5 - Noble Son, Buy

Sometimes, she wondered what she was doing. Now was one such time.

Megumi Fuyo watched the fighters prepare for their intense battle in this fictional world made of quantum information, all the while consumed by a feeling of desolation. Would doing this really get her what she wanted?

Amesho had introduced her to these two players, Taker and Sorceress, and she had spilled her heart out to them. Taker hadn’t said much, and Sorceress had just muttered, “How selfish of him,” but they had both promised to help her.

It was said that to be judged on one’s talent was a cruel thing. Megumi was a person fortunate enough to have talent — not only that, she also had the opportunities to put it to use.

She was the daughter of the owner of one of Japan’s largest companies, and had been given the best upbringing imaginable. A true princess in an ivory tower. Her father Eikei had had her at quite a late age, so he had been quite overprotective of Megumi growing up. At the all-girls’ private school she’d attended, she had attracted her own little clique to help shore her up, but her world had remained a small one, and she had had little contact with that which lay outside of it.

Fashion was one of the very few things that connected her to a world outside of her household. The fact that she was a high-society woman nearing marriageable age had helped her to convince her father that this was something worth taking an interest in; after all, she had to pay attention to her appearance. Though her school had been an expensive private one, attendees there had come from all walks of life, and a surprising number of members of her clique were from middle-class households. They’d showed her fashion magazines that depicted a world so bright and beautiful that she’d longed to be a part of it.

The years had passed, and around the time she’d graduated high school on the Home Economics track, her clique had been talking about their future plans. Megumi had had her pre-determined future, but when she’d seen her clique speaking to each other about their dreams, she hadn’t been able to help but feel something lacking in her own.

It was then that she had met Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

It was ten years ago; he would have been thirteen years old. He had graduated from college in America, and had just returned to Japan after spending some time overseas.

“A pleasure to meet you, Megumi,” the boy said.

She had just come back from shopping with her clique, and he was there in her living room, speaking to her father. He still had much of the appearance of youth, and the innocence unique to that age, but none of that penetrated her mind. Despite being five years older, Megumi found him somewhat intimidating.

“That’s good clothing you’re wearing,” Ichiro said, with the same cool smile he would continue to possess for years into the future.

Megumi knitted her brow. “Is it?”

Megumi was very interested in fashion, and she chose anything she thought looked good when she went shopping, rather than sticking to brand name items. What she was wearing right now was actually a rather cheap ensemble for a daughter of the Fuyo family. She had picked it out herself, and she felt that it was good clothing. But that didn’t change the fact that it had been cheap. Megumi, assuming that he was just trying to flatter her, did not respond.

That was the beginning and end of their first meeting.

Their second meeting was soon after, at a party her father was throwing. Megumi had attended wearing an uncontroversial dress, and all the young industrialists present had praised her fashion sense.

By the time she was tired of dealing with them, she spotted Ichiro making small talk with her father. The boy cast a glance at Megumi and said:

“Hello, Megumi. I see you’re going for something different in your clothing choice this time.”

For the first time, Megumi wondered if he really could tell the difference.

“Which do you prefer, Ichiro?” The question floated naturally to her lips. It was an improper thing to ask, for Megumi was pinning all her hopes on his reply. She wanted to have her taste acknowledged. Fashion was her one link to the outside world, and she had a sort of lack of confidence in herself distinct to princesses in ivory towers.

But Ichiro’s response was not what she had hoped for.

“It’s not my place to say,” he said.

“R-Really?” Megumi slumped slightly.

“But I think that you preferred the one you wore last time,” he said. “Right?”

At that, Megumi looked up, silently, her slumped posture righting.

Ichiro’s comportment had a coolness about it that belied his mere thirteen years of age. He had one hand slipped into his pocket, holding his glass in his other. His striking blue eyes seemed to see the truth behind everything they looked at.

“But that one was cheap...” she said.

“Ah, yes. It looked like it was,” Ichiro said, with no sign of judgment in his words.

“Then why did you compliment it?” she asked.

“It seemed very suited to you,” he said. “I think the most important thing anyone can do is to know who they want to be. Right now, having made yourself uncontroversial to match the expectations of those around you, you are not as interesting.”

