Slum Online

by Hiroshi Sakurazaka

  > So you saw this coming. Pretty sharp.

  > I will take over from here. Make your way back to the arena.

  I figured Hashimoto would say as much, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Tetsuo stood there, an empty text bubble hanging over his head.

  > Why do you hesitate?

  > Sorry. I can’t do that.

  > Pak will be expecting you.

  > I don’t care. Pak’s not important anymore.

  > I was under the impression being the best in Versus Town was the object of your quest. Do you intend to let this chance slip away?

  > My fight is somewhere else. Out here, in the back alleys.

  > The arena is also a part of this town.

  > No. So long as Pak’s player exists in Shinjuku as Pak’s player, I won’t find him where I’m looking. I know that now. But we’ve already been over this.

  > I have no recollection of that conversation.

  > Drop the act. I know you don’t like mixing the real with the virtual, but this is important. You keep your two personas as separate as anyone, so you should understand. We talked about this at the arcade in Shinjuku.

  > Alas, you are mistaken. I can no longer go to Shinjuku.

  > What is lying about it now going to serve?

  > Ninja never lie. I live in Hokkaido.

  > What?

  Hashimoto stood there, three and a half steps away, his expression unchanging. A face made only of textures couldn’t change its expression.

  > Tetsuo, is it not possible you have confused me with another? It is true that my player—that I—have been to Shinjuku. But now I am fled north. I live in exile.

  > Then you aren’t Lui?

  > Alas, this person named Lui is not known to me.

  He stood there beneath a bubble of text. Tetsuo’s bubble still held his last question.

  I tried to think back on our conversations. I couldn’t believe it. Lui had never said she was Hashimoto. In fact, she’d never said anything about who she was. All she had said was, “Alas, I am sworn to secrecy.” With those words and a wink, she had me hook, line and sinker. Lui knew so much about Versus Town that it never even occurred to me she could be anyone else. When I thought about it, it made sense though. Anyone who had ever been to JTS would know who Hashimoto was.

  The things she said in Shinjuku could have been said by anyone. There was nothing that only Hashimoto would have known. Looking back, it actually made even more sense coming from someone that wasn’t Hashimoto. A role-player like the person who played Hashimoto would never suggest that an arcade in Shinjuku was more important to Pak than Versus Town itself. Whoever it was would also have had to see what I had seen. Spent hours on end going where I had gone. In all of Versus Town, there was only one other character I could think of who fit the bill.

  A shiver ran up my spine. It traveled through my shoulders and arms before reaching my hand and shaking the stick. That tiny tremble was reduced to a digital signal and sent to the server.

  Tetsuo moved. Hashimoto tensed, ready to fight.

  > You role-play a ninja, right?

  > Technically no. My player role-plays this character, and this character role-plays a ninja.

  > That’s what you said about Ganker Jack.

  > Because that is what I believe.

  Hashimoto had part of it right, but he had missed something. Whoever played Jack was role-playing. But if the person playing Jack was who I thought it was, they were role-playing in RL as sure as Hashimoto was role-playing here. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing. Jack was the true essence of the player, the inner self unleashed.

  Or maybe everyone in RL was role-playing. To make it from one day to the next, we donned our masks. A way of finding a place for ourselves in a world where we had no place.

  > Is something amiss?

  > I get it now.

  > What is it that you get?

  > The reason I have to fight Ganker Jack. The reason I can’t back down.

  Hashimoto folded his arms. I realized he looked exactly as he had the first time we met in front of the wall in Sanchōme.

  > If you insist on this course of action, Tetsuo, I will have no choice but to stop you. What you should be doing is fighting Pak while I uncover Jack’s true identity. Do that and we both win.

  > Jack is Jack. That much I know.

  > I don’t understand.

  > You’re welcome to watch us fight.

  > In my estimation, you stand a good chance of defeating him. A proposition that would cause me no end of trouble.

  > Then we have a problem. There’s only one chair, and when the music stops, I plan to be the one sitting. Whatever it takes.

  > I would prefer to resolve this peacefully, but alas, that is not the way of things here.

  > I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.

