The July sun hamred down on the steps of Tokyo’s Engineering University, turning the asphalt into a shimring haze. The air slled of hot concrete, fresh ink, and the sharp sweetness of freedom.
Yamada Light stood at the top of the stairs, diploma clutched tightly in his hand. The bold crimson kanji 「優」 glowed under the sunlight.
Excellent.
“…I did it,” he whispered.
Four brutal years of all-nighters, endless formulas, and sacrificed sleep had finally paid off. The future he had fought for — becoming a prosecutor — was no longer a distant dream. It was here.
His phone buzzed. Ignoring the flood of notifications, he opened the most important chat.
Mikasa.
Just seeing her na made his chest feel lighter. He dialed as he boarded the crowded bus.
Love this novel? Read it on to ensure the author gets credit.
“Mikasa? It’s over. I passed.”
Her bright, delighted laugh spilled through the speaker.
“I never doubted you for a second! I’m so proud of you, Light!”
They talked the whole ride — about her mother’s stew, the walk they’d take tonight, and the future stretching out in front of them. His free hand slipped into his jacket pocket, fingers brushing the small velvet box.
The ring.
Simple. Elegant. Bought two months ago and carried like a secret promise ever since.
“Wear that white dress I like,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his voice. “I have sothing important to tell you tonight.”
Her soft, happy “Of course ♡” was the last thing he heard clearly.
Light leaned his head against the bus window, eyes half-closed, a rare, wide smile on his face. Everything was finally clicking into place. His mother, who had raised him alone. His stepfather Haji. His little brother Yuki. Mikasa. The career he had bled for.
This wasn’t the peak. This was only the beginning.
Then the truck hit.
There was no screech of brakes. No warning. Just a sudden, violent explosion of tal and glass as the multi-ton truck slamd into the side of the bus at full speed.
The world flipped.
Light’s body was thrown like a ragdoll. A sickening crunch. A flash of white-hot pain.
And then — nothing.
No final thoughts. No dramatic last words. No poetic farewell to Mikasa or his mother.
Just cold, rciless darkness.
In a single ordinary second, on the brightest day of his life, Yamada Light died.
Reviews
All reviews (0)