“Be more specific.”
“Your brain’s leaking out of you.”
“Yup. So you do get it. As you can see, my brain’s currently in the process of dripping outta my head. You understand that anything you want me to do right now might be a little difficult for me? Aren’t aliens s’posed to be smart?”
“But this is important! I need you to understand!”
“Then you’re gonna have to dumb it down for me!”
“Look, I’ve been observing this world, and you, Rara, are—”
“Blah, blah, blah! I already said I don’t know what you’re talking about! Okay, look, lay it out in Dragon Ball terms! Which character am I in relation to ‘this world’?”
“You’re—”
“And if you’re gonna say I’m Mr. Satan, you can stop right there! I’ll never be able to wear a skirt again if I get that hairy! I could shave forever and it would grow back again the second I was done! Every giant pore, plugged with a wriggly sprout of dark hair and—”
“You’re Toriyama.”
“Huh?”
That caught me totally off guard. Toriyama? What did he look like again?
“You’re One Piece’s Oda. Attack on Titan’s Isayama. Conan’s Gosho.”
“No way. Wait, how come you used surnames for all of them except Gosho?”
“And I’m the reader.”
“Um… Um, okay… Who’s editing, then? What about the publisher? Who gets the royalties?”
“Don’t worry about that stuff. You’ll only overcomplicate it. My point is that you created this world. And I was simply an observer from outside, until I came here to stop it from ending. In other words, I’m an invader. I’m with you now, inside what you consider to be yourself. Reality here is comprised of everything you’ve seen, known, and thought. To an extent, this is true for everyone, but the important thing is that this is your world.”
“Wait, I really don’t get this. Um. So you’re saying that this world is a manga? That’s so scary! That means it’ll burn if it gets set on fire, right? I mean, I guess that’s just like anything else, but still! Well, wait, not everything. There’re some types of trash you can’t burn. Hold on, when we separate trash into burnables and unburnables, is the unburnable stuff really stuff you can’t burn? Like, you can’t burn glass bottles, right? Or can you?”
“Don’t panic. Bottles are recyclable. And I only meant the manga thing as a metaphor. You asked me to explain in those terms. I was trying to paint a picture of this world’s structure in a way you could understand.”
“I’m screwed then, because I don’t get it! Though it sounds like you came here to save me or something, right? Right?”
The alien gave an assertive nod. “Yeah. Exactly.” Holding my hand, he brought his masked face closer to it. I could hear each breath with perfect clarity. “I came to save you from death. I won’t let this world end.”
“But…” I slid my gaze away from him as I tried to find the words to explain.
Honestly, I thought he was doomed to fail. There was no coming back when most of your brain was missing. You were dead. I might have been kinda dumb, but even I knew that much. Still, he risked his life to come here and search for me. I didn’t wanna be the one to tell him it was a waste of effort. In the end, all I did was giggle like an airhead. Well, to be fair I guess my head was just full of air at that point.
“Let’s forget about the complicated stuff for a second.” I knew it was a pathetic attempt at changing the subject, but I didn’t know what else to do. “Wanna go somewhere fun? See that motorcycle there? We could ride it together and go anywhere. Take me someplace nice, okay? I’ve always wanted to hop on the back of some guy’s bike and spend a night on the town. It’ll be like a date. We’ll be making memories! You get me?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him at warp speed.
“Though I’d rather be wearing a mini dress! One that was all fluttery and sparkly. And high heels—no tights. I wish I was looking my best for you! And I wish we had a shinier bike in a nicer color. Still, I wanna go! C’mon, please?”
It was time for my perfectly sexy, jet-black eyeliner to shine! I kept fluttering my eyelashes, hoping he’d give in.
But he didn’t. He shook his head.
“That isn’t an option yet,” he said, letting go of my hand. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Listen, Rara,” he continued as he shook.
“Ah, ah, ah! Quit it! My brain’s splashing everywhere!”
“I’m not giving up. The world doesn’t have to end.”
“Uh, are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m an alien, so you can trust me. You do, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do, it’s just—”
“I’m going to pick up on my earlier example. Right now, Toriyama has to stop drawing Dragon Ball and start drawing Kobo-chan instead. He’s got to go back to when he started, toss out the Dragon Ball draft, and restart with a four-koma manga about a little boy with a distinct haircut. Rara, you need to choose the world where Toriyama draws Kobo-chan.”
“I don’t think those two series started at the same time.”
“It’s just a metaphor! It’s been a metaphor this whole time! I’m telling you to make a world that’s different from this one. A new reality! Then you need to choose the one that’s different.”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘make’ or ‘choose.’”
“Then think, Toriyama!”
“I’m not Toriyama.”
“Clear your mind and think back! You already know when the change has to happen, so let’s go already!”
“Huh?! Wait! Go where? Go when?!”
Okay. Sorry, at this point I just need to stop and explain something.
The time between me being roadkill and waking up to the part I got to just now will be called X. Again, there’s nothing deeper about my choice of letter. I woke up crying in a pool of blood, met the alien, and then we talked about Dragon Ball and Kobo-chan. After that, he said he was gonna take me somewhere. This part of the timeline is X. Remember it, because we’ll be coming back to it over and over. Okay. Back to it.
“Huh?! Wait! Go where? Go when?!”
“Spring of your first year of high school. The red train, second carriage from the front.”
The alien’s gaze leaped into me. I could go forward or I could go back, and the knot was only tying itself up tighter. Listen, I get it: This whole thing’s a mess. But the story’s gotta keep on going, so try to follow along.