The alarm beeps at 6:30 AM.
Same tone. Same rhythm. Same intrusive electronic chirp that pulls me from sleep like a fishhook in the brain.
I slap it off and lie there, staring at the ceiling, my heart already racing.
March 14th. Again.
I've been awake for maybe ten seconds and I already want to scream.
Yesterday—or whatever the hell that was—I died. I felt it. The impact, the pain, the slow creep of death pulling me under while Akari Mori held my hand and begged me not to close my eyes. That wasn't a dream. Dreams don't feel like that. Dreams don't have weight, don't have texture, don't leave you with the phantom sensation of broken bones even after you wake up whole.
I sit up slowly, examining my hands. They're fine. No scratches, no bruises. I lift my shirt and check my torso—nothing. No evidence of the car that hit me, no proof that I died on a sidewalk while a stranger cried over me.
But I remember.
God, I remember everything.
My phone buzzes.
Mom: Working late tonight. Leftovers in the fridge. Love you.
The exact same message. Word for word. Time stamp: 6:32 AM.
I stare at it until my eyes burn.
This is real. This is happening. Somehow, impossibly, I'm living the same day again. Like some cosmic joke, like someone hit the reset button on my life and forgot to tell me.
Or maybe I'm insane.
Maybe I had a psychotic break. Maybe I'm in a hospital somewhere, drooling on myself while my brain creates elaborate fantasy scenarios to cope with whatever actually happened.
But this feels real. The morning light through my window feels real. The smell of yesterday's laundry I forgot to fold feels real. The knot of panic in my chest feels
very
real.
I need to think.
I need to figure out what the hell is going on.
But first, I need to make sure I don't die today.
School is surreal.
Everything happens exactly like it did yesterday. Yamada throws an eraser at me during homeroom because I'm staring off into space. Tanaka and Miyu flirt by the windows. Sato frantically copies Kenji's math homework. Sensei walks in at exactly 8:26 AM and starts roll call.
And Akari Mori sits two rows over, three seats up, staring out the window with that distant expression, tapping her pen against her notebook in that same rhythm—three times, pause, three times again.
She has no idea who I am.
Yesterday, I died for her. Threw myself in front of a car to save her life. And to her, I'm just another face in the classroom. Not even that—I'm invisible. Background noise.
It shouldn't bother me. It's not like I expected her to remember. That's not how this works, apparently. Whatever this is.
But it does bother me. More than it should.
"Dude, seriously, are you okay?" Yamada leans over, frowning. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I mutter. "Just didn't sleep well."
"You look like you didn't sleep at all."
He's not wrong. There are dark circles under my eyes when I checked the mirror this morning. My hands won't stop shaking. And I keep zoning out, losing track of conversations, missing entire minutes of time because my brain is stuck in a loop of its own—replaying the sound of screeching tires, the feeling of impact, Akari's voice breaking as she said my name.
What's your name?
Yuuki. Tanaka Yuuki.
Does she still know it? Or did that get erased too, along with everything else?
Focus. I need to focus.
If I'm reliving March 14th, then that means the accident happens again. Around 4:30 PM, near the park by the shopping district. The car runs a red light, the driver is looking at their phone, Akari is crossing the street—
Unless I stop it.
That's the key, right? That has to be why this is happening. Some cosmic do-over, a chance to save her without dying myself. Fix the mistake. Prevent the accident.
And then... what? Does time move forward? Do I wake up on March 15th like a normal person?
God, I hope so.
Because if this is permanent—if I'm stuck in some kind of endless loop—
No. Don't think about that. One problem at a time.
First: survive the day.
Second: save Akari.
Third: figure out what the hell is happening to me.
Easy, right?
Lunch on the roof is less peaceful this time. I can't eat. My stomach is twisted in knots, my appetite completely gone. The curry bread sits untouched in my lap while I stare at my phone, trying to make sense of things.
I google "reliving the same day" and get a bunch of movie references. Groundhog Day. Edge of Tomorrow. Some anime I've never heard of. Fiction. All of it fiction.
But this is happening to me.
I try "time loop real" and get conspiracy theories and Reddit threads from people who are clearly losing their minds. Great. That's comforting.
My phone buzzes. Mom's message again, even though I already responded earlier.
Wait.
No, that's not right. I check the time stamp—6:32 AM. The original message. I already read this. Already responded with a thumbs-up emoji.
