Chapitre 52: Inception (5)
[Chris Sasaki's POV]
I don't exactly remember how I died; I do remember I successfully pulled a Paul Walker, but not what happened right after. I didn't even experience the 'fuwa-fuwa' feeling that any reincarnator should feel before I woke up in the new world.
My reincarnation process was so brief; it felt like I was dozing off once, and the moment I opened my eyes it was already the next day. It was like when you fuck a girl at the night, and she is having a childbirth in the morning.
It just ... Happened; like 'ta-da!' That's how uneventful my reincarnation was.
Though a little bit late, I get to experience what those reincarnators feel before they wake up in another world right now; I am currently experiencing the 'fuwa-fuwa' state.
"It feels like flying around in a zero gravity space, but more comfortable." It feels like I am high while my mind is perfectly conscious—I am still being myself. 'Isn't that what someone high would say though? Am I high?'
Ignoring my thought, I am completely sure I am not high. I try to open my eyes, but my body fails me. Even worst, I don't know how to open my eyes; I know where they are, but I completely forgot how to open them.
'Now that I realized it, I don't know how to move my limbs either.' The only thing I can do is speaking—at least, I think I am speaking.
"Alright, let's see if I am in an astral form." I roll my tongue to make sure whether I have a mouth or it is just my mind playing with me. "Well, I can't feel my tongue, so I'm really in an astral form."
With that being said, for the entire time, I'm not speaking but thinking. Still, it feels like I am really speaking since I can hear my own voice. 'But those with Schizophrenia also 'hear' what their mind says, don't they? ... Am I really high?' Since the thought is provoking an existential crisis, I put it to an end right after.
Talking about astral form, I don't know what it actually looks like, but I'll assume it looks like a will-o'-the-wisp. That is the most plausible appearance considering that I don't have any limb or any feature that makes me look like a living thing.
Once again, I don't know how I look, but I'll assume I look the way my mind pictures how I look—like will-o'-the-wisp. When I think about how I speak, a puzzlement naturally comes up.
'If when I speak, I am just actually thinking...' (this is thinking) "What happens when I think? Does that mean I think I am thinking, while in truth I am actually thinking?!" (this is speaking)
Don't ask me anything; I don't even understand what I am talking about. The more I think about the situation I am in, the more I doubt my existence.
I believe those with telepathy have also ever been in my position: they must have ever confused telepathy with speaking, thinking with telepathy, speaking with thinking, and vice versa for all of the situations.
'How did I get here anyway?' I have been ignoring this thought ever since I found myself in the 'fuwa-fuwa' state, because I don't think it's that weird considering what I have experienced—reincarnation.
"What happened before I got here?" I muse. "That's right, the light explosion!" Upon remembering that, everything just 'clicked.' I get out of my 'fuwa-fuwa' state as I can feel my body in the next moment; I am no longer weightless, and I am sure I am falling down.
The sensation should normally make me worry of my survival, but I feel strangely comforted instead. At some point I decided to open my eyes, and my body immediately stops falling.
I thought I was falling from the sky, but upon opening my eyes, I can see a ceiling—a green ceiling. Quickly enough, my body registers the sensation of the ground I am lying on.
"Hard with smooth surface—it's a cement." I get up from the ground, and look around only to find I am in a completely green, endless room. The room is green not because there are grasses there; it is painted green. "It's the green colored version of white room—green room."
I hum to myself at the word I have just uttered; it was honestly stu—unnecessary but true. Shrugging the matter off in the next moment, I look around once again.
I am sure I have never been here, but I eerily feel familiar with the place. It is like the place is really under my control. "Well, maybe I can think of a chair, and a chair will appear ... It does."
I blink my eyes at the green chair in front of me that has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "If this is a prank, I must have been pranked by Dr. Weird."
Humming to myself for a moment, I stare at the green chair intently. After around 30 seconds of passiona—intently gazing at chair-chan, I shrug lightly, and sit myself on her; when my butt touches chair-chan, she feels like ... Well, a chair.
Leaning forward, I interlock the fingers of my hands, and put them below my chin as a support. Looking neutrally to the front, I coldly say, "Welcome back, Shinji."
"You are... Unique."
"You are... Creepy."
"Kuh! You don't have to tell me, bastard."
In case you are wondering who the hell I am talking to, I don't know either. By the time I sat myself on chair-chan, the dude was already in front of me, also sitting on a chair; he dresses himself formally just like the way I used to dress myself to work.
In fact, his face also resembles the previous me; the only difference lies in his eyes. He got the eyes of a psychotic serial killer. 'This is weird ... I feel attacked! By my own word nonetheless!'
Anyway, the dude whose appearance resembles Chris—my past self—is looking at me in curiosity. His eyes seem focused on me, but I know he is scanning me like he is about to figure something out of me.
"Beware of whom you direct that gaze at." The dude blinks his eyes at my word, then truly focuses his gaze at my eyes. "I gaze people that way whenever I want to play with them; to me, it's the same as a provocation."
"Hehh... From the way you look at me, aren't you provoking me too?" The dude caresses his chin, then smirks. "Or should I say you want to toy with me?"
"Who are you?"
"I am you."
"You look gorgeous, but your eyes are just a turn off. So, you're not me; no mater how much we resemble each other."
"This bastard... It has only been a minute, and you have insulted my eyes twice!" The dude's eyebrow twitches.
I keep looking at my doppelganger's face, until I am convinced that what I am thinking is what is happening. "I think I have figured out who you are."
"Hoh? Tell me who I am." The dude crosses his hand.
"Another version of Chris Sasaki ... Hikigaya Hachiman, whose body I am currently inhabiting."
The dude only stares at me neutrally, before sighing softly to himself. "That's right. I am the current Chris Sasaki, the previous Hikigaya Hachiman."
While I had an inkling that this guy in front of me was the original Hachiman even before he confirmed it, I wouldn't believe him even if he had told me firsthand. I am only convinced he is the original Hachiman after closely observing his eyes, and finding out how defensive he is with them from our short talk.
Furthermore, there is also the thing that Christine told me yesterday; she said that she had met "her" before she woke up, who in this case should be the original Yukino. Therefore, it even supports the fact that the person in front of me is Hachiman.
"Well, you are pretty calm."
"That's supposed to be my line."
I shrug. "What can I say? I am just impressed you didn't say, 'I am the REAL Hikigaya Hachiman!' or something along the lines of how much you hate me for stealing your body."
Hachiman sighs in exasperation, then shakes his head helplessly. "You should be the clueless one here, but why am I the one being flustered?" Turning his gaze to me, he continues, "Furthermore, there is NO the REAL one between us; we are the same individual."
"That's funny, Hachiman. Considering that you are occupying my body, you must be living my life, no?" Hachiman nods his head. "Then, you should know what you are to me."
"I know, I am nothing but a fictional character to you; heck, I have even watched myself." Hachiman hugs himself as if he is terrified with the memory that he has just recalled. "Still, I like the way the story ends."
"Uwah. Stop it, dude. That smile is unsuitable for your psychotic face."
"Damn! You sound like Komachi."
"We are indeed siblings."
Hachiman smiles bitterly, before shaking his head lightly. "Back to the topic of a fictional character," he leans his body forward, "can you, the original Chris Sasaki, guarantee that you are not a fictional character?"
I immediately open my mouth, only to find I can't say a single word; the question is harder to answer than I expected.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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