Late one night in front of a normal, everyday computer desktop, a certain writer (Whose name will be kept anonymous for reasons pertaining to said person's dignity) sat down and began to write. He wrote simply because his Muse itched for release, because he had too much idle time on his hands, and because he was bored.
This particular writer had been engaged in an eight-hour "Shakugan no Shana" viewing marathon earlier that week, and thus the topic that seemed obviously suitable for access was... well, Shakugan no Shana.
Thus, the Writer of Questionable Stories sat down in front of his computer and typed... and typed... and typed some more. With a few hours' effort, the first chapter was completed, but not yet saved. It was far from the "ideal fanfiction", but then again, what fanfiction ever is? At the very least, it was passable and didn't induce painful vomiting in a random test subject that the writer had recruited for the task (The identity of the subject, dubiously enough, was the writer's younger sibling).
And so, not without a little bit of pride, the Writer of Questionable Stories had just clicked the save button...
...When his hand accidentally knocked over a glass of guava juice he'd thoughtlessly and carelessly placed on a cork beverage coaster next to the keyboard. Not surprisingly, there are very good reasons why most computer techies recommend that you do NOT eat or drink while sitting in front of your computer. But I digress.
To make a long story short, everything became simply Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. If you wish to sound polite in public, this is the handy acronym: F.U.B.A.R.
It took the Writer of Questionable Stories an entire week to call in the proper help, get the necessary parts replaced, and pour himself a new glass of guava juice. But the worst part wasn't the damage to the hardware. Or, to put the situation in a more exactly temporal manner...
"...Son of a BITCH! Three hours of work gone down the drain! Dammit, and it was a pretty good piece too... Ah, wait a sec... oh, great! The file's actually still here! Now let me open it up..."
*Beep beep whirrrr beep...*
"...HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD! THIS IS HORRIBLE! WHAT HAVE I DONE!? HOW COULD I HAVE CREATED SUCH A TRAVESTY...!?"
...Needless to say, although this would be the first and only time the Writer of Questionable Stories had ever crapped his pants, the cataclysmic damage had already been done. The world had been completely, thoroughly displaced.
SHAKUGAN NO YUJI?
Chapter 201: The Beginning to Nothing, the Twenty-Fourth Ending
Misaki City. It's an ordinary place in an ordinary time. I've got myself a normal life... Or at least that's what one might think. To tell you the truth, I loathe it. I'd probably have left this dump years ago if it weren't for the terrific melon bread the local bakery sells. Thank goodness there's such good melon bread around in Misaki, since Wilhelmina can't cook worth a damn, and neither can I.
Everyone in Misaki just calls me Shana, thanks to the katana I'm always carrying around to protect me from stalkers and perverts. It comes in handy, but sometimes I almost find myself thinking that I should've just turned down the Nietono no Shana that Grandpa Tenmoku left to me in his will. Almost.
At the very outset, I had no idea that I was already dead, or that my lifestyle...
...was to remain pretty much the same.
"...Hey you, little brat! Open your notebook!"
Margery Daw, English teacher at Misaki High, was visibly vexed at the fact that Shana was once again refusing to properly go along with the lesson. Shana, of course, was refusing to give an inch in return.
"If you're going to actually give us a proper lesson, shouldn't you be keeping a tighter watch on everyone in this classroom?"
Shana turned and indicated two figures who were busy making out in a corner of the classroom with a dismissive finger.
"...Like those two?"
Sorath and Tiriel were furiously exchanging saliva as if there were no tomorrow. Shana then pointed over to another figure occupying a different corner of the classroom.
"Or how about Miss Convent over there?"
Hecate was busily engaged in staring out the window, locked in an attitude of intense prayer. Shana looked back over to Margery and gave her a heated glare.
"And if that weren't bad enough, you're going off and boozing yourself every other second, even during lectures!"
Margery turned red in the face and leaned forwards, a vein angrily bulging in her forehead as she gave retort. Shana couldn't help but smell the alcohol wafting from her breath.
"Well, why shouldn't I have a drink now and then!? It's so miserable, teaching a bunch of unappreciative goons like you..."
Shana sighed as she walked out the school gates.
"...Seriously, geez... Can't I have some normal classmates or teachers for once?"
"A normal classmate?"
Shana looked up to see Khamsin approaching.
"Oh, it's you."
"So what is all this about a 'normal' classmate?"
Shana huffed.
"None of your business. Besides, you're not exactly one to talk. You speak like an old geezer all the time."
Khamsin smiled enigmatically.
"And this coming from a lady who brandishes a feudal-era katana in school all day?"
"Hmph."
"Thank you for your patronage! Please come again..."
The doorbell to the bakery tinkled merrily as it swung ajar. Shana giggled in glee as she opened up the plastic package and promptly took a big bite out of the melon bread she held in her hands.