But when I open the conversation, my reply isn't there.
It's just Mom's message, sitting unread, waiting for a response that—from her perspective—I never sent.
Because I sent it yesterday.
A day that doesn't exist anymore.
My hands are shaking again.
"Get it together," I whisper to myself. "Just get through today. Figure it out. You can do this."
I don't sound convincing, even to myself.
The afternoon drags. Every class feels like it lasts an eternity. I watch the clock obsessively, counting down to 4:30 PM. That's when it happens. That's when I need to be ready.
The plan is simple: avoid the park entirely. Take a different route home. If I'm not there, I can't save her. And if I can't save her—
No. Stop.
That's not an option. I can't just let her die. Even if she doesn't know me, even if she'll never know what I did—what I'm going to do—I can't just walk away.
But I don't have to die either.
There has to be another way.
When the final bell rings, I'm already planning it out. I'll leave early, get to the park before her, warn the driver somehow. Or cause a distraction. Or—hell, I don't know, call in a fake emergency so the cops show up and slow traffic.
Anything. Anything but throwing myself in front of a car again.
I pack up quickly and head for the door, but I'm not fast enough. The hallway is already packed with students, a slow-moving wall of bodies between me and the exit. I try to push through, muttering apologies, but it's like swimming upstream.
By the time I make it outside, I'm already ten minutes behind schedule.
I run.
My backpack bounces against my shoulders, my lungs burn, but I don't slow down. The park is fifteen minutes away on foot. I can make it. I have to make it.
The shopping district comes into view. The park is just ahead. I can see the intersection, the crosswalk, the spot where it happened—where it's going to happen—
And then I see her.
Akari is already there, standing on the corner with her two friends, laughing about something. They're early. Why are they early? Yesterday they split up at the other intersection, but now they're here, together, and my plan is already falling apart.
I slow down, panting, trying to think. Okay. Okay, she's with friends. That's good. Safety in numbers, right? Maybe they'll notice the car. Maybe someone will pull her back.
But I can't risk it.
I scan the street, looking for the car. It's not here yet. I still have time.
Akari's friends say goodbye and head toward the station. No—dammit, not yet—but they're already leaving, and Akari is alone again, pulling out her phone, completely oblivious to the danger.
The light turns green.
She steps into the crosswalk.
And I see it—the car, coming around the corner too fast, the driver's head tilted down toward their lap—
I'm running again before I can think, my body moving on instinct, on muscle memory from a day that didn't happen. But this time I'm ready. This time I know what's coming.
"HEY!" I shout, waving my arms. "STOP! THERE'S A CAR—"
Akari looks up, startled, confused. She sees me—really sees me for maybe the first time—and for a split second, our eyes meet.
And then she sees the car.
Her face goes pale. She freezes, rooted to the spot, her brain not processing fast enough.
I'm not going to make it.
I'm too far away, and the car is too close, and she's just standing there—
No.
Not again.
I throw my backpack. It's a stupid, desperate move, but it's all I have. The bag arcs through the air and hits her shoulder, knocking her off balance. She stumbles backward, out of the crosswalk, just as the car barrels through the intersection.
The driver slams on the brakes too late. The car screeches to a stop halfway through the crosswalk, tires smoking.
Akari is on the ground, staring up at the car that almost killed her.
I'm standing on the sidewalk, gasping for air, my heart trying to break through my ribs.
She's alive.
She's alive, and I didn't die.
For a moment, nobody moves. The driver gets out, shouting apologies, clearly panicked. A small crowd starts to gather. Someone is asking if Akari is okay.
She's not looking at any of them.
She's looking at me.
Slowly, shakily, she gets to her feet. Her friends are running back now, shouting her name, but she ignores them. She walks toward me, her expression somewhere between shock and confusion and something else I can't identify.
"You—" Her voice is unsteady. "You saved me."
"I... yeah." My voice doesn't sound like mine. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I think. I—" She glances back at the car, at the crosswalk, at the spot where she was standing seconds ago. "I didn't even see it. If you hadn't—"
She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "I don't... I don't even know your name."
There's something surreal about this. Déjà vu, but wrong. Yesterday she asked me my name while I was dying. Today she's asking while we're both alive.
"Yuuki," I say. "Tanaka Yuuki."
