“…What am I doing? Why am I just sitting in my own room?…”

In my bedroom, I sat on the edge of my bed, head buried in my knees. The entire room—and my entire being—was bathed in a harsh, blinding white.

Time seemed frozen here. I stayed silent, unaware of anything amiss.

Then, a violent thudding erupted from the desk beside me.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!* “—Is anyone home?! This drawer’s locked!”

A low voice growled from inside the desk drawer.

I lifted my head. The sheer weirdness of it made me jump.

Since when did my drawer get haunted? At least the lock held—ghosts couldn’t get in.

“…DON’T PLAY DEAD!! OPEN THIS DRAWER NOW!!!”

The furious shout snapped me out of it. This wasn’t a ghost. Ghosts wouldn’t need *me* to unlock drawers.

I stood up, walked to the desk, and stared at the drawer for a long moment.

“Are you done yet?! Open it or not?!” The voice inside sounded ready to snap.

“…”

I adjusted my glasses and pulled the drawer open.

It sprang out the moment I touched it. A blue, potbellied… middle-aged man crawled out, his round belly sporting a single pocket.

“Tsk tsk! Kids these days—locking drawers? How shameless!”

I stared at him with dead-fish eyes as he plopped onto my bed, crossed his legs, and gave me a look of utter disappointment.

Did I open it wrong? Shouldn’t a blue robotic cat have popped out instead?

—Why was it this blue, fat uncle?!

“…Uh… Who *are* you? And what do you want, crawling out of my drawer?…” I deadpanned at the scruffy man.

“Right! Self-introduction time! I’m Dora-B-Meng—an ultra-tech robot from the future!” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, flashing yellowed teeth.

“If you’re a robot, why do you even *have* teeth?! And why are they yellow?!” The words tumbled out of me.

“Oh, that? Just… drank too much machine oil.” He reached into the pocket near his crotch, fished out a pack of cigarettes, and stuck one in his mouth.

—HEY!! Your teeth are yellow from *smoking*! And since when do robots smoke?! My eye twitched slightly.

“Aren’t you talentless? Worthless? Glasses-wearing, always complaining, hated by girls?”

“Well, the ‘hated by girls’ part’s true. The rest? Not really.” I shook my head. His rudeness reminded me of Nishi Mitsutaka.

“Heh heh… Truth is, your descendant sent me back to fix your pathetic life.” He pulled a lighter from his belly pocket, lit his cigarette, and blew smoke rings.

“Wait—I have *descendants*? Who… who married me?” Hope flared in my chest.

“Heh… Patience! Can’t spill future secrets!” He grinned. “If I told you your fate now, would you even try to change it? You’d just sigh, ‘Well, that’s my life,’ and give up. Then why’d I bother coming?”

“Oh? So what *can* you do?” I leaned against the bookshelf opposite my bed. “Pull some weird gadget from your crotch pocket?”

I’d already given up on this gross “future robot.”

“Gadgets…?” He glanced at the window. “…I don’t have any.”

“NO GADGETS?! THEN WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?! GET BACK TO THE FUTURE!!” I roared.

“Heh… Kids these days, so impatient!” He kept the cigarette dangling, eyes half-closed. “No gadgets, but I’ll be your friend! Your life coach!” He spread his arms wide. “Friends are what truly matter in this world!”

“That’s… true…” I nodded slowly—then exploded again. “BUT WHY WOULD I WANT A BLUE, DEPRESSED UNCLE AS A LIFE COACH?! ARE YOU TRYING TO TURN ME INTO *YOU*?!”

“Whoa, don’t reject me yet!” He flopped onto my bed like a sack of rice. You just wanted to drag him up and punch him.

“Kid, I’ve got *decades* of life experience!”

“I don’t need life advice from a washed-up uncle!!”

“Heh heh…” The blue man stood up, strode to my closet, and yanked it open. “Can I sleep here? I’ll be counting on you from now on.”

—HEY!! Your body won’t even *fit* in there! And you’re just a freeloader, aren’t you?!

“Um… Could this ‘future robot’ please go home first?” My eye twitched as I watched his shameless act. He really planned to stay.

“Huh?! Nobita-kun, you can’t treat me like this!” The uncle whirled around, glaring.

“…” I pushed up my glasses. “Nobita?”

Hearing my confusion, he froze. He dug a small notebook from his belly pocket and flipped through it frantically.

“John?” He looked up, testing the name.

“What the hell is John?!”

“John Connor?” he pressed.

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “What’s your *real* purpose here?! Why’s John Connor even coming up?!”

“That’s the system—the AI set to destroy the world.” His expression turned dead serious. He kept flipping pages, then looked up again. “Shimada Genji?”

“HEY!! I’M NOT HIM!! AND WHY’S THE SETTING CHANGING AGAIN?!” I roared. “What’s your *actual* mission?!”

“…” He stroked his stubbly chin. “So… what’s your name?”

“Kamidou Chiyo.” I answered flatly, forcing calm.

“…”

At my name, his cigarette dropped. His eyes sharpened. He stuffed the notebook back into his pocket, pulled out a chunky black cell phone, and pressed it to his ear.

“Sorry, boss. Wrong guy. Must’ve messed up the timeline.” He hung up. Awkward silence filled the room.

—HEY!! Why’s a future robot using a *brick phone*?! And “wrong guy”? What does that even mean?!

As I raged internally, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, marched to the desk, and yanked the drawer open.

“Chotto matte! Don’t go yet! Who’s ‘boss’?! ‘Wrong guy’?! And what *are* you?!” I lunged and grabbed his arm.

“URUSAI!!!”

The uncle, halfway into the drawer, swung back and punched me hard in the gut.

A dull *thud* echoed. My body slammed to the floor in a perfect “X.”

The drawer slammed shut. Faint grumbling drifted through the wood:

“…Ugh. Wrong timeline. Waste of my damn time. Pah!”

Lying there, my vision blurred. Consciousness faded…

*Ding-ding-ding—*

My alarm clock blared. I threw off the covers and sat up, still in pajamas. I shuffled to the desk, opened the drawer—nothing unusual. Just my ordinary stuff.

…So it was all just a dream.

I patted my chest, relief washing over me. I killed the alarm and collapsed back onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

After sneaking home last night once the coast was clear, I’d rushed through washing up and collapsed into bed. Exhaustion dragged me under fast—and into that bizarre dream.

“…What a nightmare… Terrifying. But thank god it was just a dream… If a robot like that really showed up, I’d lose all hope.”

I wiped sweat from my brow with my sleeve. Slowly, I sat up. My skin felt sticky. A shower first—no way I could go out like this.