Chapter One

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—I once believed that their lukewarm response to my return was simply my own wishful thinking.
—It was only later that I realized how much courage it took for them to say goodbye to me.

A cacophony of voices filled Takizawa Sei’s mind.

["Let go… Takizawa, don’t hold me so tight at a time like this…"]
["None of your wishes have come true—are you really content? No, it’s all right. Rest now, Sei. Your wishes will come true, I promise."]
["Are you insane! He’s only nineteen, we have to save him no matter what it takes!"]

Choked sobs, trembling comfort, and suppressed anger—all these voices made Takizawa Sei’s head buzz. Amid the static, like an old television losing signal, their faces and voices gradually grew clearer. He jerked awake, gasping for breath in a minimalist lounge. Though the temperature was just right, he was drenched in sweat.

Once his muddled mind started to clear, he scanned his surroundings with ragged breaths.

The space was almost pure white, so empty as to feel inhuman. The bed he lay on faced a high-tech screen, where the anguished and anxious face of a blond youth flickered.

"…"

Damn it!

Takizawa cursed silently, just as a sound reached his ears—a sound that made him wish he could block it out completely.

"Welcome back, Mr. Takizawa."

The supervisor communicated with him through a special device. "Congratulations. You’ve done very well on your third task. You fulfilled all the requirements of the treaty, and your estimated rating is A. Would you like to rest for a while, or proceed to the next phase?"

His partner system chimed in as well. "Good work, Takizawa."

Takizawa, full of pent-up frustration, kicked and thrashed on the bed before sitting up abruptly. His soft black hair was now a wild, tangled mess. His tone was poor, a mix of dejection and defiance. "Did I die again?"

"Yes. Compared to the first two, this was quite a simple task," replied the system.

Takizawa got up and walked a few steps closer, staring at the replaying scene on the screen. Though he’d lived through these things himself, now they felt strangely distant, as if he were a bystander. "Do you people have some sort of sadistic obsession with psychological torment? What is this, a story recap? Like a game, showing the final CG as an achievement? Why not put up a few character cards in my waiting room?" His voice wavered, not quite sounding like himself.

The system, missing his sarcasm, replied, "These are records that need to be archived. I’ll report your suggestion to the supervisor. How many character cards would you like? Those people you call friends? Anyone else? Life-sized or scaled down?"

"…"

Takizawa listened quietly to its mechanical tone, suddenly feeling so exhausted he lay back down on the spot. He stared dazedly at the plaque he had once been so proud of inside this system space, his face growing pale and almost drained, until even the words became hard to make out.

Takizawa Sei, Gold Medal Companion-Type Support Character. The motto he held as truth: Work is life, life is work, and life must be romantic and passionate!

At age twenty, he was admitted to the Main Character Development Center’s headquarters and became an official support character with full benefits. Based on his personality and strengths, the bureau assigned a supervisor to conduct his first important interview.

"You seem to have a pretty good temperament. Your emotional control scores are good, though your results in emotional topics are a disaster. Still, your other skills are outstanding."

"A classic companion-type personality. You’re not suited for roles in cold, sharp-tongued literature or tragic, heart-wrenching separation dramas—you just couldn’t pull it off."

"You seem to be quite biased, so no saintly, love-everyone path for you… Geez, you’re really petty."

Young Takizawa listened earnestly, his eyes bright with spirit, completely unaware that, in the supervisor’s eyes, his expression was both pure and naive. He accepted his medal with high enthusiasm—Companion-Type Support Character.

That is: Accompany the protagonist’s growth, never abandoning them, loyal and gentle, always their unshakable harbor, and a vital part of their life.

And—ensure the protagonist stays alive.

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"Lately, disturbances in those little worlds have been getting worse. Make sure the protagonist grows up healthy and reliable, or our energy reserves will be in big trouble."

Takizawa: Simple! I love it! Suits me perfectly!

But after three tasks, Takizawa’s early-career enthusiasm had been worn down until he could barely force a smile. He couldn’t take it anymore—

Bloody hell, how could a companion-type role have killed him three times!

"Who told you companion-type tasks were simple? Especially since the ones you accompany aren’t ordinary characters. Their path is inherently fraught with setbacks and danger," the system told him in its odd tone. "Overall, the easiest are the villain support and cannon fodder roles—no need to put in much effort, just do as you please and wait quietly to die."

