The Price of Courage

A peaceful night in Tokyo—cars hummed as they passed by, and the wind gently flowed through the streets. People chatted as they walked past one another.

A man walked along the sidewalk, wearing a business suit. He was ordinary in appearance, with black hair neither too long nor too short. His name was Takahiro Yamamoto, twenty-one years old. His build was average, yet it hinted at someone who exercised regularly.

Takahiro was a man with an exhausted heart. Still, he had finally found a job that paid him decently.

Despite his past relationships and the trauma that came with them, he had finally decided to move on. Even so, the burden still ached in his chest.

He lifted his gaze upward. Lost in thought, he closed his eyes and drew a long breath, utterly exhausted.

Well… finally, he thought. I finally got myself a job. I can say that it’s progress.

He turned to his left. A deli store stood there.

His stomach grumbled, and a single thought crossed his mind—food. Ramen came to mind, but tonkatsu followed soon after.

“Tonkatsu it is,” he decided.

He walked into the store. The chime above the door rang, accompanied by the scent of instant ramen being prepared and the low murmur of people chatting as they sipped their coffee.

He made his way to the food section, grabbing a bag of chips along with a pack of tonkatsu.

He stared at the tonkatsu for a long moment as a memory suddenly flashed before his eyes.

◆ ◆ ◆

A feminine voice echoed in his mind—cheerful, warm.

Her face was almost blurry, indistinct, yet her mouth visible as it curved into a gentle smile.

Her hair was black, short, reaching just past her shoulders.

“Well, Takahiro. Here’s your favorite—tonkatsu!” the woman said, her voice bright.

◆ ◆ ◆

A scream was heard, snapping him back to reality.

He ran to check what had happened, but he was too late—the door chime rang as someone burst out of the store.

“That man took my purse!” a woman with long brown hair shouted.

Takahiro pressed his lips together, torn by hesitation. His shoulders trembled with fear as his thoughts spiraled—Should I help? What if I’m too weak? What if I mess up?

Out of all times… why did someone have to get robbed now?

He clenched his fist, hesitating for a moment—then another memory flashed before his eyes.

His lips parted.

◆ ◆ ◆

The same feminine voice echoed in his mind, along with that familiar figure.

“Takahiro, be a good and strong boy for mommy… okay?” she said softly.

◆ ◆ ◆

He gulped. Dropping his things to the ground, he hurriedly took off his suit jacket.

“I’ll go catch him for you,” said Takahiro, his voice firm with resolve.

The woman turned toward him, eyes wide, almost delighted. “Thank you so much, sir!” She bowed deeply.

Takahiro dashed forward. The door chime rang once more as he sprinted outside, pushing his legs as fast as they could carry him.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with determination.

Up ahead, he spotted a man in the alley wearing a black hood and a face mask. A purse was clutched in the man’s hand, leaving little doubt in Takahiro’s mind—this man has to be the suspect.

Without thinking, he ran faster.

“Hey, you! Get back here!” he shouted.

The man noticed Takahiro from a distance. He turned around and immediately broke into a run.

But Takahiro wasn’t about to let him escape so easily. Using his nearly athletic body to its full advantage, he quickly closed the gap.

“Guh!” the mugger gasped.

“Give it back, damn it!” Takahiro lunged forward, tackling the man as they both crashed to the ground.

The mugger struggled wildly, but Takahiro’s strength far surpassed his. He climbed on top of him, wrestling him down.

How stubborn can he be?!

The mugger refused to stop moving, leaving Takahiro with no choice. He raised his fist.

“Stop moving!”

His punch connected.

The mugger grunted as blow after blow landed—left, right, then left again. Blood splattered across Takahiro’s face, mixing with sweat as his breathing grew ragged, fueled by pure adrenaline.

Then—he stopped.

His fist froze midair as the mugger let out a groan beneath him. Blood dripped from Takahiro’s knuckles, sweat rolling down his face.

Scum or not… I don’t kill, he thought. I’m not a killer. I don’t take other people’s lives—even if they’re criminals.

Takahiro snatched the purse from the mugger. He looked down at him coldly, then turned his gaze to the brown-haired woman running toward him.

He handed her the purse. The woman bowed deeply. “I’m indebted to you… I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Call the police,” he suggested. “And don’t get involved with me. That’s how you can repay me.”

The woman nodded earnestly. “Of course!”

Takahiro sighed, letting his gaze drift to the night sky. He began walking away—but something felt off.

From behind, the man groggily rose from the ground, fumbling in his pocket. A glint of metal caught the light—a blade, reflecting Takahiro from behind.

The woman’s eyes went wide, and her phone slipped from her hands.

The mugger’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, his gaze fixed on his target with predatory precision.

“Hey, you…” he hissed, venom dripping from his tone. “There’s something called minding your own goddamn business!”

He charged at Takahiro, blade raised. The woman screamed in horror.

“Watch out!” she shouted desperately.

Takahiro whipped around, his breath hitching in his throat. The world seemed to slow around him, every heartbeat stretching into an eternity.

Then—the knife pierced into his chest. His pupils shrank in disbelief.

He stumbled back, clutching his chest.

The woman’s scream echoed through the alley as the mugger slowly retreated—then turned and fled.

Takahiro coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth as a dark puddle formed beneath him.

Am I… going to die?

I don’t want to die.

His vision blurred. Warmth gathered at the corners of his eyes as tears began to spill freely.

The woman dropped to her knees beside him, her voice trembling, almost distant.

“Stay with me! Please—stay with me! The ambulance is coming, so hang on!” Her face was twisted with desperation.

Takahiro could barely register her words. All he could feel was the sharp, searing pain radiating from the knife wound in his chest, spreading through his entire body.

Why do I deserve this?

WHY DO I DESERVE THIS BULLSHIT?!

His scream remained trapped inside him.

WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!

The sound of sirens grew faint—duller with every passing second. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision.

Damn it all…

His thoughts cracked and wavered.

All I wanted was to move on. To change.

Damn this world… damn all of it.

The voices around him faded. His eyes lost their light.

I’m sorry… Mom.

Then—pitch black swallowed him whole.

A single tear slid down his cheek and fell to the cold ground. His eyes closed as the ambulance crew rushed in, hands pressing against his chest, performing CPR. The woman wept nearby as the mugger was taken away.

In the endless darkness, a voice echoed.

Distorted… yet divine.

Calm—yet deeply unsettling.

“As for I am —, I shall grant you a second chance.”

The voice reverberated through the void.

“Overcome that which has weighed upon your heart. Grow stronger—in heart, and in courage.”

A pause.

“Let this be your last… Takahiro.”