There's fighting on the left
And marching on the right
Don't look up in the sky
You're gonna die of fright
Here comes the razor's edge!

—AC/DC (The Razor’s Edge)

…It is said that people dream of things they can achieve. Yet no one ever knows in what form it may come to pass.

It was ten years ago that the boy spoke of this to the girl.

“Akiko-chan, why is it that you think you want to die?”

“Because...! Everyone’s so mean to me. Dad, Mom, the teachers… It’s like they all hate me. I should never have been born!”

The girl had likely been up to some mischief or had gotten into an argument, and everyone had severely scolded her for it—her parents included. She was sobbing, eyes red and swollen from the tears.

“I see. But as much as you dislike it, the fact is that you were born. That’s not something that can be undone. Not by anyone.”

“………”

The boy then chided her gently with a few words, none of which she enjoyed very much. She didn’t like being lectured. It probably showed on her face, so the boy changed his tack.

“All right, then. If you were going to die, how would you do it?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You can’t just go into this half-heartedly. Dying is hard work.”

“Why?”

“Because, Akiko-chan, to live—to be given the gift of life in this world… That in itself is a miracle. If you say you want to oppose that, then you must show it another miracle. What sort of miracle would you want?”

The girl was taken aback, but the boy continued, unfazed.

“There must be something you want. Tell me. I’m not going to know otherwise. Humans  have this terrible habit of living their lives without even knowing what it is they want. Instead, they shut it away inside their heart. If you really want to tell yourself what you want, you have to say it out loud.”

Though he spoke to a child, there was no sugar-coating his words.

“…I don’t know! How should I know something like that…?”

The girl was flustered.

“All right. Then I’m guessing how you really feel is that it’s too soon for you to die. Wait until you’ve found the miracle that you want to make. Then you can think about dying.”

The boy smiled. He was a popular kid in the neighborhood. Friends asked him for help, and he’d give them all sorts of advice. “I’ll pave the way for you.” “I’ll break your eggshell.” Whenever someone felt they were at their wits’ end about what to do, he’d always get them out of their funk. This was what he was known for.

But he himself always had an air of something fragile. As if he might simply cease to exist, come tomorrow.

“…Hmm.”

She’d looked incredulous at first, but now seemed worried.

“Then, what about you?” she asked. “This, uh, ‘miracle’ stuff… Have you got something like that too, Kyou-nii-chan?”

“Good question.” He looked into the distance. “It seems I don’t really have much choice in the matter… But there is one thing I’d like to ask of you. One request.”

“What?”

“I’d like to meet the shinigami. He’s coming to kill me, you know. It’s his job. His only purpose is to kill. There are all sorts of people in the world, and they all go on living with turmoil inside of them, but he has nothing like that. He’s simply automatic. I’d like to meet someone pure like that… All the worry we have to bottle up inside, all the struggling… If someone could tell me definitively that none of that matters… I’d have no regrets dying at their hand.”

He spoke coolly.

“………?”

Unable to keep up, the girl simply blinked in confusion. Eight years later, she’d hear a rumor that would be strikingly similar. She’d be in her third year of middle school, taking her high school entrance exam, but she would have lost sight of herself by then, and ultimately wouldn’t pick up on the similarities with the boy’s story. Nor would she ever recall it.

…A few months later, the boy was lying on the ground looking up at the rolling sky. His body lay still.

And looming over him, the man who had by some means or other fatally wounded him regarded him vacantly.

That’s right—the boy was dying. He didn’t know what had been done to him, but his whole body was paralyzed; the feeling in his limbs had gone, as if they’d been cut off. He was sure that the attack was fatal.

It was because of his strange ability to make the power that lies dormant in people bloom. Believing this power dangerous, the system  had at last carried out their assassination. It came as no surprise to him. He was well aware of the risk of being killed when he used his power.

But…

Well I’ll be… 

He was deeply disappointed.

The man had pressed some device to his head and was doing something as he lay there dying, unable to move. He seemed to be recording and copying his brainwaves. Some special wave pattern that was in his head, perhaps. Retrieving research material, most likely. Exactly like your average salaryman, following the brass’s orders to the letter.

Well I’ll be damned…

As he stared intently at the man, eventually their eyes met, and it was clear that he’d been deeply shaken. It can’t have been pleasant to meet the eyes of your victim.

He’d decided in his final moments to play a mean trick on the man.

Ever so faintly, he moved his mouth. No sound came out, but he was sure the man could read his lips. And this is what he said:

“There is a bug  inside of you. You may believe there’s no point thinking about it, but it feeds on you as you try to forget, and it’s eating you up inside. Your bug will determine your fate someday. And most likely, you will…”

As he spoke, he sensed a feeling, like that of a wry smile.

There was nothing to it. The shinigami had been him.

He was the shinigami who had transcended all of this man’s worries, who had quietly announced his end. Which meant that his wish had been granted—albeit in the most ironic way possible.

…It is said that one dreams of the things they can achieve. Yet no one ever knows in what form it may come to pass.  The boy understood this.

Oh, boy…  Though I’d really like everyone to keep on trying. I really would…

Who was this everyone? Not even he likely knew.

…But reality is never quite so simple as people think. Even when one’s dreams are fulfilled, nothing ever ends with such a straightforward resolution.

Nobody knew. Not even the people who were involved.

But his dream to meet the shinigami would, in an awfully strange way, come to be realized ten years hence. By that point, it would no longer be about him, or even the shinigami. It was nothing more than a single piece in the puzzle of fate’s design. Its true center lay elsewhere. Indeed, that lay in the duel between the Strongest and Inazuma. The duel amidst flames…

[1] Mo’ Murder, as explained in Boogiepop at Dawn.