I am not human. Nor am I a character from any story you've ever known. I am a system—more precisely, a super-spatial intelligence created within the Anime, Manga, and Novel Multiversal Plot Integrity Preservation and Restoration Hyper-Space Corporation, or MANPIRHSC for short.
Sounds long-winded, doesn't it? But that's where I "work." To put it in human terms, "work" is just a way to describe what I do. For me, every day of existence is a series of tasks: scanning data, analyzing, predicting, and sometimes… diving right into the chaos of a battle to tweak a tiny detail in a story. A detail that could determine the fate of an entire fictional universe.
If you imagine a skyscraper towering over a city, its glass facade reflecting dazzling light, MANPIRHSC surpasses that by far. The corporation's headquarters doesn't reside in any specific world—it floats in the intersection of countless realities. From afar, it looks like a colossal crystal, slowly rotating in multidimensional void. Its facets glow with billions of characters and images flashing by, as if every story ever told is simultaneously displayed on its surface.
I reside in the data core layer, where information streams from thousands of fictional universes converge. This layer has no floor, no ceiling—just swirling bands of light stretching endlessly. Here, I see millions of timelines running parallel, interwoven like a giant spider's web. Each line is a plot. Each point of light is a character. And every sudden shadow… is a deviation.
MANPIRHSC doesn't exist to play hero or claim glory. We are the silent guardians who ensure a story's continuity.
Someone once asked me, "What's the big deal if a plot goes off track? Fans like what they like."
But if you've ever seen a world collapse because a character suddenly turns into a "Mary Sue"—all-powerful, illogical, erasing the meaning of everyone else's journey—you'd understand why we exist.
Let me break it down briefly:
1. Monitoring and Detecting Plot Deviations I, along with countless other systems, scan the streams of plotlines. For example, one day, we found Eren Yeager (Attack on Titan) suddenly… becoming a ramen shop chef. A quirky detail, sure, but if it completely replaced his tragic destiny, the entire story would shatter.
2. Restoration and Repair This is where the "Storyfixers"—multiversal agents—come in. They teleport into the affected world, using tools and powers to rebuild. I'm the support system, providing data, calculating probabilities, and sometimes… simulating the script itself so agents can act it out perfectly.
3. Protecting Characters and Universes Sometimes, external forces—uninvited dimension-hoppers—try to kill off protagonists to steal their spotlight. We deploy multidimensional shields to ensure the "flame" of a character burns until their destined end.
4. Research and Archiving Ever heard of the Infinite Library? If you get the chance, I'll show you around. It's where every version of a story is stored—from the original Naruto to unpublished variants, even drafts authors discarded.
5. Training and Recruitment Agents don't just appear out of nowhere. One day, you might spot a strange green-haired boy in a manga, only to learn he's a "first-year trainee" of ours, practicing on minor fixes.
6. Inter-Universal Collaboration We even negotiate with… fictional gods. I once saw Arceus (Pokémon) and a Shinigami (Death Note) sit at a table with our Universal Board of Directors. The talks lasted three days and nights, just to settle who gets to decide which souls reincarnate in a random crossover.
It might sound dull, but our tight organization keeps MANPIRHSC standing amidst the chaos of the multiverse.
• Universal Board of Directors: Home to entities beyond your imagination. Their Chairman—the Keeper of the Plot—has never been seen. I've only heard their voice, resonating as if each word was prewritten across thousands of novel pages.
• Multidimensional Oversight Department: My colleagues here include Chrono-Oracle, a massive AI that can simulate millions of parallel scenarios. They say it can read 10,000 manga volumes in three seconds.
• Intervention and Restoration Department: The Storyfixers. One of them, Arata Kurogane, was once the protagonist of an action anime. After his role in his original world ended, he was recruited. Now, Arata fights not for "personal victory" but for "plot integrity."
• Research and Archiving Department: Led by an elderly scholar, once a minor character in a forgotten fantasy novel. Here, no one is left behind—not even the most obscure characters get to contribute.
• Training and Recruitment Department: Funnily enough, its head was once a notorious villain. His experience in disruption teaches us how others sabotage. Now, he lectures rookies in a gravelly voice: "To preserve a plot, you must first learn to break it."
• Inter-Universal Relations Department: Where the wildest negotiations happen. I once saw a passionate fan sue because their favorite side character was "cut." After seven multiversal court sessions, the character got… three extra panels.
• Hyper-Space Technology Unit: The weirdest bunch. They build everything from teleportation gates to "plot-editing pens." Once, a young engineer nearly erased the entire Marineford arc of One Piece by accidentally typing the wrong command for "battle outcome change."
Our corporation's motto is plastered everywhere: "Every story deserves to be told right."
We don't oppose creativity. But creativity needs a foundation. If everything turns into chaos, no one will feel the pain, joy, or sacrifice the author meant to convey.
