The city of Sapporo, located on the northern island of Hokkaido, was a place where winters were harsh and the summers were brief but beautiful. Amidst the city lights and bustling streets, a young man named Ethan trudged through life, feeling like a stranger in his own world. Ethan wasn't his birth name; it was a name he chose for himself, a subtle way of distancing from a past he wished to forget.
Abandoned by his parents at a young age, Ethan had no recollection of their faces, voices, or the reasons for their departure. His only family was his uncle, a kind-hearted man who took him in when no one else would. His uncle's home became his sanctuary, a place where he learned to smile, hope, and live. His uncle, a retired teacher, was a man who believed in the power of small actions. One of his most cherished lessons to Ethan was, "You can't change the world alone, but you can make a world of difference for someone. Stand up when you can, even if it's just for one person."
These words were etched deeply into Ethan's heart, guiding him through his youth. For years, Ethan lived under his uncle's care, growing up in a small but cozy home. They shared quiet evenings, his uncle reading books by the dim light while Ethan sat by the window, dreaming of a better future. Life wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. That all changed when his uncle died from a sudden heart attack. Ethan was just seventeen.
The house that once felt warm and welcoming turned cold and empty. Ethan mourned deeply, but there was little time for grief. His uncle's estranged relatives, who had never cared for Ethan or his uncle, swooped in like vultures. They claimed the house and all its possessions, deeming Ethan a mere outsider with no right to stay. Despite his protests, he was thrown out onto the streets with nothing but the clothes on his back and a few belongings.
Betrayed and homeless, Ethan felt the weight of the world crushing him. He wandered the streets of Sapporo, sleeping under bridges and in parks, struggling to survive each day. His uncle's teachings echoed in his mind, a painful reminder of what he had lost. He felt like a failure, unable to honor the one person who had shown him kindness. As the days turned into weeks, he found himself teetering on the edge of despair, contemplating the unthinkableβending his life.
Yet, there was something that held him back. It wasn't courage; it was fear. The fear of the unknown, the fear of dying alone and unloved. Every time he stood on the ledge of a bridge or looked down from a high-rise building, his heart pounded in his chest, his legs trembled, and he would back away, cursing his own cowardice.
One cold, rainy evening, Ethan found himself walking aimlessly through the streets. His thin jacket offered little protection against the biting wind, and his stomach growled from hunger. As he passed by an alleyway, he noticed a commotion. A woman and her young daughter, perhaps no older than five, were cornered by a group of thugs. The glint of a knife in the leader's hand shone under the flickering streetlight.
Ethan's instincts screamed at him to turn away. It wasn't his problem; he was in no condition to be a hero. Yet, his uncle's words came rushing back to him: "You can't change the world alone, but you can make a world of difference for someone." He didn't have much left to lose, and he didn't want to live feeling like a coward.
Without thinking, Ethan sprinted into the alley, shouting to draw the thugs' attention. "Hey! Leave them alone!" His voice was shaky, his legs weak, but he stood his ground. The thugs turned to face him, and their leader sneered. "Look at this idiot," he laughed, raising his knife. "You think you can save them?"
Ethan knew he was no match for them, but his feet moved on their own. He charged forward, using his body to shield the woman and child. The blade flashed, and pain seared through his side, but he didn't stop. He pushed the woman and her daughter away, shouting, "Run! Get out of here!"
The mother, tears streaming down her face, grabbed her daughter and bolted, glancing back only once. Ethan, meanwhile, felt his strength fading. The world around him blurred as he collapsed to the ground, his blood pooling beneath him. The pain was unbearable, but there was also a strange sense of peace. For once, his life had meant something.
As he lay there, bleeding out, he could barely make out the sounds of the thugs panicking and running away. The last thing he saw was the little girl, safe in her mother's arms, staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes. His vision dimmed, and he whispered his final words, "Let this worthless life of mine... be useful for once. Don't waste it⦠live."