Prologue

Very rarely do I take the opportunity to slow down and enjoy life. In all honesty, I never have. Though I may claim to not have time for such things, always caught between student loans and paying the bills, in the moments when I truly have nothing to do, just at the end of my life, I think myself a liar. I think I simply never knew how to stop and enjoy life, or perhaps, could never justify it to myself.

My parents were always working, struggling to provide for both themselves and me, the child that they just weren't prepared for. It was the same for their parents, I'm sure, and possibly even their parents. I really shouldn't blame them though. Perhaps it wasn't that at all, but rather, trying to escape life, skipping over so many crucial experiences so that I wouldn't have to consider anything. Life is full of uncertainty and regret, but there isn't time to debate that, is there?

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Amidst flashing lights and bright billboards, my body sat, a warm, crimson liquid flowing from my head. I could distinctly feel each drop, each cold splash on my body, the dew running through my hair. I swear, I could hear it all, the rhythmic beating of rain against the pavement, drowning out the constant chatter and chaos of city streets. My lower half was trapped beneath my own car, set aflame in spite of the pouring rain. As I thought help had arrived, wallowing in blood and broken bone, bright red clouded my already blurred vision, and the red turned to black.

My name is Niharu Tsukumo. It's an odd name, I'll admit, but I can't say I dislike it. In life, I was unimpressive, to say the least. I taught English, and though I enjoyed my work in my earlier years, the spark that had inspired my career was long dead by the time of my death at 32. I do regret my lack of achievement, but I suppose not everyone can do something amazing.

I can't say I was a victim of another's recklessness. As much as I may wish it, a lie won't ease my own guilt. With a single misjudgment, I had crashed straight into a young woman's car. She was around my age, perhaps a few years younger. By the time the dust had settled, she was out of my vision, though I can't be sure of whether or not she survived. It was early in the morning when it happened, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. I was heading to work, ready for another long day of employment. If I had to guess, I would say she was doing just the same, living out her life, before I potentially ended what could have been a promising future. I think I'll always carry a certain amount of regret for that, in my last moments of life, death, and beyond.