The library smelled like dust and tired air. Mahitaro had been coming here every day since that talk with his mother, scouring through newspaper archives, old case reports, and rumor magazines. His notebook was filling with desperate scribbles—circles around dates, half-legible notes about "paranormal patterns," "unsolved stabbings," "vanishings near the school."
But every page ended the same way:
No answers.
No leads.
Nothing that matters.
Each failure felt heavier than the last. His pencil slipped from his hand, rolling off the desk with a hollow clatter.
He buried his face in his arms.
"Why can't I find anything...? Why can't I—?"
The weight of it all pressed down on him again. Eruto's dying words. His mother's trembling voice. His own endless failures. He thought maybe—just maybe—the research would give him a foothold. But now it felt like sand slipping through his fingers.
He wanted to give up. Just lie down and wait for the loop to reset. Maybe next time it wouldn't hurt as much. Maybe next time Eruto wouldn't have to smile like that.
Scene 2: The Corner of His Eye!
And then—
Movement.
From the corner of his eye, between the towering shelves, someone was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book balanced lazily in their hands.
A student.
At first, nothing strange. But then—Mahitaro's stomach twisted. He knew that face. Not clearly, not fully, but like a shadow that had haunted him through every loop.
The one always there at the edges of the tragedies. The one whispering rumors behind his back. The one framing him, painting him as the murderer while the real killer stayed invisible.
And now, here.
Not blurred.
Not hidden.
Clear.
The student's hair burned unnaturally red under the library lights, as though it defied reality itself. And when his eyes flicked up from the page, Mahitaro's stomach froze.
Cold. Sharp. Inhuman.
Those eyes looked right at him.
Mahitaro's hand trembled against the desk. His heart raced. Finally. Finally. This was the one. The thread that tied it all together.
Scene 3: The Black Out...
The red-haired student closed the book, slow and deliberate. Then he stood. His mouth curled into a small, knowing grin—as if to say You shouldn't have seen this.
Mahitaro tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't move.
The student reached into his pocket. His arm flicked.
Something flashed through the air—so fast Mahitaro couldn't even register what it was.
"—!"
A sharp sting against his head.
Then, nothing.
Scene 4: Reset!?
When his eyes opened, the bile was already rising in his throat again. His stomach heaved as vomit spilled onto the floor, burning his throat raw.
The tatami mat pressed against his cheek. The same ceiling. The same air.
But this time was different.
His mind wasn't clouded in rage. His heart wasn't drowning in despair. The memory was clear—so sharp it felt carved into his skull.
The face. The hair. The eyes.
The student in the corner.
The one who had always been there.
The one who ended it before Mahitaro could scream.
Scene 5: Determination!...
He sat up, wiping the bile from his lips. His body trembled, not with weakness, but with fire. His hands clenched into fists so tight his nails cut into his palms.
"They can reset me all they want," he whispered into the silence, his voice shaking but alive. "They can kill me. They can erase me. But I saw you. I SAW YOU."
For the first time since this nightmare began, the despair didn't drag him under. It was still there—oh, it was always there—but now it burned alongside something new.
Resolve.
No matter how many loops it took, no matter how much blood he had to crawl through, no matter how heavy the scars became—
He would uncover the truth.
He would make sure Eruto's death meant something.
He would destroy the red-haired student.
Even if it killed him a thousand more times.
Scene 6: Part 2: The Weight of Fire
The night after the reset, Mahitaro couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, the face burned behind his lids—the unnatural red hair, the smile that wasn't human, the eyes that pierced right through him.
He curled against his bed, knees to his stomach, listening to the ticking clock on his wall. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each second was a countdown toward the inevitable day—the cursed date that always came.
His body was exhausted, but his mind ran wild. What if the killer had noticed his recognition? What if the loop reset again the moment he tried to interfere? What if Eruto still died, no matter what he did?
The thoughts crushed him. He pressed his hands against his ears, rocking back and forth.
"Stop it... just stop it... I can't..."
His throat closed up, tears burning his eyes. He wanted to scream, but no voice came out. His stomach hurt. He hated himself for being weak, for being small, for being broken.
But even through that storm of despair, one thought glimmered like a shard of glass buried in the mud:
I saw him. This time, I saw him.
And that thought alone kept him from falling apart completely.
Scene 7: The Decision
The next morning, his mother called through the door.