She didn’t really understand what the words meant. But she did find them vaguely inspiring. Raised so carefully in her ivory tower, taught to react to everything in one standard, accepted way, she had never met someone like this young man, nor heard anything like his perspective on the world. It was refreshing.

“You see, I like looking at clothing,” she began.

“Oh?” he asked.

With only that most minor of promptings from Ichiro, she found herself talking on and on. She told him how apparel was the one key she could use to escape her walled garden, to visit the world outside. She told him how frustrated she had felt, watching her clique from school all deciding on their own dreams, while she had none.

She told him of her hesitance to wear cheap clothing at a party where her father would be in attendance, that she hadn’t been able to wear the clothing that best suited her.

“Forgive me if this is trite, but...” Ichiro, who had been quietly listening, broke in. “Price is only one determiner of value. To adhere to it too strictly is nonsense.”

When she asked him what he meant, he continued.

“In the end, value is subjective. To some people, value may come in the form of design, or comfort. Value may change depending on different situations. When you get down to it, all of these elements are worthy ones. It is simply up to each person to decide which elements they focus on.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but...” Megumi averted her eyes from Ichiro. Her walled garden was too small to acknowledge the myriad values that existed out there. In here, every reaction was predetermined.

“So why not fly out of it?” Ichiro said, simply. “You can never see the sky if you never spread your wings.”

“My wings...” She turned the word over in her mind.

Megumi already knew what form her “wings” would take. That which linked her to the world outside of her walled garden could be used as a platform from which to fly. She would have realized that before if she’d ever thought about it, but she had willfully shut her eyes to such possibilities.

That conversation became the impetus for Megumi’s decision to spread her wings.

Soon after, she humbled herself before her father and told him she wanted to go into a world where other values were appreciated.

Her father closed his eyes, was silent for a while, and then at last nodded.

That was how Megumi Fuyo became the woman she was today. She had the talent for it, too, and as she’d received recognition from the world at large, Megumi had begun to long to get Ichiro to say the words he hadn’t said then: “I like this clothing best.”

To be judged on one’s talent was a cruel thing.

Megumi had seen Iris’s design. She couldn’t imagine that she had talent. Even if she did, Megumi couldn’t imagine how long it might take to blossom. To put it bluntly, the girl was utterly lacking in taste. There wasn’t even anything exceptional in her design; it was mediocre, at best.

So then... why?

In the end, it was just as Ichiro had said ten years ago.

“In the end, value is subjective.” If, to Ichiro, that tacky butterfly brooch was what truly had value...

...then that girl, without any effort, had attained something she had sought after for ten years.

To be judged on one’s talent was a cruel thing.

Megumi Fuyo could not understand what he found good about that brooch’s design. That alone was enough to make her feel like the loser in the situation.

Taker and Sorceress worked brilliantly as a team. As many had expected, Sorceress was a specialized build who used support magic to enhance her ally’s abilities. With her bolstering Taker’s ferocious chain of attacks, even Kirschwasser’s defense build was on the ropes in a flash. He could tell that, in both numbers and skill, they far outstripped most mid-level players.

The way Taker used the Anthromorph-exclusive Skill Beast Claw as a base to bolster bare-fist Arts was part of a typical Grappler template, but it wasn’t clear what he had besides that. From the way he moved, it seemed likely that he had a Thief or Scout subclass, but it was also likely that he wasn’t yet showing his full hand.

Iris and Felicia could do nothing but watch the fight in a cold sweat. Things were looking bad. They couldn’t understand why Kirschwasser had entered into a battle with such obviously unfavorable conditions.

But if one thing was clear, it was that asking Felicia to stay out of the fight had been the right decision. It didn’t look like a Hydro Blaster or two would have overturned the battle situation, and she would only have been a drag on Kirschwasser.

Kirschwasser raised his shield as Taker attacked for the umpteenth time. But Kirschwasser just couldn’t seem to find the opening to shift back from defense to counterattack, it seemed. The battle had started only a few minutes ago, but the relentless chain of attacks, supported by Sorceress’s magic, had shaved Kirschwasser’s health down steadily.

