Heiji knew he'd made a mistake when the barrel of the gun pressed against his back. Its holder, a fugitive murderer he'd followed to this deserted park, had sneaked up on him. "Nosy bastard detective," he snarled. His voice was low and grating. "Shoulda minded yer own business." Heiji didn't even have time to regret his mistake before it became fatal with the pull of the trigger. As he crumpled, the criminal ran off, leaving him for dead.
Heiji wasn't dead. But he lay dying, with no chance at rescue, his thoughts full of curses and regrets. The latter grew more prominent as more blood pooled on the grass. His mother… his father… Kudo… Kazuha…Kazuha. He would never see her again, never get to say goodbye, never get to tell her how he felt…
As his heart slowed to a stop and his mind fell into darkness, his last thoughts were of her.
AN: Hehehe…
Chapter title: last words of Henry Ward Beecher, as quoted in The Giant Book of American Quotations