Satoru Fujinuma is a shut-in manga artist (or so he insists) with a weird power called 'Revival,' which sends him back in time just before something terrible happens.
One day, his mother Sachiko realizes the identity of the kidnapper behind a series of child abductions in Satoru's old Hokkaido hometown. Satoru dismisses it as paranoia. That night, he comes home to find his mother stabbed and dying. Wrongly accused of her murder, Satoru's panic triggers Revival—but this time it's different. He'
Erased IF: The Day I Didn't Open the Door - The Bully's Duel and the Fleeing Girl
Saturday morning. The moment I stepped into the classroom, I noticed the air was different from usual.
My classmates kept glancing my way, whispering among themselves. Even after I sat down at my desk, the murmuring didn't stop.
"[serious]...What?"
I muttered under my breath. What a pain. Yesterday, I got flung back to this era, and my head's already full of stuff about my mom and the serial murder case. Now what?
I strained my ears.
"Susukida from the next class says he's gonna beat the crap out of that transfer student, Fujinuma."
"For real? *That* Susukida?"
"Says he's been getting too full of himself."
Ah, I see. So that's what this is.
A 29-year-old ossan getting targeted by the local bully king—that's pretty surreal. I let out a dry laugh internally. But you can't underestimate the rules of kid society. If I run away here, I'll be completely ostracized.
I looked out the window. Snow was falling steadily. Winters in Ishikari Misono-chou are long. The snow accumulation would soon exceed a meter. The coldest February, here in this town at the eastern edge of the Ishikari Plain, at the foot of the Yuubari Mountains.
I glanced at Kaya Michi's seat. No one was sitting there yet.
Break time after second period.
The classroom door burst open. Everyone turned at the *BAM*.
"Where's Fujinuma?!"
What reached my ears was an absurdly loud voice. It echoed through the entire classroom.
The guy stood firmly in the doorway, arms crossed.
Short, buzzed black hair. The hair in the back was sticking up all over the place. Small black eyes, glinting like a dog searching for prey. A mouth that showed his double canine teeth when he grinned. On the fist of his left hand, several fresh scrapes.
Height-wise, maybe around 148 centimeters. Small, but he radiated an energy that seemed to overflow from his frame.
When I raised my head, his eyes locked right onto me.
He strode over, closing in. My classmates parted to the left and right.
"You the transfer student, Fujinuma?"
He stood in front of my desk. Looking down at me.
"[cold]...Yeah, that's me."
"Heard you've been getting pretty full of yourself lately."
"Not really."
Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. But I guess this kind of thing isn't about logic. It's about the bully king's pride, the atmosphere of the class, that sort of thing.
"Fight me. After school, by Misono Bridge."
Susukida Kenta said it, looking me straight in the eye.
Those eyes were strangely serious. This wasn't just a fight. To him, this was probably what you'd call a man's promise.
I let out a sigh.
"[serious]Fine. I'll be there."
Kenta looked surprised for just a moment. Maybe he thought I'd run.
"Yeah. Later, then."
Saying that, he left the classroom looking satisfied.
From down the hallway, I could hear the voices of what sounded like a few of his underlings. "Kenta, how'd it go?" "Obviously. Like he'd run away."
In the now-quiet classroom, Hiromi spoke to me.
He pushed up his thick-lensed, silver-rimmed glasses with his middle finger.
"[sarcastic]That guy's seriously strong. He saved me before, when I was getting bullied. That time, he fought three adults by himself. Took them all down. Don't go doing anything unnecessary, Fujinuma-kun."
His narrow, sharp eyes were staring intently at me. This kid really is perceptive.
"[serious]Thanks for the warning."
I replied shortly.
After school.
Misono Bridge was the largest bridge in town, spanning the Misono River. Forty-five meters in total length. From the railing, you could see Kamui Forest upstream. The primeval forest, whose name means "Forest of the Gods" in Ainu, was completely closed off during winter. With over two meters of snow, even adults couldn't walk through it.
Locals had a saying: "Don't go near Kamui in winter."
At the foot of the bridge, a crowd of over a dozen kids had gathered to watch. All bundled up in winter clothes, their breath white. The snow had let up a little, but the road surface was frozen.
In the center of it all, Kenta was waiting.
"You actually came, transfer student. Thought you'd run."
Kenta had taken off his jacket and was clenching his fists. The scrapes on his left hand were fresh again today.
"[cold]Not really my hobby."
I faced him, still with my hands in my coat pockets.
"Rules are simple. Till one of us says 'I give.' If I win, you're my underling."
"Underling, huh."
"[angry]You got a problem with that?!"
The surrounding onlookers buzzed.
"Start!"
Someone shouted.
Kenta charged in.
His movements were, honestly, fast. His legs and core were solid. His center of gravity was low. You could tell he was used to fighting.
But his opponent was a former adult, 29 years old.
I pulled my right foot back half a step and opened my left shoulder. I shifted my body halfway to dodge Kenta's right straight. The wind grazed my ear.
(*Not a bad punch.*)
I muttered inwardly. But I couldn't afford to take it head-on.
Kenta threw a second punch. A left this time. I dodged again, stepping back half a step.
(*Now, how do I lose this?*)
An adult can't seriously punch a kid. But if I fall down too obviously, it'll hurt Kenta's pride. This guy's a bully king with an abnormally strong sense of justice. If he sees someone picking on the weak, he'll jump in even if the opponent's an adult. But really, he cares about his friends more than anyone, and he'd prioritize a friend's crisis over his own duel—that's the kind of guy he is.
Kenta threw a third punch.
I let my left foot slip on a clump of snow on the bridge.
I lost my balance. On purpose. But made it look natural.
