by Blitz Kiva
Even so, Edogawa, inspired by the conversation to think about ways to prevent Thistle from being bought out, found these words coming to his lips:
“Couldn’t you become Thistle’s main stockholder?”
“I could. It would be easy, if I wanted to.” Ichiro was a man who could say such things so effortlessly. “If the buyout of NaroFan by a large company might cause it to lose its value as a game, then to maintain its integrity for the sake of my acquaintances and friends—and I include you among them—I would consider buying up Thistle entirely.”
As he said that, Ichiro turned the wheel. The blue Koenigsegg Agera entered the parking lot.
“But if that happened, I would likely never log in again. I’d become a developer, not a player. So I’d like to maintain my status as a customer for as long as possible. We’re here.”
“Ah, thank you...”
They had arrived at a small white building from which heavenly smells wafted.
Edogawa naturally had no intention of letting Ichiro Tsuwabuki pay a single yen for his meal, but knowing that he was a rich man, he had been steeling himself for the thought that they’d be going somewhere quite expensive. Fortunately, this really did seem like a place where they could eat a “light” lunch.
“Welcome.” As they entered the small two-story curry shop, the chef standing in the kitchen greeted them in a stately baritone.
Without hesitation, Ichiro took a seat at the counter. As the chef brought them lemon water, he said this to him: “Chef, give me two plates of your most delicious curry.”
“Yes, sir.” The swarthy chef gave a reverent bow, then withdrew to the back of the kitchen.
Watching his manner, Edogawa sat down next to Ichiro, head tilted in puzzlement. “What was with that order?”
“It’s what you have to say to get him to bring you the best curry,” Ichiro said as if it went without saying, then tilted up his glass of cold water. Even the way he drank was high-class.
“Um, I guess it’s a bit late to ask, but... was there something you needed from me?” Edogawa asked.
“No, not really,” Ichiro replied as he laid his glass on the counter. “Just think of this as a spontaneous off-line meetup. Regardless of how you feel about me, I rather like you, as I’ve told you before.”
Edogawa was fairly sure he had replied with a very clear shout of “I hate you!” back then, which meant it’d taken quite a lot of guts for Ichiro to invite him to a spontaneous off-line meetup.
Of course, he was aware that he had lost his cool in that moment, and he didn’t want to bring their online quarrels into the real world. The attitude of the man sitting beside him was almost exactly the same off-line as on, and that was surprising in itself. At the very least, the impudent things Edogawa would have said in the game withered before an actual rich person in real life.
“To continue what we were saying before...” Edogawa began. All that being the case, he’d decided he had no issue making small talk with the man. “Mr. Tsuwabuki, are you thinking about making and running your own VRMMO?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve already made one.”
“Huh?”
Ichiro was gazing out the window. “I liked the atmosphere around the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea. I was wondering if I could create a fictional world like that. I even read President Azami’s thesis again and got in touch with a few research centers. I ended up buying a server and a supercomputer, and began poking around with making a virtual game world.”
What is this guy talking about? Edogawa was stunned into silence.
“I tried to recreate the backwoods of the Amazon, to which I’ve traveled several times. I created the graphics myself, naturally. I was so excited to have finished it, but when I connected to the Miraive Gear and tried driving around in it, I found it wasn’t very fun.”
“I-I see...”
“In the end, playing around in a world that I know inside and out is nonsense,” Ichiro said.
Edogawa wondered if that was all true. It was a lot to take in all at once. He didn’t know how large a world Ichiro was claiming to have created, but it would be impossible for a single person to recreate the Amazon backwoods down to the finest of details in virtual reality technology—and in what must have been less than a month, at that. Caught between feeling that it must be a lie, and the shock that it might be true, Edogawa lost the will to object any further.
“There’s nothing more boring than a world made to order for oneself,” said Ichiro.
“That’s an enviable problem to have...” Edogawa murmured.
Ichiro shrugged. “Is it really?”
“Yes. While this entire world might not have been made to order for you, God certainly seems to have pulled a few strings in your favor.”
“I see. You say that my problem is enviable because the world is already, to some degree, created to benefit me. I’ll meditate on that.”
Edogawa had no way of knowing that this was one of the three most laudable sentences Ichiro had ever uttered.
“Well, let’s hear your story, then,” Ichiro said. “System Ajax is a security software company, right?”
“There’s not much to say...” Edogawa said. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing they should be discussing in a curry shop. “That’s more or less it, though we’re expanding our horizons in terms of our software. The system we’re offering to Thistle right now is the latest version of the Ajax System we’ve been developing.”
“An application gateway-type firewall, was it?”
“You know your stuff. Alternative control of signals is handled by Layer 7, but the various protocol layers are assigned their own dynamic packet filters.”
The company had been named after the product, which in turn had been named after an image created by the strict protection offered by the seven protocol layers: the shield of Ajax, a hero from the Trojan War. More precisely, it had been named after a seven-layer shield in a game with that motif, combined with the firewall idea. It was the company president who had named it.
“Here you are.” The chef brought two plates of curry from the kitchen, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. It was the face of a man who had just been through a battle.
