by Blitz Kiva
Kirihito said nothing. He glared back at Ichiro, not even trying to hide his hostility now.
“Then, today, you met me. I’ve been playing Narrow Fantasy Online for a mere week. You see a person approaching your level through repeated microtransactions, and you feel slightly threatened. That’s more or less the situation, correct? Or perhaps it’s just my imagination.”
Kirihito didn’t respond, but the emotion in his gaze seemed to affirm Ichiro’s theory.
Ichiro shrugged with just the one arm. “The truth is, I’m the same way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought I was the strongest and most impressive, but it’s possible you may be just a bit stronger than I am. I simply can’t take it. Ah, but don’t tell anyone. I’m swallowing my pride to make this confession,” Ichiro added quickly.
The truth was, he hadn’t intended to say any of this.
King Kirihito could be Sera Kiryu’s avatar, Felicia’s friend. But Ichiro hadn’t even looked at Felicia during this time. King Kirihito had all of his attention.
He had found something simmering beneath Kirihito’s icy surface, and once he’d realized it was the same thing that was sleeping inside him, he could no longer stop himself. Their eyes remained locked: Ichiro’s face smiling, King Kirihito’s scowling.
There was a quiet passion in Ichiro’s smile. He had always possessed a natural confidence, a conceit, that he was the best at anything. Behind it was the need to always maintain superiority, even on someone else’s home ground. That need was the source of his cold smile.
Their gazes crossed. There was a tension in the air even greater than that inspired by the battle with the Zombie Legions. A tension as fragile as finely-spun glass.
There was a fire in their hearts, the first burning embers of a need to fight. For the sake of both of their prides, they would be willing to settle things here and now, even if it left one of those prides broken.
Such a feeling could not be contained for long. It was only a matter of time before it exploded...
Or so they thought.
“A-Amazing!” An awed voice broke through the sparks flying between the two.
It was Kirihito (Leader), interposing himself as thoroughly as if he’d drawn the sword on his hip and cut it between the two men. His eyes shone boyishly.
“Amazing... You’re amazing, King Kirihito! You really are the real thing!”
The other Kirihito looked taken aback. “Um... King Kirihito? You mean me?”
“You didn’t know? It’s what pretty much everyone calls you.”
“So lame...” King Kirihito didn’t seem to like the nickname.
“Kirihito? ...No, not you. I mean Leader Kirihito. It’s true that King was amazing, but was I not also amazing?” Ichiro asked.
“You’re pretty amazing, Mr. Tsuwabuki. But King is so amazing!”
“...Well, I suppose you’re entitled to your opinion.” In addition to the bitterness of nearly breaking his own rules, a note of dissatisfaction floated up in Ichiro’s voice.
The realization they wouldn’t be able to cross blades just yet filled Ichiro with a simultaneous sense of relief and disappointment. King Kirihito was looking like he felt cut off at the knees, as well.
With a somewhat deflated expression, Ichiro pulled a fatigue recovery potion out of his inventory and tossed it in King’s direction.
“Anyway, you can have this. I know you don’t like virtual goods, but think of it as a show of goodwill from me to you.”
“Thanks. And I don’t dislike virtual goods. I think I just don’t like you.”
“I hear that quite often,” Ichiro said with a wry smile. He then cast a glance at Felicia, who had been silent the whole time.
Her expression was severe. Ichiro never knew that Felicia’s — or Asuha Tsuwabuki’s — face could make such an expression. It greatly resembled anger. She had been glaring at King Kirihito from a slight distance away, but then strode up to him, suddenly and forcefully.
The word “uh-oh” — not usually a part of Ichiro’s vocabulary — entered his mind in that moment.
“As a matter of fact, old man, that Tsuwabuki name of yours—” King’s attempt to speak as he picked up the recovery potion was interrupted as Felicia slapped him across the face.
A small “1” damage visual appeared over King’s head.
“You’re Kiryu, aren’t you?” she asked sharply.
King Kirihito’s eyes opened wide as he stared at her dumbfounded, one hand on his cheek. The slap likely hadn’t hurt — even if it had, the damage done was very slight — yet King acted as though there was a lingering sting. He spoke up hoarsely.
“Tsuwabuki?”
“I was worried about you! What were you thinking?” Felicia’s voice was trembling. “Do you think all this posing and roleplaying makes you cool? Is that why you retreated into the game?”
“Hey, now.” Ichiro clamped a hand over Felicia’s mouth. “As Sakurako-san says, people do have sensitive areas that should not be touched upon...”
“Mmmgh!”
King had done nothing but stare blankly after having his cheek struck, but now he clicked his tongue and glared at Felicia. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, Tsuwabuki.”
“You...!” she cried.
The words from King — rather, Sera Kiryu — sounded like provocation, but there was a sense of self-recrimination in them, as well. “That’s fine. It’s good for you to be this way, Tsuwabuki. It’s one of the things I like about you. But...” He took in a breath, looking at Felicia with a complicated mix of emotions.
“But you didn’t have to come all the way into my world just to criticize me!”
With that, King ran off, coat fluttering behind him.
