"Well, this is good... I killed someone today."
Which means... I get to live another day.
A young man with jet-black hair and deep shadows beneath his eyes sat atop a corpse—its face twisted and pale, death by asphyxiation clear. He was thin as a razor, clothed in loose, dirty garments soaked with old blood.
Rising slowly, he stretched his stiff limbs. Then, from the inside pocket of his coat, he retrieved a bronze wristwatch roughly the size of his palm. He stared at it intensely—his eyes burning with frustration.
And then, a smirk, bitter and tired, tugged at his lips.
Six Days Earlier – Tokyo, High School
"Hey Ash! Guess what?" Mikey, the chubby class clown, leaned on Ash's shoulder with a wide grin. "Loki and I scored tickets to the New Year's Eve party, and we've got one extra. You're coming, right?"
Ash, gaunt and hollow-eyed, brushed off Mikey's hand gently but firmly.
"Sorry, Mikey. I've got work after school."
He packed his things and left without another word.
"A job?! Again?! What's his deal?" Loki frowned, his round face scrunching into irritation.
"Go easy on him," said a classmate. "He's under a lot of pressure lately."
"Yeah, I heard his mom's in the hospital. Her treatment costs are insane," added a girl softly.
Loki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn... I didn't know it was that bad."
That afternoon, Ash walked briskly toward the hospital, a rare spark of relief lighting his usually somber face.
"Finally... I've nearly got enough for the surgery. Just a little more."
He reached the hospital entrance, went through the usual paperwork, and made his way through sterile halls to his mother's room.
"You're here," said the nurse without looking up. She was tall, sharp-featured, and wore glasses. Her presence was always precise and cold.
"I stop by every day after school," Ash said quietly as he approached the bed.
His mother lay unconscious, pale and motionless.
"She's stable today," the nurse added, "but still unresponsive."
Ash's brow furrowed. "It's been over a month. Hasn't she been added to the surgical schedule yet? I've almost gathered the money... If cost's the problem—"
The nurse raised a hand. "Money's not the only issue. We need a compatible donor. Without that, the surgery's impossible."
Ash clenched his fists and bit back the storm brewing inside. He stared into nothing, the weight of helplessness crashing down again.
"She only has two months left... Every second is slipping through my fingers, and I can't do anything. She always smiled, no matter what. Always strong, unlike me."
As he left the hospital that evening, he whispered to himself, "Hang in there, Mom. I'll save you—no matter what. Just rest... and leave everything else to me."
His voice was steady, but his eyes burned with desperate resolve.
Ash arrived home late, exhausted and starving after hours of delivery work. He removed his shoes and called out, "I'm home."
A rough voice answered from the next room. "Ash? That you?"
"Yeah, Dad," he muttered, walking toward the voice.
As he neared the door, laughter and chatter reached his ears. A strong, sour smell followed. He opened the door to find his father, drunk, playing cards with his buddies, surrounded by sushi, beer, and noise.
"We're short a player," his father called out lazily. "Come join. Winner gets—"
"Wait," Ash interrupted, scanning the scene in horror. "Where the hell did you get the money for all this?"
He rushed to his room, tore open his closet, and pulled out the hidden box beneath it.
Empty.
The money. Gone.
His knees nearly gave out.
He stormed back into the room, eyes blazing. "You bastard! That was for Mom's surgery! You spent it on this garbage?!"
His father looked at him coldly, picking his ear. "So what? She's gonna die anyway."
Something snapped.
Ash shoved him hard against the wall, fists trembling. "What did you just say?!"
Without waiting for a response, Ash stormed out into the cold night, his face twisted in rage and grief. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not when his mother depended on him.
Wandering aimlessly down an alley, he caught sight of something glinting in the dark. A watch. Bronze, palm-sized, just lying there.
"Looks expensive... I can sell this."
He pocketed it and kept walking.
Then—
Ring. Ring.
His phone lit up. It was the hospital.
"Hello?"
"Ash, it's the nurse. We've found a donor for your mother. You need to come in to discuss the details."
For a moment, everything paused.
His heart leapt. A miracle? At last?
That night, Ash lay in bed, hope flickering again.
"I just need to raise the money again. Fast. I'll take a loan, work two jobs—whatever it takes."
He closed his eyes, clinging to that sliver of light.
The Next Day
At school, Mikey came bounding over once again. "Hey Ash! Guess what? Loki and I got tickets to the New Year's party, and there's one extra. You coming?"
Ash blinked, confused. "Wait... Didn't you say this yesterday?"
Mikey raised an eyebrow. "What? No. This is the first time we've seen each other since the weekend."
Ash frowned. "I swear... Never mind. Sorry, Mikey. I still can't go. Got stuff to do."
He left the classroom in a daze.
Back at the hospital, he found the nurse again beside his mother's bed.
"Oh, you're here."
"I wanted to ask... about the donor. Will they survive the operation? Will they be okay?"
The nurse stared at him, puzzled. "Donor? We haven't found one yet. We're still searching."
Ash froze.
"That can't be. You called me last night... You said you found someone."
"I didn't call you, Ash. Maybe it was a scam caller? I'm sorry."
Suddenly—
Cough. Cough.
His mother began coughing violently. Though still unconscious, her body was trembling, face twisting in pain.
"Her fever's high!" Ash gasped, placing his hand on her forehead. "She wasn't like this yesterday!"
The nurse looked alarmed. "The doctor said it's as if... her condition advanced by two full days overnight. Something accelerated her illness."
Ash stepped back, horror dawning in his eyes. He placed a hand over his mouth, breathing heavily.
"No way... This can't be real..."
"Ash? Are you alright? You're sweating like crazy..."
But Ash didn't hear her.
He muttered to himself, trembling:
"Yesterday... repeated. I'm stuck... we're stuck in a time loop—me and Mom... in yesterday."