In that opening, Kenta's fist connected with my shoulder. *THUD*.
(*That hurts.*)
Honestly, it hurt quite a bit. I'd underestimated it, thinking it was just a kid's punch. This guy really is strong.
I collapsed dramatically onto the snow.
"Fight's over! Kenta wins!"
The onlookers erupted in cheers.
"Alright!"
Kenta was doing a victory pose, looking extremely pleased with himself. Then, he stood in front of me.
"Hey, transfer student. Get up."
He reached out his hand. A small hand, covered in fist marks.
I took that hand.
He pulled me up with a sharp tug. Kenta's face was right there, close to mine.
"You've got more guts than I thought. You came without running, and you took a hit properly. You're not half bad."
He grinned, showing his double canines.
"[cold]Thanks, I guess."
The onlookers dispersed. Only Kenta and I remained on the bridge.
Snow had started falling again. The murmur of the Misono River could be heard quietly in the freezing cold.
Kenta picked up his jacket and put it on.
"Later, underling."
"Wait."
I called out, stopping him.
Kenta turned around.
"[serious]I have a favor to ask."
"A favor?"
"In a week, I want you to help me protect a girl from the next class. Her name's Kaya Michi."
I looked Kenta straight in the eye. This wasn't a bluff. It was the first moment in my 29 years of life that I'd asked someone else for help.
Kenta looked blank for a second.
"Protect? From who?"
"I don't know yet. But there's probably an enemy among the adults."
"Adults, huh."
Kenta thought for a moment. Then, he flashed a wide grin.
"[excited]Yeah, leave it to me. Rule is, you listen to the guy who beat you."
I was surprised.
"You're not gonna ask why?"
"[gentle]You've had this serious look in your eyes this whole time. When a guy like that asks a favor, you listen."
Kenta said it innocently, then clapped me on the shoulder.
The warmth of that hand came through my thick clothes.
Deep in my chest, something slowly loosened.
(*Ah, so this is what it means to have comrades.*)
Something I'd always avoided. For 29 years, I'd never relied on anyone, shouldering everything alone. But now, it's different. To save my mom, to save Kaya Michi, maybe it's okay for me to rely on others.
"[serious]Thanks, Kenta."
"Yeah. See you Monday, then."
Kenta raised one hand and ran off into the snow.
The Ishikari Children's Center "Yukimaru" was a five-minute walk north from the elementary school.
The manager, Takahashi-obasan (55 years old), was knitting inside the heated building. During winter, over a dozen kids who couldn't play outside would spend their time here playing board games or reading books.
"[gentle]Oh my, Fujinuma-kun. Welcome."
"Hello."
I gave a slight nod and headed towards the bookshelf area in the back.
On a small chair by the window, a single girl was sitting.
Kaya Michi.
Shoulder-length, silvery light brown hair, its pigment as faint as snow. Tied into twin tails, slightly uneven in height, probably done by herself. Large, dark brown eyes looking at the snow outside the window.
Height-wise, maybe around 136 centimeters. Even within the class, she looked especially small.
On her lap, she had a picture book open, filled with photos of snow. But the page hadn't turned. She was just staring at the snow outside.
I caught a glimpse of the bandage wrapped around her left wrist.
My heart was pounding.
A grown man of 29, getting this nervous just talking to an 11-year-old girl?
But I couldn't help it. This conversation would be the first step to changing the future.
I took a deep breath and approached.
"[gentle]That book's nice, isn't it."
In the lightest tone I could manage.
The moment I spoke—
Michi flinched, her shoulders trembling.
Like a puppy used to being hit, she quickly closed the picture book. She didn't even try to look at my face. She stood up, still looking down.
"...I'm sorry."
It was a voice that seemed to fade away.
With just that, she headed for the exit of the children's center at a quick trot.
"Wait—"
I tried to call out, but I was too late.
The door opened, and a cold wind blew in. Her small back disappeared into the snow.
I couldn't chase after her.
The strength drained from my knees. The snow picture book was left behind, all alone, on the chair where she'd been sitting.
I picked it up and flipped through the pages.
Photos of Hokkaido's winter. Snowfields, ice trees, frozen lakes. All of them beautiful.
But she was probably looking at this book for reasons beyond just "beautiful."
I recalled her gesture from earlier. She'd been trying to casually hide the bandage on her left wrist. The fear that made her run away just from being spoken to.
(*To be that terrified just from someone talking to her...*)
She might be getting hurt by someone on a daily basis. At home, at school, or maybe somewhere else.
My chest tightened.
Just protecting her from the kidnapping incident isn't enough. It's meaningless if I don't save her from her loneliness, too.
A girl, eleven years old, driven into a situation where she can't rely on anyone, can't ask anyone for help.
Sunday afternoon.
In my room on the second floor of my house, I was thinking about my plan going forward.
The Fujinuma household was a two-story wooden house in a residential area, an eight-minute walk southwest from the elementary school. Just me and my mom living together. My father was gone after the divorce.
From the window, I could see the embankment path along the Misono River. Snow had piled up, reducing the path's width to less than a meter. The streetlights were sparse, and it was already getting dark after 4 PM.
Absently, I looked outside.
A single, small figure was walking along the embankment path.
A slender figure seen from behind, bundled in winter clothes—Michi.
(*Sunday afternoon, where's she going alone?*)
The moment I thought that.
I noticed an adult man in a black long coat, about thirty meters behind Michi.
He had his hood up, so I couldn't see his face. His pace was slow. But his way of walking was strangely synchronized with Michi's movements.
A bad feeling crawled up the back of my neck.
(*Is he—following her?*)
I reached out to open the window.
But before I could, the man turned off onto a side path. He disappeared.
A sigh of relief escaped me.
(*I'm over
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