"Yuuki." She says it carefully, like she's testing the weight of it. Then she smiles—small, uncertain, but genuine. "I'm Akari. Akari Mori."
I know.
I want to say it. I want to tell her I already know, that I died for her yesterday, that I've been thinking about her for the past twelve hours even though to her we're strangers.
But I don't.
"Nice to meet you," I say instead.
Her friends reach us then, fussing over her, checking for injuries, scolding her for not paying attention. The driver is still apologizing profusely, and someone mentions calling the police. The moment fractures, splinters into chaos.
But before Akari is pulled away, she looks back at me one more time.
"Thank you, Yuuki," she says. "Really. I owe you my life."
You already owed me, I think. But I just nod, because what else can I do?
She disappears into the crowd with her friends, and I'm left standing alone on the sidewalk, my backpack lying forgotten in the street.
I did it.
I saved her without dying.
So why do I still feel like something is wrong?
The rest of the evening passes in a daze. I go home, heat up leftovers, sit in front of the TV without really watching anything. My mind won't shut up. It keeps replaying the day—both days—over and over, looking for patterns, searching for meaning.
Why did this happen? Why me? Why March 14th?
And more importantly—is it over?
Did I fix whatever cosmic glitch caused this? Will I wake up tomorrow on March 15th, back to normal, with this whole nightmare behind me?
I want to believe that. I need to believe that.
But there's a knot in my stomach that won't go away. A sense of unease, like I'm missing something obvious.
I check my phone obsessively. The date still says March 14th. It's 9:47 PM. In a few hours, it'll be midnight. March 15th.
I just need to make it until then.
I take a shower, brush my teeth, go through the motions of my normal routine. Everything feels slightly off-kilter, like the world is tilted at an angle only I can perceive.
At 11:30 PM, I lie down in bed and stare at the ceiling.
Come on, I think. Just let me sleep. Let me wake up tomorrow and have this be over.
I close my eyes.
Sleep doesn't come easily. My mind won't stop racing, cycling through the day's events on an endless loop. But eventually, exhaustion wins out. My thoughts slow, blur, fade into the soft static of approaching dreams.
And then—
The alarm beeps at 6:30 AM.
No.
No, no, no—
I bolt upright, my heart already sinking before I even check my phone.
March 14th.
The date glares at me from the screen, mocking, impossible, wrong.
Mom: Working late tonight. Leftovers in the fridge. Love you.
6:32 AM.
The exact same message.
Again.
"No," I whisper. Then louder: "No!"
I throw my phone across the room. It hits the wall and clatters to the floor, screen intact, still glowing with that goddamn date.
March 14th.
I saved her. I changed things. I did everything right. So why—
Why is this still happening?
I'm shaking. My whole body is shaking. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying not to completely lose my mind.
This isn't over.
Whatever this is—whatever cosmic punishment or glitch or nightmare I'm trapped in—saving Akari wasn't enough.
There's something else. Something I'm missing.
I laugh, and it comes out bitter, borderline hysterical.
"What do you want from me?" I ask the empty room. "What am I supposed to do?"
The room doesn't answer.
But deep down, in that same primal place that understood something was wrong yesterday, I already know the truth:
I'm trapped.
And I have no idea how to escape.
I don't go to school.
The decision is made before I even get out of bed. If I'm stuck in some kind of loop, if March 14th is going to keep repeating no matter what I do, then why should I follow the same script? Why pretend everything is normal when nothing about this is normal?
I text Mom back—the same thumbs-up emoji—then turn off my phone and pull the covers over my head.
Maybe if I just stay here, the day won't happen. Maybe the loop needs me to participate. Maybe I can starve it out, wait it out, sleep through it until whatever cosmic mechanism is doing this gets bored and moves on.
It's stupid logic. I know it's stupid logic even as I'm thinking it.
But I'm desperate.
I lie in bed for hours, drifting in and out of restless sleep. Every time I wake up, I check my phone. 8:47 AM. 10:23 AM. 12:15 PM. Time moves forward, at least. That's something.
Around 1 PM, my stomach starts complaining. I haven't eaten since... when? Yesterday's breakfast? Two days ago? Time is getting confusing.
I drag myself to the kitchen and make instant ramen, eating it mechanically while staring at the wall. The apartment is too quiet. Mom's at work—will be at work, has always been at work on March 14th. Dad's traveling. It's just me and the silence and the slowly mounting realization that hiding won't solve anything.