“Oh, I think Sir Kirschwasser is holding out well,” Matsunaga said, his expression unusually serious (despite holding a fourth Shaved Ice Potion in his hand).

“The ‘Regenerate’ he cast at the start of the battle is working well,” Kirihito (Leader) nodded in agreement. He also had an extremely serious expression, as well as a Shaved Ice Potion in his hand. “That and his high defense stat make him very durable. It’s a very prudent combination of Skills and Arts.”

Felicia glared at the two “color commentators” reproachfully. “Why are you acting like it’s none of your concern?”

“Because it is none of my concern,” Matsunaga replied calmly. “The same is true for the others. It’s not as if anyone’s life is truly on the line, so we might as well enjoy it.”

“It’s not like I’m not worried,” Kirihito (Leader) said, looking slightly hurt. “I owe Mr. Tsuwabuki for saving my life.”

“But it’s just a game, right?” Felicia asked.

“Even in the game, I am sincerity itself,” Kirihito (Leader) responded with total sincerity, then took a bite of his Shaved Ice Potion. Immediately after, he clutched his head, and groaned. “Ugh...”

“Ahh, you ate too fast and ended up with the status ailment ‘Headache’...” Matsunaga commented.

“You’ve got to be kidding...” Felicia said incredulously.

“W-Well, anyway, Sir Kirschwasser hasn’t lost yet,” Kirihito (Leader) said. “There are many secret techniques that a Knight may use to turn things around. ‘Pain Charge’ and ‘Counterstrike,’ etc.”

“Of course, it means no— that is, it’s meaningless unless it hits,” said Matsunaga.

Iris had remained silent throughout the laid-back discussion. She was staring past the battle, at Nem.

“Ah, are you concerned?” Matsunaga asked, leaving Kirihito (Leader) behind.

Iris nodded silently. She was worried about the look in Nem’s eyes. Every time she’d looked over at the woman, there had been jealousy burning in those eyes. It was ridiculous — Iris was the one who ought to be jealous.

But right now, Nem’s eyes were hollow. It was as if she felt completely powerless. Why did she look that way? Iris really couldn’t understand it at all.

Nem was being completely selfish; she didn’t care about how Iris felt.

Kirschwasser, too... he hadn’t had to take up the challenge. They could have waited for the young heir to finish up his business and come back. He could have had a talk with Nem, and it would have all been over.

The young heir was selfish, too. It was his irresponsibility that had started all this nonsense in the first place. He knew Iris had no design sense at all. Well, she actually had been happy for all the times he had saved her. She could admit to that. But still, he was selfish.

They were all selfish, Iris thought, with indignation silently rising inside of her. Why had he accepted this challenge?

Kirschwasser smiled wryly to himself.

He did not expect to win. In a real-time action VRMMO, a two-on-one handicap was a disadvantage that no mere numbers could surmount. Even simple tactics, like swapping your fighters on the front and back lines, could allow a team of two to conserve stamina to a degree that a player alone couldn’t. Taker and Sorceress couldn’t actually use that tactic due to Sorceress’s clear disadvantage in endurance, but that just meant they had clearly delineated their roles. Taker could throw him into the fight without worrying about danger to life or limb, just as things should be in an RPG.

At any rate, Kirschwasser was at a considerable disadvantage. Not even his endurance-specialized build could hold up for long under such a ceaseless storm of attacks. What was more, it was slowly getting worse.

“You’d better start paying attention!” Taker shouted as he rained down on him from above with “Nail Slash.” It was a rare Art, and it sent a buzz running through the audience.

“Ergh...” Fortunately, Kirschwasser had reflexes good enough to let him avoid a direct hit. He brought up his shoulder armor to soak the damage, preventing a strike against his head, which he had set as his weak point. Then, despite knowing it was fruitless, he took advantage of the small opening that had been created to unleash a Bash, which Taker lithely dodged.

An instant later, green light wreathed the Anthromorph’s body, accompanied by a pleasant melody and a chain of numbers appearing over his head, all of which suggested an impressive buff effect. This was Sorceress’s support magic at work.

The audience let out a collective murmur of awe.

