There had been a pulse through her body. Force, a slight one, but more than enough to throw her off balance. It hadn't helped that she wore high heels, very high heels, the type that certainly made her look dead sexy but provided little actual stability. But nevertheless, it was that push that had stolen her balance. The blame did not rest solely on her choice in shoes. Not that it had been her choice directly, more a decision by the clothing department whom apparently, in weighing the risks had concluded an occurrence like this to be too improbably to offset the added appeal. And perhaps they were right, she certainly had looked dead sexy. The way she had walked, stood, everything. In fact, she was quite sure that even without this unfortunate and sudden twist in the evening, and in all probability her life as well, her beauty would've been the main story in quite a few less reputable and downright sleezy magazines. As it was though, judging from the lights she saw shining before her, beauty would not be the aspect of her that'd be reported. Well maybe it would be mentioned, but come those lights, she'd hardly be pretty much longer. What a pity, she figured.

But it wasn't just that the three hours of make-up and dressing up would go to waste that had her bothered. No, when she had been given time to think about it, those concerned seemed rather insignificant. The much more pressing issue was the coming end to her cognition. It was not a thought she had usually liked to contest with, but she had always been aware of her own mortality. It had been one of those pestering thoughts in the back of her head, sometimes keeping her up at night, that eternal darkness that would come one day. Would the songs she had sung matter anymore? She couldn't see them mattering, not when she thought rationally. Her ability to shut out the rational had thus come in handy, and she relegated coming to terms with death to her later years. When she'd be old and content. Maybe sitting on a porch having just finished a masterpiece. Sometime in the far, far future when she'd have nothing more to live for, then she'd open up that dusty old page and really give death a good old think. She would have to make sure to do so before growing senile, however. Her grandmother had suffered that fate, a slow decent into dementia before an ultimate demise. No, if she was to deal with death, she'd have to do so before losing her wits. The tricky part though was recognizing the right them when it'd come. Sometimes in her later life, sure, but when? At sixty? Seventy? Maybe eighty? Well, she couldn't help but to feel quite the fool now.

On the bright side, like this she'd not have to cope with the philosophy of impending death for any longer than however long it'd take to fall in front of a train. One moment she had been happily walking by the station humming on a song with Rin on her side, not a care in the world besides the concert next week for which she really would've needed a lot more practice, and the next she'd be no more. At least like this the choreography wouldn't be an issue anymore. Well, not for her, some other poor sod would have to fill her place assuming the entire show wouldn't be cancelled. Rin probably. She had always been a talented girl, and maybe it was high time for Miku to pass the torch, after all, one can only be in the limelight for so long. Sooner or later, fame comes to an end. Not to say that this was the way she had envisioned it. It really was not.

But reality seemed uninterested in what this young girl had planned for herself. So while Rin was taking her first steps into glory, she in turn took her first step into nothing. Maybe a more fitting phrasing had been her last step, but she did not see it like that. After all, she hadn't really taken a step at all. She had been pushed. And she would die. That yellow, burning light that almost touched her, and the screeching of emergency brakes that'd come too late. There didn't seem to be much else to say. This was it. This really was it. In just a few, she wasn't quite what, the impact would come. It'd rob her of consciousness, rob her of future, rob her of love and rob her of self. This, this fleeting moment where she didn't even have the ground to support her would encompass the entirety of the remainder of her life. She wouldn't have a career, she wouldn't have any more birthdays, she wouldn't even feel her own mass against her own two feet ever again. More thoughts came to her mind. She'd not have sex. She'd not get married. She'd not even finish that song she had been writing since she was eight. No one would hear it. Ever. It'd all be lost to time, swallowed by the abyss alongside everything else. She wouldn't see Rin sing on stage anymore, so she might as well be swallowed too. And the stage, and everyone. They'd all fall prey, seizing from her perspective to exist. The entire world, existence itself, would fall into oblivion. Even the train would. The slayer, the reaper itself that slashed her scythe for Miku, would be no longer. Nothing. Nothing would be anymore.

Miku knew that was a lie. In truth, the world would go on just as it had. It was only she who was leaving. Rin wasn't, the train wasn't, but she, she was. She would die. She would relax her body and embrace the light that by now surrounded her. She'd let it come to her and she'd be brought from this world into nothing. It didn't matter that her song would go unsung. It didn't matter that her dress would be soiled. She wouldn't be around to see it anyway. She would not be around.

She would die.