But I stay anyway. Because what else am I supposed to do?
At 4:30 PM, I'm sitting on the couch, staring at my phone, thinking about the park. About the intersection. About Akari crossing the street right now, or maybe not crossing because I'm not there to save her, to warn her, to throw my backpack and knock her out of the way.
Is she dying right now?
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. I lurch to my feet, pacing, my heart racing. If I'm not there—if I changed the day by staying home—does that mean she dies? Does the car still run the red light? Does anyone else save her, or does she just... die, alone, while I'm sitting in my apartment feeling sorry for myself?
"Dammit!"
I grab my phone, pull up a map, try to calculate how long it would take to get there. Twenty minutes if I run. But it's already 4:35. Even if I left right now—
It's too late.
I sink back onto the couch, my head in my hands.
Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the loop protects her somehow. Maybe she's fine, and I'm worrying about nothing.
Or maybe I just let someone die because I was too scared to face the same day again.
The guilt is crushing. I can't breathe under the weight of it.
I need to know. I need to see if she's okay.
But I can't. I can't leave the apartment, can't go back out there, can't face the possibility of seeing her body on the pavement because I wasn't there to stop it.
So I sit. And wait. And hate myself.
The hours crawl by. 5 PM. 6 PM. 7 PM. I don't eat dinner. Don't watch TV. Don't do anything except sit in the growing darkness and count the minutes until midnight.
At 11:47 PM, I finally drag myself to bed.
Maybe tomorrow will be March 15th. Maybe staying home was the answer. Maybe the loop just needed me to make a different choice, and now it's over.
I close my eyes.
I don't believe it for a second.
The alarm beeps at 6:30 AM.
March 14th.
I don't even check my phone this time. I already know.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling absolutely nothing. No panic. No anger. Just a hollow, empty exhaustion that goes all the way down to my bones.
Four times.
I've lived this day four times now.
And I still don't understand the rules.
Saving Akari didn't work. Staying home didn't work. So what's left? What does this thing want from me?
I force myself out of bed, going through the motions like a zombie. Shower. Uniform. Breakfast I don't taste. The routine is automatic, muscle memory taking over while my brain spins in useless circles.
This time, I go to school.
Not because I have a plan. Not because I think it'll change anything. Just because I don't know what else to do, and at least at school there are other people. Distractions. Anything to keep me from sitting alone with my thoughts.
The day unfolds exactly as it always does. Yamada throws the eraser. Sensei does roll call. Akari sits by the window, tapping her pen in that same rhythm.
But this time, I watch her.
Really watch her.
I've been in the same class as Akari Mori for two years, but I've never actually paid attention. She was just part of the background, another face in the crowd. But now, with nothing else to focus on, with the day stretching out in front of me like a prison sentence I've already served three times, I find myself studying her.
The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's concentrating. The small furrow between her eyebrows when she's thinking. The way she smiles at her friends—bright and easy, like happiness comes naturally to her.
She's... pretty. I knew that already, objectively, but now I'm seeing it. Really seeing it.
And it makes me feel like a creep.
I tear my eyes away, forcing myself to focus on the teacher's lecture. But five minutes later, my gaze drifts back to her, like gravity.
This is the person I died for. Twice, technically. Once for real, once in a timeline that doesn't exist anymore. And she has no idea who I am.
Does that bother me? It shouldn't. We're strangers. The fact that I have memories she doesn't have isn't her fault.
But it does bother me. More than it should.
At lunch, instead of going to the roof, I stay in the classroom. Akari and her friends are eating at their desks, laughing about something I can't hear from across the room. I pretend to read manga on my phone, but I'm listening.
"—can't believe he actually said that!"
"I know, right? Senpai is so weird sometimes."
"You're still going to the study session though, right?"
"Obviously. It's at the library after school."
After school. The library. Which means she won't be at the park at 4:30.
Relief hits me so hard I almost laugh. She's safe. At least for today, she's safe.
But then—wait. If she's not at the park, does that mean the accident doesn't happen? Or does it happen to someone else?
The thought makes my stomach turn. Is that how this works? Does someone always have to die on March 14th? Is it about the accident itself, or about Akari specifically?
I need to know.
I need to test it.