“That’s not exactly fair.”

“How far are they gonna go?”

“They’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?”

Such was the range of opinions. It really did seem rather immature to be using support magic at that level when you already had an overwhelming two-on-one advantage. But Kirschwasser felt no resentment towards his merciless opponents, nor gratitude to them for doing everything they could against him.

The world of dueling was not a sliding scale. The values were absolute. A win was a win. A loss was a loss.

Kirschwasser and his master Ichiro Tsuwabuki were opposites in personality, but in this philosophical approach to combat, they agreed. Whether it put them at an advantage or a disadvantage, this was the one thing in the world that remained rock solid.

“You’re really taking your time,” Sorceress said breezily, casting a glance at the noisy crowd. “Why don’t you finish it already?”

“I’m trying... dammit,” Taker cursed.

Seeing his opponents so at ease didn’t shake Kirschwasser’s determination for a second. He gritted his teeth, hefted his sword, took a wide step, and tried yet another series of attacks.

Of course, Taker easily dodged them all; a few of them caught the edge of his robe or grazed his skin, but none of the hits really landed. He was clearly an evasion-specialized build.

Since it was a game, a character’s ability to evade was determined by their dexterity stat. As dexterity increased, the avatar’s hitbox shrank, and they gained more invincibility frames, making it easier for them to dodge attacks.

That was part of why Kirschwasser was having so much trouble making contact, but the skill of the user played a role, as well. At the end of the day, the modifiers only made attacks easier to dodge. They didn’t guarantee it. The player’s own talents could make an enormous difference.

This suggested that Taker had spent quite a lot of time honing these abilities in the real world. It was also possible he was simply a genius in that regard.

But... Kirschwasser spat to himself, there can’t be that many geniuses out there.

With that thought in mind, the Knight fixed his eyes on the man once more.

“Sorry,” Taker said, “but I guess I’d better finish you off.”

“Oh?” Kirschwasser said. “Bold words...”

As Taker began slowly closing the gap, Kirschwasser retreated to maintain their current distance. The two gamers continued like that for a while, calculating, bargaining for timing and distance. Their stalking game carved out a ring on the small arena of the beach.

To make sure that Taker did not leave her too far behind, Sorceress took a few big steps of her own, though she made sure to do it without sacrificing her avatar’s inherent grace.

She doesn’t appear to have attack magic... Kirschwasser thought in relief as he watched Sorceress. If she hadn’t unleashed an attack spell on him yet, then she likely was a full support-specialized build. His greatest fear had been the thought of a ceaseless attack barrage between the two of them; this could mean he still had a chance to win.

Kirschwasser had an array of Skill modifiers boosting his HP, giving him about 50% more than the average front-liner. The purpose of this was to make Arts like Pain Charge more effective. It came with some risk, of course, but in terms of sheer numbers, the damage it dealt was far superior to any other Art in the game (except for foolish methods like buying pay-to-download items, only to break them). His opponent, knowing he was a Knight, would probably be on the lookout for the technique, but thankfully, Kirschwasser hadn’t been forced to show his hand just yet.

Taker let out a grunt. His tattered robe fluttered. Kirschwasser knew that he was about to make his move.

An instant later, Taker’s slender body was charging towards him at tremendous speed. The buff must have maxed out his dexterity.

He was moving too quickly for Kirschwasser to read his next move. He’d just have to predict it.

It was just like in a fighting game. Kirschwasser lacked the reaction speed of Daigo Umehara — to “counter a light kick with a shoryuken” — but he was good at calmly evaluating which of two options was best in a pinch.

He focused on accelerating his thinking time. His enemy had a variety of attack methods at his disposal: Nail Slash was swift and had a short cooldown time; Bash was the most basic physical attack Art; and “Hurricane Fist” came with a knockback property. His enemy’s Grappler-exclusive Skill “Kick Proficiency” further allowed him to execute these various Grappler attack Arts with kicks instead of punches.

Counterstrike was a move from Kirschwasser’s arsenal that he had not yet revealed. If he was going to attempt to counter with that, it was crucial for him to know what Art his opponent was going to use. Though it had a fast execution time, it could still miss if he misjudged his opponent’s movement patterns, which meant he had to determine the exact timing of his enemy’s attack Arts.

