Doraemon: Reborn As Dekisugi

Dekisugi carefully slipped on his shoes at Shizuka's front door, pausing for a moment to adjust the laces. With a warm smile, he turned to Shizuka, who stood behind him. "Thanks for today, Shizuka. I had a great time."

Shizuka smiled back, her eyes lighting up with her usual kindness. "Me too, Dekisugi. Don't forget to bring those sketches tomorrow; I'd love to see them!"

"I won't forget. Take care!" Dekisugi said as he stepped out into the crisp evening air, his breath forming faint clouds in the coolness. He gave her one last wave before starting his short journey home.

The quiet streets were illuminated by the soft glow of streetlamps. The occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze added a touch of serenity to the night. Dekisugi's thoughts wandered as he walked. Spending time with Shizuka was always enjoyable, but his mind soon shifted to more practical matters.

Hunger gnawed at him, a sensation he had grown used to after his daily routine of physical and mental exertion. Whether it was exercising or working on his drawings, his energy seemed to deplete faster these days. "At least it's a good excuse to eat more," he chuckled softly to himself.

As Dekisugi approached his house, he reached into his pocket for the key. The familiar creak of the door greeted him as he stepped inside. The house was dark and silent, an almost eerie contrast to the lively energy of Shizuka's home. He flipped on the light, illuminating the modest but cozy interior.

"Home, sweet home," he muttered, placing his schoolbag and sketchbook on the table. The quiet stillness of the house felt almost too peaceful. He couldn't help but think about how rarely he saw his parents. In the three or four days since he had been here, their interactions totaled less than three hours.

Shaking off the thought, Dekisugi headed to the kitchen. As expected, his mother had left dinner prepared for him. The neatly covered dishes were a testament to her thoughtfulness. He heated the food, savoring the warmth that spread through the room as he ate.

After dinner, Dekisugi tidied up the kitchen before heading to his room. His desk awaited him, cluttered with papers, pencils, and his diary. Writing in the diary had been a habit for years, one that he had carried over from his previous life. It was a way to reflect, to record memories, and sometimes, to make sense of the world around him.

Flipping open the diary, Dekisugi's eyes widened. The last few pages were covered in messy graffiti—scribbles, childish drawings, and even some crude curse words. For a moment, he simply stared, unsure of what to think. Then, a laugh escaped him.

"This has, Nobita written all over it," he said, shaking his head. The idea of Nobita sneaking into his room and defacing his diary was almost endearing in its absurdity. He had probably used one of Doraemon's gadgets to pull off the prank.

Though he wasn't angry, Dekisugi decided that Nobita needed a reminder to respect others' belongings. After all, Doraemon's gadgets had a way of causing more trouble than they were worth, and it was better to nip these pranks in the bud.

Meanwhile, at Nobita's house, Doraemon stood over the sleeping boy with a look of exasperation. "Wake up, Nobita! It's time to eat!"

Nobita stirred, his hair sticking up in odd directions as he rubbed his eyes. "Doraemon? What's going on?"

Doraemon pointed to the see-through sticker observation machine lying on the desk. "Nobita, were you playing with my gadget again? What did you do this time?"

"Nothing! I didn't do anything!" Nobita said quickly, sitting up straight. But the guilt in his voice was unmistakable.

Doraemon sighed, shaking his head. "Every time I lend you something, you find a way to turn it into trouble. Hand it over before you make things worse."

Panic flashed across Nobita's face. He couldn't let Doraemon see the machine—not yet. "Uh, I'll give it back later! I just… need it for something important!"

"Nobita…" Doraemon began, but before he could argue further, Nobita pushed him toward the door.

"Go eat, Doraemon! I'll be down in a minute!" Nobita said, practically shoving the blue robot cat out of the room. Once the door was closed, Nobita let out a sigh of relief.

Turning back to the gadget, he muttered, "I'll clean this up tomorrow. For now, I'll just hide it." He tucked the machine into his closet, making a mental note to wipe away the evidence before anyone else could find out.

Feeling slightly better, Nobita headed downstairs to join Doraemon for dinner.

Back at Dekisugi's house, the evening was progressing in quiet productivity. With the graffiti-filled diary set aside, Dekisugi focused on his manga. His pencil moved swiftly across the paper, bringing characters and scenes to life with remarkable precision.

Time seemed to blur as he worked. The story unfolded before him, each panel a piece of the puzzle. When his parents returned home, they peeked into his room but didn't disturb him. Seeing their son so engrossed in his work, they exchanged a smile before quietly closing the door.

It wasn't until 9:30 that Dekisugi finally leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh. He glanced at the completed pages, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"If I can keep this pace, I'll finish the next chapter by the end of the week," he mused. While he had no intention of becoming a professional mangaka, the extra income from selling his work was a welcome bonus.

After tidying up his desk, Dekisugi decided to take a hot bath. Passing through the living room, he greeted his parents briefly. They chatted for a moment, their conversation warm but brief. Dekisugi still felt a slight disconnect, as though he hadn't fully adjusted to his role in this world.

The bath was a soothing end to the day. The hot water eased the tension in his muscles, and as he leaned back, he let his thoughts wander. The prank from Nobita, the time spent with Shizuka, the progress on his manga—it all blended into a sense of quiet satisfaction.

By the time Dekisugi climbed into bed, the house was silent once more. He pulled the blanket over himself, his mind already drifting. Tomorrow would bring new challenges and new moments to cherish, but for now, sleep beckoned.

As his eyes closed, a faint smile lingered on his lips.