Próloge

I used to be a boy living peacefully in Japan, Tokyo to be exact. I was one of the most popular and intelligent kids, even excelling in sports while maintaining the best grades. I had many friends and my school life was pretty good. I didn't interact much with my parents, but honestly, I didn't care much about that. I had friends and was even in love with a girl from my class — maybe she had feelings for me too.

I enjoyed my life, but everything changed overnight. One night, my parents woke me up in the middle of the night. I didn't know what was going on, but I just did as I was told. We packed our bags, went to an airport, and boarded a plane. I didn't understand what was happening, as I was just a 12-year-old kid.

When we arrived in what seemed to be the United States — I realized because of a flag — I was incredibly surprised. I asked my parents what was happening, and with a cold and serious expression as always, they said:

— "We're moving to the United States."

What they told me left me in shock. I didn't know why or for what reason, but I didn't complain. I thought it was normal to move, but not from one country to another.

And that's when my life slowly started to fall apart.

I was in a country where I had no idea how to speak the language. I couldn't read, I couldn't write, and I definitely couldn't speak it. I simply couldn't even leave the house. There was a month left before starting school, but how was I supposed to learn a new language in a month? Was this all some plan from my parents? I don't think so.

After a month, I went to school, and this time it was very different. I wasn't smart, popular, or outstanding in anything. In fact, now I was the shy kid in class, the one who stayed quiet and never joined any group. I was always alone, and it wasn't just because of the language barrier — I also didn't know how to talk to kids from another country. Basically, my life slowly started falling apart.

There even came a time when they started bullying me. I would go home and cry all night, locking myself in my room. My parents knew about it but paid no attention. Now that I think about it, what kind of parents don't pay even a shred of attention to their own child? Is this a joke? Every day, I felt more and more depressed. I would just stay in bed, sometimes watching videos or something similar, but nothing more. I had nothing to do. My grades were the worst in school. I didn't stand out in any activity or sport. I wondered what I would do with my life when I grew up...

But everything completely collapsed a few years later when one night I argued with my parents and left the house, wandering around aimlessly.

A few streets away, there was a couple, holding hands and looking happy at that late hour. They were going to take a shortcut through a pretty long alley. Nothing out of the ordinary, but of course, an alley at night... They were just kids, and clearly, they didn't know what they were getting into.

As they walked through the alley, four teenagers, around 16-17 years old, were staring at them up and down. When the couple noticed, they started walking faster. The four teenagers began to chase them. The boy and girl noticed and started running as fast as they could, but it was four against two, and they caught up easily. One of the guys pulled out a knife and threatened them.

— "GIVE US EVERYTHING YOU HAVE, NOW!" — The girl, clearly terrified, screamed with all her might, and luckily, someone was nearby — me.

— "DON'T SCREAM, BITCH!" — said one of the teenagers. At that moment, the girl tried to run, but one of the boys grabbed her arm tightly.

— "No, no, no, wait! Please don't hurt us, my sister is very sick and I'm the only one who can take care of her! Please don't hurt us!" — the girl said, almost crying.

— "DO YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID SISTER?!" — he shouted while gripping her arm even harder, hurting her.

With the little English I knew, I shouted:

— "HEY YOU, COME HERE!" — I threw myself at the guy holding the girl. Luckily, I knew a little martial arts, so I managed to land a punch in his stomach with all my strength. The teenager grunted a little, but then another came at me from behind, trying to kick me. I blocked it with difficulty because I was already around 30 years old and not in good shape, basically overweight. Still, the guy clearly had no idea how to fight, so his kick was slow and weak — even though it was still hard for me.

Still, none of this was in vain. Even if I didn't have the strength to do anything, maybe helping someone simply sparked a tiny flame inside me. Maybe doing a good deed in my shitty life wasn't so bad. Even then, nothing really mattered to me anymore. I was just some random guy — not good-looking, actually ugly, no job, always depending on my parents, couldn't even cook — I just watched manga and anime. Now that I think about it, if I had never moved to the United States...

No, that doesn't matter anymore.

The couple ran off thanking me while I could hear them calling 911 in the distance. I let out a tiny smile that barely showed, but the four guys then jumped me and gave me the beating of my life. Sure, I knew martial arts, but with multiple attackers and a knife, I couldn't even think about escaping.

My body was covered in bruises and serious wounds from the knife. The guys ran away, and with the little willpower I had left, I walked straight ahead. I could barely see, everything was blurry, colors all mixed up and weird. I tripped several times. Honestly, I didn't even care anymore. I crossed a street without realizing it. Then I saw something coming at insane speed — a truck, with the driver asleep at the wheel.

Seriously, is this the typical isekai where some guy does a good deed before dying to a damn truck? It must be a damn joke, I cursed and cursed everyone, mostly myself, for giving up so easily.

The first word that came to my mind was: Shit — haha, how crazy, it just seemed funny that it would end like this. Am I really going to die so pathetically? Killed by a truck?

Everything moved in slow motion. I could barely move, no — I couldn't move a single muscle. I tried and tried, but it was useless. As I thought, am I really going to die like this? Although honestly, it's not like I could have changed anything about my miserable life. Maybe dying was the best option. I could have confessed to the girl I liked... If only I could go back 18 years, maybe I could change my whole future...

The truck came at full speed, smashing me into a pulp. Even so, I remained somewhat conscious, and my final words were:

— "If I had one more chance, I wouldn't be the person I used to be."