It would all come down to a few frames.

His master, Ichiro Tsuwabuki, despite lacking proper knowledge of the game, had dominated every duel he’d fought. As a gamer, Kirschwasser felt he had to keep up.

“Graaah!” Taker readied his fist with a battle cry. In response, Kirschwasser entered the stance for Counterstrike. There were only two attacks it could be now: either Nail Slash or Bash. But Kirschwasser had no time left to think about it. All he could do was strike at the place he thought his opponent would be standing a few milliseconds later.

“Hraaaaaaaaaagh!” Kirschwasser made his move. Pulling the trigger on his counterattack, he unleashed Counterstrike. The system faithfully reproduced the exact strike he’d imagined.

Like a prophecy unfolding, Taker’s body moved towards the tip of the Knight Sword. But the other man’s reaction came just as swiftly.

“Tsk...” He clicked his tongue and twisted his body.

In order to stop an Art with automatic activation, you needed a combo-specialized Art called “Art Cancel”. Most front-line fighters took it as a sort of insurance policy, to help limit their moments of vulnerability.

In this way, Taker forcibly canceled the Art he had activated, then reacted to Kirschwasser’s counter.

The entire breathtaking exchange happened over the course of a few instants, and it sent the audience into a fervor.

“It seems you did not finish it,” Kirschwasser said to Taker, who was now holding the Knight Sword between his palms.

This sort of close-quarters deadlock made for an extremely precarious situation. The slightest change one way or the other could decide the entire fate of the duel. As a gamer, Sakurako Ogi, a.k.a. Kirschwasser, loved this sort of mentally-taxing situation.

Kirschwasser and Taker glared at each other from extremely close range, neither attempting to put any further pressure on the sword. The longer the shared gaze lasted, the more the man’s blood-red eyes looked like those of a monster.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Taker asked lightly, as if making small talk.

“If I can answer you, I shall,” Sir Kirschwasser said.

“Why did you accept our challenge?” Taker asked. “And by yourself, for that matter...”

“You do not know?”

“It’s a mystery to me.”

“Hmm...” Something in Taker’s tone suggested to Kirschwasser that this wasn’t simply a cheap trick meant to distract him. “Because of loyalty, I shall say,” he responded.

“You’re serious?”

“I shall leave that to your imagination.” An instant later, Kirschwasser tossed his shield aside and thrust up his sword. Gripping the sword in both hands allowed him to invoke the effect of his Skill “Two-Handed Sword.”

Taker was caught off-guard, and it left his chest exposed.

Kirschwasser threw a Bash at his unprotected side. The impact was audible, and he could feel in his hands that he had made contact with his enemy’s hitbox. It kicked up a blood spray, accompanied by a damage value. The audience let out a cry of surprise.

“But what’s the point of taking it all so damn seriously? It’s just a game!” Taker scolded as he flew back, holding his side.

Kirschwasser gave a composed response. “I am earnest in everything I do, even if it is merely a game world. If we cannot take our play seriously, then what is the point of anything we do?”

Taker sounded bitter at being caught unawares, but he clearly still had more than enough health to spare. Kirschwasser could tell from the way he was standing that his blow had been far from decisive.

He’s not a gamer, Kirschwasser thought. All methods, talent, reflexes, and knowledge of the game aside, he’s not a gamer. In Kirschwasser’s opinion, no one who would ask a question like that could ever be called a real gamer.

That being the case...

“May I ask a question, as well?” he asked, turning the point of his Knight Sword towards his opponent. “I do not understand the reason why you two are working with Lady Nem. Surely you are not her friends?”

“It’s because we’re mercenaries,” said Taker.

“It sounds to me like you enjoy playing mercenary,” Kirschwasser responded.

Taker fell silent, fixing a glare on Kirschwasser.

“Taker, I’m not sure you have the skill to hold down a conversation while you’re fighting,” Sorceress shot in dryly from beneath her parasol. “You’re always saying that actions speak louder than words, and that’s what suits you best. Why don’t you just beat him already?”

