Once Upon the Metamorphosed Overclock

I'd not play a certain person with a clear perspective: conjectures are what I live for.

Hear me out, though.

When you link "immortality" and "animosity" together, it doesn't mesh. If I'd been immortal like my grandfather said so haphazardly the last time, and relating it to being the target all along─the connection is rather off. However, the disconnection can be fixed by considering the option. I need to know I'm immortal, and they'd put their effort in that singular siege disguised as "keeping myself out of Aya's exploitation of Mikoto in the classroom."

Knowing I was immortal myself from before and I don't know it now, it's surely bound to be strange.

For one person to be thrown to an uncharted domain like it's been a matter of fact, it must hold guarantee.

I've forgotten being immortal.

Yet, even if I don't, other people still know: I can't banish it from them accordingly.

It sounds realistic enough for the trembling of my bones.

Not realistically, but when it's about "forgetting", the only catalyst is the seven fortune deities.

Furthermore, they can only take some when I wish them of equivalent value.

Also, I have the choice of what specific fragments of memories can be sacrificed, therefore bombing it over a fault lying only within myself?

Well, let's not rush there and keep it linear.

See it as food for thought.

No direct relation can be found but when you think of it, immortality must be categorized not as an explicit memory but implicit. It's heckful to provide material about it. I only have the feeling that immortality is like riding a bike, in a sense that it's felt rather than something you declare. It won't be the verbally invoked "I'm an immortal," but subtly more experiential and intuitive. If a person is immortal by nature, then I doubt they'd be afraid to take an icicle spear or two. You would imagine them having a dull sense of danger: even if you say they've been careful not to show it around common people.

Not everyone regenerates at a rate akin to vampires.

In case I've forgotten, my carelessness could have led my brain into shedding blood.

Yet… I'm too reactive.

When it falls down to it, chances are─like my supposed Chaos Magic, I have been careful not to use it.

Quite like a paradoxical claim that it's there while it's not.

All seems like an argument I would casually make inside my head.

Whatever.

Key elements to break from the opposing objective are─my death, and what lies when I die.

Honestly, I'm curious about it.

While it's true though, I also can't find the courage.

Kafka Ikari can be interpreted as rageful metamorphosis. I don't know about the metamorphosis, but I'd take the rageful into the brain's destructive corner. I supposed I'd create the courage I need out of his presence─and so, he initiated.

"Overclock."

Time spell circles are simple.

They're designed like the analog clock. It makes you think if the world is a fabrication. Born out of outside interference. Connecting to simulation theory, the world is programmed by sentient life from a similar world: they embedded already existing concepts and push it through the concurrent universe.

Meh.

I suppose it's nothing important.

Time has stopped, and the intense light in the look of the enraged Time Mage cast shivers to whoever it could reach… me, the sole person receiving such animosity, it's easiest to mistake I've been horribly lied on to the whole time.

Kafka Ikari could have been my enemy.

See it through that he was not, though.

Rationally, he stopped at the realization of the train car bending inwards. I don't want to excite anyone picturing Magneto-level prowess, either. Calling it a win-win situation might be cutting it incomprehensible, but my presumption ultimately favored my victory. The moment he stopped everything, I took the liberty to lay the groundwork─in all due serious consideration I'd be protected under an armor.

Even so, I didn't want to destroy a train for selfish needs.

I asked for a turnabout.

"Tch, fine, have it your way, Yukihime."

He stopped, realizing his action won't do anything significant.

Atmosphere turned awkward, not the expected event, but it was handled.

I sat adjacent to them from the beginning, knowing he'd turn to his animosity later in the trip.

Strife, which I'm not a fan of, has ignited between us─while the third acted as the nonexistent median. He kept a relaxed body and cognition in the process where Kafka roasted everything I offered, circulating around his head a swarm of swallowtail butterflies. What the Mind Mage was up to, he didn't share nor I placed my interest in it knowing it was to invoke long distance communication.

