It was an average Wednesday: alarm clock sounds at 6, get out of bed, shower, wash his face, put clothes on, eat breakfast, leave for work. This is how Yuki Kurobane had lived since his father's passing. He never knew his mother, so when his father was diagnosed with a terminal illness, Yuki knew his life was going to change for the worse. He was forced to get a job at 16 which paid minimum wage, so he was barely able to scrape by.
Three years later, on July 15th, 2028, his dad fell to the illness while Yuki was only 19, causing him to live alone and drop out of school to take up extra work shifts. Despite only four months having passed since then, this had become routine for Yuki—he was already used to it.
Yuki would begrudgingly get out of his bed and look at himself in the mirror, judging whether he should tidy himself up for once or just leave it as is. He opted for the latter and headed off to go shower. He keeps his showers in the middle ground of temperature, not too cold, not too hot—this is due to Yuki's horrible heat resistance. Yuki would step into the shower, lather his hands with soap, and get to work.
Once Yuki had finished cleaning himself up in the shower, he would open the steamy door and walk towards the sink, dousing his hands in water before washing his face. He would glance upwards at the mirror and take a look at his rough face before turning away. Yuki had very messy black hair, extremely pale skin with a skinny frame to match, and tired, silver eyes. He always hated how his eyes drew attention to him—people always said they looked beautiful and they were fairly unique, but he just didn't buy it.
Upon finishing his routine task, Yuki would make his way back to his extremely messy bedroom, due to the fact he saw no need to tidy it because of his lack of friends and family. He would open the doors to his wardrobe. After a not-so-thorough examination, he would opt for his usual baggy black T-shirt and black trousers—similar to what you would wear to school. He was able to wear such an outfit due to his job's lack of a dress code.
After finishing the penultimate step in his morning routine, Yuki would make one last venture throughout his house and enter the kitchen, in which he would grab an apple from his fridge, pull his brown trench coat—which he wore open—off of the coat hanger, and he would leave his house.
The bustling streets around him and extremely tall buildings would be a sight of awe to anyone who was visiting Tokyo, but since this was Yuki's whole life, it didn't make a difference to him. He walked these streets every day and they never changed. His path to the subway would change, however—perhaps because Yuki was trying to make his walks to work more interesting, but to no avail.
Arriving at his destination, Yuki would descend down a set of stairs and enter the Tokyo metro and wait for his train. He'd done this multiple times by now, so he rarely had to check its arrival time. He simply waited on the platform for his train to arrive.
About 10 minutes after entering the metro, the lights of the train that Yuki typically boarded would be visible on the walls. Glad his wait was finally over, he would take a few steps forward so that he was on the edge of the platform, ready for the train's arrival.
Yuki would feel a weight quickly descend on his back. Turning around to see what happened, he'd see a woman who had tripped fall into him. She fortunately kept her balance, but she had unknowingly caused Yuki to stumble, causing him to trip off the edge of the platform with the train being less than 10 metres away. Yuki didn't even get time to think before the train closed the distance—and it all went black.
But strangely, Yuki felt nothing. No pain. Yes, everything had gone black, but this wasn't how he expected death to feel.
All there was, was a faint whisper:
"Kurohael…"
The voice was quiet and soft, but distant.
Yuki thought to himself, "That's not my name? Who is Kurohael?"
And that's when it clicked—Yuki could think.