Not All Means Achieve Their Destined Ends

Aoi dangled his legs over the ledge of the roof. He hummed a jovial tune, a pacifier to his melancholic drunkenness, interrupted only by the occasional swig from the brown paper bag that sat adjacent to him. It was at the heights of his office building's roof that one could genuinely appreciate the cityscape of Tokyo. Even with his blurring vision, the stark contrasts and streaks of light, in a strange, surreal way, was beautiful… unrivaled. 

A moment of silence in his mind ensued in the wake of these thoughts. A quiet and undisturbed mental peace, a rare moment of ease. 

He remembered his younger years. Filled to the brim with a tenacious youth, a strong sense of ambition, and a prestigious undergraduate degree from Waseda University in Visual Arts. As an aspiring mangaka, he held with full conviction, the belief that success was produced by diligence and an insatiable drive for self development. It would be in his second year at the company that  he would label these lofty ideals and rosy outlooks as naivete. Enslaved by the social constructs of currency and obligations, he was stripped of his character. He was an empty vessel abandoned and rusted by the indiscriminate cruelty and apathy of the industry. He had been eaten and shit out in a matter of four years. 

Four years…

Hundreds of all-nighters

Thousands of hours in overtime

All that bullshit

Amounted to nothing

He let out a slurred chuckle, and took another swig from the paper bag. A couple drops of the sweet liquid came out. He savored its flavor, making sure to explore it in all its nuance before finally swallowing. Shaking the can, Aoi determined that it was empty, and set the bag to the very end of the ledge. With a careless flick of his finger, he sent the bag and its aluminum remnants tumbling down towards the pavement that awaited at the bottom. He waited… and waited. Four seconds later the distinct sound of aluminum rang out.

With a sigh and a last look of appreciation at the colorful skyline, Aoi stood up, and with the courage of his now parted beverage, he jumped.

The cold air raked his skin, a warning of what was to come. It was an unsettling sensation, but his excitement for the sweet release of death brought an overwhelming sense of comfort, producing an emanating warmth that traveled throughout his body. Appreciating his final moments, he greeted the fast approaching pavement with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, and with full acceptance, closed his eyes.

He felt no pain. His thoughts continued despite the events that unfolded only seconds before. Opening his eyes in confusion of his consciousness, he was met with the unfiltered setting of the universe in, what he could only assume, all of its totality.

Narrator POV:

Aoi found himself in the spiritual rendition of Limitless Void, the resting place for the Gojo lineage and its members.