Time.

She never thought much about it before. She wasn't one to think deep thoughts about how her life would impact others or the world around her. She was always content to be Seina Hakuzuki. Maybe the rest of the world worried about how things would end up in a hundred years, but not her. She lived in the moment, constantly pushing forward her deepest desires, and not caring who she stepped on.

Or who she crushed.

On that cold, rainy afternoon in Berkeley, she was driving her old black Honda Accord down the ancient rain-slicked roads of the old-style part of the city. She remember she was playing one of the New Age/Metal bands that was popular among her and her friends at the time, and singing along.

There is no way to tell if that moment could have been stopped. Should she have had the music off? Should she have been going 30 instead of 40? Or maybe the problem lay with the dark haired male driver of the silver Lexus.

But she remember the loud sound of crunching and the bitter smell of burnt rubber. The screeching of tires drowned it out as she cramped up her leg, begging her car to stop short. But no such luck.

she felt her stomach rise into her throat as the airbag deployed, crushing her lungs and tearing the light from her vision. Her last thoughts were, Please let her die and not the other driver. Please.

Don't think of her as noble, because she's not. But she also would rather be dead then live with the weight of a man's life on her back. Every breath stolen from him. No, she would rather death take her. she welcomed it.

Xxx

"Hey look she's coming around," her mother's voice came in clear as a bell. "You had us worried sick."

"How long?" she asked her straight out. "How long was I out?"

"It was three days," her dad said. "The doctor says you are extremely lucky. You were only bruised. The concussion knocked you out this long."

But I was dead! I know! I felt her body die! she wanted to scream the words, but they looked so relieved. She couldn't do it. "How is the other driver? Can I see him? I wanna apologize!"

They looked at each other, troubled.

"He's on life support. Technically dead...but kept alive by a mysterious benefactor." The new speaker was a clipboard toting nurse. "I will take you to his room if you promise to stay quiet. I think you deserve this much."

The blonde nurse helped her into a wheelchair and wheeled her down the hall. We were close, two doors down from each other, probably because we came in at around the same time.

The nurse nodded and shut the door, and she slowly stood, clutching the bedpost. Bruises really do hurt, but she was barely touched in comparison to him. "You can't die..."

A tear fell down her cheek and hit her hand. In that instant, her hand glowed that silver color from the dream. She knew it sounded nuts. But it happened. And she held that whitened hand on his wrapped up fractured chest, and then...the machines whirred and buzzed and beeped. All saying the same thing: this guy's alive!

She drew back, hopping into her wheelchair as fast as her bruises would allow, and smiled, eying the name on the chart. 'Ken Kaneki'. I'll keep tabs on you, I promise. But first I gotta roll outta here before I get noticed!

So she slipped out of his room, down the hall, and back to her room, just as the nurses from the third hall were rushing in to check on what would soon be known as their miracle patient.