"What the hell is this?"
That's me right now. To explain why I'm standing here questioning everything, we need to go back about twelve hours to my cramped apartment, my dim desk lamp, and the mountain of romance novels that has taken over my free time for the last two weeks.
It was half past midnight, and my room looked like a library had exploded. Stacks of light novels leaned against the wall, their spines showing a colorful range of teenage drama. The Fragrant Flower Blooms with Dignity lay open in front of me, my finger holding the page while I leaned back in my chair.
The main character was about to confess, finally, but of course, he chose this moment to doubt himself.
I sighed. "Come on. You've had twelve volumes to get here. Just say it already."
My voice echoed off the walls because there was no one else to hear it. There never was.
I'm not some recluse, but let's just say my "family connections" section is a blank page. I'm an orphan, the kind the system forgets about once you turn eighteen. I rent a cheap one-room apartment in the city, work a part-time security job, and spend my nights doing one of three things: working out, reading, or sleeping.
Tonight was a reading night. It started with romance series like Oregairu and The Quintessential Quintuplets. Then I moved on to newer ones, Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, My Dress-Up Darling, even Oshi no Ko for a change.
At first, it was just for fun. Then I noticed a trend: almost every male lead was completely clueless. Dense, hesitant, or both.
The next book in my stack was Nisekoi, opened to a chapter where Chitoge and Onodera had a misunderstanding so ridiculous I almost dropped the paperback.
I rubbed my temple. "You're telling me you let her walk away? You're the heir to a yakuza group, you have resources, and you're just letting her get hurt? What's wrong with you?"
It's not that I think I'm perfect. But I can't stand watching someone hesitate when it really matters. When a split-second decision could mean the difference between keeping someone safe or letting them get hurt, I act. I always have.
I guess that's something my combat training drilled into me. Not military, nothing official, just the kind of martial arts and street-fighting experience you pick up in a rough foster home. When the cops show up three times a month, you learn to defend yourself quickly.
So, watching these fictional guys stumble at key moments drives me crazy.
I flipped open Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, reading a scene where Alya was quietly hurting from something the main character didn't even notice.
I groaned. "If I were there, I'd pick up on that. I'd do better than you. I'd protect all of them."
Maybe I was overtired. Maybe it was the cheap instant coffee I'd been sipping since nine p.m. But I started talking to my books as if I were addressing the characters directly.
"Yukino, I'd stop you from walking into that alley. Marin, I wouldn't let you take that shady modeling gig. Ai, I'd deal with that stalker before he even got close. And Chitoge? No one's kidnapping you on my watch."
I laughed at myself. It felt like I was auditioning to be the hero in a dozen different stories at once.
But deep down, some part of me believed it. I'm not the smartest guy in the room, but when it comes to acting in the moment? I don't freeze. I sure as hell don't let the people I care about walk into danger.
The final one I reached for was The Fragrant Flower Blooms with Dignity again, this time focusing on Kaoruko Waguri's story. I read the chapter where she sits alone in the garden, her eyes distant, and the main character just walks away.
That was the breaking point.
I set the book down, stared at my desk, and said it:
"If I were in your place, I'd never mess this up. I'd protect every one of you."
The clock ticked. The city outside was silent except for an occasional car. I felt ridiculous, a lone guy in a shabby apartment, promising fictional girls I'd never let them get hurt.
But there was a strange tension in the air, like the moment before a storm.
Sleep
I turned off the lamp, lay down, and closed my eyes. My dreams were scattered, flashes of familiar faces from every series I'd read. Marin's laugh. Yukino's cold stare. Ai's stage smile. Chitoge's glare. One by one, they looked at me.
And then… darkness.
I woke up to my alarm at 7:00 a.m., stretched, and went through my routine, shower, black T-shirt, dark jacket, headphones in. My reflection in the mirror looked the same as always: tall, sharp features, the faint scar across my jaw from a fight years ago.
