A rascal, a board game, and a game night that was supposed to be simple.
Azusagawa Sakuta just wanted a quiet summer. Instead, he found an old board game left behind at his part-time job—"Youth Sugoroku: Musubi Dice"—and brought it home as a souvenir for his little sister. But the moment Kaede saw the box, her smile flickered, and something dark surfaced in her eyes.
No rulebook. No numbers on the die. Just strange symbols, and a board that looks suspiciously like their own neighborhood—Minega
Rascal Does Not Dream of Everyone Playing Games - The game I picked up, and the die that starts moving
"Ugh, what a pain."
Azusagawa Sakuta let out a deep sigh, the glow of the restaurant's sign warm against his back. It was a little past eleven at night. The Seaside Grill—a family restaurant along the highway in Fujisawa, Kanagawa Prefecture. Same as always, the last customers had cleared out before closing, and he'd just finished helping with the front-of-house cleaning and the register count.
He loosened the collar of his black polo—the part-timer's uniform—letting the heat escape from his neck. Summer was close, but the night air still had a slight chill to it, pleasant against his sweat-damp skin.
Two months now since he'd become a second-year at Minegahara High. School, work, chores, repeat—boring was one word for it, but he didn't really mind. If anything, Sakuta was grateful for days where nothing happened.
—After all, "things" had a way of happening around him.
Mulling that over absently, he headed toward the waiting area near the entrance to do the final lock-up check. Under the dim fluorescent lights sat three old sofas in a row. During the day, students and families filled this spot—but right now, it was empty.
"...Hm?"
Sakuta stopped in his tracks.
In the gap between the backrest and seat of the farthest sofa, the corner of something square was peeking out. At first he thought someone had left a book or a magazine behind. But when he reached out and pulled it free, it was much heavier than expected—and hard.
"A board game?"
What emerged was an old-fashioned box made of thick cardboard. On a faded cream background, retro-style illustrations were printed. The title, in a distinctive typeface, read:
—Youth Sugoroku: Musubi Dice.
"Youth sugoroku, huh..."
Sakuta flipped the box over, examined the sides. No manufacturer listed, no barcode. He couldn't tell what era it was from—a strangely anonymous thing.
He tucked the box under his arm and looked around the restaurant. At this hour, the only ones left were Sakuta and the manager, Sano-san, doing the books in the office.
"Sano-san, this looks like something someone left behind."
When Sakuta knocked on the office door, the manager in his forties looked up and glanced at the box under Sakuta's arm.
"Ah, that thing's been wedged in that sofa for about two weeks now. Nobody's reported it missing, and taking it to the police box would be, well, you know—it's too old for that."
Sano-san tilted his head.
"If you found it, do what you want with it. I was going to throw it out anyway."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. But don't blame me if it's full of bugs."
Sakuta gave a slight bow and stashed the box in his backpack.
Do what you want with it—sure, but it wasn't like he was interested in board games. It was just that the illustration on the box had gotten stuck in his head.
On the lid were drawn the Shonan coast and what looked like a school building.
That building had a strangely familiar shape.
—Minegahara High.
His own school, the one he walked to every day. And beyond it stretched the sea of Shichirigahama.
It could just be a coincidence. But the atmosphere of that board clearly seemed to model this area.
"...Well, Kaede might get a kick out of it."
Sakuta muttered under his breath and left the restaurant.
He pedaled north through the streets of Fujisawa. Past the bustle around the station, into the residential district, and the quiet deepened all at once. On the sparsely lit roads, only the sound of his tires turning echoed in steady rhythm.
The apartment where Sakuta lived with his little sister, Azusagawa Kaede, was a small two-story building, fifteen years old. Rent: seventy-eight thousand yen. Two bedrooms and a living-dining-kitchen, and on clear days you could just barely see the ocean from the living room window.
He parked his bike in the lot and headed up to their second-floor unit. When he opened the door, the entryway light was on.
"Welcome home, big brother!"
With a patter of slippers, Kaede came running.
Bright hair that fell to about her shoulders. The tufts that flipped out on either side bounced softly as she ran. Her big dark eyes sparkled as usual, and below them—pajamas printed with a giant panda face.
Azusagawa Kaede. Fifteen years old, third-year in middle school. Sakuta's little sister, who these days didn't go to school and spent her time in this apartment.
Her brightness always softened the air in this home. As he took off his shoes, Sakuta thought, as he always did:
—She's smiling today, too.
That alone made the exhaustion from work a little lighter.
"Hey. You're still up?"
"You were so late coming home, so I waited! And today—there's pudding in the fridge. Kaede bought it!"
"Oh, thanks. ...Oh, right. I've got a souvenir—well, more like something I found."
Sakuta pulled the board game box out of his backpack.
Kaede stared at it, blinking.
"What's that?"
"A board game. Found it at work. The manager said I could have it, so I brought it home."
"A board game...! What a nostalgic-looking box."
Kaede took it in both hands and gazed at the cover illustration with obvious interest.
"Wow, the ocean picture is beautiful. Oh—is this a school building? It kind of looks like your school, big brother."
"Right? I thought so too. Shichirigahama's drawn on there too, so it's probably the scenery around here."
Kaede flipped the box over and checked the sides. Her fingertips stopped dead on a small pattern printed in the corner.
A checkerboard-like symbol—rows of little black squares.
Kaede's expression stiffened for just an instant.
A fraction of a second. A change so slight you'd miss it if you blinked.
But Sakuta saw it.
Beneath Kaede's smile, something dark had surfaced for just a moment.
"Kaede?"
