Chapter Text
My name is Suika.
Senku says it’s important to start records with clear data, so that anyone who finds them later knows who wrote it and under what conditions. The condition is: I think I am stuck in a loop. The day keeps repeating. Specifically, the day when Senku and everyone else decided to turn themselves into stone on purpose.
That sounds silly when I write it like that.
But it isn’t silly.
Right now, Francois and I are carrying the revival fluid away from the main camp. The others are preparing. Senku is smiling like this is just another experiment. Chrome is trying to act brave. Kohaku is standing guard like always, strong and steady. Gen keeps pretending this is all part of some grand stage trick. Ryusui looks like he’s about to shout about desire and victory any second.
And I have done this before.
Many times.
I am not good at counting. I used to count melons, and I would lose track if I got excited. But Senku taught us numbers properly back at Ishigami Village. He made us write them in the dirt and memorize multiplication tables. So I tried to count the loops. I scratched a line into the bark of a tree every time I woke up again on the same morning.
I ran out of bark space.
I think it has been fifteen times.
Maybe sixteen.
Suika is a strong girl. I have to be strong. Senku trusted me with something important. Francois trusts me too. If I am going crazy, then I have to gather evidence like Senku would. Observations. Hypotheses. Results.
So this is my record.
The first time it happened, I didn’t know it was special.
We were moving quietly through the trees. Francois carried the revival fluid carefully, like it was a treasure chest. It kind of is. It’s made from nitric acid and alcohol and science things I don’t fully understand, but I know it can bring people back from stone. Senku explained the chemistry once. I didn’t understand the equations, but I understood the important part: without it, everyone stays stone forever.
We were supposed to hide it far away.
Because Dr. Xeno and his soldiers—especially Stanley—have guns.
Yo’s gun is loud. I remember when Yo first showed it off after it was built. It made my ears ring and scared all the birds away. But Stanley’s gun is bigger. Longer. Meaner. It makes the air shake.
On the first loop, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.
One of Dr. Xeno’s soldiers—a woman who looks like Stanley but not exactly the same—was walking through the brush. She was scouting. A spider dropped from a branch and bit her on the neck.
I remember thinking: that’s unlucky.
She stumbled. She fell. She twitched.
I hid behind a tree with Francois. Francois whispered, “We must not interfere.”
I wanted to help her.
Back in Ishigami Village, we help people. Even if they’re bullies. Even if they’re strangers. But this wasn’t Ishigami Village anymore. This was South-America. This was war.
Senku left the revival fluid with us. That means he believed in us. If I ran out to help her, the other soldiers might see us. They might find the revival fluid.
So I did nothing.
I chose not to save her.
I told myself it was logical.
It’s what Senku or Kohaku would have done.
…
That’s a lie.
A small, cowardly one I told myself so I wouldn’t have to feel the weight of it.
Senku would have calculated a thousand outcomes in a blink—and if even one of them meant saving a life, he would’ve taken it. He’d grin and call it inefficient sentimentality, but he’d still do it. He’d rather gamble his own life than stand by and watch someone else’s end.
And Kohaku… Kohaku doesn’t hesitate when someone is hurting. Her heart is as bright and stubborn as her hair. She moves first. She saves first. She asks questions later.
I am not Senku.
I am not Kohaku.
Francois urged caution—calm, reasonable, logical. The mission came first. The revival fluid came first. The future of humanity came first.
I nodded.
And I stayed hidden.
By the time I gathered the courage to move, to run, to fix my mistake—
She had already stopped moving.
The forest felt heavier after that.
Later, her friends found her body.
They saw the spider bite, but they didn’t know about the spider. They thought it was a trap. A Kingdom of Science trick. Maybe poison. Maybe a hidden mechanism.
They were angry.
They already had Matsukaze and Ginro tied up.
Ginro was crying and complaining. Matsukaze was quiet and proud, even when hurt.
The soldiers shouted. I couldn’t understand all the English, but I understood tone. Accusation. Fury.
Then they lifted their guns.
The sound was so loud it felt like the sky cracked.
Ginro jerked backward.
Matsukaze fell.
I didn’t understand at first. I thought maybe it was some kind of stun weapon. But there was blood. Real blood. Too much blood.
Ginro can be a sleaze. He peeks at girls and complains about work. But I’ve known him since I was little. He used to carry me on his shoulders during festivals.
I started crying. I couldn’t stop.
Francois put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Mademoiselle Suika, we must retreat immediately.”
