02 - An Unlikely Savior

My plan, so simple and final just a moment ago, shattered into a million pieces. The cold resolve that had settled in my heart evaporated, replaced by a jolt of something I hadn't felt in a long time: concern. It was absurd. Here I was, a man who had come to end his own life, suddenly worried about a complete stranger.

She shifted slightly, and I saw her profile. A delicate nose, high cheekbones, and lips that were pressed into a thin, mournful line. A single tear traced a glistening path down her cheek, catching the light like a fallen star. She placed a hand on the railing, her knuckles white. It was the same gesture I had made just moments before. The same intent was reflected in her sorrowful eyes.

No.

The word was a silent scream in my mind. I couldn't articulate why. Maybe it was the sheer tragedy of it—that someone so beautiful, so ethereal, could be consumed by the same darkness that plagued me. Maybe it was a selfish, twisted form of empathy. If she jumped, it would be a reflection of my own despair, a confirmation that there truly was no hope. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the faintest flicker of a long-dormant instinct to protect, to help, to connect.

My feet were moving before I made a conscious decision. I walked towards her, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was I going to say? "Don't jump, I was here first?" The thought was so morbidly comical I almost stumbled.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse.

She flinched, startled, and spun around. Her eyes, a stunning shade of violet that seemed to hold the twilight sky within them, widened in alarm. They were red-rimmed from crying. Up close, she was even more breathtaking. She looked like a character from a fantasy novel, too perfect to be real.
"I... I'm sorry to bother you," I stammered, feeling like a clumsy oaf in her presence. "But... are you alright?"
She stared at me, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion. She clutched the collar of her simple but elegant white coat, pulling it tighter as if for protection. She didn't speak, just watched me with those wide, haunted eyes.

"It's just... it's a cold night," I continued, grasping for words. "And this isn't a great place to be alone."

A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "I could say the same to you." Her voice was soft, melodic, but laced with an undeniable sadness.

I was taken aback. She had seen it in me, too. The shared despair hung in the air between us, a strange, invisible bond.

"I..." I didn't know how to respond. Lying felt pointless. "You're right."

We stood there in silence for a long moment, the wind howling around us, the city a glittering, indifferent backdrop to our quiet tragedy. The urge to end my own life had completely vanished, replaced by an overwhelming need to ensure she didn't end hers. My pathetic plan had failed, derailed by the appearance of this sorrowful angel. In a bizarre twist of fate, my attempt at suicide had turned into a rescue mission.

"The world is... loud, isn't it?" she said finally, her gaze drifting back to the dark water. "Sometimes you just want to find a place where it's quiet."

"I know what you mean," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the wind. "But the water... it's not quiet. It's just... final."

She looked at me again, a flicker of surprise in her violet eyes. It seemed she hadn't expected me to understand.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, a little more firmly this time. "Neither of us should."

I took a hesitant step closer. "Come on. Let me... let me walk you off this bridge. We can find somewhere warm. A coffee shop, maybe? My treat."

It was a bold, impulsive offer from a man who hadn't willingly initiated a conversation with a stranger in years. But I couldn't just walk away. I couldn't leave her here.

She studied my face, her gaze searching, as if trying to read my intentions. I held my breath, hoping she didn't see me as a threat, just as another broken soul trying to keep a fellow traveler from falling.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. The tension in my shoulders eased.

As we turned to leave the viewing platform, a gust of wind, stronger than the rest, whipped her long white hair across her face. She reached up to brush it away, and for the first time, a different expression crossed her features. It was a faint, almost shy smile.

"Thank you," she said softly. "My name is Minaki."

Minaki. The name suited her. It was as elegant and mysterious as she was.

"I'm Juiro," I replied.

I didn't know her. The name meant nothing to me. And yet, as I looked at her, at the way the city lights caught in her silver hair, at the deep, ancient sadness in her violet eyes, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like seeing a face from a dream you can't quite remember. The dream of the two little girls on the hill flashed in my mind, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flash of moonlight-white hair dancing in the sun.

I shook my head, dismissing it. It was just the stress of the situation, my mind playing tricks on me.

Minaki didn't talk much as we walked. The silence between us wasn't awkward, but filled with a shared, unspoken understanding. We didn't go to a coffee shop. The night felt too raw for small talk over steaming cups. Instead, we just walked, leaving the bridge and its dark allure behind us. When we reached a busy intersection, she stopped.

"I'll be alright now," she said, her voice still quiet. "Thank you, Juiro."

"Are you sure?" I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. "Where will you go?"

She gave me that same faint, mysterious smile. "Don't worry. I have a place to stay." She paused, then added, "Meet me tomorrow morning. At the beach in Odaiba. Sunrise."

It wasn't a question. It was a gentle command. Before I could ask why, or how she knew I'd even agree, she turned and melted into the crowd, her white coat a fleeting beacon before she was gone.

I stood there, stunned, the noise of the city rushing back in to fill the space she had left. My suicide attempt had failed. Instead, I had saved a goddess-like stranger, and now I had a cryptic invitation to watch the sunrise at the beach. My life, which had been a flat, gray, predictable line, had suddenly taken a sharp, inexplicable turn. And for the first time in a very long time, I was curious to see what was around the bend.

Chapter end