In the bustling streets of Tokyo, where neon lights intertwine with the hustle and bustle of daily life, Akira lived an ordinary life devoid of distinction. He was a twenty-one-year-old young man, residing in a modest little apartment in one of the city's old neighborhoods. He worked as a waiter in a small cafe during the day and spent his evenings engrossed in video games or reading the fantasy novels he had always loved.
Akira possessed nothing extraordinary. He wasn't academically gifted, nor was he a skilled athlete or talented in any particular field. But he harbored a deep-seated dream that he never shared with anyone: to one day become a hero, like the characters he always read about. He dreamed of grand adventures and fierce battles, but deep down, he realized that his ordinary life was merely a distant shadow of those dreams.
His family was the most precious thing to him. His father, a simple man who worked as a carpenter, his mother, a kind woman who taught at an elementary school, and his younger sister, Mio, who always filled the house with laughter and joy. They lived a simple life, but they were content. For Akira, those small moments, like sharing a family dinner or watching movies together, were the most meaningful things in life.
On a cold winter night, while Akira was returning home from a long shift, he stopped in the middle of a busy intersection. The rain was pouring heavily, and cars were speeding down the shiny road under the lights. Suddenly, as he was crossing the street, the driver of a large truck lost control. It all happened so quickly. Akira heard the tires screeching on the asphalt and felt a strong impact before darkness engulfed him.
The last thing he saw was the cloudy sky, and the last thing he thought about was his family. "I'm sorry... I couldn't achieve anything..."