"Mahitaro? Breakfast is ready. ...Please come out today. Don't stay in there all morning again, alright?"
Her voice was warm, soft, trembling with worry she couldn't hide. Mahitaro's hand hovered over the doorknob. For a moment he thought about not answering at all. About sinking into his sheets and letting the loop reset on its own.
But then he remembered Eruto's face.
The smile as blood filled his throat.
The words he could never erase.
He tightened his grip on the knob until it hurt.
"...Okay."
Scene 8: The Preperation
School felt like walking through a battlefield. Every hallway, every laugh, every careless glance made his skin crawl. Any of them could be the red-haired student in disguise. Any of them could be the one waiting to strike.
But Mahitaro knew better now.
He sat in the back of class, staring at the empty seat near the corner. Waiting. Watching. His notebook, once filled with random scrawls, now became something sharper—lists of names, places, behaviors.
His classmates whispered about him again.
"Why does he look so pale?"
"Isn't that the kid they say...?"
"Creepy."
The words stabbed at him, reopening every wound, but this time he forced himself not to flinch. If he wanted to stop the loop, if he wanted to expose the murderer, he had to endure it.
That night, when everyone slept, Mahitaro pulled out an old box cutter from his drawer. He pressed the dull blade against his palm, feeling the cold bite. His reflection in the metal looked hollow.
"This isn't to die," he whispered to himself. "Not this time. This time it's to fight."
Scene 9: The Shadow...
Two days later, it happened.
He was walking back from the library, notebooks clutched against his stomach, when he saw it—the faint reflection of crimson in a shop window.
Red hair.
His breath caught in his throat. His legs almost froze. But then—slowly, carefully—he followed.
The student walked casually, book in hand again, flipping pages as if the world itself didn't exist. People brushed past him on the street, none of them sparing a glance, as if he wasn't even there.
Mahitaro's heart pounded like war drums. Sweat dripped down his face. Every instinct told him to run, to hide, to forget he'd ever seen that face.
But he didn't.
Not this time.
Scene 10: The Collapse!
He trailed the red-haired student into an alley. The air was heavy, the sky dimming into evening. Trash bins lined the walls, the smell of rot rising.
The student stopped. Closed his book.
"Persistent," he said without turning around. His voice was calm, casual—too casual. "You shouldn't be here."
Mahitaro's throat went dry. His grip on the box cutter tightened until his knuckles whitened.
"Who... who are you?" he forced out. His voice hollow. "Why do you keep doing this? Why... Eruto? Why me?"
Slowly, the student turned his head. That smile again. Too sharp. Too knowing.
"You finally saw me. Took you long enough."
Mahitaro stumbled back a step. His stomach burned. His vision blurred with tears.
"What do you want from me?!" he shouted, voice breaking. "Why do you keep resetting me?! Why do you keep killing them?!"
The student tilted his head, eyes glinting.
"You'll find out soon. But for now..."
His hand flicked again. Something small, silver, sharp flashed in the dim light.
Mahitaro dodged—barely. The blade cut across his cheek, warm blood spilling. He screamed, stumbling, swinging the box cutter wildly. His arm shook. His knees fell.
The student only laughed, stepping closer, each footfall echoing like a death knell.
"You're not ready."
Scene 11: The Vow in Blood...
Mahitaro's knees hit the concrete. His notebook spilled across the ground, pages scattering. His body felt weak, trembling with fear and exhaustion.
But even through the blur of pain, he forced himself to glare up at that face.
"I... don't care... how many times I fail..." His voice was hoarse, trembling, but steady. Blood dripped from his chin. "I'll... never stop... I'll never let you win."
For a moment, the red-haired student actually paused. His grin softened into something unreadable. Amusement? Pity?
Then he leaned closer, whispering:
"Then keep struggling, Mahitaro. That's what makes this fun."
The world snapped to black.
Scene 12: Reset yet Again!...
He gasped awake in his bed, bile rising in his throat, tears already burning his eyes.
But this time—this time the blood was still warm on his cheek. His trembling fingers brushed the cut that hadn't vanished with the reset.
Proof.
It was real.
And as his stomach heaved, as despair coiled around him again, a flicker of something else burned in his hollow eyes.
Not just survival. Not just grief.
Resolve.
Even if it cost his life a thousand more times, even if he had to crawl through blood and ash—he would face the threat head on.
The greatest challenge of his life had only just begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...