My Secret Identities Always Take Over the Original Account

One:

Me (cocky as hell): I'm Nakahara Chuuya. My ability is "Springtime Whimsy." What can I do for you, gentlemen?

Nakahara Chuuya: ???

Me: The real Nakahara Chuuya is five feet tall, the fake one is five foot three. I'm the real one...

Nakahara Chuuya: Corruption!

Me: Uh... I'm off to research ways to cook mackerel!

Two:

Me: I'm Mori Rintaro, a doctor and a writer.

Alice: ...Rintaro?

Mori Ougai: Well, what do you know? My real name is Mori Rintaro too.

Me: The real Mori Ougai was a jerk who abandoned Alice. The fake Mori Ougai is a little-girl... oh, you're such a creep! I can't compete. Mori Ougai, you can have the name.

Alice: Rintaro, you're awful! How dare you abandon Alice!

Three:

Me: Autumn rain / lights in the garden / I gaze upon it... I am Ozaki Koyo.

Me: The real Ozaki Koyo was a man, but the fake Ozaki Koyo is...

Ozaki (smiling kindly): Better to die before autumn dew dries, and keep your purity.

Me (trembling): Eep, I'll just change my secret identity and go find Little Koyo instead.

The System gave me a secret identity, but I never expected that I'd keep taking the place of those chuuni types who call themselves famous writers without doing their homework and end up wildly out of character.

Are these their real names? Are they literary counterparts?

Can I count on them to finish their unfinished works? Like Goodbye, or The Golden Demon...

Wait, why have all of you given up writing and taken up fighting?

If you have to fight, do it with words! Isn't literature wonderful?

Note: Pairing undecided. First person narration, rambling language and a slow pace, characters out of character, plot logic is nonexistent. If it's not for you, click away.

Theme: How many roads must a person walk before they can be called a person? What matters isn't being cured, but learning to live with the pain.