"I'm home." ×2
The moment they returned, Nobita rushed straight into his room, tossed his schoolbag aside, and flopped onto the tatami mat, his face filled with joy.
"What's wrong, Nobita? Did something good happen today?"
Doraemon, who had been reading a comic book, turned around in confusion. Seeing Nobita giggling to himself was rare.
Normally, he'd already be crying and shouting "Doraemon!" for help.
"Good news—really good news, hehehe."
Nobita sat up excitedly and began recounting everything that had happened at school, laughing nonstop.
How could Nobi Hiroshi possibly outrun Gian?
He was definitely going to get beaten tomorrow.
"Nobita, how can you think like that?" Doraemon said seriously.
"Since Hiroshi is being bullied by Gian, we should help him. Taking pleasure in someone else's misfortune is not good behavior."
Doraemon frowned, clearly displeased.
Hiroshi was already considered family. How could Nobita ignore that?
"Hmph… well, he's so arrogant. A little lesson wouldn't hurt," Nobita muttered stubbornly.
"And besides, Doraemon, that kid was way too close to Shizuka today. He just answered one question in class—what's the big deal?"
His jealousy spilled over as he pointed angrily toward Hiroshi's room across the hallway, ranting nonstop.
"Then what can be done?" Doraemon sighed.
"It's because you don't study hard, Nobita. Even though Shizuka will be your wife in the future, you should know that the future isn't set in stone."
Doraemon deliberately put on a grave expression to scare him.
If Nobita didn't change, he'd end up as Gian's brother-in-law one day—a terrifying and ridiculous future.
"So… Doraemon," Nobita sniffled, crawling onto Doraemon's chest and staring straight at his Fourth-Dimensional Pocket.
"Do you have any gadgets that can make Shizuka like me… boo hoo hoo…"
He began wailing, using his most reliable weapon—pouting.
Unfortunately, Doraemon was a robot with principles.
That kind of thing crossed a moral line.
He scolded Nobita again, then waddled out of the room and headed into Hiroshi's.
"Hiroshi, you're doing your homework? That's amazing."
Doraemon stood on his short legs beside the desk, staring at Hiroshi working diligently and praising him sincerely.
"Ah, Doraemon… is doing homework really that amazing?" Hiroshi asked strangely.
Since he had already integrated into this identity, homework was unavoidable—even if it was painfully boring.
Endless multiplication and division for hours could drive anyone insane.
"Sorry, sorry," Doraemon laughed awkwardly, rubbing his round head.
"I guess I've been with Nobita for too long, so I subconsciously think doing homework is incredible."
Then Doraemon suddenly remembered why he had come.
He opened his Fourth-Dimensional Pocket and looked at Hiroshi seriously.
"Oh right, Hiroshi. I heard you're going to race Gian tomorrow. Do you need my help? My pocket has all kinds of secret gadgets."
He puffed out his chest confidently.
Beating Gian was nothing—this childcare robot could destroy the world if needed.
"Then—"
Hiroshi was naturally tempted by Doraemon's gadgets.
But suddenly, a voice echoed in his head, cutting him off mid-sentence.
[Ding! Study time: 30 minutes. Knowledge +1]
In an instant, Hiroshi felt his mind clear slightly.
His thoughts sharpened—just a bit—but it was unmistakable.
"…No way. Do I really have the rumored system? That voice… it couldn't have been a dream."
His heart surged with excitement.
Finally—it was his turn.
The system had chosen him.
He felt like he could take off and fly as the cold, mechanical voice echoed again in his mind.
However, with Doraemon right there, it wasn't convenient to show his excitement. His emotions were running wild beneath the surface.
"Hiroshi?" Doraemon tilted his head. "What were you about to say?"
"Oh—nothing," Hiroshi said calmly.
"I was just going to say that I don't need Doraemon's gadgets for now. I think I can handle Gian on my own. If I run into something I can't solve, I'll ask you then."
"Hiroshi… you…" Doraemon was deeply moved.
He hadn't expected Hiroshi to be so strong-minded.
If only Nobita were half this sensible—his life would be so much easier.
After Doraemon left, Hiroshi leaned over the desk, fully focusing on the mysterious system.
No matter how much he called out, there was no response.
Perhaps the trigger conditions weren't right.
Thinking back, the system had activated while he was studying.
Did that mean…
"Let's test it."
Hiroshi forced himself to do homework for another two hours.
Sure enough—
[Ding! Study time: 2 hours. Knowledge +4]
"Just as I thought. As long as I study consistently, I gain points. What's strange is… I didn't get anything during class."
He recalled the lessons—either daydreaming or on the verge of it.
"Guess concentration matters. Well, whatever. A low-presence system isn't bad either. With this thing…"
A smile formed at the corner of Hiroshi's mouth.
He dashed downstairs, changed his shoes, and headed out.
The riverside path was perfect for running.
Five minutes later—
"Oh my god…" Hiroshi stared at his pale reflection in the water, gasping for breath.
"This body is way too weak."
He had barely started and was already exhausted.
What a waste of good looks.
After resting for a bit, he stood up again.
Weakness wasn't scary.
He had the system.
Sooner or later, he'd become an eighteen-times-a-night man.
[Ding! Running 30 minutes. Physique +1]
[Ding! Running 30 minutes. Physique +1]
After an hour, Hiroshi staggered home, drenched in sweat and completely drained.
"Phew… that feels good."
After devouring a pork cutlet rice bowl, he soaked in the bathtub, letting the hot water relax every muscle.
No wonder Shizuka loved bathing.
He finally understood.
When he finished, he realized he hadn't brought clean clothes.
A moment later, there was a knock.
Tamako stood outside with a set of pajamas.
"Thank you, Aunt Tamako."
"It's nothing, Hiroshi."
She smiled gently and handed them over.
But after he changed and stepped out, Tamako's expression subtly shifted.
Her eyes flicked downward for just a moment—then she turned away quickly and returned to her room.
She hid it well.
But Hiroshi still noticed something… inexplicable.
Night.
Nobi couple's bedroom.
"Husband… about today…"
Tamako gently shook Nobisuke's shoulder.
"Ah—uh," Nobisuke muttered.
"I'm really busy with work tomorrow. Let's talk about it another time."
As if fleeing, he rolled over, buried himself in the blankets, and played dead.
It wasn't that he didn't want to.
It was that he couldn't.
"…Alright," Tamako said softly.
"Then go to sleep early."
She lay down with her back to him, her expression bitter.
She had heard these excuses for three or four years already.
Deep down, she knew.
Her husband already…
But even so—
She was still so lonely.