What is a Hero? (Prologue)

What does it mean to be a hero? I'm standing barefoot on cold concrete, having left my shoes and socks behind. High above the ground, the rush of wind against my skin drowns out the world below. The incessant noise of traffic far below muffles the calming whispers of nature. My mind is made up. In a heartbeat, I'll leap from this height. Any screams I might utter will be swallowed by the roar of the city below. This is the end.

As I teeter on the edge, I hear a flurry of footsteps beside me and a woman's voice imploring me not to jump. But for the first time in my life, I feel propelled forward. Could this be the voice of an angel? "Don't do it," she implores softly.

Why can't she leave me in peace? I open my eyes to find a young girl desperately clinging to my leg. Dangling upside down, the stream of traffic below rushes towards me. I realize I don't want this fate. My breaths come in short gasps, my heart races as if it's trying to escape my chest.

She's struggling to keep her grip on me, but she refuses to let go. I look up at her – dark hair, blue eyes, a thin frame exerting all its strength to hold me back. "Please," she exhorts, breathless.

I ask her, "Why are you saving me?"

She responds, "I don't know what you're going through, but if you live, you can change it. Dying won't change anything!"

A wave of regret engulfs me. She's right. Why am I attempting to snuff out my own life? No one would care if I died, but why put myself through this torment? Can I indeed change things like she suggests?

"But what if I can't? What if things can never change for me?" I ask, tears tracing a path across my forehead.

She replies, "I'll help you, just please don't end your life."

It's been a long time since someone offered to help me. It would take a miracle to climb out of this pit that my life has become. Yet, she doesn't know that, doesn't know me, yet is still trying to save me. Is this what it means to be a hero?

With all her strength, she pulls me back onto the bridge. My slender form from countless days of despair must have aided her. As I sit on the concrete, my long hair hang over my eyes, and my brown skin prickles in the cold air. At 190 centimeters tall, she was able to pull me back from the edge. This schoolgirl, barely 167 centimeters tall, wearing the uniform of the school I was supposed to attend. The atmosphere in Tokyo never felt denser. But I've grown accustomed to the city air.

Standing up, tears streaking my face, I manage to stutter, "Thank you."

She wraps her arms around me in a comforting hug, her own tears mingling with mine. This feeling, it's eerily familiar. She steps back and starts to say, "We can change things-"

Abruptly, she's cut off by the sudden appearance of a masked man behind her. He's a bit taller than me, donning a black oni mask. He whispers something, pushing her off the bridge. Time seems to stand still. Snowflakes hang suspended in mid-air as the man in the mask locks eyes with me. There's an uncanny feeling that there's not even a person behind that mask.

Suddenly, my body moves on its own. I don't know her name, where she's from, or even how to properly communicate with her. Despite being monolingual, I understood her actions, if not her words. I plunge after her, the masked figure watching us descend. If I die, I swear to haunt him for eternity. I vow to make him suffer. I reach out for her as we approach the ground. She's unconscious. 'Please,' I think, 'just this once, let me save someone.' I extend my hand towards her. It slips. Then, a deafening crash. Everything fades to black.