"Mmmrrf... This one's a winner, all right. Perfect combination of crispy and spongy. The crust and filling go so well together..."
Suddenly, the air turned a strange hue of crimson. Shana blinked.
"That's odd... nothing in the weather report today mentioned a 100% chance of 'red'..."
Shana blinked again as she noticed that everyone else around her had stopped moving. They were frozen stiff, as if they all had become statues of marble.
"H-hey, what's with the Charades act? Come on, this isn't the time for-"
Then she noticed the two figures standing amidst the crowd. A big, grotesque-looking baby-form doll, and a floating ball of mannequin heads. People around her began to ignite into bluish flame... and then dissipate. Shana shuddered as she realized that the two figures were actually sucking everyone into their mouths. Shana looked back down at the melon bread in her hands and began giving it and its transparent wrapper a thorough visual inspection.
"...Don't tell me that this melon bread is past the expiration date..."
Right at that moment, the huge doll seemed to have taken notice of Shana.
"Lookie, lookie! This one is moving about in the Fuzetsu!"
"Ah! This one... it appears to be a rare Mystes... The Mistress will be pleased!"
"Quite so. It was a good thing we came..."
The doll reached down to grab Shana up...
THWOCK!
...and then promptly began to scream as its formerly outstretched arm began flopping about on the ground a few feet away on its own. Shana swung her katana up.
"Don't touch me! Disgusting thing! You probably haven't even washed your hands yet, you donation-box reject!"
Shana turned and began to run, but was suddenly blocked in her tracks by the mannequin-head-ball. It spoke eerily.
"Now, now, don't try to run away. Mistress would be most disappointed if you did so."
Shana turned around again... and then found her arms and body pinioned by massive fingers. The doll had caught her.
"It's time to feast...!"
FWOOSH!
Suddenly, the hand that had a hold on Shana abruptly disintegrated into flames. The hand's erstwhile owner screamed. The ball of mannequin heads similarly screamed as it exploded into its own fiery inferno. Shana dropped to the ground with a thump. Blinking, she found herself staring at a newly-arrived third party.
"Gwaaaaaah...!"
"...Huh?"
A young boy around her age, dressed in a gakuran and swathed in a black nightcape, stood before her. His eyes and hair were ablaze in crimson fire. He looked over to Shana, and to her surprise, smiled kindly.
"Are you all right?"
Shana, for once, found herself unable to speak. Before she could make proper reply, however, the young man quickly jumped into the air as a disembodied voice broke into the one-sided conversation.
"Don't slacken your guard!"
"Understood, Alastor." He then turned back to Shana. "Go find yourself some cover. We'll talk later!"
The gigantic doll had regained its footing and was angrily charging towards both of them.
"How crude! Burning one's arm off...!"
The huge doll attempted to retaliate by launching a sweeping blow with its remaining arm. The crimson-haired boy simply tackled Shana out of the way before responding in kind by reaching out with his hand and incinerating the doll's legs to cinders with a blast of fire.
"Ahhhhh...!"
The doll collapsed in a jumbled heap, then exploded in a brilliant blaze of blue flames. The crimson-haired and blazing-eyed boy looked about the scene of devastation.
"They're not Denizens... just Rinne, from the looks of things."
"Mmm. The larger one appears to have been merely a shell. Its core essence may still be in the area, so be on your guard."
"Understood. But first..."
He looked over at Shana, who was crouching behind a large signpost. Her katana was up in a guard stance.
"D-don't come any closer! You're a pervert stalker, aren't you!?"
The boy looked distinctly taken aback and embarrassed by the accusation.
"Erm, no. Alastor, are all Mystes like this?"
"No. This particular one appears to be a rather dramatic exception, from the looks of things. I wonder what's in it... Ah! Behind you!"
Before Shana could react, a pale-haired man dressed in an elegant white suit had suddenly come up from behind and attempted to lunge at her. Shana simply dodged and then kicked him in the groin. The young crimson-haired boy couldn't help but wince.
The elegantly-dressed man groaned as he painfully struggled to get back onto his feet. "Gaagh! Urk... How dare you! Kicking the Rinne of a glorious Mistress such as mine in such an unsophisticated manner..."
Whatever he was about to say next, however, proved incomplete as he was promptly burned to a crisp by another fireball thrown by the young boy. Even as the fire was burning, however, a small form dashed out of the blaze. Shana blinked, as a small male doll dressed in a miniature version of that same white suit floated up into the air... and then disappeared in a flash of blue fire.
The disembodied voice spoke in some approval, as if confirming a suspicion.
"So, it seems that was the real core of that particular Rinne. To harbor such an intricate layer... The Denizen who owned these Rinne must be quite powerful."
