Marii has family and friends. People who cherish her. She will likely be fine.
Marii will certainly get back on her feet.
There will still be dangers ahead. There will still be suffering. Nonetheless, she will surely overcome it. She will definitely find happiness.
Marii Yukari will still be able to live on happily as ever…
Look, her eyes are opening…
Marii opened her eyes.
She looked around, and then her eyes dropped to the toy robot at her side. Foyle had brought it. It was one of those “plastic models” Marii was so fond of. Foyle knew that.
Marii stared at it. “Gaku-chan…?”
Marii must not have been quite awake yet. Perhaps there was a dream still dancing on her eyelids. She rubbed her eyes and looked up, at last alert as she held the robot in her hand and looked at it intently.
“Gaku-chan? Gaku-chan, it’s you, isn’t it?”
“I” was so surprised, my heart almost stopped. Though “I” no longer had a heart, it’s true. No, it couldn’t be, “I” reminded myself. That’s right. Marii Yukari depended on Hatou Manabu. It was in large part because of Hatou Manabu’s encouragement that she made up her mind to come here abroad to Jaunt. Now, in her unstable state of mind, she’s started to look for Hatou Manabu. That’s all there is to it. She couldn’t have seen “me.”
After all, “I” didn’t exist.
“I” could no longer be observed by anyone. The theory of everything that Alice discovered could be called an index of observation. From the opposite angle, it showed the limits of human observation. “I” grasped it, used it, and leaped over the limits.
“I” went over ten billion years into the past, fiddled with my own parameters, and remade myself into a being to whom the theory of everything did not apply. “I” re-evolved and became a being beyond human perception, without a body, neither wave nor particle, nor even probability, a nonexistent entity measurable nowhere in space by human beings.
“I” erased myself from the observable universe.
All so no one could observe “me.”
Therefore, there was no longer anyone in this world who could perceive “me.” And thus, there was no one who could determine “me.” So I could be sure now that no one would come between “me” and protecting Marii Yukari. Now “I” wouldn’t let anyone kill Marii.
“Gaku-chan…? Why won’t you answer me? Are you mad at me? Is it because I didn’t keep in touch? That’s… I’m sorry. But you see, there was a lot going on, so…”
“I” was no longer a human, no longer had warm blood thrumming in my veins nor tears to shed, and yet seeing Marii about to cry, “I” felt unable to withstand the emotion. So, with great trepidation, “I” spoke. It surprised me that the concept was still with me.
Could it be that you are speaking to “me”?
“Of course! You’re Gaku-chan! Hey! Don’t scare me like that!”
Ah—ah, no. “I” am not Hatou Manabu. Hatou Manabu is heading your way in an airplane right now. “I” am…a hallucination. At the present time, you are mentally unwell. So you’d best get some more sleep.
“Ah! How could you? Don’t be mean! It’s true I see people as robots, so I don’t get expressions very well…and sometimes see things wrong…but I’d never mistake anyone else for you! It’s true you’ve really changed from the Gaku-chan I know—as always you’ve got the ultimate adaptability—but still, however I look at you, you’re Gaku-chan! I can tell! But why…? How…? When did you develop a feature like that?”
For a while, I simply couldn’t believe it. Yukari’s purple eyes see “me”? No one should be able to observe “me,” no human to whom the theory of everything applies.
For over ten billion years—only a memory, but still—“I” was alone. No one could see “me” nor speak to “me.” “I” was alone, waiting for the day “I” could meet Yukari. It had been like that forever, and “I’d” assumed it would be like that forever. And that was fine, because that was how “I” went.
In all kinds of worlds, “I’d” earned it. I’d trampled over worlds, over possibilities, for the sake of “my” goal. Yes, I’d put my trust in the infinite versions of “myself” and fled from world to world, from possibility to possibility, looking for a world that was convenient to me.
There was no such thing as a world that wasn’t needed.
Doubtless I was a sinner deserving of hell. It was only right that I atone for my transgressions. Thus “I’d” been alone all this time, and if I could just protect Yukari for this brief span, I would accept being alone forever. That’s what I’d decided. And yet…
“What’s wrong, Gaku-chan? What happened…?”
Before I knew it, I was crying. It only took an instant for everything I had built and borne, long, great, and boundless, to come crashing down. The dam had burst and it was too late to stop the flood. I sobbed like a child throwing a temper tantrum, shed nonexistent tears, and the words poured forth. I spoke of my past. How it was my fault that Yukari went to America: my fault that Yukari died. My regret I’d carried forever.
I told her of parallel worlds. Of infinite possibilities.
I told her how I’d found her body and sworn to avenge her. How I’d learned I could change the past and sworn to protect her. How I’d changed the past. How I’d done it again and again, changing the past and failing to protect her and letting her die, changing it and letting her die, changing it and letting her die—killing Alice, killing Nanami, killing Hatou, killing others for my own convenience, killing myself, becoming Nanami, becoming Yukari’s mother, advancing like light, using Alice, consuming countless parallel worlds strictly for my own sake, running away from any that weren’t convenient to me, again and again and again and again, repeated in infinite worlds.
I told Marii Yukari everything.
She just listened. She didn’t raise questions, but instead, looked on sincerely. She didn’t place blame, but sat there quietly, hearing my confession.
✦ ✦ ✦
“So that ‘theory of everything’ is what allowed you to transform like that?”
I—I’m not sure I would describe it as “transforming,” but—I guess?
After I’d finished telling her everything, I felt lighter, and yet the heart I wasn’t supposed to have was fiercely pounding.
Was Yukari repulsed by me? It didn’t seem she was afraid, but was she sickened? Was she appalled?
Well, that was fine. I would accept it.
Just to have been able to talk to her was more than I’d dreamed of. I couldn’t ask for more. I lived only to protect her, and that was what I’d do.
That was enough.
Anyway, that’s how it is, so you don’t have to worry about anything, Yukari. I hope…you’ll just accept me, my being here for you. I promise I’ll protect you. Now no one can get in my way. I have free reign to observe and interfere…
I saw Yukari wince for an instant. She cast her eyes down on the model robot for a while, and then looked up (to be clear, I wasn’t the model robot; I didn’t actually exist; I was everywhere and nowhere in the room, like a cloud) and opened her mouth.
“Um, Gaku-chan? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I think friends have to be honest with each other…so I’m going to be, okay? Get ready for what I’m about to say. Um…I hate to say this after you’ve done all that, and I wish I didn’t have to, but…I don’t think there’s anything you can do to protect me.”
She was so matter-of-fact.
Gasping without a throat, “I” rebutted. What? Wh-why? You’re wrong! It’ll be fine! Now there’s no one who can observe me! Now no one can get in my way!
“I can. See? I see you clearly.”
Yeah, well…so what if you can, Yukari?
“Don’t you understand, Gaku-chan? Don’t you see the problem? Don’t you see what’s wrong? If I can observe you, then I don’t think you can change my fate.”
What?
“The only one who can change my fate—the only one who should change my fate—is me. Gaku-chan, you don’t have the right to change me.”
I didn’t have eyes, yet I saw everything grow dim. Deep within me, something snapped like a fragile spiderweb and fell apart.