His incredible agility stat made it unlikely that any of the players currently present could catch up with him. As the footsteps faded into silence in the dim light of the dungeon hall, Kirihito (Leader) spoke up gravely.
“Miss Felicia, that wasn’t nice.”
“Oh, come on! I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true!” Felicia snapped back at him. “This whole thing is just escapism! You think so too, right, Itchy?”
“I’m not so sure,” he answered, sounding more cautious than he’d really intended. “That may be true, or it may not. Let’s return to the surface. If we don’t log out soon, we’re going to miss dinner.”
“Oh, come on...” Felicia murmured with dissatisfaction, her last words before they left the Forgotten Catacombs.
3 - Noble Son, Participate
Asuha Tsuwabuki was a 14-year-old girl attending a middle school in Nagoya.
She didn’t yet know what she wanted to be when she grew up. But she had a particular memory.
It took place during spring of the year she was to advance from her fourth year to her fifth in elementary school. She was the outdoorsy type, but she was also quite sensitive to the trends around school, and the big fad at the time was the new game where you caught monsters in balls and had them battle. Asuha enjoyed that game quite a lot.
But there are some less-than-mature adults in the world, and one day, when Asuha went to her friend’s house to play, her friend’s big brother challenged her to a battle. It was partly her own fault for bragging (half exaggerating) about how strong and great her monsters were, but that immature older man employed cheap tricks to render her helpless, and crushed all of Asuha’s precious monsters.
Her friend had apologized fervently, and she’d laughed it off, but on the way home her cheer turned to quiet seething. One of her core beliefs was that when you were frustrated, you should do something about it that same day. And she loved stuffed animals, so on the way home, she decided to stop by a 500 yen shop to buy one to calm down. When it turned out they were sold out, she sank further into depression.
Shortly after, she had happened to pass by an arcade, and noticed that one of the claw machines was full of stuffed monsters from the game she liked. Asuha found a stuffed animal
of the monster the older boy had beaten, the one she’d chosen to be her starter partner. To say that she wanted it would not be quite accurate. It was more that she felt she had to save it.
It was a sad little bit of projection, but Asuha felt it sincerely. She had convinced herself that to rescue the stuffed animal from the claw machine would be saving her beaten partner in her 3DS.
She had 500 yen on her. The game cost 100 yen to play, but would give you six plays for 500 yen. She’d just have to try.
Asuha was just in the process of screwing up her courage when she heard a voice from behind her.
“Better not,” the voice said. She turned, wondering who it might be.
It was a child she’d never seen before, dressed in a neat shirt and shorts combo that was well-suited to a lanky frame, a wad of what was probably bubble gum in one cheek.
“It’s in a place you can’t get to with only six tries. You’d be wasting your money.”
“That’s an awful thing to say!” Asuha protested fiercely. She knew that he — or she, now that she thought about it — was clearly right, but her heart could not accept it.
The child looked back at Asuha with a gaze that screamed, “You’re a real handful, you know?” but seemed curious as to the tragedy that had led to such a ridiculous protest.
“You like it?” the child asked, meaning the game.
Asuha nodded.
She liked it. She loved it. That was why she was so frustrated.
“Give it here,” the child said.
She didn’t understand, at first, what the child meant.
“The 500 yen. I’ll get it for you.”
“Can you do that?” she asked in a trembling voice.
The child cracked up laughing. “I’ll do better than you, at least.”
It was a frankness that was, in a way, very cool.
In the end, the child failed to get the stuffed animal in six plays, added another 300 yen, and failed again. It was only after the child’s mother arrived — getting the stuffed animal on her first 100 yen — that Asuha finally received her toy. It was a rather pitiful showing, but Asuha thanked them both sincerely.
“Tell me the party you lost with,” the child asked as Asuha was getting ready to go.
Asuha explained in great detail all about where she had caught the monsters, her emotional attachment to them, and what moves she had given them. After finally expressing all of her frustration at losing, she felt satisfied and comfortable.
Then, just before she left, Asuha asked whether the child was a boy or a girl. The response was given with a firm scowl.
A week later, Asuha had met up with her friend again, and learned that the brother who had beaten her had himself been beaten badly by a party exactly like Asuha’s. It was another week after that that Asuha had learned that the person using that party was the child who had helped her get the stuffed animal before.
The child’s name was Sera Kiryu.
She had never forgotten Sera’s reaction when she declared it “a very cute name.”
Morning came.
Sakurako Ogi, servant to Ichiro Tsuwabuki, had woken up early as always, in her room full of figures, manga, and DVDs. As usual, the first thing she did was cast open the curtains.
Her master had generously given her a room facing to the east, and she took a deep breath as she bathed in the morning sun. She was glad that it was summer and that the sun was out early. If it had been the middle of winter, it would have been dark outside even with the curtains open, which would have made it hard to get enthused about much of anything.
The next thing she did was take off her pajamas and run to her attached shower room. The water temperature was always 25 degrees Celsius. The cold water droplets hit her head and soaked into her chestnut hair, gradually waking her up. She washed off the sweat from sleeping, dried off, brushed her hair and teeth, put on her clothes and makeup, and did various other appearance checks.
