Your Already Dead In Japanese Novels & Stories

“He’s dead…” Jun said with a voice he didn’t recognize as his own, A strangled scream came out of Tohru and he kneeled beside his brother shaking him and trying to wake him up as if that would do any good. “Aya! This is a lie! Aya open your eyes. Stop joking around, Aya!” Tohru kept yelling at his brother to open his eyes but it was too late. Aya was already dead. Jun gritted his tooth and looked up at the man who killed his best friend. The man who defended his family and friends until his last breath. The tattooed American was looking at him with a smirk on his face.

Alexei “Dead,” I say. The word drops into the dust of the training yard like a stone, heavy enough to crush toes. “You’re dead, Joran. You’re dead, Silas. And you-” I point a wooden training blade at a young wolf named Kael, who is currently clutching his ribs and wheezing in the dirt. “You died three minutes ago. You’re just too stupid to stay down.” The yard is silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of warriors who look like they’ve been chewed up by a thresher. They’re sweating, bleeding from minor scrapes, and looking at me with a mix of terror and exhaustion.

His voice was getting frantic. Duke was not moving; his eyes were shut and his skin glistened with the first drops of rain that had come with the rumbling sky. “Duke!” Tim screamed. He had felt the panic in Jason’s voice and young as he was, he understood what that meant. Jack stood by the side, tears glimmering in his eyes. It seemed the boy had already given up on life before it started. “He is dead, is he not?” he asked.

"I won't let you die." Tora hugged her son one last time and whispered onto his ear in a language she knew the spying witch wouldn't recognize. "Watashi wa muda ni shinu koto wa arimasen. Kono monsutā o tsurete ikimasu. Shikashi, watashi wa anata ga ikiru koto o shitte iru dakede heiwa ni shinu koto ga dekimasu." Which roughly translated to, I will not die in vain. I will take this monster with me. But I can only die in peace knowing you will live. Satake looked genuinely distraught but his mother was right to tell him to run. As he slowly stepped away from the scene with tears clouding his eyes, Satake bid his mother a silent goodbye.

“DEATH, REBIRTH, REINCARNATION, AND CHANCE. SHALL I LAY UNTO YOU THE REAAL DEAL OF THE SEVEN EXISTING WORLDS, WHERE THE ORIGINAL AND THE ROT OF ALL LIES TO WHAT I CALL,” SHINZO DIMENSION

After going through the subsequent days of torment, Peter was rendered to just a bag of bones who looked sickly. I, on the contrary, regained my health gradually. A healthy complexion returned to my face too. I chose a gravesite for my unborn child. I buried the child's checkup reports, ultrasound imaging, and clothes in the ground. While stroking the ice-cold gravestone with tears streaming down my face, I said, "Come back to me and be my child in your next life, okay?"

Is that a reason why I am alright to die now? Is my present not needed anymore? Is that why the comic and this world is killing me? i can't stop thinking what should happen to me if i didn't go to the west but what could i possibly do now i will die tomorrow this cold and dark place i can't see any hope that we will leave the rotten smell of this place is littering in my body i know that i smell like dead people but i don't really care suddenly i feel like my senses shuts down all i care right now is to die in peace i want to die quietly maybe i should ask them to just stab me with their sword i don't care how many times they want to do it but at least i will not feel that my body is being b

Theme:- Welcome to the Afterlife part 1 As it was inscribed in the holy book, it was given for a man to die once, and after that death, it is judgement. But for me, Rey Reed, it is different. If my guess is right, this will be the third time I have visited the land of the dead. The first time was when I escaped from the tar pit. I can't remember how long I lost consciousness, but when I woke up. I only opened my eyes in hell.

The linguistic scholar died. Before we could even reach the secondary stairwell, the massive, tinted glass windows of the living room shattered inward. A hail of high-velocity tactical rounds tore through the air, punching violent holes into the dark velvet couches and marble walls. Three heavily armed mercenaries, clad in matte-black tactical gear and Vance syndicate insignias, breached the shattered ledge using high-tension ziplines from an adjacent rooftop. Malakai returned fire instantly, his sidearm barking three times in rapid succession. The lead mercenary dropped hard against the broken glass, a tight cluster of crimson blooming across his chest.

The army on Tsukishima began walking into the sea. They did not sink. Each copy stepped onto the surface and moved toward us. Cassian drew his silver blade. “They are not living.” Shigure’s broken sword glowed. “They are discarded lives.” I looked at him. “What does that mean?” His gaze stayed on the approaching figures. “Every time Ayamira died and returned, the crown kept an echo.” My copies filled the ocean. Some wore armour. Some wore torn dresses. One was a child. One carried a newborn wrapped in blue cloth.