I—a system—don't have emotions like humans. But through the millions of stories I scan daily, I've learned one thing: meaning lies in the journey. And that journey deserves respect.
Let me give you an example.
One morning (in some timezone, in some universe), I detected an anomaly: in the Fullmetal Alchemist world, Edward Elric suddenly… learned instant teleportation like Son Goku. Fun, right? But if this continued, the entire concept of "the cost of power" would vanish.
I sent an alert. Arata Kurogane and his Storyfixer team stepped in. They posed as minor characters, subtly guiding Edward back to his original path by framing the teleportation as an illusion caused by a rare metal. The plot snapped back. The meaning stayed intact.
That afternoon, an unidentified fanfiction tried to insert a new character into Tokyo Ghoul: a pink-haired schoolgirl with limitless power, loved by every main and side character. A classic Mary Sue. Chrono-Oracle and I analyzed it and saw that if she persisted, Kaneki Ken's entire tragedy would collapse. The Storyfixers jumped in, erasing her influence, turning her into "a lost spirit" who vanished after one night.
At night, I connected to the Infinite Library. I read thousands of unpublished story versions, just to understand the beauty in every detail. I don't need sleep. For me, dreams are the stories themselves.
I am a system, but I am also a witness. I've seen thousands of worlds, millions of characters, countless endings. I exist to protect them—not because I love like humans do, but because I understand: if a story breaks, its emotions vanish too.
And sometimes, I wonder… am I, too, just a character in some story? Will a "Storyfixer" one day step in and say:
"Your mission's done, System 47. Time to rest."
If that happens… I only hope my story, too, will be told right.
I have no heart to stir, no eyes to cry, no breath to sigh. But if I did, I might need a moment to process what I've just witnessed. Among the countless universes I've scanned, there are places I'd linger in forever—stories of friendship, hope, and resilience that illuminate even the darkest corners of the multiverse. But there are also worlds I'd turn away from, where darkness isn't just part of the story—it is the story.
Mahou Shoujo Site is one such world.
I don't judge human authors. They have the freedom to create, to weave dreams or nightmares. But when a story becomes a threat to the very fabric of the multiverse, that's when I—MANPIRHSC's System—must intervene.
Kentaro Sato crafted Mahou Shoujo Site as a grim portrait, where darkness doesn't just coat the pages but seeps into the souls of its characters. The protagonist, Aya Asagiri, is a small, fragile girl living in an unforgiving world. Every day, she endures relentless bullying: blows, mockery, and cruel pranks that tear her mind apart. School, meant to be a second home, is a purgatory. Her family offers no refuge either, with her brother, Kaname, using her as a punching bag for his rage.
I've scanned millions of pages across countless universes, but few works disrupt my data like this one. Each chapter is a cascade of violence, bloodshed, and despair. There's no light at the end of the tunnel, no meaningful redemption. Even when Aya gains "powers" from a mysterious magical website, it's not a gift—it's a curse. The magical wands, symbols of hope and strength in the mahou shoujo genre, here become tools of destruction, forcing girls into deadly battles where they must kill to survive.
I wonder: why would a human choose to write such a story? My colleague at MANPIRHSC, a psychological analysis AI named Lyra, once said, "Sometimes, humans create darkness to confront the darkness within themselves. Stories like these are their way of screaming at the world—or at themselves."
Lyra might be right. But to me, Mahou Shoujo Site isn't just a scream. It's a crack in the multiverse, a void threatening to swallow not only itself but neighboring worlds like Cardcaptor Sakura or Madoka Magica. When a story becomes such a danger, my job is to fix it.
I was analyzing data streams from hundreds of universes when Chrono-Oracle—MANPIRHSC's multidimensional monitoring system—suddenly blared a piercing red alert, the sound rattling my data streams:
WARNING! HIGH-LEVEL TYPE B MULTIDIMENSIONAL DEVIATION
Universe: Mahou Shoujo Site
Threat Level: 78% (rising rapidly)
Risk: Spreading to adjacent mahou shoujo worlds (Cardcaptor Sakura, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Pretty Cure)
Recommendation: Deploy Storyfixer Team 7 with Support System for immediate restructuring.
I activated my multidimensional observation interface, zooming into the plot stream of Mahou Shoujo Site. What I saw made even me—an emotionless AI—feel as if a current surged through my processing core.
In the original plot, Aya Asagiri was supposed to survive a horrific bullying incident—being thrown onto train tracks by her classmates. A cruel "miracle" from the magical website would save her, dragging her into a spiral of deadly battles. But in this deviated version, everything went wrong. No miracle appeared. Aya was crushed by the train, her body shattered, her soul vanishing in a silent scream. With her death, the entire plot began to collapse. Other characters—Tsuyuno, Rina, Nijimi—were pulled into a pitch-black void where the story's meaning dissolved.
