Why did I even bother?

The envelope was still warm in Takahiro’s pocket.

He walked home after another dead-end shift, thumb brushing over the corner of his first paycheck like it might vanish if he stopped touching it. Twenty-one years old, and this was what counted as progress.

He turned the corner.

Three guys were arguing in the middle of the street. A skinny college kid had his hands raised, fear carved deep into his face. Takahiro knew that look too well.

Just keep walking. Don’t get involved.

But his feet moved anyway.

“H-hey…”

His voice came out weak.

The bald guy turned, ignored him, and shoved the kid hard. The back of the kid’s head cracked against the store wall.

“It really isn’t that serious,” Takahiro said, stepping forward even as his stomach twisted. “Just let him go.”

“Seriously, what is your deal, man?!” the bald guy shouted. “Piss off!”

Two quick impacts struck the side of Takahiro’s neck.

That was all it felt like.

He stood there confused for a second, wondering why the guy had even bothered.

Then he looked down.

Blood poured out like an open faucet, soaking his new work shirt in seconds.

His hand flew to his neck. Warm, thick liquid pulsed between his fingers.

The kid’s eyes widened in horror. “He just got stabbed!!”

The bald man and his friend panicked, dropping the knife with a wet clatter onto the concrete.

Takahiro stumbled backward. His legs gave out and he slid down the wall until he hit the dirty ground. The envelope in his pocket was already drenched red.

People started gathering. Phones came out. Whispers. The sound of recording.

No one helped.

The world tilted. His fingers kept slipping from his neck.

Why did I even bother?

I try to do something for once… and this is what I get?

His head slowly fell to the side. His hand dropped limply to the ground.

The last thing he saw was the crowd of strangers recording him like he was nothing more than entertainment.

Then everything went black.