Kazuo stepped out of his house, feeling exhilarated. It was a fantastic day, and he was imagining many exciting scenarios: how Rias Gremory would succumb to his power, or how he could make the beautiful girls in DxD his own.
He stretched, feeling the abundant energy of Yogiri Takatou flowing through his veins. He felt like a god strolling among humans.
"Liera, check if there are any demons nearby. I want to make a strong impression when I debut," Kazuo said, unable to hide his confident smile.
["Scanning in progress, master... Found some potential demon targets, but..."]
"But what?" Kazuo asked as he stepped onto the sidewalk, his eyes glancing across the street. He didn't care about the traffic. He could destroy anything with just his thoughts.
A truck loaded with... empty plastic bottles sped towards him from the corner. The driver – an old man engrossed in adjusting an old radio – didn't see him at all.
Kazuo was preoccupied with figuring out which move to use to "flex" his strength, so he didn't even bother to look at the heavy metal hurtling towards him at 60 km/h. He was still grinning at his brilliant plan.
"Master, be careful. A huge object is approaching you at incredible speed, but since you have the protection system set to 'inactive' mode, I can't—"
"Silence, Liera, I'm thinking about—"
CRASH!
There was no special light, no counterattack, no effect whatsoever. Only the sound of metal hitting a body and bones shattering like a dry branch.
Kazuo was flung far away, tumbling several times on the hot asphalt before lying down like a tattered doll. His glasses fell off, flying several meters away and shattering into pieces in the sunlight.
The truck stopped, and the terrified driver jumped out: "Oh my God! Someone's been hit! Why was he walking without looking where he was going?!"
Kazuo lay there, his blue eyes closed, gazing up at the sky. He lost consciousness so quickly, so fast he didn't even realize he was dead. The terrifying power of Yogiri Takatou was still there, hidden deep within his soul, but now it was useless. He died without being able to speak a word, not even to utter "I die."
No memories of his mother, no glorious scenes, no noble sacrifice. Just a sudden, unremarkable death.
Just a reckless young man, just beginning his life, ended by a garbage truck. His life ended too soon, too abruptly.
A trail of red blood stretched across the road, then everything fell silent. The wind blew, carrying dry leaves past his corpse, as if the world didn't care about the death of a "god."
(THE END)