But I was frozen.
The soldiers heard me.
They turned.
The next moments were noise.
Branches snapping.
Boots hitting dirt.
The metallic click of a gun being reloaded.
Francois pushed me down, but it didn’t matter.
There was a flash.
I thought my helmet cracked.
My watermelon helmet protects me. Both Kinro and I have the fuzzy-eye sickness, Senku later taught us what it meant to be far and near sighted— The glasses imbedded in the helmet helped make the world clear. I thought maybe the lens shattered and everything went dark because of that.
But no.
Apparently, sight is the first thing you lose when you die.
I didn’t know that. Senku never explained that part of biology.
Everything went black.
But I could still hear.
Hearing is the last sense.
I heard another gunshot.
It echoed through the trees, sharp and final, like the forest itself had been split open. For a second, I didn’t even feel scared anymore. Just… acceptance. I had been useful, I hope.
My last thought wasn’t about the mission.
It was about Chalk.
I pictured his little paws scratching at the dirt outside my old hut in Ishigami Village. I pictured Sagara curling up beside him at night. They wait for me sometimes. Even when I come back late, even when I’m covered in mud and smoke and failure.
I hope they won’t be lonely.
I hope they won’t wait too long.
I wanted to tell them I tried my best.
The world went quiet after that. Not loud-quiet. Not ringing-quiet.
Just empty.
Then nothing.
But I woke up.
I was in my sleeping bag.
The fabric scratchy against my cheek. The morning air cold. The smell of smoke from last night’s fire still clinging to everything.
For a second, I thought it was just a nightmare.
For a horrible second, I felt relief.
Then I heard Senku’s voice outside, explaining the plan again.
Same words.
Same tone.
Word for word.
Exactly the same.
Chrome interrupted at the same spot.
Ryusui laughed at the same joke.
It felt wrong.
I walked outside slowly.
Ginro was alive.
Matsukaze was alive.
The spider hadn’t bitten anyone yet.
The world was reset.
I didn’t tell anyone. How could I? I’m just Suika. A kid. They would pat my head and tell me I had a scary dream.
So I waited.
The spider bit the soldier again— Her name is Charlotte.
This time, I ran.
I tried to scare the spider away before it dropped.
But I was too late.
She still got bitten.
She still died.
The soldiers still blamed us.
Ginro and Matsukaze still died.
We still got shot.
Darkness.
Hearing fading.
The third time, I tried something else.
I ran out before Francois could stop me and tried to help the soldier. I used herbs I remembered from Kohaku’s lessons. I sucked at the bite like I saw Kohaku do once.
It didn’t work.
The other soldiers saw me.
They thought I poisoned her.
They shot me first that time.
I didn’t even see Ginro die.
After about the fifth time, I stopped crying immediately. That sounds bad. But if I cry too long, they find us faster.
Francois does not remember the loops.
Every time, they are calm and precise. They ask me why I look pale. They offer me water. They say, “Mademoiselle Suika, you appear fatigued.”
I tried asking them once, casually, “What’s the word for when you feel like you’ve experienced something already?”
Francois smiled gently. “Déjà-vu.”
It sounds strange.
Déjà-vu.
By the time I began writing this, I have had déjà-vu at least fifteen times.
In one loop, I ignored the spider completely, abandoned my post and Francois, I ran ahead to warn Senku— I told him Dr. Xeno’s soldiers would think we killed one of theirs.
He raised an eyebrow and said, “That’s some pretty specific intuition, Suika.”
I couldn’t explain it properly. I’m not Gen. I’m not good with words.
He adjusted his hair and started calculating probabilities. By the time he believed me enough to act, it was too late. Stanley’s team already heard the gunshot.
War escalated faster that time.
More people died.
So did I, but at least in this death, I had the luxury of a warm embrace as I passed.
In another loop, I tried to steal the soldier’s body before her friends found her.
That was the worst idea.
They saw us dragging her.
They didn’t wait.
They shot immediately.
Francois died protecting me.
They had nothing but a kitchen knife—just a tool for slicing bread or chopping vegetables—and yet there they stood, trembling like leaves in a storm. Their hands shook so badly I thought they’d drop it.
And still, they whispered, soft and broken, “Close your eyes… look at the flowers…”
As if flowers could drown out gunfire.
As if I could close my eyes and pretend the world hadn’t just ripped itself apart.
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I hate that memory.
Every time I die, it feels the same.
Flash.
Impact.
Dark.