At 4:15 PM, I'm standing near the park, watching the intersection from a distance. Hiding behind a convenience store, like some kind of stalker. I feel ridiculous. But I need to see what happens when Akari isn't here.
The minutes tick by. 4:25. 4:28. 4:30.
The car comes around the corner, right on schedule. Same car, same driver, same distracted look as they glance down at their phone.
But there's no one in the crosswalk.
The car runs the red light anyway, speeding through the intersection, oblivious. A few pedestrians on the sidewalk jump back, startled. Someone shouts. But no one is hit.
The car disappears down the street, and just like that, it's over.
No accident. No death. No reset trigger.
So it's not about the car. It's about Akari.
The loop wants her to die.
Or—no. That's not quite right. The loop wanted me to
save
her. Both times I've been at this intersection, I've saved her. Once by dying, once by warning her.
But saving her didn't end the loop. So what does?
I'm still standing there, trying to puzzle it out, when I hear a familiar voice.
"Yuuki?"
I spin around. Akari is standing a few feet away, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking at me with a confused expression.
My brain short-circuits. She's supposed to be at the library. Why is she here? Why is she talking to me? How does she know my—
Oh. Right. Yesterday. I saved her yesterday. She knows my name.
But that was yesterday. A yesterday that didn't happen in this timeline.
"I—uh—" Eloquent. Very smooth.
She tilts her head, studying me. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just... spacing out."
"Near a busy intersection?" She glances at the crosswalk, then back at me. "That's kind of dangerous, you know."
You have no idea, I think.
"I was just... walking home," I lie. "What about you? Thought you had a study session."
Her eyes widen slightly. "How did you—" Then she stops, realization crossing her face. "Oh. You must have heard us talking at lunch. Were you listening?"
Yes. "No. I mean—I overheard. Accidentally. I wasn't trying to—"
"It's fine." She laughs, and the sound is disarming. "I'm pretty loud. We probably distracted half the classroom. The study session got canceled, though. Senpai got sick."
"Oh. That sucks."
"Yeah." She adjusts her backpack, looking oddly hesitant. Like she wants to say something but isn't sure how. "So... we're classmates, right? I feel bad that I didn't know your name until yesterday."
Yesterday. She remembers yesterday.
Which means—what? That the loop doesn't reset her memories completely? Or that me saving her created some kind of anchor point that carries over?
"Don't worry about it," I say, trying to sound casual. "We've never really talked before."
"Still. Two years in the same class and I didn't even know your name. That's pretty terrible of me." She smiles, self-deprecating. "I'm trying to be better about that. Actually getting to know people instead of just... I don't know. Existing in my own bubble."
There's something achingly ironic about her saying that to me, the guy who's made a career out of being invisible.
"It's not your fault," I say. "I'm not exactly approachable."
"You seem approachable to me."
That catches me off guard. I don't know what to say to that, so I just stand there like an idiot while she looks at me with those warm brown eyes.
"Anyway," she says, breaking the silence. "Thanks again. For yesterday. I've been thinking about it a lot. You really saved my life."
"It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing." Her expression turns serious. "You threw your backpack at me. You could have just yelled, or done nothing, but you actually helped. That means something."
I want to tell her that I've done more than that. That I've died for her. That I'm trapped in some kind of nightmare loop because of her, and I still don't understand why, and I'm slowly losing my mind.
But I don't. Because how could I? She'd think I was insane.
Hell, maybe I am insane.
"I'm glad you're okay," I say instead.
She smiles, and it's the kind of smile that makes something in my chest ache.
"Walk home with me?" she asks suddenly. "I mean—if you're going this way anyway. It'd be nice to talk. Get to know you better."
Every instinct screams at me to say no. To keep my distance, to not get involved, to stay invisible like I always have.
But I'm tired of being invisible.
And maybe—just maybe—this is what the loop wants. Not for me to save her from the car, but to actually connect with her. To not be strangers.
"Sure," I hear myself say. "I'd like that."
Her smile widens, and we start walking.
We talk about nothing important. School, teachers, the upcoming exams. Surface-level stuff, the kind of conversation you have with someone you're just getting to know. But there's something comfortable about it. Easy. Like we've done this before, even though we haven't.
Or maybe we have, in some timeline I don't remember. Maybe this is the hundredth time we've walked home together, and I'm the only one who doesn't know it yet.
The thought makes my head hurt.