At his voice, she shook her head hurriedly.
"Oh—sorry. I just got a little hung up on the pattern. Kaede's not very good with that kind of thing..."
She handed the box back to him and smiled.
That smile was somehow different from the innocent one from a moment ago.
The smile she wore when she was forcing herself.
Sakuta knew it well.
The other expression Kaede had learned—the one she used to protect herself.
"...I see. Well, you don't have to look at it if you don't want to. I haven't even checked what's inside yet. Who knows what's in there."
Sakuta set the box on the living room table.
He wouldn't press her.
There were plenty of things Kaede didn't want touched. It was the same for Sakuta—being family didn't mean you could share everything.
What mattered wasn't forcing it out of her.
—It was making sure there was always a place she could come back to.
That was what Sakuta believed.
"Hey, Kaede. How about we all play this together this weekend?"
He deliberately spoke in a bright voice.
"All?"
"Mai-san, Futaba. And maybe Nodoka, if she can come. You're all free anyway, right?"
Kaede thought for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Yes. Kaede's looking forward to it."
Her voice sounded more natural than before.
But deep in Sakuta's chest, a small knot remained.
What was that pattern?
For Kaede to make a face like that...
Sakuta looked at the box on the table one more time.
—Youth Sugoroku: Musubi Dice.
The old box sat there under the fluorescent light, saying nothing.
Night.
Kaede had gone back to her room, and Sakuta sat alone on the living room sofa.
The TV was off. Only the low hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet room.
Sakuta opened the box on the table.
Inside were a folded game board, a small cloth bag, and several plastic pieces.
"No rulebook, huh."
He turned the box upside down, but no instructions appeared.
He spread out the board.
Vivid illustrations drawn on thick paper. From the starting point, a path of spaces wound around in a spiral. Each space had tiny writing on it.
"Shichirigahama." "Behind the School Building." "The Rooftop." "The Family Dinner Table." "The Culture Festival." "Confession." "Missing Each Other"...
Every one of them was a word that seemed to symbolize youth.
And in the center of the board, a sea dyed in sunset colors, with the silhouette of Enoshima floating beyond it.
"Thought so—it's the scenery around here."
Sakuta traced with his finger the illustration of the school building drawn at the edge of the board.
Minegahara High's old school building.
No mistake about it.
Why would something like this exist?
Next, he opened the cloth bag.
What came out was a die.
"...What the hell is this?"
Sakuta stared hard at the die resting in his palm.
A milky-white die, about two centimeters on a side.
But what was carved on its faces weren't numbers.
A circle, a triangle, a square. A wavy curve. A symbol of two dots side by side. A shape like a tiny house. And then a strange mark that looked like people holding hands.
All six faces were engraved with different symbols.
"A die without numbers. How are you supposed to move with this?"
Sakuta rolled the die between his fingers.
Every symbol was one he'd never seen before.
No—wait.
This one. The symbol that looked like people holding hands.
He'd seen it somewhere.
—The checkerboard pattern in the corner of the box.
He had a feeling a similar shape had been mixed in there.
Sakuta checked the side of the box again.
Rows of black squares. And there, sure enough, the "people holding hands" shape was scattered among them.
"...What is this?"
Something stirred in his chest.
What a pain.
Sakuta muttered the familiar phrase in his head.
This was just an old board game.
It didn't have a rulebook, so the die just happened to be weird.
The board looking like Minegahara High was surely just because the game was made around here.
Nothing strange about any of it.
He told himself that.
But the unease in his chest wouldn't settle, not one bit.
Sakuta put the die back in the cloth bag and folded up the board.
Then he closed the lid of the box.
He turned off the living room light and headed to his own room.
—It's fine.
—Nothing's going to happen.
That's what he tried to think.
In deep, deep darkness.
Sakuta was dreaming of when he'd been in middle school.
That day.
The air in the classroom.
The cold feel of the desk.
And then, suddenly, a searing pain shooting through his chest.
The white shirt of his uniform turned red, moment by moment.
It wouldn't stop.
The blood wouldn't stop.
The screams of the students around him.
Someone was shouting to call an ambulance.
It hurt.
It was agony.
I'm going to die.
Am I going to die?
—Help me.
—Someone.
"...Gh!"
Sakuta bolted upright.
His heart was pounding violently.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He clutched the front of his pajamas.
His left chest.
He pressed his palm over that scar.
There, he felt a steady heartbeat.
"...Just a dream."
Sakuta let out a long breath.
It was years ago now.
The truth of that incident still existed only inside Sakuta.
The hospitalization incident.
That day, for some reason, a deep wound had opened in Sakuta's chest.
He didn't know why.
But back then, Sakuta's heart had certainly been bleeding.
And that wound of the heart had appeared on his body.
—Adolescence Syndrome.
A strange phenomenon rumored to occur only during the sensitive, unstable years of puberty.
Sakuta knew it firsthand.
The reason his little sister Kaede had become afraid of smartphones and phones.
The reason his girlfriend, Sakurajima Mai, had become invisible to everyone around her.
The reason his friend Futaba Rio had ended up splitting into two of herself.
All of it was the result of some unspoken suffering deep in the heart distorting reality.
"...Give me a break already."
Sakuta muttered, staring up at the dark ceiling.
Was something going to happen again?
No—like hell it was.
Sakuta slowly sat up.
He was thirsty.
He left his room to get some water.
The hallway leading to the living room was dead silent.
He poured water into a glass by the light of the refrigerator and drank it down in one go.
The cold water slid down his throat.
His gaze drifted to
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