"Floating" High School Girl Ibuki Shimizu, Taking Off. #08

Chapter 8: Free Floating Altitude: 50m, Floating Force: 567N

The ground I cannot cling to, the sky with nothing to block me

It was just a tiny sound.

--Snap.

The rope had snapped. No, to be precise, the metal fitting on the belt attached to her body had torn. Was it friction heat, aging, or perhaps--fate? The reason, perhaps, did not matter.

In that instant, Ibuki's body floated up softly. As soon as the tension of the rope was released, she was cast out into the sky.

"...Ah"

It was neither a voice nor a breath. It was as if something had come undone, a sound from within.

There was no scream, no resistance. Rather, she felt the tension leave her shoulders and a sudden lightness deep in her chest.

Floating force 567NF. It was already a strength that human power could not stop. The rope and the belt were no longer a "wedge".

20 meters. Above the building. 80 meters. Passing the top of the steel tower. 200 meters. Now, no one's hands can reach.

The wind pushed her back. Her uniform flapped with a rustling sound, and eventually, even that sound faded away. The sound vanished, and the air became clear. The world became gentle.

Looking down, the school grounds. The classroom window. Kazusa's head. Mother's laundry. Everything from yesterday was getting smaller and smaller, drifting away.

"...Ah"

Words that could not become a voice spilled from her lips. But it was not fear.

The sky was quieter than she had imagined. It was so quiet that it was slightly different from the "silence of the ground".

There were no bird calls, no sound of chimes. The wind swept everything away, and the sky was simply there as the sky.

At that moment--she saw "it".

Beyond the clouds, in the far heights, several shadows were floating. Vague, yet clearly human shapes. One, and then another.

Slowly, they were drifting. Someone's brother. Someone's mother. Someone's "people who once floated".

Ibuki felt... as if she had made eye contact with them.
There were no words. But they understood each other.
Their gaze did not reject Ibuki.
Rather, there was a kindness in it, as if they had been waiting for her for a long time.

“...I see. Everyone was like this, too.”

She fumbled in her pocket.
Her fingertips touched the small chocolate Kazusa had given her.
She tore open the wrapper and popped it into her mouth.
Because the wind had been drying out her lips, the sweetness of the chocolate soaked in just a little.

“...I can't go to school tomorrow...”

She whispered it as if talking to herself.

But those words were not filled with loneliness.
Somewhere, along with a soft smile, they melted into the sky.

Ibuki knew that she was already “heading somewhere.”
It was not a “place to move away from,” but a “place to head toward.”
A path that could not be seen from the ground existed within the sky.

And—light shone upon her back.

It pierced through a break in the clouds.
It was so white it was almost blinding, a color that was somehow soundless.
A nameless color that she had surely never touched while on the ground.

In the sky with nothing to obstruct her, Ibuki was enveloped in that light.
She was just floating. She was just, there.

Perhaps that was the first name for what we call “freedom.”

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