Crossover Fan Fiction / Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction / Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction ❯ Reason And Accountability ❯ Bad Dreams ( Chapter 33 )

“Niisan, are you awake? Are you you?” she asked, opening my bedroom door. I was home. It was my familiar ceiling. This was a relief. Komachi entered, with only the ordinary hair rather than the astounding ahoge of the anime-version of my life. So I was actually home right now.

“I’m me. My most recent travels took me to New York City and Chicago. Both trips were weird. Also, I have a new boss. How have you been, my adorable sister?” I asked. She grinned briefly.

“Wash your face, get dressed. It is the weekend. I need your advice, and maybe your help,” Komachi said. I sighed and changed into clean clothes, washed my face, combed my hair, and descended the stairs to find her cooking traditional Japanese breakfast, including fish and miso soup. I sipped tea and ate with her while she visibly formulated what she was going to say making a number of expressions before finally setting down her chopsticks (hashi) and looking me in the eyes.

“I’ve been having dreams. About being other people,” Komachi confessed.

“Are you you or are you running someone else’s body?” I asked her.

“I’m them. I’m not me, but I’m them and I live their lives and wake up back here,” she said, glum. “Do you think the thing you do is catching?”

I considered. The whole Narrativium thing is likely. I’m not sure where I got contaminated, but it could have been in Skyrim and merely continued with more dosages as I drifted to other places. Evangelion as the main character? Lots of narrativium there. I was Dresden a few times. That’s obvious narrativium contamination.

“It is possible that is the case. When I’m travelling I know that the owner of the body is there, sleeping. They are basically sleepwalking while I’m in control. When I fall asleep they will regain control and I’m punted out to the next universe needing me, or back here. This was probably setup by either that TV demon or my current boss.”

“You never explained that. What do you mean by current boss?” Komachi asked.

“Uh. Well, you know in mythology they often make Death a god? And then Death has various ways it looks. Usually a man, sometimes a woman?” I asked her. She nodded. “Well, the Norse called her Hellas, and she was supposed to be a daughter of Loki, and imbued with the power over the end of life, and the rule over souls of the dead, in all three realms.”

“Nine,” Komachi corrected.

“Three. This isn’t Marvel comic books. That stuff is all a ripoff,” I denied. “And its more complicated than that anyway, since Faeries are real and so are outsiders, and I’m proof of the extreme multiverse theories, and now I know that Discworld is real too. So ignore all that Marvel comic crap. It was made to sell things. Too inconsistent to be slightly real. Where was I?”

“You were explaining about Death. Is Death your boss?” Komachi asked.

“Yes. And she’s a hot goth chick with an ankh necklace. And probably also Azazel, the archangel.” 

“That’s your boss?” Komachi confirmed.

“And now I can use portals, sort of. They appear, I go through them. I don’t think I’m making them, I just know they’re coming and where they’ll be, and that I should go through them to my next job.”

“Are you going as yourself?” she confirmed.

“Yes. I met Harry Dresden. And Tiffany Aching,” I explained. Komachi’s eyes widened.

“Ohh. I like her. You used to read me her stories. What was she like?” she asked me.

“Older, mid 20’s I guess. She’s Dresden’s grandmother, which explains a lot about him,” I admitted. “Wore frilly black, clomping boots with hobnails, and was apparently married to Ebeneezar McCoy for most of a decade.”

“So the old Blackstaff was married?” Komachi said, pondering. She read the books too.

“Seems that way. So back to your dreams. You are that person, not invading that person and using their body. It probably means these are either past lives or you’re doing some kind of astral projection telepathy, which is actually more likely considering this universe is a nexus, which is why we have so much creative media that turns out to be real somewhere. So you’re probably dreaming another person’s life. When you’re there do you have control or are you a passenger?” I confirmed.

“I’m in control, I think. When its dreams you have dream logic, so how would I know if I was in control or just dreaming that I did?” Komachi questioned, annoyed.

“Ah. Hmm. Well, I don’t know. So that leaves us one or the other. Anyone noteworthy?” I asked her.

“I was a magical girl who was betrayed by a friend and died to save the world. I’ve been a magical girl in World War One, sort of, only with magic artillery rifles. And I could fly with the help of a machine attached to one of my boots,” she admitted. “Was tortured by an evil god until I gave in and worshipped it to make the pain stop.”

“Sounds awful,” I admitted with some sympathy.

“Yeah, gods are mean. And it made me pray Christian prayers about smiting my enemies. Real Old Testament stuff.”

“Like that one scene in Pulp Fiction?” I asked Komachi.

“Kinda, only more of them, and not quite so… Baptist,” Komachi said, shuddering.

“You’ve got me there. I only know about the Amakusa Christians and the not-really-Catholic church Death belongs to. What are Baptists?” I asked her.

“Catholics who can read,” she replied, deadpan.

“Huh. Well, anyway, you might have more of those dreams about past lives. I am going to enjoy my weekend and catch up on homework. Any dates I need to worry about?”

“Aren’t you super romantic in other universes? Do you really have time for a real world girl here?” Komachi asked me. It was a good point. Have I mentioned my sister is smart? She’s smart. Possibly smarter than me.

“Nope. No time,” I admitted. “Off to do homework. Come find me if you need something.”

I retreated back upstairs and caught up on my readings, math and science, and verified that Skyrim magic still works in the real world, which it did. Technically its Tamrielic magic, or even Mundus magic, since that whole universe is a smallish bubble surrounded by a thin sheen of stars and wrapped in Oblivion around the edges. Despite this, there’s clear evidence of a spacefacing civilization left behind in the Dwemer ruins. Make of that what you will. Maybe they got to space, couldn’t escape the bubble and returned to Tamriel pondering another method of escape from the various gods and such that plagued Men and Mer (elves). I can only speculate. Back to homework.

Hours later I was caught up on a couple weeks of work and was reasonably sure I could answer questions in class if one of the sensei called on me. One of my passengers made a pass at Miura, which judging by the memory of her expression hit home. Poetry apparently works on her. In this world, she’s got straight black hair, and all my classmates have straight black hair, none of this anime color BS. My phone was riddled with new contacts, and a whole slew of messages from Ebina, who is an actual friend here who writes, along with Yoshiteru, who is my best friend and co-defendant. He’s been working on some insane book about sleeping with the little sister of the sensei, and then his Dad marries Sensei’s mom so sensei and the little sister are both step-siblings, only the sensei has a dark side for abusive men, as well as a drinking problem, and the little sister is a cold fish in bed and out, so there’s lots of psychodrama which he keeps insisting is situation comedy. I don’t see it, but this is his book, not mine. Using advice from Komachi I’ve been toning down some of the extremes I’d written in my novel so the actually most extreme things are used as punchlines to jokes.

I also included a lot more wordplay and puns, filled up every page with several jokes. So even if it’s a light novel series, it will real closer to Pratchett, if Pratchett had been born in Chiba with fishy eyes. Komachi reviewed the new pages and commented: “Better. Keep using this style. It will sell.”

High praise from my sister, so I continued. A light lunch allowed me to step outdoors and enjoy the summer heat. The wind was blowing, sea breeze passing back and forth. I could see the appeal of a Kei car or something better, like a Honda Jazz, in order to actually take Komachi and her boyfriend over to the beach, on the ocean side of the peninsula. Past all those ridiculous golf courses and the much more interesting farms and orchards. I could buy fresh picked pears and put them out for mother and father to nibble on. I wonder if I’ll be able to afford such a luxury someday? The biggest upside to writing is you can live anywhere you can write. The downside is most of the interesting characters in books are based on real people so you need to see them to transcribe their traits onto the page. It bears consideration.