  > As do I.

  Hashimoto leapt into the air—a high jump that took him over Tetsuo’s head. He had just reduced the gap between them from three and a half steps to zero. My fingers moved at once.

  Tetsuo rolled forward, narrowly dodging the attack. Hashimoto landed.

  Tetsuo turned in time to see Hashimoto sprint away. He wasn’t trying to run; he meant for me to follow.

  Looking back to ensure Tetsuo was behind him, Hashimoto wove his way deeper into the maze of streets. The two characters worked their way toward the heart of Sanchōme, exchanging small tit-for-tat attacks as they went.

  They came to a narrow intersection. A steel drum lay on the ground. Hashimoto kicked the drum at Tetsuo, who kicked it right back. As it bore down on him, Hashimoto hopped over the drum with a flying kick at Tetsuo. Tetsuo blocked. While Hashimoto recovered from the attack, Tetsuo tried to throw him, but Hashimoto managed to throw-break.

  His hunt for Jack had led Hashimoto back and forth through all of Versus Town; he knew Sanchōme as well as anyone. And although Ricky had beaten him, he was by no means a bad fighter. His moves walked a fine line between daring and foolish, but no doubt that was all part of his plan.

  A middleweight character like Tetsuo could never catch a lightweight like Hashimoto running at full speed. A common lightweight tactic was to gain some distance, launch a few quick attacks, and then pull away again, slowly chipping away at their opponent as they did. All well and good for Hashimoto, less than ideal for Tetsuo.

  Hashimoto had no intention of defeating Tetsuo. All he needed to do was keep himself alive while lowering Tetsuo’s health enough so that Jack could take care of the rest. Once Jack defeated Tetsuo, Hashimoto could follow him and discover once and for all who he was.

  Tetsuo’s health had already dropped a noticeable amount. In the process Tetsuo had inflicted about three times as much damage on Hashimoto, but in a battle like this it scarcely mattered. As soon as this fight was over, the deadliest person in Sanchōme was waiting for Tetsuo. Even going against him at full health, Ganker Jack was nearly unstoppable. Knowing this, reading Hashimoto was easy. He was staging the fight to shave off as much of Tetsuo’s health as possible. So even if it meant taking some damage in the process, Tetsuo couldn’t let Hashimoto escape.

  Tetsuo rolled forward. As soon as his feet were back beneath him, he jumped. Kicking off a nearby wall, he executed a triangle jump, sailing high over Hashimoto’s head. Flying through the air as he was, Tetsuo was wide open to attack. I focused my entire attention on the joystick gripped between my fingers.

  Hashimoto took the bait. He came at Tetsuo with a somersault kick, a big move. I gave the command to air-block just in time. Tetsuo landed safely on the ground just as Hashimoto was recovering from the failed attack.

  From here on out it was a game of real-time rock-paperscissors. Only in this game, you could wait to see what your opponent threw. You could change your own move midswing. You could even read your opponent’s move before he made it. It was all in the rules. To win, you had to be able to feint and trick your opponent into revealing his hand. Tetsuo canceled out of a punch-kick combo into a speed d
ash, and went straight from that into a throw. The head butt Hashimoto received in the melee sent him crashing to the ground.

  Tetsuo closed in on his fallen friend. He speed-dashed again, then canceled. Before Tetsuo had even begun to move, I buffered the command to send him circling in at an angle to the left.

  As he regained his feet, Hashimoto launched a spin kick. I saw it coming with only a few pixels to spare and gave the command for a flying knee. The sound FX of the knee connecting played in my speakers. I had landed a counter.

  Tetsuo caught Hashimoto’s body with his fastest punch. I canceled and punched again. I tacked a kick onto the second punch, and then canceled out mid-combo to chain a heel drop onto the end. Hashimoto’s body slammed into the ground. I landed a crouching punch as he bounced back into the air and then queued a speed dash. Canceling out of the speed dash I threw a low spin kick. I speed-dashed again. Tetsuo drove a fist down into Hashimoto’s prone body.

  Hashimoto grew still. After a few seconds, he faded from the screen.