Takizawa nearly had a heart attack. He spent three minutes reflecting on life, then stood up heavily.

"I’m exhausted," he said. "Work is life, and I’ve already lived three different lives. This job is absolute crap."

System: "…"

System: "Yes, I understand. Labor is crap. The bureau allows everyone to verbally abuse such a crappy job, it’s fine. After all, you still have to keep working."

Takizawa gritted his teeth, pacing in place. His gaze lingered on the floating medal for a long time. Finally, he drew a deep breath and, with a sudden motion, punched it hard—

"Takizawa, what are you doing!"

"I quit!"

Bang—!

The violent impact shattered the space. The emblem instantly fell into the void. All around, everything flickered like static on a snowy TV screen, and Takizawa was swallowed by a piercing beam of light.

His partner system’s shocked voice rang in his ears, "You’re insane! This is against protocol—the lounge is the only stable connection point. Who knows where you’ll end up! Besides, you’re already a—"

The rest faded into silence. As if a protective barrier had been broken, the curly-haired, green-eyed youth was instantly wracked with pain, as if his very skin were corroding. A whimper tore from his throat as he plunged headlong into endless weightlessness.

Falling, falling—

—

Until color returned to his vision.

***

Pain.

Every organ in his body ached.

Takizawa Sei grimaced with pain, all dignity gone. Anyone who’d fallen from a pedestrian bridge, then been hit by a passing truck and thrown ten meters, would feel the same after crawling to safety on a burst of adrenaline. Lying on the ground, he felt as if not a single part of him was unscathed, his cheek pressed against the cold, hard surface, gradually becoming aware of a wetness spreading beneath him.

Blood.

The youth panted, his vision tinged red.

He tentatively moved his arm, reaching out to the distant driver, even though he could barely form words, his mouth and eyes desperately signaling for help.

But the man who had run him over simply staggered back, climbed into his truck, and started the engine.

Hey…

Takizawa felt a chill in his chest. His blood loss–addled mind felt as if it had been struck by a hammer, pain spiking through it, yet his will only grew stronger. In the sparsely populated night, he propped himself up, dragging himself forward under the dim lights.

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He had to survive.

Clenching his teeth, he mustered every muscle he could move, clawing at the ground to crawl forward.

One thought hammered relentlessly in his mind—

He had to survive, because he needed to live.

He had made many promises, and now they seemed little more than boastful declarations. The things he had sworn to accomplish—if he lost his life now, he’d be the worst kind of liar.

"Cough…"

Listening to his own hoarse breathing, Takizawa forced down the bitterness.

The midnight air was chilly, but the wind on his skin felt almost warm.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he finally found a phone booth.

Battered and pitiful, he dialed emergency services, struggling to stay conscious by recalling those who meant the most to him.

Takizawa had completed three companion tasks in total, each one performed with a clear conscience and utmost effort—but no matter what, the first was always the most special.

‘I once served as a house servant for the Gojo family, acting as close attendant to their treasured Six-Eyed Heir. My unspoken role was to be a human shield for the master of the house, though I didn’t mind—protecting Gojo Satoru was my mission from the start.

I once pulled an unconscious boy out of a river and carried him to a shady clinic I knew. In those early days, I stuck to him like glue, which made my childhood friend furiously jealous—a jealousy that lingered, even after they ended up working together, and would always be a source of pain when mentioned.

I even served as a bodyguard to a child, or so I liked to think, and then…’

And then…?

Takizawa froze for a moment, suddenly realizing he couldn’t recall.

No way…

A wave of unease swept over him. Had the crash scrambled his brain?

A gentle voice came through the receiver, encouraging Takizawa to hold on. Leaning against the phone booth, he gazed at the moon overhead, listening to his own rapid, disordered breathing… and suddenly, a wild, joyful grin broke across his face.

Thank goodness.

I’m back.

Takizawa Sei had not died. The promises he had made might yet be fulfilled.

—His dearest friends would surely welcome him with open arms.

***

About five minutes later, by chance, a blurry figure appeared in the darkness—so indistinct it was impossible to make out.

"Hey, are you all right?"

The stranger’s voice was urgent, full of the warmth and kindness of anyone with a generous heart.