While he was the first to reprimand my crudeness, he didn't enunciate any interest to converse.

Unaware of our excursion, the train only moved in its set pace without care.

Kafka and I also moved on our own disposal.

"Some shitty person you are, Yukihime. You left them as bait without remorse!"

Them─referring to our classmates.

Kafka wasn't convinced about the part I play, thus veering the story back to its usual. I hope he learns a thing or two about moving on.

"Niche for you to hide it behind context when you're only worried about Nadeshiko."

Staying away meant taking ourselves out of the game.

Given, the people who were left behind are prone to the threat. I understand the sentiment. However, I didn't lure him into coming with me.

While it's true that we left the others behind, they weren't weaklings.

Hello, the strongest class of Nichiyoubi North High School?

I'm not ninety-nine percent of their power.

Also, we weren't paranoid enough to consider the enemy "stronger than all of us combined." I may be eccentric if you'd sympathize with him, but I'd accept the brand rather than confuse my emotions with superficial territory. I may have deluded myself into following his speculation, but it doesn't mean he has taken someone's perception on his palm.

Actions speak louder than words.

My version of Snow White can't be fooled.

Kafka didn't take the opponent seriously as much as he wanted to believe it.

Most likely, he's issuing persecution for the sake of asserting his correctness. I'd be the one to take the blame afterwards, and he ultimately runs off the hook. First and foremost, he doesn't need to explain himself to anyone for everyone to frown upon Yukihime as the bad person.

Unnecessary and insignificant noise nobody wanted, and yet I have to go through to progress.

Even though I'm selfish, I need his help.

"Don't lump us together!" Kafka yelled, awry and uncouth in his tone. "I'm worried about everyone, and it won't change only because you think I'm a hypocrite."

It was the truth, but of course, he'd deny it.

I bantered out, "If you have been under the pressure of urgency, then you would have gone and foretold what's going to happen in the future."

I legitimately think it was the neatest thing to do.

And yet, he was conserving his energy the whole time as if expecting the unexpected.

Tense for someone not deeply involved in the problem.

"Enough of your egocentrism, already!" he shouted, dastardly in a claim confident for someone who doesn't understand character. "I don't know how your mind works, naturally, and I learned how to accept your shenanigans since we were in middle school."

Kafka sighed.

"But how did it happen? For what reason did your grandfather escape now?"

I sighed and only answered, "It's all part of the moment."

"Screw you, what I need to know is how it came down to it."

"If cutting it to the important parts won't suffice, then I don't know how to get through you."

"How about you stop taking it in a different light, huh?!"

"No, I'm not about to plunge into a vat of different liquid. What I'm saying is that Aldebaran and I have clashed?"

"I know that already!"

"Fine, fine! I'll get into it."

Point taken, I held onto my chronicler persona. Persistence wasn't a quality I like in a person: there exists a natural vexation between us, and I'm confirming it for the umpteenth time. It was while assuming a defensive stance. I told him the story, and extended thoughts simply not found in the previous pages optimized now to relish volume.

After all, I'm consciously writing my experiences as a novel.

Result: It became a painstaking nuanced volley of irritable sentences going nowhere.

Nothing noteworthy was found, dreadfully cutting it for insignificance.

And amidst the insignificance, an ordeal cut through our unending amount of spiels: my effort reset and may it sound paradoxical, proving both Kafka and I righteous about what we were fighting for.

Screech─!

The train had stopped due to a sudden disconnection of the rails, causing it to brake hard so that it pushed us upfront.

Point towards the inevitable: purple afterglow of a Space spell circle, then the step of a loafer to emerge in front of my vision.

Afterwards, the tip of a knightly sword shone at the strike of little light.

I raised my head to see him, a man hiding under a static voice.

"You have been helpful to us," he announced for keeps, "but I don't understand the sentiment."

Magic mirror on the wall, who's the truest one of all?

"Perhaps you should get rid of the ghost inside you, Snow White."