“Shut up! What happened to your support magic, anyway?”

“I was just about to use it,” she said. “See?”

A pale green light wreathed Taker’s body, healing all of the damage Kirschwasser’s blow had dealt to him. All of the fatigue he had built up from his chain of Arts returned to zero, as well. Taker was back to perfect condition.

“The two of you seem to get along poorly,” Kirschwasser suggested.

“Yes, that’s true,” smirked Sorceress. “He’s such a shy boy.”

“Don’t make it sound so damn suggestive...” Taker muttered.

The damage Kirschwasser had taken was also slowly healing thanks to Regenerate, but he couldn’t do anything about his buildup of fatigue. By this point, it had built up to a degree that it was reducing his speed and damage dealt. Little by little, he was being backed into a corner.

He cast a glance at Nem. She looked discontented.

If he could shake her with his words, it would render the fight meaningless. He wondered if that was what he should focus on... but both as a gamer and as a loyal Knight, this was a situation that set his blood burning.

“Taker, I expect him to still have a trick up his sleeve,” warned Sorceress. “Proceed with caution.”

“Stop telling me what to do!” Taker snapped.

Despite his response, the man showed no sign of rushing in right away. It seemed Sorceress served as his advisor, as well. Though superficially, they seemed prone to bickering, their teamwork was perfect. It was quite troublesome.

No, it was more than troublesome. It ensured that he could no longer win this battle. Still, Kirschwasser wasn’t one to give up without even trying.

What should he do?

Although Taker was being cautious, he wasn’t about to give Kirschwasser a lot of time to think. He raced at him across the beach once more, kicking white sand into the sky, and lashed out with a straight punch.

Kirschwasser let out a hiss. He had already thrown his shield away, so all he could do was intercept the carefully aimed straight punch with his Knight Sword. He hadn’t spent much time leveling his “Weapon Guard” Art, so the damage transferred through, tingling through his arms.

“M-Mr. Kirsch!” Felicia screamed.

Should he hit the man with a Counterstrike, or gamble on channeling all the damage he’d taken into an attack, with Pain Charge? His set of choices was too narrow, but at least the effect of Regenerate was still going. Even if his health was driven to the brink, he still had a chance to recover.

“Rrgh!” Taker shouted.

“Ngh!” The talons raked at him, and Kirschwasser blocked them with his sword.

But here again, Taker gave him no time to think. He sprang into the air, twisted, and lashed down once more with a kick.

Kirschwasser’s vision was consumed by Taker’s raggedy robe as the Anthromorph spun 360 degrees to strike him square in the chest yet again.

The series of clean hits knocked Kirschwasser out of his stance. A cheer rang out around them, even louder this time.

The Knight clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay upright, and just barely succeeded.

A big kick like that should have left a big opening, he thought.

He raised his head, and found Taker had really turned his back on him. If he could hit him in his weak spot with Pain Charge...

Kirschwasser gripped his Knight Sword in both hands, hauling his heavy body into motion, wreathed by a visual of a red aura. This would be his only chance to use it.

He covered the distance between them with one large step and slammed into his opponent with the heaviest attack in his arsenal, channeling all the damage he’d taken into one single strike.

“Hraaaaaagh!” A single strike, aimed at the head. No matter how many buffs he had stacked on himself, if this hit, it would be decisive.

Yet Taker reacted quickly, as if he had anticipated it.

“There it is... your trump card!” He turned back around and thrust out with his talons, which took a strange shape.

Kirschwasser had forgotten one important thing. He wasn’t the only one hiding his trump card. Taker had seemed to be lacking in Arts and Skills relative to his level. Indeed, he had been waiting for a chance, just as Kirschwasser had.

Although he wasn’t a gamer, he was clearly well-versed in the back and forth of combat.

A color visual ran over Taker’s talons, indicating the activation of a special effect. It wasn’t an attack-type Art, but Kirschwasser realized immediately what this “trump card” was, and why he had waited until now to use it. It was the origin of Taker’s name, and the reason for his theatrical phrase, “I will steal your karma.” He knew what Taker’s build really was.