  In RL, somewhere far to the north, Tetsuo still appeared on the television screen of Hashimoto’s player. I could talk to him if I wanted to. But I had nothing to say to Hashimoto in his virtual world.

  I tapped the stick twice. Tetsuo ran.

  I soon arrived at a familiar place. Weathered boards textured the walls. A pair of swinging wooden doors hung in the entrance. Off to one side stood a lone wooden barrel. Two thick wooden columns rose in front of the building, and above them rested an old sign whose polygons were painstakingly placed at the slightest of angles.

  The JTS Saloon looked as it always had, and it had never looked better.

  > You’re late.

  Jack stood with arms crossed in front of the swinging doors.

  > I had some loose ends to tie up.

  > I thought the lure of the winner’s podium had gotten to you.

  > Not likely. This town doesn’t need a winner’s podium.

  > Got that right.

  > We’re the only people that need to know who’s better.

  > You finally see.

  > I was curious about one thing, though.

  > Yeah?

  > Is your player named Lui?

  I deleted that last question before pressing enter. It didn’t matter if the bat lady I’d met in Shinjuku was Jack or not. Maybe Jack’s player was that insanely good elementary school kid who challenged Pak. Maybe it was someone else entirely. I didn’t need to know. That sort of information was useless here.

  There were no spectators. There would be no record of the outcome. There was only the screen and the joystick in my hand. A handful of buttons. A game console wired to the net. That was all that separated us. The image of Jack on my screen was the sum total of what I needed to know about him, and the image of Tetsuo on his screen was all he needed to know about me.

  > You going to make me start this again?

  > If you think you can.

  I counted slowly to three.

  I input the speed-dash command. Tetsuo slipped past Jack and threw himself through the swinging doors.

  Inside, the saloon was dark and empty. There was no trace of Ben the bartender or Masumi. When Hashimoto lost the street fight he had been forced to log out. Ricky would be watching the tournament. It was too early for the other regulars to be logged in.

  Tetsuo vaulted onto the bar. Jack came running into the saloon in time with the swinging doors. My fingers raced over the controls. Tetsuo turned to face Jack and launched a standing flying kick. Jack did a forward roll to dodge. As he rose to his feet, he threw a middle spin kick. His foot struck a table fixed to the ground, knocking him off balance.

  Tetsuo dashed forward. He threw a knee. The counterhit sound FX played.

  Jack’s body flew into the air and struck the ceiling. Tetsuo kneed him again as he fell, then caught him once more with a crouching punch. Tetsuo struck him one last time with a low spin kick.

  I backed Tetsuo away from Jack’s body. Jack slowly regained his feet. In the dim light of the saloon, deep shadows pooled in the polygons of his round mask. If you looked at it just so, it almost seemed as though it was smiling.

  Without taking a step toward Tetsuo, Jack spun into a roundhouse kick. The kick landed squarely on a nearby chair, sending it hurtling through the air. The flying chair struck Tetsuo dead-on.

  Tetsuo reeled. He hadn’t taken any damage, but being knocked off balance was bad enough. The outcome of the fight hinged on that moment. I shook the stick rapidly right to left. Tetsuo regained his balance just as another chair came flying. Son of a bitch. Reeling, Tetsuo turned toward the wall and retreated as Jack closed in and delivered an open-palmed thrust.

  The counterhit sound FX played.

  Tetsuo’s body sailed into the air. Jack punched at his flying body. He canceled, then punched again. Tetsuo’s body crashed into the wall. Jack caught him with an open-palmed thrust as he rebounded off the wall, and then he speed-dashed. Canceling, he punched once, then twice. He finished with a sweeping roundhouse kick.

  Tetsuo’s health gauge had fallen by nearly half.

  I had no idea how familiar Jack’s player was with the interior of the JTS Saloon. He might have known it even better than me. Whatever the case, he knew it well enough to come back with that chair trick after losing his balance on the table. He didn’t disappoint. A tremor of excitement ran down my arms to my hands, shaking the stick clutched between my fingers. The mechanical sensors dutifully picked up the motion and converted it into neat packets of data to be sent down the fiber optic pipe running beneath the street. Not knowing the thrill I felt, Jack would interpret the motion no differently than any other.

