Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Arc 1: Mental Illness - Chapter 3
I close the door and lock it behind me. A long, weary sigh escapes my lips before I walk into the living room and lower myself onto the couch. I set the handgun down on the coffee table, placing it beside the briefcase.
It takes a few seconds before I can't help myself. I open the briefcase and take out the journal detailing the mental illnesses tied to the powers I currently possess.
So, it seems I'm having random moments of OCD more often now, ever since two Official Rules became active. It makes me wonder whether activating more Official Rules would further increase the cost of this mental illness. Before, when only the first Official Rule was in effect, it felt somewhat manageable. Now, I'm not sure if I'm just making excuses or if this is another real problem creeping in, like accumulating too many mental illnesses at once.
Nonetheless, it feels more risky to accumulate additional mental illnesses than to establish more Official Rules through Absolute Order.
And I've roughly figured out what perfectionism does, based on quietly scouting out the surrounding neighborhood blocks.
I became proficient with firearms and capable of parkour-level movement without any formal training, all thanks to perfectionism—as long as what I attempt stays within the realm of what should be physically possible for me.
I pause for a moment before continuing to write.
Well, I could be wrong. Instead of being limited by what I should be capable of, it might be constrained by whether a plan itself can realistically work. Of course, I could still be mistaken—I may simply need more time to properly study the true scope of perfectionism's power.
I finish writing, then put the journal away and stretch my stiff muscles before beginning to check the house once again.
Within minutes, I confirm that there are no new additions inside the house since I left to scout the neighborhood.
However, a gut feeling tells me I'm missing something. I slowly look down at the wooden floor beneath my feet, and the sensation intensifies, growing stronger than ever as an overwhelming urge rises—to rip the floor apart.
So, I retrieve a couple of tools and to start dismantling the floor as quietly as possible, careful not to draw attention and risk the house being surrounded by zombies. Afterward, I methodically tap along the exposed boards with a hammer, checking for any hollow sounds that might indicate a hidden safe.
Within a couple of minutes, I find a spot that sounds slightly different from the rest. One particular wooden plank near the kitchen floor comes loose far more easily than the others. Beneath it, I discover a bag filled with jewelry.
No hidden firearms. No extra ammunition.
Sadly, there are no other hidden spaces beneath the floor anywhere in the house.
Overall, there's nothing else of interest to find, so I finally make myself something to eat for dinner—nothing fancy, just something simple that doesn't require much cooking skill.
Carrying a bowl of miso ramen upstairs, I step onto the balcony and eat while watching everything below, keeping a quiet eye on the surroundings.
"Oh?" I mutter to myself as I stare across the street, spotting Takashi's group arriving right on time and entering the building directly across from mine. "How in the world did I miss that Humvee?"
I quickly finish my bowl of miso ramen, the sudden development sharpening my focus.
However, just as I'm about to head out and greet the main characters of this world, I stop myself. I set the dirty bowl and chopsticks in the sink, then grab my briefcase and place it on the kitchen counter.
I double-check everything before closing the briefcase, the handgun steady in my hand as I leave the building.
However, just before I do, I recall that there's something else I need to take care of. I quickly return to the kitchen counter and pull out the journal detailing my current mental illnesses; its presence is impossible to ignore.
4. Perfectionism - Power: Flawless Execution
Ability:
When attempting a task, I can temporarily perform it with near-perfect precision. Attacks land exactly where intended, plans unfold without deviation, and creations meet standards that should be impossible. Failure becomes statistically unlikely—as long as the conditions remain ideal.
Passive Cost (Always On):
Mistakes feel catastrophic rather than instructional.
I hesitate to begin anything unless success feels almost guaranteed.
Any sense of satisfaction is fleeting—my standards rise almost immediately.
Active Cost (When Using the Power):
Any imperfection triggers severe backlash—loss of confidence, collapse of ability, or intense mental strain.
Repeated use steadily narrows my tolerance for uncertainty.
Eventually, I may become unable to act at all unless perfection is assured.
Theme:
I can do anything perfectly—except accept imperfection.
I nod in satisfaction—though it barely lasts a second, my frustration quickly resurfacing as thoughts of what insomnia is capable of still linger.
I put the journal away, then resumed leaving the building to meet the main group.
"Ah. Wait, why am I so eager to meet them in the first place?" I stop in place, blinking in confusion. "It's not like they'd accept some random stranger approaching them out of the blue. Why bother?"
I let out a deep sigh, the motivation to join the main group quietly draining away.
Heading back to the couch, I sit down, feeling unusually low and in no mood to do much for the rest of the night.
The energy I had feels like it's being slowly sucked out of me. And yet, at the same time, as the night draws closer, a new, unfamiliar energy begins to emerge—quiet, but persistent.