Once it was all ready, she attached her lace cap, completing the routine. For the irrepressible maid Sakurako Ogi, it was the beginning of a new day.
She walked around the room, stretching out her arms and twisting her back. Today, she had to prepare breakfast, do the laundry, and clean Ichiro’s Japanese-style room. It was going to be a busy morning, so she quickly headed down the corridor to the dining room to set up her plan for the day.
But...
“Morning, Sakurako-san.”
“Good morni... huh?”
Ichiro was there.
It wasn’t his being there that was odd, of course; it was his house, after all. It wasn’t that he was up early, either; he typically woke up early. Nor was it that he was in the dining room; normally he’d be in the indoor pool or his study at this time of day, but how he used his time was up to him.
But why on Earth was he holding a vacuum?
“I heard something interesting would be happening in the game today, so I thought I might assist you so that we could log in sooner,” he said.
As usual, he had the strangest ways of being considerate.
“You can’t help me with work I’m getting paid for,” she protested. “I’ll do the cleaning.”
Nevertheless, the young heir continued moving the vacuum, his expression cool. “Sakurako-san, I hope you’re not worried that it will diminish your worth if I’m able to do all the cleaning and laundry perfectly.”
“Ngh.” Sakurako was usually considered a very warm person, but this struck a nerve. “Ichiro-sama, even if you are an unparalleled genius, you cannot compete with me in housekeeping skills.”
“Why don’t we put that claim to the test?” he asked.
“Oh? I see you haven’t lost your mouth, Ichiro-sama.”
“It’s the same one I’ve always had. Why don’t we say that the winner will do a favor for the loser?”
“Very well. So be it.”
Sakurako grinned her assent, and the competition began.
“I’ll start with the laundry,” Ichiro attempted.
“No, I’ll do that,” Sakurako broke in, stopping him before he could flaunt an even greater lack of delicacy than usual.
And so the morning passed. The show of tremendous immaturity between the two of them got a day’s work of housework done by a little after 8 AM. As for who won the contest... we’ll leave that to the reader to imagine.
Breakfast ended up starting a bit late, and the two cooked and ate together while praising each other on the fight.
“Ichiro-sama, I never knew you were so competitive,” Sakurako murmured as she spread butter on the brown rice bread. With everything that had happened, breakfast had ended up being a simple affair.
“Hmm, I’ll acknowledge that I am. I always feel I must win at all costs.”
“Is that why you also picked a fight with King Kirihito... I mean, Sera Kiryu?”
“Nonsense. We merely came to an agreement about our mutual need for competition. It was not a fight.”
He was splitting hairs, of course.
He had explained the events of the game to her over dinner the night before. Sakurako had been surprised that they’d found King Kirihito so easily, surprised that he’d taken a Zombie Legion out that quickly, surprised that Ichiro had accomplished the same feat, and surprised that Felicia had slapped him.
She was not at all surprised that he had broken the 1,200 yen Monetary Sword. That barely qualified as news.
She also wasn’t terribly surprised that Ichiro had picked a fight with King. That fit her ongoing theory.
“When did you realize it might happen?” Ichiro asked.
“When Kirihito (Leader) was first telling us about King Kirihito,” Sakurako said, holding up her spoon triumphantly. “You were acting strangely, so I thought, ‘Ah, I bet he’s feeling competitive.’”
She truly was an observant girl. Her inference was right on the money.
“Though I can’t help but find it a bit immature to nurse a rivalry with a middle schooler,” she adde
d.
“Nonsense. A worthy rival is a worthy rival, even if they’re only ten years old,” Ichiro argued as he stabbed a fork into his salad smothered in dressing.
“Even if you’re using money to win?” she responded.
“My money is but an extension of my genius,” he said loftily.
It was the money he earned via his genius; thus, it was a part of that genius, and using it in the game was not cheating in any way.
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand what he meant, but it still felt like cheating to her. Perhaps she was too Japanese when it came to money.
“But it must be so hard on Asuha,” Sakurako said, changing the subject to stop her mind from going too far down that path.
Ichiro nodded in agreement.
Asuha had been convinced that Sera Kiryu was escaping into the game world, and realizing that her friend was definitely King Kirihito seemed to make that an inescapable conclusion. A child had stopped coming to school due to being bullied in the real world, and now reigned over the game world as its ultimate player. Viewed objectively, what else could it be?
Asuha must have found it unforgivable.
It was likely that she had initially intended to say something more sympathetic. “Let’s go to school together,” perhaps. Maybe “I’m on your side.” She had probably intended to offer words of encouragement, to draw her friend free of the world of the game.
But the sight of the Kirihitters flocking around, praising “King Kirihito” to the skies, had set her off. It wasn’t wrong for them to have done so, exactly. The timing was just bad. To Felicia, it had likely seemed that King was basking in the adulation. Perhaps, Ichiro thought, he had been slightly in the wrong with his behavior, as well.
“Well, I think we should let Asuha do whatever she wants to do.” Ichiro said, gathering up the dishes. “And I’ll do what I want to do.”