November 9th — Morning
Kazuma's wet bedding was strung up on the clothesline, drying in the sun.
A sharp voice thundered in the living room.
"SO ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHY YOU DID THAT!?"
Mitsuha stood there, arms crossed, eyes blazing with irritation.
"How could you, Kazuma? This is too much! You haven't even been in my house for two days and—"
She stopped, looking at Kazuma.
He stood there, perfectly still.
His eyes empty.
Face pale.
As if no one was really there.
"...Kazuma?"
No response.
Mitsuha's anger subsided slightly. Something strange stirred inside her.
(He... seems different from last night.)
"Hey. I asked you a question."
Kazuma's lips moved slightly.
"...I'm going out."
The voice was flat. Dead.
"I'll be back by evening."
He started to turn away.
Mitsuha stepped forward.
"Wait! You haven't answered my ques—"
But Kazuma had already walked out the door.
The door closed.
Silence.
Mitsuha remained standing there, staring at the closed door.
(Something... is wrong.)
(Since last night... he has completely changed.)
She looked at her phone, thought about dialing a number... then stopped.
(No. Not yet.)
Afternoon
Kazuma was walking the streets.
Without any direction.
Without any destination.
People were bumping into him. Honking. Shouting.
But he couldn't hear anything.
Only one thought was spinning in his mind.
(Last night... I died.)
(I was fully conscious.)
(Belt. Neck. Suffocation.)
(But... I'm here.)
(Alive.)
He stopped, at the corner of an alley.
Checked his pocket.
The belt was there.
(This... this is the same belt.)
(I tied this to the fan.)
(Then...?)
"Has some kind of magic happened...?"
He whispered to himself.
A cyclist zoomed past, shoving Kazuma.
"Watch where you're going, you idiot!"
Kazuma stumbled, landing on the road—
HONNNNNK!
A truck.
Moving fast.
Brakes failed.
Heading straight for Kazuma.
Time slowed down.
(Ah... this truck...)
CRASH.
Impact.
Kazuma's body flew through the air.
His head struck the corner of the footpath—crack.
Blood.
Everywhere.
Kazuma fell, on the road, at a twisted angle.
His eyes stay open, blurry.
An ambulance siren can be heard far away... then further away... then—
(Am I... am I really... dying now...?)
(Finally...)
(Finally... it's over...)
Darkness.
Total.
Complete.
...
...
...
"KAZUMAAAA!!!"
—SHOCK—
He woke up.
On the floor.
In a blanket.
Breathing heavily. Heart racing. Body covered in sweat.
Mitsuha stood over him, yelling angrily.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? YOU WET THE BED AGAIN!?"
Kazuma's eyes widened.
His hands were shaking.
Face white.
(No...)
(No no no—)
"W-what... what is this...?"
Mitsuha, hands on hips.
"You wet the bed again! Are you—"
"WHAT IS THE DATE TODAY!?" Kazuma suddenly yelled.
Mitsuha was shocked. Took a step back.
"...What?"
"THE DATE! WHAT IS THE DATE TODAY!?"
"...November 9th. Why—"
Kazuma's mouth hung open.
(November 9th.)
(The same day.)
(I... again...)
"What time is it!?"
"It's eight in the morning, but—"
Kazuma checked his phone.
8:12 AM.
November 9th.
(I... went back in time...?)
(No... that wasn't a dream.)
(I REALLY died!)
Mitsuha came closer, a flash of concern on her face.
"Kazuma... why are you acting like this? Your face—"
"I want to be alone."
Kazuma stood up, unsteady.
"I'm... going out."
"But you haven't had breakfast—"
The door slammed shut.
Mitsuha remained standing alone.
Her eyes narrowed.
(Something is definitely wrong.)
She took out her phone.
Dialed a number.
"...Yes. I need someone tracked."
6:47 PM — Aoyama Cemetery Park
Kazuma sat on a bench.
Empty.
Hollow.
A notebook in his hand.
Attempts:
1. Hanging — Reset to morning
2. Truck accident — Reset to morning
He stopped writing with his pen.
(Twice.)
(I have died twice.)
(And twice... I came back.)
A homeless man walked past, looked at Kazuma, and walked on.
Kazuma closed the notebook.
Stood up.
A tall apartment building stood before him.
27 floors.
He looked at the building.
Then at his phone.
(If... if I am really going back in time...)
(Then I need proof.)
(Something that... won't reset.)
7:15 PM — Rooftop, 27th Floor
The wind was strong.
City lights sparkled below.
Kazuma stood near the railing.
Phone in his hand.
Recording on.
"Hey... my name is Kazuma."
His voice was shaking.
"I'm... a high school student."
A breath.
"Today... I'm going to jump... from the 27th floor."
A pause.
"If... if I'm really in a time loop..."
"Then this video... will probably... reset."
"But... if it doesn't..."
"Then... at least someone will know."
