In a certain universe—within the solar system, in Tokyo's Nerima district—sat a boy of about ten years old on a park bench.
He wore a yellow shirt, dark blue shorts, and round-framed glasses that rested on his nose. His sleek black hair framed a pair of myopic eyes that, though somewhat dull, carried an unusual maturity for his age. Beside him lay a black leather backpack.
Pushing up his glasses, he sighed softly."Life is so dull."
Name: Nobi Nobita.Identity: Fifth-grade student, Nerima Elementary School.
Yes, this was the setting of one of the protagonists of the manga Doraemon—Nobita Nobi. But unlike the Nobita we know, this one did not have a robot cat by his side.
Because this Nobita was a genius.
Well… not exactly. To be precise, compared to the Nobita who scored zero on nearly every test, this Nobita was a genius. And so, his future grandson must have decided that he didn't need Doraemon—thus, Doraemon was never sent.
"Is it too late for me to pretend to be stupid now?" Nobita thought miserably.
But of course, it was too late. Nobita's fate in the original story wasn't tied to his stupidity but to his terrible luck. His future failures—bankruptcy, misfortune, and debt—forced his descendants to send Doraemon back to change history.
This Nobita, however, wasn't unlucky. He never tripped into gutters or got hit by stray baseballs. Sometimes, he even found 500 yen lying on the street. With luck like this, he would never go bankrupt, and his descendants would never live in poverty. So why send Doraemon at all?
One can play dumb, but luck can't be faked.
"Nobita~"
A clear, sweet voice rang out. Nobita turned toward the sound and saw a girl running toward him with a schoolbag in her hand, smiling brightly. She wore her hair in twin ponytails, a light pink shirt, and a short pink skirt that barely reached her knees. Her slender white legs ended in white socks and round-toed leather shoes.
Minamoto Shizuka.
The girl Nobita loved in the original story. The one who, after many hardships, became his wife.
Nobita observed her carefully. She was still young, her face soft and round with youthful innocence, yet her bright eyes carried a spark of charm that made her plain features glow.
But at the end of the day… she was just a grade-schooler.
Although this Nobita—who carried the memories of another world—found her cute, he couldn't bring himself to feel smitten. He wasn't a lolicon.
"Hey, Shizuka."
Nobita raised his hand lazily, flashing an elegant yet effortless smile.
Shizuka skipped over and sat beside him, clutching his arm and leaning against his shoulder. She pouted playfully."Nobita~ why are you so cold to me? You should call me Shizuka-chan."
Her coquettish tone made Nobita shiver. He muttered, "Shizuka, could you… not talk to me like that?"
This wasn't the gentle Shizuka from the original story. Perhaps it was the butterfly effect, but she behaved differently now—still kind, but oddly clingy toward him.
"I only talk like this with you," she said sweetly. And it was true: with everyone else, she sounded like a normal girl. But with Nobita, she acted almost… too affectionate.
"I'd really rather you didn't." Nobita sighed inwardly. She was still just a child—too delicate to scold or push away.
Ding, ding, ding—
An aluminum can rolled in front of them. A boy appeared: a junior high delinquent, his hair dyed yellow, face covered in acne, shirt unbuttoned, smirking arrogantly.
He leered at Shizuka."Hey, little sister, want to hang out with me?"
Nobita's brow twitched. "You're into elementary schoolers? What a creep."
Shizuka shrank back, clutching Nobita's arm, trembling. Her timid expression only seemed to excite the delinquent further.
"Kawaii!" he laughed, his voice sleazy.
"How disgusting," Nobita said flatly.
The boy's smirk twisted into anger. "Little brat, I've had enough of you!"
Nobita didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his fist and, without warning, smashed it into the nearby lamppost.
Bang!
The metal pole dented deeply and shook violently before settling still.
The delinquent froze, eyes wide, sweat dripping down his face. What kind of monster is this kid?
Nobita narrowed his eyes. "Tell me—if I hit you with this fist, how many bones would you break? Go ahead. Do the math."
"I—I…"
"Calculate it!"
"I—I can't!"
"Then guess!"
"P-Please spare me!" the boy cried, tears streaming as he turned and fled, tripping over himself before scrambling away.
Nobita withdrew his hand, wincing. The back of his fist was red and stinging. Ouch. Forces are mutual, after all.
"Nobita, are you okay?" Shizuka asked, clutching his hand with both of hers, tears brimming in her eyes. She blew gently on his bruised skin, cooling the pain.
For a moment, she looked like nothing more than a worried little girl. Nobita's heart softened.
"You know me," he said quietly. "I'll be fine in a while."
Shizuka smiled through her tears. "Thank you, Nobita. I love you the most."
Nobita's eyes widened. "I'm happy you like me, but—"
"I've loved you since kindergarten," she cut in. "And I'll keep loving you—through elementary school, junior high, high school, and even college."
Nobita sat frozen. By the time he recovered, Shizuka was already at the park gate, waving goodbye with a smile.
Is that really something an elementary schooler would say? Or are kids these days just… precocious?
Still, being liked by a cute girl wasn't the worst thing.
"Another ordinary day over," Nobita sighed, grabbing his schoolbag and heading home.
Everything was normal—until he entered his room and saw it.
A mirror, unfamiliar yet ordinary at first glance, with a strange technological frame.
"When did my family buy this?" he muttered.
Before he could investigate further, a white light burst from the mirror. A round blue robot cat tumbled out, calling anxiously:"Nobita, have you seen Nobita?"
I've waited ten years for my secret gadget. Has Doraemon finally appeared?
At that moment, Nobita Nobi's heart pounded with excitement. He wanted to shout, to scream—
—because this meant his life was about to become extraordinary.
The Cretaceous period. The Demon Realm. The Magic World. The Underground. The Undersea Kingdom. The Heavenly World. The Dream World. The Game World. Outer space, alien planets, galactic wars, ancient civilizations—even the dawn of creation itself…
But then he stopped to think.No… Doraemon should have come out of the desk drawer. How could he appear from a mirror? Could this be… the mirror world?
The mirror world!
Nobita's eyes lit up.
Yes… no, to be exact—it's the opposite world!
He remembered clearly: Doraemon once had a gadget, a mirror that led to an opposite world.
In the normal world, Nobita was hopeless at sports and failed every exam.
But in the opposite world, he was an athletic all-rounder and scored perfect marks.
So that's it. I must be the Nobita from the opposite world. No wonder I never had Doraemon. No wonder Shizuka treats me so warmly. No wonder Gian fears me. No wonder Suneo fawns over me…
Meanwhile, Doraemon glanced at this Nobita, confused. He scratched his round head with a paw and muttered, "Strange… Nobita's acting weird," before hurrying off in search of the Nobita who actually belonged to him.
Nobita watched Doraemon's figure vanish around the corner. A faint smile tugged at his lips."Childhood dreams…"
Taking a deep breath, he calmed the wild excitement in his chest and turned his gaze back to the full-length mirror before him.
In the original manga, the opposite world had been nothing more than a brief adventure—one small chapter, never to return. Its backdrop wasn't filled with people of the sky, or underground civilizations, or underwater kingdoms, or alien empires.
No—this was just an ordinary, modern world.
I finally get the chance to travel across worlds. With the promise of something greater ahead, should I really hide away in a small urban setting like this?
The answer was clear.
"No," Nobita whispered. "I still have passion burning in my heart."
He placed a trembling hand on the mirror. His fingers sank through the surface as though it were water. Then his arm, his leg, and finally his entire body slipped inside.
The normal world—
Nobita Nobi stepped out from the mirror and into a room identical to his own. In a way, it was still "his" room… yet not quite.