He lowered the plates, from which wafted the otherworldly aroma of spices, on the counter. The heavenly smell caused Edogawa’s empty stomach to growl in anticipation.
He picked up his curry spoon, imagining the delicious flavors to come, when suddenly, the high-pitched ring of a phone tore him out of his daydream.
Scowling, Edogawa pulled his phone from his breast pocket. An incoming call. He bowed to Ichiro in his usual way. “Sorry.”
“Feel free.”
The caller’s name was “Thistle Corporation.” With an anxious feeling in his gut, Edogawa stood up to take the call.
Martial City Delve.
It was the most recently unlocked city area in Narrow Fantasy Online, and as such, many of the game’s top players had assembled and moved their home bases there.
Even out here on the frontier, though, the broad daylight account hack was the subject on everybody’s lips. Especially since the victim was one Ichiro Tsuwabuki. No one had gone out of their way to spread the rumor, yet the information that Kirschwasser and Iris had provided had still spread like wildfire.
“So, how do you feel about the resolution?” asked Stroganoff, leader of the Red Sunset Knights.
He was addressing Matsunaga, the leader of the Dual Serpents guild. The beautiful Elf with his narrow eyes and the red-haired giant Stroganoff made quite a picture standing side by side. For once, they were also joined by Bossman of the Akihabara Forging Guild.
“There’s not much to say,” Matsunaga shrugged. “The devs suspended his account. It’s an easy fix. Not much of a climax, but it’s a good thing the devs acted fast.”
Despite his cool reply, there was a sense of dissatisfaction in his tone. For Matsunaga, who liked to scan message boards and SNS message reactions to summarize ga
me events in the most interesting manner possible, the recent incident seemed decidedly lacking in “fun.”
“I can’t believe the kid got his account hacked, though,” the bearded dwarf whispered, looking up at the sky.
“You find that upsetting, Sakata the Stupid?” Stroganoff asked, his eyes on Bossman.
“Not especially. It’s just strange to me. I wouldn’t think he’d be the kind of guy to be so lax in his personal security. Hey, Matsunaga. You agree with me, right?”
“I think I do.”
The “conference” between the three in front of the Knights’ guild house seemed nothing more than an idle gossip meeting.
“This is unsourced information, but the story is that Thistle’s servers themselves were hacked,” said Matsunaga. “It’s an unsettling situation.”
“If that’s true, this might not be the end of it,” said Bossman.
“Yes. It’s a serious matter. If I’m not careful in my handling of the story, I could end up earning the ire of the devs.”
That seemed to be another reason for Matsunaga’s dissatisfaction. He seemed to be wishing that Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s hacked account had at least been used for something a bit more flashy. If it had, he might have found another way to spin it.
All three crossed their arms and fell deep into thought.
As it was, the account hack incident had left a few deep scars behind. The people of the VRMMO loved rumors, though, so maybe they’d move on to another subject in a few days.
“Meow-ho, everyone! Feelin’ fine?” A girl approached them, trailing a handful of players behind her and waving enthusiastically.
The foremost damsel player of NaroFan, the great Amesho, had arrived. Even among the game’s top Achievers, there were eccentrics still taken in by her, so cheers rang out along the street where she walked.
“Heyyyyyyy, Ameshoooo!”
“It’s me! Look my way, please!”
“Say ‘What can you mew,’ please!”
“Eh heh heh... what can you mew...” Amesho waved shyly to her fans, yet maintained in her posture the angles calculated to look cutest to them.
Stroganoff and the others knew that Amesho was well aware of her best points. Her avatar was perfectly calculated to have just the right height, build, and facial structure to trigger a man’s urge to protect. She was a terrifying piece of work.
But enough about Amesho; Stroganoff also knew the three players behind her.
“This is an unusual combination,” he said. “Have you formed a party?”
“Mm, something like that,” Amesho said, then turned back to the others.
They were the Anthromorph, Taker; the Human, Sorceress; and the High Elf, Tomakomai.
Taker and Sorceress were a pair of mercenaries who’d been hired by a player named Nem, who had caused a bit of trouble in the game a few days before. That incident had been resolved, and their contract as mercenaries had been terminated with satisfaction on all sides, so right now, they were simply two players enjoying NaroFan.
Tomakomai was one of the top players Matsunaga had brought into play during the last Grand Quest. He was an eccentric who made his home in the otherwise deserted Doom Range, and rarely ventured out of it. Word on the street was that he hadn’t logged out once since the game began, which further added to his air of mystery. In addition, despite his intellectual outer appearance, he had a bad habit of, when provoked, tossing aside his glasses and screeching like a bird of prey.
“I see you’re discussing the account hack incident,” Sorceress said, twirling her parasol.
“Oh, you knew about that?” Matsunaga asked.
“It’s a big game, but news travels fast. We heard it from our former leader.” Taker shrugged lightly, dressed in his new set of tattered robes.
“It’s quite troubling,” Tomakomai said. “Especially with the big update for the anniversary coming up...”
“Yes, if people decide to lay blame on the devs, and end up canceling their service...” Stroganoff responded gravely.