He placed the phone on the roof, in record mode.
The camera faced him.
Took a long breath.
Climbed onto the railing.
Looked down.
Lights. Cars. People.
So far away.
So small.
"...Kento."
A whisper.
"...I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes.
And—
—stepped off—
Air.
Pure air.
Clothes flutter.
Hair wild.
Free fall.
Gravity pulling.
Faster.
Faster.
FASTER.
Kazuma's eyes opened.
Ground close.
Too close—
CRASH.
The roof of a black Toyota.
Metal crumpled.
Glass shattered.
Kazuma's body—
Twisted.
Broken.
Blood pooling.
Pain.
Unimaginable pain.
But... consciousness was still there.
(I'm... still... alive...?)
His eyes were open.
He saw—people running. Screaming. Sirens.
(From such... a height...)
(How... could I...?)
He was breathing.
Slowly.
Weakly.
But... breathing.
(Now... now I'll know...)
He closed his eyes.
Waiting.
For the reset.
For darkness.
For—
...
...
...
"Kazuma."
A voice.
Cold.
Familiar.
"I asked you something."
Kazuma's eyes opened—
—dining table.
Morning light.
Breakfast plates.
Mitsuha was sitting opposite him, coffee cup in hand, glaring at him.
"Why do you want to die?"
Kazuma froze.
(I... I'm here...?)
(But... the time...)
"What... what is the date today?"
Mitsuha's eyes narrowed.
"November 9th."
(November 9th.)
(But... the time is different.)
(Before, I would wake up.)
(Now... it's breakfast time.)
He checked his pocket.
The phone was there.
Opened the gallery.
No videos.
No recordings.
Everything... everything was gone.
Mitsuha leaned forward, her eyes scanning Kazuma's face.
"Kazuma. You look... quite strange?"
Kazuma's hands were shaking under the table.
"I... I want to be alone."
"Kazuma—"
"I'M GOING OUT!"
He stood up, knocking the chair over.
Ran towards the door.
"KAZUMA, WAIT—"
SLAM.
Mitsuha sat alone.
Coffee cup still in hand.
Expression unreadable.
Then... slowly... a small smile.
"...Interesting."
Montage
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Under a truck.
In front of a train.
From a building.
Poison.
Drowning.
Blade across wrists.
Rope around neck.
Every time—
—the same day.
—the same place.
—the same Mitsuha.
Screaming. Asking. Watching.
Evening — Shinjuku Gyoen Garden
Kazuma sat on a bench.
Eyes red. Face exhausted.
Seven times.
He had died seven times.
And seven times... he came back.
"Why... why is this only happening to me...?"
A whisper.
"After taking everything away from me..."
Tears.
"Why are you destroying me too... God?"
"WHY ME!?"
"WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!?"
His voice echoed in the garden.
Birds flew away.
Silence returned.
Kazuma buried his face in his hands.
"...I... I just... want to end it..."
"Just..."
Footsteps.
Slowly.
Someone was approaching.
Kazuma looked up—
A boy.
Teenage. Dirty clothes. Face covered in mud. Messy hair.
He sat down on the bench, comfortable, as if he knew Kazuma already.
"Hey," he said, with a casual smile. "Are you crying?"
Kazuma quickly wiped his eyes.
"...What's it to you?"
The boy laughed.
"Me? Nothing. I'm just asking for money."
He held out his hand.
"¥400 yen. Just that much. In return... I'll tell you a secret."
Kazuma looked at him tiredly.
He understood that this was a poor person.
"But you have money, right?" The boy grinned. "And I... I can tell you something that... might help you."
Kazuma looked at him for a few seconds.
Then... pulled out his wallet.
Handed him a ¥500 yen note.
"Here. Take it and go. I don't want to hear any secrets."
The boy took the note, but didn't move.
"Thanks, brother. But... I'll tell you anyway."
He leaned closer to Kazuma, his voice a little lower.
"You know... in Japan... there are some strange things."
Kazuma rolled his eyes.
"I'm not interested in ghost stories—"
"Female demons."
Kazuma stopped.
The boy's smile faded a little.
"People call them 'Yōkai'. But... they aren't just stories."
He looked around, as if someone was listening.
"They... are very beautiful. So beautiful... that everyone falls in love with them."
"And once they trap you..."
He came close to Kazuma's ear, in a whisper:
"...then you will be ruined."
Kazuma's heart skipped a beat.
"W-what...?"
The boy stood up, stretching casually.
"That's all. Thanks for the cash!"
He started to walk away, then stopped.
"One more thing."
He turned back.
"If that yokai tells you... that she loves you..."
His eyes were serious.
"...don't say yes."
"Got it?"
Kazuma couldn't speak.
The boy smiled.
"Alright, I'm off! Going to eat a full meal after so many days, it's going to be great!"
He walked away whistling.
Kazuma remained sitting there.
Kazuma took his words as just a joke,
But was it really a joke?