The urge to move clashes with a suppressing weight of unimaginable heaviness settling over me. Just like yesterday, everything begins to turn gray with emptiness once more.
As I sit there, staring into space with a dull gaze, I subconsciously focus on my sense of hearing, listening to the faint sounds drifting in from outside the house.
I frown as I finally push myself off the couch, handgun and briefcase in hand. Moving toward the front windows, I part the curtain just enough to peek outside and find a disturbing number of zombies gathered there.
"Damn… that's some crazy logic at work here. I just cleared this block, and yet there are so many zombies now." I blink, only then realizing how dark it's become outside. "How long did I zone out this time?"
I frown slightly as I count the number of zombies outside, then frown deeper as I finally register the dog that's been barking this entire time. No doubt, it's the main reason so many of them have been drawn here.
However, something else catches my attention. The front door of the building across from mine is standing open, revealing a clearly drunken Shizuka Marikawa, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely manages to preserve her modesty.
From the way she's clutching a large bottle of alcohol, it's clear she's completely unaware of what's happening around her—certainly not noticing the danger as zombies begin shambling closer in her direction. Luckily, there's a metal fence between them; otherwise, Shizuka's drunken actions would almost certainly cause far more problems for everyone right now.
"Well, I knew there were going to be butterfly effects. I just didn't expect them to happen this soon." I mutter to myself as I activate Flawless Execution, quickly forming a plan to deal with the zombies and to stop Shizuka from making a catastrophic mistake in her drunken state.
I focus on dealing with the zombies clustered between the buildings and reaching Shizuka as quickly as possible. I open the door just long enough to draw part of the horde toward me, then shut it firmly behind me. Dispatching the nearest zombies without hesitation, I immediately break into a sprint toward Shizuka.
I step to the left and spin, snapping a high kick into a zombie's head and sending it crashing into the others behind it. I flip through the air, driving another kick into a second zombie to knock it away, then fire off shots to deal with the ones I couldn't reach in time.
Using a zombie's head as a stepping point, I launch myself into the air and vault over the metal fence, landing on the other side in a single motion. I move instantly, reappearing in front of a confused Shizuka, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her inside as I slam the door shut behind us.
"Huh?" Shizuka looks at me, clearly confused.
"You really need to be more careful." I say dryly. "Especially with how you're dressed… or rather, the lack of it."
At that, Shizuka flushes visibly.
"You're not planning to take advantage of me, are you… mister stranger?" She giggles, looking at me with a hazy, unfocused gaze that speaks more of alcohol than intent.
I don't answer. Instead, I raise my handgun slightly, aiming past her.
Standing there is Saeko Busujima, dressed in nothing but an apron and a black thong, her hair pulled back into a single ponytail, a wooden sword held firmly in her grip.
"Hello." I say calmly, keeping my tone steady. "I came to help your friend before she gets herself killed by the zombies outside."
Saeko flinches the moment the word: zombie leaves my mouth.
"Hello… and thank you for helping. But could you lower your gun?" Saeko narrows her eyes at me as she speaks, her body tensing, stance shifting—ready to strike at a moment's notice.
I lower my handgun, which makes Saeko visibly relax, though I can tell her guard is still firmly up.
"Name's Touhou Fuhai." I say, offering it plainly. "I was in the building across from here." I glance toward the door before continuing. "You should let everyone know to be prepared. Thanks to a dog barking outside, there's now a large number of zombies gathering in the street."
"Busujima Saeko." Saeko introduces herself, then glances over at Shizuka, who's still giggling and leaning against me. "That's Miss Marikawa. I do hope you don't try anything while she's under the influence of alcohol."
"This isn't the time or place for that." I reply flatly. "Either way, with the dog outside drawing most of the zombies' attention, we should still have enough time to plan before we're forced to abandon the neighborhood."
I try to nudge Shizuka off me, but she only ends up hugging me tighter, rubbing her face against my chest instead. I let out a quiet sigh.
"Also." I add, glancing at Saeko. "Mind helping me here?"
Saeko allows herself a faint smile at that.
"Don't men usually enjoy having women all over them?" Saeko asks, her tone almost teasing. "Especially when said woman is barely clothed."
She no longer seems on guard; her posture is noticeably more relaxed as she stands close by.
I let out a deep sigh and gently nudge Shizuka farther away from the door. Luckily for me, she doesn't resist.
"Again." I say evenly. "Time and place."
I pause as I pass Saeko, stopping just long enough to meet her eyes directly. She tilts her head up slightly to match my gaze.
"You should get dressed as well." I add calmly. "Otherwise, you're sending mixed signals—to the wrong people."
"Well, I'll be properly dressed once my clothes are dry." Saeko shrugs. "So, for the time being… would you like to join us for dinner?"