Imagine that you’re sitting in class, listening to your teacher’s lecture while eagerly anticipating some juicy gossip involving the new transfer student and another girl in your class.
You’re all prepared to enjoy the drama.
Then, in the blink of an eye, there’s suddenly a gun pressed against your head.
And the person holding it is none other than the transfer student you were just gossiping about.
She’s staring at you coldly, pointing a gun directly at your forehead, looking as though she’s ready to shoot you at the slightest disagreement.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Must be a hallucination.”
He instinctively nodded, immediately reaching a conclusion about his current situation.
For an ordinary person, something like this could only be happening in reality.
But for Makoto Tsukimi, someone who might wake up in the morning and witness an asteroid colliding with Earth, there was naturally another possible explanation for the scene before him.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Could it be that I fell in love with that transfer student at first sight? That doesn’t make sense. Sure, her appearance and temperament are pretty much exactly my type, but how could a girlfriend from the real world possibly compare to the perfection of one I created myself?”
The changes that Sensory Manipulation produced in Makoto’s surroundings without his conscious awareness were fundamentally caused by his inability to fully control his thoughts and imagination.
And the current scenario—a mysterious, beautiful transfer student suddenly pointing a gun at him—was practically identical to the opening developments of certain harem anime he remembered.
For Makoto to subconsciously imagine Homura Akemi doing something like this to him, it could only mean that somewhere deep in his heart, he had developed a certain degree of attraction toward her.
That would explain why his subconscious had assigned Homura this particular role.
Makoto Tsukimi: “But I refuse! The thing I, Makoto Tsukimi, hate most is using Sensory Manipulation to bring real people into my imaginary world. Fantasy should remain fantasy! What’s the point of dragging reality into it?”
He shook his head, rejecting the idea with an utterly serious expression.
Makoto never brought real people into his fantasy world to interact with them.
It wasn’t because he considered himself particularly noble or morally superior.
Rather—
Imagine arbitrarily fantasizing about a real person being intimate with you in an imaginary world.
Then, because their attitude toward you in reality differed from their behavior in your fantasies, you ended up feeling disappointed and miserable.
You created your own expectations, disappointed yourself when they weren’t fulfilled, made yourself miserable, and might even eventually come to resent the other person.
Was there anything more foolish in the world?
Makoto wasn’t certain whether he himself might eventually develop that kind of resentment, but he instinctively rejected the possibility.
Human emotions weren’t something that could be completely controlled, and personal desires had a tendency to expand endlessly.
Once someone experienced interactions with another person in fantasy, they would inevitably begin wanting similar interactions with that person in reality.
And that would almost certainly develop into some kind of tragedy.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Besides, completely associating an imaginary character with a specific person in reality is practically the greatest insult imaginable to fantasy itself.”
He continued grumbling to himself.
Then, facing the gun pointed directly at him, Makoto casually waved his hand as though the entire situation were nothing worth mentioning.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Well, I think that’s enough of this. Imaginary Homura Akemi standing in front of me, you may disappear now.”
He spoke directly to Homura, who was maintaining her grim, threatening expression.
At the same time, he consciously interfered with his vision and sense of touch.
Using Sensory Manipulation, he erased the Homura Akemi standing before him from his perception.
Following Makoto’s actions, Homura’s figure quickly vanished without a trace.
And it was only after erasing her from his senses that Makoto finally noticed something else.
Everything around him seemed to have come to a complete standstill.
The entire world had turned black and white, as though time itself had stopped.
Makoto Tsukimi: “Time, start moving again.”
He gently snapped his fingers.
Creating the illusion of stopped time was actually something Makoto did quite frequently.
All he needed to do was completely freeze the surrounding scenery in his mind and block out all sounds.
That was enough to create the impression that time had stopped.
Such an operation was considerably easier than imagining specific, moving scenes.
However, this time, following Makoto’s actions, the black-and-white world began moving again.
A few seconds later…
Makoto watched as one of his classmates shouted, “Awesome!” before taking a running leap straight out of the third-floor window.
The student then slowly ascended into the sky and transformed into an enormous golden sun with a human face.
Makoto Tsukimi: “…”
The subconscious was, fundamentally speaking, a rather brainless thing.
When Makoto wasn’t consciously directing it, the scenes and images produced by his subconscious through Sensory Manipulation were generally quite simple.
Simulating the behavior of a single person, such as Homura Akemi, was still manageable.
But simulating the subsequent words and actions of every student in an entire classroom?
Within a few dozen seconds, the resulting scenes would inevitably become as bizarre and incoherent as dreams, filled with absurd developments that had absolutely no logical connection to one another.
The student who had just jumped out of the window was a perfect example.
And now, having realized that everything surrounding him was an illusion, Makoto finally began waking from his dream.
The real world gradually revealed itself before his eyes.
Homura Akemi, whom he had previously blocked from his perception, reappeared.
And with that, Makoto found himself right back where he had started.
A magical girl was pressing a gun against his forehead.
Makoto Tsukimi: “…”
Homura Akemi: “…”
Makoto Tsukimi: “You’re real?”
Homura Akemi: “I’m real.”
The silent girl met Makoto’s gaze with her violet eyes.
For a moment, all the emotions she had painstakingly gathered and suppressed were completely scattered by his absurd series of actions.
Seriously, from Homura Akemi’s perspective, every single thing Makoto had just done had happened while she was pointing a gun at his head.
The sight of someone continuing to talk to himself, completely unconcerned about the firearm pressed against his forehead, had genuinely stunned Homura.
Someone like this…
couldn’t possibly have been sent by Kyubey, right?
She might not trust Kyubey’s character, but she certainly couldn’t underestimate its cunning.