"You're quiet," Akari observes. "Thinking about something?"
"Just... processing. It's been a weird week."
"Tell me about it. Yesterday was—" She shudders. "I keep thinking about that car. I was so distracted, you know? I didn't even see it coming. If you hadn't been there..." She trails off, not finishing the sentence.
"But I was," I say. "So it's fine."
"Still. It made me realize how easy it is to just... not pay attention. To take things for granted. Life, safety, even just basic awareness." She glances at me. "Do you ever think about that? About how fragile everything is?"
Every second of every day now.
"Sometimes," I say carefully.
"I've been thinking about it a lot. About how fast things can change. One second you're fine, the next you're—" She stops walking, her expression troubled. "Sorry. This is getting heavy. I didn't mean to dump all this on you."
"It's okay. I get it."
And I do. More than she knows.
We've reached her street. She stops at the corner, turning to face me.
"This is me," she says. "Thanks for walking with me, Yuuki. It was nice. We should do it again sometime."
"Yeah. I'd like that."
She hesitates, like she's considering something, then makes a decision. "Do you... want to exchange numbers? I mean, if that's weird, you can totally say no. I just thought—we're classmates, and it'd be nice to actually be friends, you know?"
Friends.
With Akari Mori.
The girl I've died for. The girl I'm trapped in a time loop trying to save.
"Sure," I say, pulling out my phone with hands that are steadier than they should be.
We exchange numbers, and she sends me a test message—just a simple "hi! :)" with a smiley face that shouldn't make my heart do weird things but does anyway.
"See you tomorrow, Yuuki," she says, waving as she heads toward her house.
Tomorrow. March 15th. The day I've been trying to reach for what feels like a lifetime.
"See you tomorrow," I echo.
I watch her go, disappearing through her front gate, and for the first time since this nightmare started, I feel something that isn't panic or despair.
Hope.
Maybe this is it. Maybe connecting with her, becoming friends, is what breaks the loop. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and it'll actually be March 15th, and all of this will just be a weird, traumatic memory.
I walk home in a daze, replaying our conversation, the way she smiled, the warmth in her voice when she said my name.
This has to be it.
It has to be.
I barely sleep that night. Every time I close my eyes, I'm convinced I'll wake up to that goddamn alarm and March 14th all over again. But I have to try. Have to hope.
At 11:58 PM, I watch the clock tick down.
11:59.
Midnight.
March 15th.
I did it. I actually—
The alarm beeps at 6:30 AM.
No.
No, no, no, please—
Mom: Working late tonight. Leftovers in the fridge. Love you.
6:32 AM.
March 14th.
I stare at my phone, and something inside me breaks.
A sound escapes my throat—half-laugh, half-sob. I don't even know which. My hands are shaking so badly I drop the phone. It hits the floor with a crack, screen splintering, but I don't care.
I don't care about anything.
Five times.
Five times I've lived this day, and nothing works. Nothing changes. It just keeps going, over and over, an endless loop with no exit.
And the worst part—the absolute worst part—is the memory of last night. Walking home with Akari. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she said "see you tomorrow" like she actually meant it, like tomorrow was a real thing that would actually happen.
But it didn't happen.
Tomorrow never comes.
I pull my knees to my chest, pressing my face against them, trying to breathe through the panic that's crushing my lungs.
"Why?" I whisper to the empty room. "What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?"
Silence.
Always silence.
I don't know how long I sit there. Could be minutes. Could be hours. Time doesn't mean anything anymore.
Eventually, mechanically, I get up. Get dressed. Go through the motions because what else is there?
At school, Yamada throws the eraser. Sensei does roll call. Akari sits by the window, tapping her pen.
Three times, pause, three times again.
She doesn't know me. We've never exchanged numbers. We've never walked home together. Yesterday—our yesterday—didn't happen for her.
It only happened for me.
And it's killing me.
I don't talk to her this time. Don't save her from the car. Don't do anything except sit in class like a zombie and wait for the day to end.
At 4:30 PM, I'm not at the park. I'm on the roof of the school, standing at the edge, looking down at the ground far below.
It would be so easy.
Just one step. One moment of courage—or cowardice, depending on how you look at it—and it would all be over.
But would it?
Or would I just wake up again at 6:30 AM on March 14th, with another death added to the collection?
I laugh bitterly. Even suicide isn't an escape.
