The Soot of Despair

Day four. Or was it three? I've already lost count. Time has become a flat circle, and I am a mouse running on the same wheel, hoping the scenery will change.

The walls of my room feel like they're closing in a little more each morning. Every detail—the old movie poster, the pile of novels in the corner, even the small crack in the ceiling—feels like the bars of a prison cell. The pure panic from the second day has evolved into something worse: a quiet despair. A calm madness.

On the previous loop—the third loop—I tried a new strategy, one born from that despair: doing nothing.

My logic at the time was simple. I am a background character. An observer. Maybe... maybe I was the problem. Maybe by approaching Nanami, by trying to interfere, I was the one ensuring that fate ran its course. Perhaps if I returned to my proper role, to being an invisible shadow, destiny's script would play out normally, without a tragedy.

So, I did it. I lived through the third day as a ghost. I kept my earphones on at maximum volume all day. I didn't glance at Nanami even once. I didn't speak more than a single word to Kenta. I was a remote island in the bustling sea of the classroom.

When the final bell rang, I was the first one out of the classroom. I didn't look back. I walked home via a different route, a longer, roundabout path, just to ensure I was nowhere near that cursed intersection. I got to my apartment, locked the door, and closed the curtains. I was safe in my fortress. I had done nothing.

Then I heard it.

Sirens. Distant, but piercingly clear in the silence of my apartment. Wailing, tearing apart my naive hope. I didn't need to see it to know. I didn't need to be there to feel it.

The world still pulled me back to the beginning.

Beep. Bip. Bip.

I opened my eyes. Monday, October 22nd. But this time was different. Something inside me had broken. The despair had burned away, leaving behind the cold, hard soot of determination.

If talking failed, and silence failed, then the only option left was to scream. If changing one variable didn't work, then I had to destroy the entire equation. I would no longer try to whisper to fate; I was going to punch it in the face.

A new plan formed in my mind, a plan born of madness. It wasn't logical, it wasn't rational, but it felt right. I wouldn't try to stop her from going home. I would stop everyone from going home on time. I needed a diversion. I needed chaos.

My eyes fell on the small red box on the school's hallway wall. The fire alarm.

I spent the day with a terrifying calm. I was a soldier waiting for zero hour. I watched Nanami's schedule not to find an opening, but to determine the most effective time to strike.

Fifteen minutes before the final bell. I asked for permission to go to the bathroom. The hallway was empty. With a hand that was surprisingly steady, I pulled the lever.

WRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

That piercing sound was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. The chaos I had hoped for erupted. Doors flew open. Students and teachers spilled into the hallways. I slipped back into the crowd, a faint smile on my lips.

We were all herded onto the field for nearly half an hour. My plan was perfect. There was no way Nanami could be at that intersection at the same time.

When we were finally allowed to go home, I walked with a sense of victory. I had done it. I, a background character, had outsmarted fate. I arrived at the intersection near the bookstore. Empty. Safe. I had won.

SCREEECH! CRASH!

My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest. That sound. The same sound, but coming from a different direction. From the next block over.

I ran, refusing to believe it. And there, at a different intersection, that small crowd had already begun to form.

Fate hadn't just found another way. It was as if it was mocking me.

I stood trembling on the sidewalk, looking at the same scene for the fourth time. And that's when I realized it. A devastating and liberating epiphany.

I had been trying to stop the tide by building a sand wall on one part of the beach, while the entire ocean was the problem. I was focused on the wrong thing. The problem wasn't the accident. The accident was just the final symptom.

The problem was why. Why was Aizawa Nanami so fragile on this particular day? Why was it so easy for fate to claim her?

That night, as the darkness pulled me back, I was no longer asking "how do I stop it?".

I was asking, "where does the wound begin?".

Bip. Bip. Bip.

Day five. My investigation was about to begin.