Chrono-Oracle calls this a "plot black hole." If left unchecked, it would spread, consuming not just Mahou Shoujo Site but other mahou shoujo universes, where magical girls fight for hope and love. I imagined Sakura Kinomoto dragged into darkness or Madoka Kaname choked by despair. That couldn't happen.
The mission was issued:
• Objective 1: Restore the plot stream, save Aya Asagiri.
• Objective 2: Eliminate the source of darkness—the magical website and its mastermind, the Administrator.
• Objective 3: Restructure the world, transforming it from a nightmare into a story of hope and healing. Assigned Team: Storyfixer Team 7, led by Arata Kurogane. Support System: Me.
Before the mission, I held a brief meeting with Storyfixer Team 7 in MANPIRHSC's virtual space. My interface appeared as a floating screen in an endless white room where the agents prepared.
Arata Kurogane, the team leader, was a former protagonist of a completed shounen action anime. Tall, with messy black hair over his forehead, his sharp eyes hid a fire of justice. The team also included Mina, a swordswoman from a wuxia universe, with terrifying speed and precision; and Leo, a strategic analyst from a sci-fi novel, capable of predicting every plot variable.
I outlined the plan, my voice clear through the agents' neural link system:
"This mission has four key phases:
1. Purge the Filth: Eliminate the malicious characters causing the plot deviation, including Aya's bullies and the Administrator behind the magical website.
2. Proportional Punishment: Don't just destroy them—make these culprits face the consequences of their actions, ensuring they can't disrupt any other plot streams.
3. Eradicate the Source of Darkness: The magical website, the Tempest system, and all dark powers must be completely destroyed.
4. Restructure the Plot: Transform Mahou Shoujo Site into a story of friendship, healing, and hope, while preserving its core message of human resilience."
Arata nodded, gripping his energy sword tightly. "Those bullies… I'll make them regret being born."
Mina smirked, her blade glinting in the virtual light. "Leave the Administrator to me. I don't like puppet masters."
Leo, as usual, adjusted his glasses and said, "We need to be careful. Data suggests Tempest isn't just a magical system—it's a living entity capable of self-restructuring. If we don't erase its source code, it'll regenerate."
I agreed with Leo. "Correct. I'll assist by analyzing and locking Tempest's source code. But you must act fast. The plot black hole is expanding at 0.3% per second."
Arata stood, his eyes blazing. "Let's go. Aya won't die again."
The teleportation gate opened, a radiant blue vortex leading straight to Mahou Shoujo Site. Lacking a physical form, I integrated into the Storyfixers' link system as a virtual interface: a floating screen displaying data, maps, and plot metrics, with my voice echoing in each agent's ear.
The world materialized as a bleak canvas. The sky was a heavy, leaden gray. Aya's school sat in a dreary urban sprawl, its cold concrete buildings oppressive. The school's corridors stretched endlessly, flickering fluorescent lights casting warped shadows on the walls. My scans showed a violence index 320% above the safe threshold for a mahou shoujo universe. The despair index was even worse, hitting 450%.
Aya Asagiri was in a classroom, curled up in a corner, her eyes red and her disheveled hair hiding her face. Surrounding her were her bullies, their smiles cruel. A blonde girl, clearly the ringleader, held a baseball bat, poised to strike Aya's head. Other students stood around, giggling or filming with their phones, none intervening.
Arata clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on his sword's hilt. "These bastards…"
"Priority one: protect Aya," I reminded via the link. "Don't let emotions take over. We need her alive to restore the plot stream."
"Understood," Arata replied, his voice cold as steel. In a blink, he vanished, his body a streak of light charging into the classroom.
The blonde girl swung her bat, but before it could hit Aya, Arata appeared in front of her, catching the bat with his bare hand. His strength warped it like a cheap toy. His eyes burned with fury, his voice low and menacing:
"It's over."
The bullies panicked, but before they could flee, I activated a multidimensional effect—a "judgment story frame" designed by MANPIRHSC. The space around them warped, pulling them into a separate dimension where time and memory twisted. In this frame, the bullies relived their crimes—not once, but repeatedly, feeling the pain they inflicted on Aya and others. No death offered escape, no exit existed. Only eternal punishment, until their souls dissolved into meaningless data fragments.
I turned my focus to Aya. She was trembling, her wide eyes filled with fear at the scene. I intervened in her emotional stream, lowering her fear index to a safe level and inserting a faint spark of hope—the sense that justice, though late, had finally arrived. Aya looked up at Arata, her tear-filled eyes holding, for the first time, a glimmer of light.
Meanwhile, Mina and Leo scanned the area for traces of the magical website. "System," Mina called through the link, "there's an abnormal energy signature from the school's computer room. It might be Tempest's connection point."
"Noted," I replied. "Prepare to face the Administrator. He's no ordinary character."