"Hey."
I spin around, heart lurching. Akari is standing in the doorway to the roof, looking concerned.
"What are you doing up here?" she asks. "School ended like an hour ago."
"I could ask you the same thing."
"Student council meeting ran late. I was heading home and saw the roof door was open." She steps closer, and I instinctively move away from the edge. "You're Yuuki, right? Tanaka Yuuki?"
She knows my name. How does she—
Oh. Right. I saved her. Two loops ago. Or three? Time is getting confusing.
No. Wait. That doesn't make sense. Those loops reset. She shouldn't remember—
"We're in the same class," she continues, misinterpreting my confusion. "I, uh... I've noticed you around. You always sit in the back corner."
"You've noticed me?"
"Is that so surprising?" She smiles, but it's tentative. "You seem like an interesting person. Quiet, but interesting."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know how to process it.
"Are you okay?" she asks gently. "You look... I don't know. Sad."
Sad. That's one word for it.
"I'm fine," I lie.
"You don't look fine." She moves closer, and I can see genuine concern in her eyes. "If something's wrong—if you need someone to talk to—"
"I'm trapped," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "I'm stuck in the same day, over and over, and I can't get out. I've tried everything. Nothing works. Nothing changes. And I don't—I can't—"
I stop, breathing hard, realizing what I just said.
Akari is staring at me, her expression shifting from concern to worry.
"Yuuki," she says carefully. "Have you talked to anyone about this? Like a counselor, or—"
"I'm not crazy." The words come out harsher than I intended. "I know how it sounds. But it's real. This is the fifth time I've lived March 14th. Five times. And you—you're part of it, somehow. You're always part of it."
"Me?" She looks genuinely confused now. "What do I have to do with—"
"I saved your life," I say. "Twice. You were going to get hit by a car and I saved you. And then I died. And then I woke up and it was March 14th again. And again. And again."
She's backing away now, slowly. Her hand moves to her pocket—probably reaching for her phone.
I don't blame her. If someone told me this story, I'd think they were insane too.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have said anything. Just... forget it. Forget I said anything."
"Yuuki—"
"Please." My voice breaks. "Just go. I'll be fine. I promise."
She hesitates, clearly torn between concern and self-preservation. Finally, she nods.
"Okay. But... if you need help. Real help. Please talk to someone." She lingers in the doorway. "You're not alone, Yuuki. Whatever you're going through—you're not alone."
Then she's gone, and I'm left standing on the roof by myself.
Alone.
That's exactly what I am.
I don't go home that night. I wander the streets until midnight, waiting for the reset, hoping against hope that maybe—just maybe—this time will be different.
It's not.
The alarm beeps at 6:30 AM.
March 14th.
Loop six.
I don't get out of bed.
What's the point? I've tried everything. Saving her, not saving her, staying home, going to school, talking to her, avoiding her. Nothing matters. Nothing changes. March 14th just keeps happening, like a record stuck on repeat, and I'm the only one who knows the song by heart.
Mom's message comes through at 6:32. I don't read it. Don't respond. Just turn off my phone and stare at the ceiling.
The sunlight creeps across the room as the hours pass. 8 AM. 10 AM. Noon. My stomach growls but I ignore it. Eating feels pointless when the day will just reset anyway, when nothing I do has any lasting consequence.
Around 2 PM, I finally drag myself out of bed. Not because I want to. Because lying there is somehow worse than moving. At least if I'm moving, I can pretend I have some agency, some control.
I make instant ramen again. It tastes like cardboard. Or maybe my taste buds are just giving up, like the rest of me.
The TV plays in the background—some variety show I've seen five times now. Same jokes. Same reactions. Same everything. I could recite the dialogue at this point.
At 4:30 PM, I wonder if Akari died today. If she crossed that intersection without me there to save her. Part of me hopes she did, and immediately I hate myself for thinking it. What kind of person hopes for someone's death?
A desperate one. A broken one.
If she dies when I'm not there, does the loop still reset? Or does it only reset when I'm involved somehow? I don't know. I haven't tested it. Haven't had the stomach to let her die just to see what happens.
But maybe I should. Maybe that's the answer—let the worst thing happen and see if the universe finally lets me move on.
The thought makes me feel sick.
I turn off the TV. The silence is oppressive, but at least it doesn't repeat.
END OF CHAPTER 2