Sound fading like a record slowing down.
Sometimes I hear Francois shout my name.
Sometimes I hear birds flying away.
Once, I heard Stanley calmly say something in English. I didn’t understand it.
Then I wake up again.
Morning.
Sunlight.
Senku explaining the same plan.
I think the loop only resets when I die.
Because one time, I hid in a cave and refused to move. I let the day continue without me interfering.
The events went as followed: The spider bit the soldier. The soldiers retaliated. There was gunfire all afternoon. I stayed hidden. Night came. I didn’t reset. But then Stanley’s team swept the area with searchlights.
They found me.
Gunshot.
Reset
So maybe I am the trigger.
That sounds important.
Senku would say, “Correlation doesn’t equal causation, Suika.”
But I don’t have better data.
I decided to not tell Senku again, not yet anyways. I’m scared. Not because he would laugh. He wouldn’t laugh.
He would analyze me.
He would check my pulse and ask about neurological symptoms. He might decide it’s stress-induced hallucinations. He might send me away to a cave, hidden away for safety.
I don’t want to hide— I don’t want to be useless.
I want to help.
I’m not just a kid.
I’ve lived a life of fuzziness.
No—
I’ve lived a life of blindness.
The world was always shapes and guesses and shadows pressing too close, and I still walked forward anyway. I learned to listen harder. To feel the ground. To trust my instincts when my eyes failed me.
I survived a world I cannot see, a war between people I care about, crossed an ocean on a ship that cut through storms and salt and fear, and I stood on foreign soil with enemies aiming guns at my friends.
I am Detective Suika.
I am the girl who keeps getting up.
I have proven—again and again—that I am strong.
If this is another trial, I can pass it.
Maybe if I gather enough information, I can change the ending. Maybe I need to let the spider bite happen but control the reaction. Maybe I need to make it obvious it was natural. Maybe I need to stage evidence.
Senku would stage evidence if it saved lives.
He’d say it’s ten billion percent worth it.
Loop thirteen.
I told Francois I had to use the restroom, ran off, and collected the spider beforehand. I trapped it in a leaf pouch.
If there was no spider bite, the soldier Charlotte could walk safely. And, so she did.
For a moment, I felt proud.
Then something else happened.
One of Stanley’s men tripped over one of our old wire traps. Not deadly. Just sharp.
He cut his leg badly.
They blamed us again.
Retaliation.
Gunfire.
Matsukaze fell first, his body rigid against Ginro’s.
Then, Ginro fell.
Then Francois.
Me last.
I’m always last.
So maybe it isn’t the spider.
Maybe it’s tension.
They are waiting for a reason.
Any reason.
by loop fourteen, I tried approaching the soldier openly before anything happened.
I raised my hands and tried to speak what very little English I knew. The Hundred Tales told stories of minerals, bugs, acceptance, and teamwork— Yet, very little of other languages.
“No trap. No poison. We peace.”
She looked confused.
Another soldier saw me and aimed immediately.
Loop fifteen, I had felt like that was the one.
I felt tired. Not sleepy, like a bad nights rest, but soul-tired. But I also feel more determined. Senku once said that repeating experiments is how you get reliable results. If you fail fifteen times, that’s just fifteen data points.
So here are my conclusions so far:
-
The day resets when I die.
-
The conflict between the Kingdom of Science and Dr. Xeno’s forces is like dry grass waiting for a spark.
-
Small changes create new problems.
-
Doing nothing also creates problems.
-
I cannot save everyone by acting alone in a simple way.
That last one hurts. I thought if I just ran faster or tried harder, I could fix it.
Maybe the answer isn’t stopping the spider. Maybe the answer is stopping the war. Maybe I need to talk to Dr. Xeno himself. That sounds impossible.
But so did reviving all of humanity, and Senku still tried. If I can survive being shot fifteen times, I can try sixteen.
Maybe on the next loop, I’ll let myself get captured on purpose. Maybe I can tell them about Why-Man. If they realize we all have a bigger enemy—the Medusa, the voice on the moon—maybe they’ll stop fighting.
Senku always says science is about cooperation across borders.
Even enemies can become allies if the data supports it.
Right now, the data says: if we keep going like this, everyone dies.
So I’ll keep recording.
If this diary survives a loop somehow, then maybe that means I finally succeeded.
If not—
Then tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up again.
And I’ll try something new.
Because Suika is a strong girl.
And I won’t let this be the loop where I give up.
— Suika