"Most likely so. But to-"
The boy's conversation was interrupted by a distraught cry from Shana.
"Waaaaaah!! No!"
Shana was staring in abject horror at a squashed lump of cookie crust and pastry filling that sat in her hands.
"M-my melon bread!"
Before the young boy could react, Shana grabbed him by the collar of his nightcape and began to vigorously shake and throttle him.
"You... you IDIOT! Look what your fighting did! My melon bread's ruined! How are you going to fix this!?"
"N-now, let's not be so hasty. It's only a baked product-"
"Shut up, shut up, shut UP! Give me back my melon bread!"
The disembodied voice spoke again.
"...Perhaps you should indulge it. It may stop its complaints once it gets what it wants. Then again... I find it odd that this Mystes is taking in the whole situation so calmly."
"Well, that's the way it goes, I guess. Here, give me your hand for a second..."
The boy quietly took Shana's hand and blew on the ruined confection. Shana couldn't help but blush slightly as he did so.
Within a matter of moments, a blue flame enveloped the bun. Shana panicked as she grabbed the boy by the collar and once again shook him like a rag doll.
"H-hey! What gives?! I asked you to fix my melon bread, not BURN it!"
But then in another short moment, the flames dissipated, revealing a perfectly round, criss-crossed bun of crispy cookie crust, free of blemish or injury. Shana blinked and stared at the baked product in her hand.
The boy smiled.
"Is that good enough? Now then..."
Blue fire suddenly issued forth from his hands, forming themselves back into the shapes of the people who had been walking the street just a few moments before.
"That takes care of the Torches. I just hope we find that Denizen soon. I never get used to this sort of thing, no matter how many times we do this..."
"Those Rinne had quite the greedy appetite. I can only assume that their Denizen Master has a correspondingly large one as well."
The boy next made a small gesture with his hand. The craters, cracks, and various other forms of damage that had been inflicted during the fight began to quickly repair themselves. As the last of the damage disappeared, the boy dusted his hands.
"That's that."
The air flashed back into normalcy, and the deep shade of red disappeared.
Shana looked around. Everyone looked the same, but...
"...H-hey, why's everyone looking so odd? They're..."
Floating fires of azure dotted each and every person in the area. Shana blinked as a nearby pedestrian suddenly fragmented and then faded away. Shana looked over to the flame-haired boy...
...only to find that his hair had reverted to a normal-looking shade of dark brown. His eyes had changed into a hue of steely blue. Shana blinked again, but shook her head as she returned her mind to the question that had dominated it in the first place.
"...Again, what's going on?"
The boy's face took on a sorrowful, regretful look as he turned and looked out over the crowd.
"This... is the truth of reality. The truth of how fragile our existence really is."
Shana grabbed the boy by the collar of his nightcape again and shook him.
"What?! What are you talking about!?"
The boy's face was stricken with regret and sadness as he looked Shana in the face.
"Just like everyone around you, here on this street..."
He paused.
"...The 'you' whom you represent has already ceased to exist."
High up above the city, a woman possessed of long blonde hair and wearing an evening dress of purple looked over the Crystal Altar and smiled in anticipation. She caressed in her hands a small male doll... wearing an elegant white suit.
That was the moment when my entire life... pretty much remained the same. Except for just one thing. Chaos in the form of a young boy with flaming crimson hair and burning eyes of fire.
"This... Goddamnit, this is just horrible!"
One of the pages landed on the floor, flung over a shoulder in cold dismissal.
"No kidding. This whole document's an utter piece of garbage. Everyone's completely Out-Of-Character, format's a horrible joke, and the grammar's barely holding together. I'm surprised that the characters are even functioning. How you wrote this is practically beyond me-"
The Writer of Questionable Stories wrung his hands frantically.
"I TOLD you! This whole thing was an accident! I spilled some guava juice on the keyboard-"
"...Ah."
"What? That's it?"
"What else am I supposed to say? I guess the only thing left to do now is..."
"Is what?"
"...Write more and see what happens."
"What?! Are you telling me to go off and pull a Dantalion-"
"What other choice do you have? You've already started this whole mess. If you're going to swallow poison, might as well lick the dish."
"Jesus H. Christ, you're no help at all..."
To be Continued...?
Writer's Note: Okay, so... Before everyone starts flaming my Inbox, let me just make one thing clear: THIS STORY IS EXPERIMENTAL. And as everyone knows, experimental things, much like any other prototype, are highly unstable/unreliable/untrustworthy. I just wrote this piece because it sprang up in my brain and refused to die. I don't know how successful this thing will be, or how long it will go. Could be just one chapter or a hundred, if the mood and opportunity strike me as ideal. If you enjoyed reading this Frankenstein's Monster of a written piece, well and good. If you didn't... I politely suggest you go and read a better story. Seriously.