  That was the nature of the beast. The lines of communication available to us were gossamer-thin.

  Jack closed in on Tetsuo’s fallen body and timed a low spin kick to coincide with his rising off the ground. I dodged the attack with some quick stick work and sent Tetsuo underneath the swinging doors and out into the street with a crouching back dash.

  Tetsuo was almost out of health. The next hit he took would be the last.

  Jack came flying out of the saloon. I maneuvered Tetsuo around one of the columns, baiting him to follow me. He bit. Tetsuo held him in check with his fastest punch and retreated with a crouching back dash, stopping in the hollow beside the column. If Jack came at him with a high or low attack, they’d sail right over Tetsuo’s head. I’d have a chance to score the counter I needed to pull this fight out. What’s more, the incline would make it impossible to be thrown. It was the exact trick Ricky had pulled on Tetsuo.

  My fingers tensed in anticipation.

  Jack’s response was unerring; he was a god in Sanchōme. I watched as he jumped into the air.

  Jack had made the only move that would nullify the advantage I’d gained from the uneven ground. As Jack rose in the air, he kicked down at Tetsuo. Tetsuo did a back roll to dodge the strike. Jack and Tetsuo had swapped places.

  Jack turned his back to the wall of the saloon. Here he was at his best.

  If I could hit him, his body would rebound off the wall and I’d have a field day of midair combos. I knew exactly how he used walls to his advantage, but I had no choice but to attack. I needed a combo that packed some major damage or I didn’t stand a chance of turning this fight around.

  Tetsuo threw a middle punch. Jack blocked. I chained a low spin kick onto a crouching punch, then canceled.

  Jack turned and jumped. Tetsuo released a middle spin kick. Jack air-blocked, avoiding the potential counterhit, and then pushed off the wall to complete his triangle jump.

  Now Jack was behind Tetsuo. He had used the same move in his fight against Keith.

  If I canceled my kick and turned to face him, Jack would still beat Tetsuo to the attack. If I followed through with the kick, Jack’s next hit would be a counter. Strategically the only thing to do was cancel the kick and speed-dash toward the wall, but it would only buy me a moment’s reprieve. Jack only needed one
crouching punch to finish Tetsuo off.

  It was all or nothing.

  But Jack didn’t know how much health Tetsuo had left. He didn’t know he had taken damage fighting Hashimoto. He wouldn’t know that one crouching punch stood between him and victory.

  I made up my mind. If Jack was only going to throw rock and paper, it was time to bring scissors back into the game. I opened my eyes wide and stared at the screen.

  There it was, in the middle of the screen. A barrel. The same barrel Ricky had used as a makeshift wall to set up a midair combo on Tetsuo. Tetsuo had taken a lot of damage because of that barrel. The large polygons even made it look heavy.

  I canceled my spin kick. Pivoting on one leg, Tetsuo spun around to deliver a reverse spin kick. Rotating as he slid down the edge of the depression, he caught the barrel with the tip of his toes.

  Under the full force of his kick, the barrel began to roll. The impact pushed Tetsuo back by a handful of pixels. Jack’s punch missed.

  Unfazed, Jack continued his attack. The kick he had chained onto the punch came within inches of Tetsuo’s back. Then the barrel hit.

  Jack’s body flew up over the barrel, rising slightly into the air.

  The whole thing had taken less than a second.

  When a split second stands between you and life or death, you don’t have time to think before you react. Your fingers do what they’ve been trained to do. They give the commands. From there on out, I was on autopilot.

  Tetsuo caught the flying body with his fastest punch. I canceled and threw another punch, then a flying knee. Jack’s body hit the barrel again. I punched him as he bounced off a second time. Canceling the kick I chained onto the punch, I tacked on a heel drop. Jack’s body struck the ground. I caught him with a crouching punch as he bounced off the ground and then darted forward with a buffered speed dash. I canceled and threw a standing low spin kick. Another speed dash and I drove a fist down hard into his body.

  Jack had stopped moving. A moment later, he vanished without a sound.