A/N: Okay I lied, this one's not actually from the afterlife, nor is it about the SSS. But hey it is an interlude.

It was an important night and the train was running late. Why tonight of all nights? he thought as his foot tapped an impatiently on the floor. He wasn't the only one who seemed antsy; a sparse crowd had gathered at the edge of the platform to peer into the darkness for the telltale light of the train. Their dark muttering echoed his thoughts, complaining about tardiness and faulty train services. But none of them would understand his impatience. He had to get home now.

"Igarashi."

A hand gripped his shoulder and he snapped out of his hazy frustration. He turned to see his friend and co-worker smiling at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I know you want to get home, but stomping your foot and whining isn't going to make the train magically appear," he said with a sympathetic look.

Igarashi frowned. "I know. Sorry, I must've zoned out a bit." He rubbed his head, trying to laugh it off. These days he wasn't always aware of little actions he took. More times than not he found himself performing irritating habits like drumming his fingers or, like now, tapping his foot. He always brushed it off as 'zoning out' whenever someone pointed it out, but he was sure it was something more than that.

"That head injury still screwing with your brain?" his friend laughed.

The look Igarashi gave him could've frozen the sun. "That's not funny," he growled.

His friend backed off. "O-oh. Sorry."

Igarashi returned his gaze to the empty tracks, staring hard at the rails and the loose stones that packed the ground. His friend Tanaka really wasn't a bad guy; for someone who didn't know his past, he stuck loyally to Igarashi through his reserved attitude and shifting moods. The two of them held jobs at the city hospital, Igarashi working as a doctor and Tanaka serving under him as assistant. They were a tag team of miracle workers—or so the hospital liked to brag—and they treated their patients with determined care and admirable effort.

He was known as a hero in that hospital.

But he didn't feel like one.

"Ah, there it is," Tanaka said, and his pointing finger entered Igarashi's field of vision. The train pulled in and the crowd rushed to enter, eager to make up for the lost time by speeding up the boarding process. "Watch it," he warned as Igarashi stumbled over the threshold.

"Y-yeah. Thanks."

Igarashi was not fond of trains. Not since that accident. He preferred to take the bus when he could, given that the train to the city takes a route underground. The chances of a cave-in like that happening again was slim at best, but he felt better not risking it. But tonight was special. He had to get home fast, and the buses at this time take forever to get to his stop. Gritting his teeth, Igarashi kept his eyes fixed on a cheerful toothpaste advertisement as the doors slid shut and the train began to move.

It had been six years since that awful train crash, but Igarashi still had reoccurring nightmares about it. It never focused on the darkness, the hunger, or the lack of hope he had faced in that tunnel; it was always about the cold, unmoving body of the selfless hero. Even now, he could recall the lifeless eyes of his short-time friend and the tight feeling in his chest that came with it. Sure, Igarashi may be a licensed doctor, but compared to Otonashi, he was no hero. He was just a simple man, given a second chance at life. A second chance he wished went to a certain student doctor instead of himself.

"Igarashi. Igarashi?"

Tanaka was shaking his shoulder and calling his name, sounding like he had been repeating it for some time. Igarashi blinked and looked up.

"Your stop is next, right?" Tanaka asked, pointing at the flashing screen by the door. Igarashi glanced at the station name while rubbing at his eyes, realizing that he was right. "Come on, buddy. Snap out of it. It's a big night for you, isn't it?"

Igarashi nodded, gripping the paper bag tighter in his hand. Tanaka was right. This was a big night. He shouldn't be thinking about the past, not now. That was then and this is now.

The doors slid open and Igarashi stepped out. He turned to see Tanaka lifting a hand in farewell. "Hey…sorry about earlier," Igarashi said. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Don't worry about it," Tanaka said with a smile. "See you tomorrow. Send my regards to the wife, all right?"

"Will do."

The doors slid shut and the train departed, leaving Igarashi alone on the platform. He watched it disappear into the night as if waiting for it to come across some kind of disastrous accident. And what am I going to do if it does? he found himself asking. Jump on the scene like Otonashi had and save everyone's lives? Sacrifice your own life so you can live up to your hero?

He turned away from the tracks and headed off the platform. The night was silent and still; not a sound disturbed the warm spring air. The paper bag he held made little crinkling noises at every step as it bumped against his leg, creating a rhythm that more or less sent Igarashi into a monotonous trance.

His head gave a nasty twinge and he grimaced, rubbing circles into his temple. After the rescue, the doctors had informed him that he had a severe concussion from the crash, which progressed slowly over the week he went without medical attention. It was nothing too serious compared to some of the other survivors, but the occasional migraines he got was a persistent reminder of the events of that accident.

And it was more than just physical pain; the mental scarring he had taken from such a traumatizing situation and the survivor's guilt that had surfaced after Otonashi's confirmed death had plagued his mind with horrifying emotions that he had never dealt with.

Useless, his mind would constantly remind him, useless. Otonashi did all of the work in that tunnel, you were just a sorry excuse of a support partner. You didn't even check on your precious hero to make sure he didn't have any wounds, did you? And they call you a hero? You couldn't save one life!

He stopped at the gate in front of his house and stared at the nameplate fixed into the wall, which stated his last name. "Igarashi," he read aloud, touching a hand to the plate. "I wonder, my friend. If you had lived and I had died…would it be your name here?" he asked as he traced the characters for 'Otonashi' over the engraved metal.

Life was unfair. Too unfair. Otonashi was so young, so full of potential. He was a brilliant, hard-working student for his age, inspiring even the most depressed people from their pessimistic thoughts and feeding hope to them until his last breath. No one in that tunnel deserved to die in such a horrible condition, especially Otonashi. He could have had a wonderful life. Met a girl. Fallen in love. Married. Had a kid. Raised a family. Grown old. He could've put his vast knowledge of medicine to tremendous use.

And yet he gave his life to us…to him. Igarashi smiled sadly. He was carrying a bit of his friend around him, living the life the fallen hero could never have. Now he was the doctor, he had the beautiful wife, and he had a family.

Is this right, buddy? Is this how you would've helped these people? Is this the life you wanted?

He hoped it was. He knew, from the moment they met, they connected not over the fact that they were survivors, but because they viewed the world in similar ways. Otonashi would appreciate the life Igarashi was living. He would praise it.

The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, and he heard the barking of a dog deep within the house. He opened the front door and pushed aside his excited dog as he attempted to bite at his shoes, laughing as he put his bag down.

"Daddy!"

There was a blur of color and suddenly his shoulders weighed a ton. With a shout of surprise mixed with laughter, he slipped off his shoes and picked up his daughter.

"Heya kid," he greeted, kissing her nose.

"You're home early!" she exclaimed, waving her hands around.

"You bet I am! And I brought you a little surprise…" He reached into the paper bag in his hand and pulled out a wrapped present. "Happy birthday, Misaki."

The happiness on her face all but melted Igarashi's heart. "A present? Thank you so much, Daddy!" She took the wrapped box and jumped up and down with joy before sprinting into the living room, screaming, "Mommy! Mommy look! Look what Daddy got me!"

He stepped into some slippers and threw his keys into a bowl as his wife came out to greet him, smiling softly.

"You actually made it," she said with a quiet laugh.

Igarashi shrugged. "A promise is a promise."

He felt a smile on his face—a real one, not forced or faked—and somehow sensed a brief connection with his friend. Oh, yes. He would praise this life. He would praise me for building it up from that damned tunnel accident.

I am not wasting this second chance. No way in hell.