There’s a saying that truth is stranger than fiction. I believe a poet from long ago first said it. But no matter where it came from, I realized today that real-life events can actually be stranger and more remarkable than the stories we make up.
Saying all that out of the blue probably makes no sense, so let me explain the situation: I appear to have been stabbed to death by my stalker—a girl who had been like a sister to me—and then reincarnated. And no, I’m not joking about the reincarnation part, so please don’t think I’m just some lunatic. I’ll explain it one step at a time.
Actually, I’m currently having that feeling where things are so chaotic that I’m strangely calm in the midst of it. If I don’t recount what happened as objectively as I can, I think I might go crazy. So, please hold off on any complaints until after you’ve heard my story.
Um, where should I start? Well, I guess I should introduce myself. My name used to be Kanata Tomokui, but as I’ve been recently reincarnated, let’s not call me anything specific for now.
If my memory and imagination aren’t playing tricks on me—which I wish they were—after work today, I was invited for drinks by my colleague, Mayumi Kiritsubo. Kiritsubo is the same age as me and is the highest-ranked telekinetic at my job. She’s often my partner in work, a comrade in arms. She’s also a woman with curves in all the right places, easily someone who could be considered a “beauty.” When she invited me out, I had no particular reason to refuse, so we went around to several pubs and drank.
Kiritsubo can’t hold her liquor, but since she had the next day off, she drank late and, as expected, got so drunk she couldn’t get home by herself. Her face turned as red as an apple, and she could no longer speak or walk straight. Leaving her at the pub would have exposed her to shady characters lurking around, so I had no choice but to take her to my nearby apartment.
I didn’t make this decision just for Kiritsubo’s sake. Even asleep, Kiritsubo can detect external threats to herself. If attacked, she unconsciously used the highest level of telekinesis to instantly slice and dice her attacker into dozens of pieces, which I knew because of my precognitive abilities. While I don’t particularly care about what happens to someone who would attack a drunk woman, I saw no need to let things end that way if I could prevent it. Handling the aftermath would be too much work, which was overwhelmingly the reason for my decision.
After settling the bill, I slipped my arms under Kiritsubo’s knees and shoulders to lift her up—like a princess—and left the restaurant. Kiritsubo was lighter than expected, and thanks to my regular physical training, I wasn’t feeling too worn out by the time we arrived at my place. I sent my biometric data from the nanomachines in my body to unlock the door and disable the security system. Once inside, I tossed the half-asleep Kiritsubo onto my bed. She made a strange sound as she landed.
As someone who loved alcohol but struggled to get drunk, I wasn’t satisfied with just a few rounds at a few pubs. When I opened the fridge, thinking about enjoying some solitary drinking while gazing at the full moon, I realized that all the different types of alcohol that usually filled an entire shelf—beer, chuhai, and so on—were gone. I had planned to restock today, and I would have, if Kiritsubo hadn’t invited me out. It had slipped my mind until that very moment.
I could have restrained my desires and abstained from drinking, but the full moon was so beautiful that night, and the idea of drinking under such a lovely sight was irresistible. Giving in to my impulses, I headed to a nearby 24-hour convenience store and bought five beers, some sake, and a few snacks before heading back home. Although summer was approaching, the nights were still chilly. I enjoyed a memorable view of the clear night sky with the beautiful full moon floating in it.
Then, as I thought about how delicious my moon-viewing sake would be, I noticed a single pretty girl standing under a streetlight, faintly veiled by a mild fog. She was someone I recognized; in fact, she was what society generally called a stalker.
This stalker’s name was Aoi Kirimine. She was currently a college student, five years younger than I, which made her twenty years old. To briefly recount how Aoi the stalker and I first met, when I was in my third year of high school, I saw a pretty girl—Aoi, who was about twelve or thirteen at the time—being harassed by two delinquent guys with dyed blonde hair and piercings, who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. I decided to help her out.
Well, saying I decided to help her is not entirely wrong, but it’s not exactly accurate either. Back then, I was much more of a coward than I am now. Despite being younger than me, the two delinquents were clearly trouble, with their dyed hair, piercings, and rumpled, altered uniforms. Usually, I would never have fought to protect a girl I didn’t even know and whom I had never seen before. It was pathetic, but typically, I would have just passed right on by, sending a sympathetic glance to Aoi like everyone else, pretending not to see the potential danger she was in. I had never been in a fistfight before, and unlike Kiritsubo, I hadn’t yet awakened any ESP powers like telekinesis. So, I would have fled pretty quickly.
Normally.
By some twist of fate—likely an unfortunate one—on that day, I happened to be carrying a military-grade stun baton that I had received as a birthday present from my uncle, Shoujo Bado, who worked at a paramilitary subsidiary of the galactic megacorporation Avalon. He was a military enthusiast and a weapon fanboy.
I was curious about the stun baton’s power, but too scared to test it on myself, so I had initially left it sitting untouched in my room. However, one of my friends—also a military geek—emailed me that morning saying, “I want to see your stun baton, bring it over,” so I was on my way to show it to him. That’s why, when I saw a girl being harassed, I took out the stunner I had in my bag and used it on the two delinquents responsible.