The mysterious gossip conference between the game’s heavy-hitters continued to increase in scale, drawing interest from the small sets of people who passed by on the road.
It was just then that a change came over the sky above Martial Town Delve.
“H-Hey, what’s that?”
The first one to notice it was one of those nameless passing players. Upon hearing the voice, the rest of them all looked up. Their eyes widened in shock.
Storm clouds had begun forming in the sky that had been blue just a little while ago. Even for a weather cycle visual, it seemed awfully sudden. Delve was close enough to the Great Sandsea that it was rare even to see clouds; rain was unheard of.
In the next instant...
A crash of thunder rang out, and a dark red lightning visual raced across the sky.
That wasn’t all. Sinister bolts of lightning began striking the ground, proving themselves tangible by stirring up great clouds of dust.
The players cried out as they saw it; the only one who remained perfectly at ease was Amesho.
“Tsuwabuki?!” Stroganoff shouted in shock, speaking for the rest of the players.
Indeed, standing before them was the tumultuous Ichiro Tsuwabuki. His account had been suspended, so why was he here? The players gulped in unison.
“What’s going on? Has his account been restored already?”
“Even so, it’s a strange way for him to appear.”
“Really? I always thought he loved a good show...”
Despite his words, something in Stroganoff’s heart denied that this could be Tsuwabuki. The way he smiled was wrong. It was not his usual smug-yet-effortless smile. It was sticky, and slimy, almost like...
“Aw, he’s smilin’ like Matsunaga,” said Sorceress.
“Hey!” Matsunaga immediately interjected. “I do not smile like that.”
“Yes, you do.”
Matsunaga seemed to take Sorceress’s casual burn deeply to heart. Having two women talking about his appearance like this must have hurt him deeply.
It really did look just like Matsunaga’s smile, though; Ichiro Tsuwabuki would never grin that way.
“So, this is the great Duplichiro, is it?” Taker snorted, then took a step forward.
No one could accuse him of acting hastily. They couldn’t be sure if it was the same player or not, but they knew that Duplichiro had been attacking people indiscriminately, and while the Martial City was a city field, there was no prohibition on combat there. If Duplichiro decided to go on a rampage here, he could... all while using his avatar’s monstrous stats, some of the highest in the game.
Stroganoff immediately opened his menu window and called for the available Knights members to join them. While he was doing that, the distance between Taker and Duplichiro gradually grew shorter.
“It’s dangerous, Taker,” Sorceress said, cautiously.
“I’ve never been afraid of dying before. I’m not afraid of dying now.”
“That statement would sound much cooler if we weren’t in a video game.”
Taker, showing no sign of being hurt by her words, finally made it up close to Duplichiro. He raised one talon-like index finger, unfurled his cape behind him, and said:
“I am Taker, and I’m gonna steal your—”
A second later, Duplichiro’s “Dragon Claw” had found its way into Taker’s guts. His newly created rags, which he had only just acquired after losing his old ones to the death penalty days ago, drifted to the ground. Taker had turned into golden particles of light and disappeared.
He was dead.
“What’s wrong with that man...” Stroganoff whispered, and the other members offered up their thoughts.
“Attacking someone in the middle of their catchphrase... such cruelty.”
“He’s a disgrace to villains everywhere.”
“Aw, I hope Taker’s okay...”
“That’s true. He gets depressed so easily...”
“Well, I suppose I’ll go avenge him,” Tomakomai said calmly, removed his glasses, then cast them aside.
Their impact against the ground seemed to be the trigger; before anyone could stop him, Tomakomai propelled himself forward.
“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he shouted, like a bird of prey, then leaped into the air and fell upon Duplichiro.
Duplichiro didn’t even budge, but just blocked the attack with Weapon Guard.
“Raaaaaaaagh! Hagh! Hagh! Hngaaaaah!” Tomakomai’s arms and legs lashed out like whips, battering Duplichiro from head to toe. But Duplichiro deflected each with Weapon Guard, as if he could see the moves coming. He then formed a fist and lashed out, striking straight into the solar plexus of the rampaging Tomakomai.
“Graaaaaaaaaagh!” With a death rattle that was far from logical, the legendary man who had never logged out since the game began fell silent. He hit the wall of the Knights’ guild house, turned into particles of light, and disappeared.
“H-He’s weak...” Stroganoff cried.
“No, his opponent is simply too strong,” Matsunaga replied calmly. “First, let’s lock him down. Stroganoff, will you have your men rallied soon?”
“Y-Yeah...”
“Then I’ll be counting on you after this.” Matsunaga snapped his fingers, and the ground of the main street burst up in clouds of dust. Shadows danced into the air, arms spread, each holding short swords in one hand and clad in flower-patterned shinobi gear and horned noh masks.
The watchers cried out:
“The Dual Serpents’ Frilly Shinobi Army!”
“They really do exist!”
Most players already knew about the existence of the Shinobi Army, of course, but it was customary for someone to say those lines whenever they appeared. The frilly ninja gear had been designed by Nem, who, despite being a famous designer, didn’t seem to know much about ninja fashion.