to me, I remember the sign hanging around my neck, I remember the metal bucket on my head, and I remember being drenched in filthy water and having to stand there in the sun as punishment."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Then someone walked over and stood between me and them. He looked back at me once, and it was those eyes.
Exactly like yours."
Hikigaya remained silent for a few seconds. He recalled that inexplicable palpitation he felt in front of the vending machine when he heard the word "rooftop," and the flash of an image—blinding sunlight, a jeering crowd, and a figure surrounded in the center as if being prepared for a sacrifice.
Where did that image come from?
He didn't know, but he did know one thing.
"Sakuraba."
"Mhm?"
"The rooftop of that middle school was always locked."
Sakuraba Ema froze.
"I was there for nearly two years," Hikigaya said. "I went there many times while looking for a place to eat lunch. I never once saw it open.
Did you ever go back to the rooftop to check later on?"
"But..."
Sakuraba Ema opened her mouth. Although no one bullied her after that, she still hadn't dared to go to that place.
"Have you ever considered," Hikigaya interrupted her, "that if you were truly helped, why would that person have no memory of it at all?
Two years," Hikigaya said. "Something you've remembered for two years—if it really happened, it would be impossible for that person to forget it completely.
Unless it never happened at all."
Sakuraba Ema's face turned pale.
"No, that's not it..." Her voice was shaking. "I remember it very clearly. Those people surrounding me, the things they did to me, I remember it all..."
"Then do you remember what that person looked like?"
She was stunned.
"Do you remember what his name was?"
No answer.
"Do you remember where he went afterward?"
The wind blew past, leaving only silence.
"You don't remember anything," Hikigaya said. "You only remember a single image, a pair of eyes, and then you projected that image onto me."
Sakuraba Ema lowered her head.
"That's not true..." her voice was very faint. "I really do remember..."
"The only thing you remember is the pain," Hikigaya said.
"The bullying—you remember those things very clearly. But the person who helped you? You can't remember his face, you can't remember his name, you can't remember anything that proves he exists."
He sighed, deciding to just say it directly.
"Because that person might not exist at all."
"Are you saying... I'm lying to myself?"
"I'm saying," Hikigaya looked at her, "that when people can't take it anymore, they invent a hero to save them.
That hero could be anyone," he continued. "A passing student, a character on TV, or someone from a book. If you imagine it long enough, you start to believe it's true."
Hikigaya looked away.
He knew how cruel these words were.
But he also knew that letting her continue to cling to a longing for a non-existent person was even crueler.
The wind blew, and cherry blossoms landed on the bench and on her.
Sakuraba Ema kept her head down, her expression hidden.
A long time passed before she spoke.
"...Then, what do you think I should do?
I've searched for so long, thought about it for so long." She looked up, the rims of her eyes red. "And it turns out it was all wrong? I don't even know if that person truly exists anymore. Was it all just something I made up? Did I lie to myself?"
The silence lasted for a long time.
Sakuraba Ema lowered her head, looking at the bento bag in her hands, her fingers gripping the pink cloth tightly.
"But..." her voice was very soft, "if that person really doesn't exist... then what about the things I remember?
I remember it was a very hot day," Sakuraba Ema said. "The sun made me dizzy. That metal bucket they put on me—it smelled like rust inside. I remember someone pouring water on me. It wasn't cold water from a tap; it was dirty water from washing mops. It smelled sour.
I even remember that sign. I don't remember what was written on it, but I remember them making me wear it and stand at the stairwell. Everyone passing by looked at me. Some looked once and left, some would stop and laugh for a bit."
Her voice was calm—so calm it didn't sound like she was talking about herself.
"I remember those things so clearly. I remember every detail." She looked up at Hikigaya. "If the person who helped me is something I made up, then what about these things? Did I make these up too?"
"I didn't say those things were fake," Hikigaya replied. "I only said that the person who helped you might be fake.
The pain you remember is real," he continued. "The feeling of being bullied, the feeling of carrying it all alone, the feeling of crying out to a god who won't answer—those are all real.
So it's only natural that you would want someone to save you.
Anyone would want that," Hikigaya said. "When you're being bullied, when you're being ostracized, when you're carrying everything alone, anyone would think, 'If only someone would come.'"
He looked up at the distant sky.
"If you think about it long enough, you start to feel like that person truly exists."
Silence.
The wind blew through; it had grown a bit cold.
Sakuraba Ema kept her head down. It was a long time before she spoke again.
"...Have you ever thought about it too?"
"What?"
"Have you ever thought," Sakuraba Ema looked at him, "about someone coming to save you?"
Hikigaya didn't answer. He just looked at the school building across from them, silent for a few seconds.
"...It's not important."
"Why isn't it important?"
"Because no one is coming," he said.
Sakuraba Ema looked at him, lost in thought.
Hikigaya stood up and patted his pants.
"I'm going back."
"Hikigaya-kun."
He stopped.
The sound of light footsteps came from behind him. Sakuraba Ema stood behind him, still clutching that pink bento bag.
"What you said just now," she said, "about wanting someone to come save you, and thinking it for so long that you believe they really exist—you weren't just talking about me, were you?
You were talking about yourself, too."
Hikigaya stood there with his back to her.
After a few seconds, he spoke.
"Did I ever mention," he said, "that you're annoying?"
Sakuraba Ema was stunned for a moment.
Then she let out a soft laugh. It was a relaxed laugh, with a hint of a sniffle.
"You did," she said. "You've been saying it this whole time."
Hikigaya said nothing and took a step forward.
"Hikigaya-kun," Sakuraba Ema called out to him again.
"Can we still eat lunch together in the future?"
Silence for a few seconds.
"...Whatever you want."
He continued walking forward, and no sound of footsteps followed him.
When he reached the courtyard corridor, he heard a faint voice behind him.
"Thank you."
He didn't turn around.
He simply raised his hand and gave a wave.