The world had just shattered. Airi, crushed in the park I had sent her to, was a gaping wound in my reality. For a moment, a gut-wrenching, absolute moment, I simply existed as pure despair. It was around 5:00 PM. Then, the hacker in me, the part that refused to accept an unsolvable problem, flickered to life.
No. It's not impossible. It's a redirect. A system is fighting back. I didn't fail because it was inevitable; I failed because I lacked enough data. I need to understand the rules of this 'fixed point' protocol. Every system has a flaw. Every code can be broken.
My hand, still shaking, found my burner phone. The screen glowed, E.R.I.S waiting. The slider was still locked at '24 Hours' from my desperate act in the last loop. This meant I was bound to this duration for another two days, but I could use it as many times as I needed, given the one-minute cooldown.
Tap. CONFIRM. The familiar, nauseating WHUMMMM tore through the air, scrambling my senses. The walls melted, colors smeared, and sound became a guttural roar before snapping back into place. I blinked. I was standing in my room, exactly 24 hours earlier: 5:00 PM the previous day. The very evening I had celebrated my first "save" of Airi from Route 17, completely oblivious to the doom I had only redirected.
The immediate relief was minimal, swiftly replaced by a gnawing impatience. Airi's death was still a full day away, tomorrow afternoon. My intervention window, the precious hours of school, was still in the future. I had to live through this evening, knowing what was coming. Every casual conversation with my family, every minute spent just existing, felt like a waste of precious time. The exhaustion was already setting in.
The next morning, when 8:00 AM finally arrived, I was already a wreck. My eyes, usually bright with mischief, felt gritty, perpetually bloodshot, ringed with dark circles. I'd barely slept, my mind a ceaseless churn of algorithms and failed scenarios.
My new goal: omnipresence. I needed to be a ghost, a data collector. I used my hacked schedule, my knowledge of the school's layout, and E.R.I.S's 5-minute cooldown for micro-resets – erasing the moment if I was almost spotted, if a door creaked too loudly, if I tripped over my own feet. I shadowed Airi throughout the day, logging her every movement, every casual interaction, every potential hazard that didn't become lethal. A loose floor tile, a carelessly dropped pen, a hurried student turning a corner – these minor threats appeared, then seemed to simply resolve, as if the world itself was patching its own code to redirect the danger away from her, only to reroute it elsewhere.
Classes became background noise I mostly skipped. My focus was singular. I knew I looked it. I was constantly on my burner phone, eyes darting, muttering scenarios and probabilities to myself.
"Shou?" Tanaka's voice, grounded and concerned, cut through my internal buzz during lunch. He stood over my table, his brow furrowed, his usual exasperated look replaced by genuine worry. "You good? You look like you're trying to debug your own brain. And you missed History and Chemistry."
I didn't even look up, just waved a dismissive hand. "New coding project, Taka. Super complex. Running simulations. Can't talk." I knew I sounded agitated, alienating, but I couldn't stop. The phantom image of Airi, crushed in the park, was too real.
He sighed, but didn't leave. "It's about Airi, isn't it? You've been… weird since she got here. And now you're talking to yourself. Is something going on?"
"Nothing you'd understand," I mumbled, finally glancing at him. His face was a mask of concern, but I couldn't explain. How could I? I had to find the pattern.
I spent the entire day tracking Airi. She seemed safe. She avoided the main road. She didn't go near any construction sites. She even opted to stay in the school art room after hours for extra practice. I watched her through a crack in the door, a desperate, almost manic relief flooding me. I did it. I kept her safe. There are no more variables.
Then, a faint whistling sound started outside. It grew louder, a chilling, rising shriek. My head snapped up. From the window, I saw it—a massive, unstable crane at a different construction site across the street, its tether straining. The wind howled, a sudden, powerful gust.
CREEEEAK! WHOOSH!
A loose steel beam, dislodged by the impossible wind, tore free. It arced through the air with a terrifying speed, punching through the reinforced glass of the art room window.
CRASH!
Airi, mid-turn, had no time to react. The beam pinned her to the wall, crushing her instantly.
My scream died in my throat, swallowed by the roar of breaking glass and splintering metal. No. No. No! An "act of God" scenario. Utterly outside my control. She had been "safe." I had eliminated every variable. Yet death still found her.
My body was trembling. My hands were slick with sweat. I looked like I'd just crawled out of a storm drain. It was around 5:30 PM.
Tap. CONFIRM. The familiar WHUMMMM. I was back, exactly 24 hours earlier: 5:30 PM yesterday. The exhaustion was a heavy cloak.
"Observation isn't enough," I muttered, my voice hoarse, enduring the pointless evening again. "I need to control the environment. I need to put her in a bubble. Limit all variables."
The next morning, the "doomed day" again, I was even more disheveled. My new plan was elaborate. This time, I'd force a controlled environment. I'd "accidentally" break the lock on Airi's locker, forcing her to stay after school for maintenance. Then, I'd "offer" to walk her home, but via a seemingly impenetrable route I'd meticulously vetted – an indoor mall, a multi-level carpark, anywhere that felt immune to chance. I even considered creating a fake school announcement about a "mandatory after-school seminar" just to keep her indoors and away from outside dangers.
I needed an accomplice. Someone to act as a diversion, or to relay a message without understanding the stakes. Tanaka.
I cornered him after second period, my voice low and urgent. "Tanaka, I need your help. It's really important. Something bad is going to happen, and I need to stop it. I need you to... help me with something for Airi."
His eyes widened, his usual skepticism warring with genuine concern. "Shou, what are you talking about? 'Something bad'? What is this? You're scaring me. Is this about Airi? Are you okay?" He reached out, almost touching my arm, but I flinched away.
"Just trust me, Tanaka!" I snapped, my voice rising. "This is big. Bigger than anything. Please. Just for a few hours."
He hesitated, studying my wild eyes, my disheveled appearance. He sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. "Fine, Shou. But you owe me a full explanation. After this."
My plan to control Airi's movements seemed to work. I had her convinced to spend the afternoon at the mall, under the pretense of "helping me pick out a new graphics card." I kept her by my side, leading her through the most innocuous, contained areas. I was hyper-aware, my senses screaming, watching every person, every potential threat. She was safe. She had to be safe.
Then, as we passed a brightly lit electronics store, a sudden, piercing POP! erupted from inside. A smell of burning plastic filled the air. A faulty display model, perhaps. An overhead light fixture, unstable for weeks but never a threat, finally gave way.
CRASH!
It plunged down, narrowly missing me, but striking Airi square on the head.
No. No!
Pure, unadulterated horror. I was hyperventilating, choking on my own breath. This was beyond bad luck. Beyond simple coincidence. No environment was safe. Death was not being avoided; it was simply being redirected.
My mind was a whirlwind of frantic equations, desperate theories. It wasn't random. It wasn't bad luck. It's fighting back. It's learning. It's adapting to my interventions. This wasn't fate, it was a protocol. An AI. Something within E.R.I.S was enforcing this. It wasn't just a physical threat; it was a quantum one.
My resolve hardened into something grim, almost insane. I stared at my phone, the E.R.I.S icon glowing. I was defeated, but not broken. If I couldn't stop it from the outside, if I couldn't control the variables, then I had to go deeper. Into the system itself.
Next time, I vowed, my eyes burning with a chilling resolve, I'm not just saving her. I'm taking down the system that's killing her.
I tapped E.R.I.S for another reset, the WHUMMMM feeling longer, more draining than ever before. I barely registered the return, my focus already on the code. I needed to find out who or what was enforcing this fixed point of death.