The walk to school was normal. The air was crisp, and traffic hummed along the main road.
But as I turned the corner toward the school gates, something felt… off.
At first, I couldn't pinpoint it. Students moved around as usual, but there were unfamiliar faces. New transfers? That happens sometimes mid-year, but there were a lot of them.
Then I saw her.
Kaoruko Waguri. Not cosplay. Not a lookalike. Her.
She was standing by the front gate, speaking with perfect poise, her uniform tailored like it came from another world. Next to her was Kitagawa Marin, bright blonde hair catching the sunlight, grinning like she owned the place.
A few meters away, Yukinoshita Yukino was talking with Yuigahama Yui, and... No. No way. That was Ai Hoshino by the vending machine. Chitoge Kirisaki was leaning against the wall, glaring at someone I couldn't see.
I froze. My mind struggled to make sense of it, maybe a themed event, maybe a cosplay club prank. But the way they moved, the way they spoke… it wasn't put on.
It was real.
Every single heroine I'd read about last night was here. Not just in the same school. In the same reality.
And for the first time in years, I felt my pulse speed up for a reason other than a fight.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
That's when a scream cut through the air.
The scream came from somewhere beyond the gates, sharp, panicked, and quickly silenced.
Every head turned, but most students looked confused. The kind of confusion people have when they can't tell if it's a joke or real trouble.
I wasn't confused. My body moved before my brain had caught up.
I pushed past two second-years, my boots pounding on the pavement as I crossed the gate into the courtyard. Students were gathered near the far side, craning their necks to see something by the maintenance shed.
I broke through the crowd and froze.
It was Subaru Hoshina. She lay on the ground, her sports bag scattered, a dark red stain spreading under her head. A metal bar, part of a fallen light fixture, lay beside her, the screws twisted like they had been loosened.
For half a second, my mind screamed that this was impossible. The Subaru I knew existed only in printed ink and colored panels. But here she was. Breathing shallowly. Eyes half-open. Bleeding.
I dropped to one knee, pressing my hands to the wound. "Hey. Stay with me. You're going to be fine."
Her lips moved. I leaned closer. She whispered something, maybe my name, maybe not, before her eyes rolled back.
The crowd did nothing, just murmuring and frozen in place.
I looked up at them, my voice sharp. "Call an ambulance. Now."
Nobody moved. Then I realized why.
A shadow fell over us. I looked left and saw movement. A second metal bar, high above, tilting off the edge of the roof.
It was falling straight toward me.
Instinct screamed to roll away. I could dodge. But that would mean leaving Subaru in danger.
The bar fell. I shifted just enough to shield her.
The impact was a flash of white heat in my skull. The world tilted, colors blurred, sound drained away until I could only hear my slowing heartbeat.
Darkness
For a while, there was nothing. No pain. No weight. Just black.
Then, faintly, a sound. An alarm clock.
My eyes shot open. I was in bed. My bed. The dim light through the curtains looked just like yesterday. The cheap clock on my nightstand read 7:00 a.m.
I sat up quickly. My head, no injury. No blood. No bandages.
My phone showed the date. The same date as yesterday.
I stumbled to the window, pulling the curtain aside. The street outside was identical. Same cars. Same old man walking his Shiba Inu.
"...What the hell is this?"
I got dressed on autopilot, black shirt, jacket, but my hands were shaking. My walk to school was exactly the same. The crisp air. The same chatter from students ahead of me.
And then I saw them.
Kaoruko Waguri, Marin Kitagawa, Yukinoshita Yukino, Ai Hoshino, Chitoge Kirisaki… all at the school gates. The same positions. The same conversations.
It was yesterday again.
I stood frozen, my pulse pounding. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a cold realization was forming:
Subaru had died. I had died. And now… I was back at the start.
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Thanks for reading. You can also give me ideas for the future or pinpoint plot holes that I may have forgotten, if you want.
Powerstones. Me. Give. Now.