Taker couldn’t fully dodge Kirschwasser’s freight train of an attack, but he managed to take it in the shoulder instead of the head. The damage was serious, but not quite lethal. Kirschwasser then entered the lengthy cooldown time left by the attack, and Taker took advantage of it to slash at his opponent’s forehead with his claws.

Was this the end?

It was just then that a black whirlwind appeared and sent Taker flying.

“...Hmm.” Ichiro looked up suddenly.

He had a vague feeling that things had just gotten worse, and that he should, perhaps, hurry. It was just a baseless instinct, but those tended to be right. He took out his smartphone and gazed at it for a while.

“Ichiro!” Rosemary abruptly called his name.

“Ah, are you finished?” Ichiro asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I have concluded my investigation based on the information you submitted.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Ichiro twined his fingers together and leaned forward. He wasn’t interested in what others had to say about him, but he was curious as to what sorts of calculations an artificial intelligence might come up with in response to what he had said. It might tell him how flexible Rosemary’s thought algorithms were.

“I have run the information through multiple thought processes sourced from users, and I have come up with multiple candidates for an answer,” Rosemary said. “Candidate one: Ichiro is ‘Selfish.’ Candidate two: Ichiro is ‘Freewheeling.’ Candidate three: Ichiro is ‘Extraterrestrial.’ All options differ from the information I sourced from Ichiro’s thought patterns. I also came up with a fourth candidate, which is that everyone except for Ichiro is incorrect, but as this causes remarkable contradictions in my knowledge accumulation system’s basic settings, I intentionally omitted it.”

“I see.” Ichiro rested a hand on his chin, and nodded. It was a more limited conclusion than he had been hoping for, but he wasn’t going to be dejected just yet.

“Please tell me if the correct answer is among these,” Rosemary said.

“That is for you to decide, not I.”

“I do not understand that answer.”

Ichiro was attempting to answer Rosemary’s requests in a way that counted, for him, as good faith. “It’s important for you to have confidence — whatever form that takes — in whatever conclusion you reach,” he explained. “That’s what it means to have personal standards. It’s how I’ve always lived my life. In the end, you’re the only one who can decide which answer is correct.”

Rosemary didn’t respond immediately.

Ichiro didn’t think he was saying anything terribly complicated, but perhaps “confidence” was a difficult concept for a quantum program to grasp. The belief that stocking a computing unit with large numbers of quantum information chips could confer “will” upon it may have been in the realm of the occult from the start.

“And if I may say something more...” Ichiro continued. He wasn’t trying to make things easy on Rosemary, but he thought it would also be best if he explained his own point of view.

“Yes?” Rosemary asked.

“Any conclusion that requires you to compare me to others is nonsense,” said Ichiro. “Of course, it is an important ritual for understanding society in broad strokes, but as a conclusion about my behavior, it will be extremely shallow. You haven’t been able to understand why I act the way I do, right?”

“Yes.”

“I submitted information in response to that,” said Ichiro. “You produced a conclusion by comparing that with the thoughts of others, and you are trying to seek confirmation of that conclusion from an outside source, as well. Such actions could not bring you ‘understanding’ of your subject in any real sense of the word... and, ah, I suppose I’ll say no more.”

Perhaps, with no one around to stop him or reproach him, he had said too much. But Ichiro had measured his timing, and more or less managed to stop himself.

It took some time for Rosemary to respond. He didn’t consider that he was indoctrinating her with ideas he shouldn’t. If this would cause some kind of breakthrough, then sooner or later, Rosemary would enter that realm regardless; if it didn’t, then it meant nothing.

“I will require some time for investigation,” said the AI.

“That’s just fine,” Ichiro answered. “You should think about it very carefully. You’ve done a great deal of learning from others; you should try thinking for yourself for a bit.”

With that said, Ichiro slowly stood up.

Since Rosemary was always monitoring the game, he considered asking her about his hunch. But realizing that that would take him out of the realm of a “mere player,” he decided to refrain. To find out if his hunch was right, he’d have to see it with his own eyes, or check with his friends in the game.

He wondered if he’d make it in time.

“Well, Rosemary, I think I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ichiro said.

“You have given me information of interest,” said Rosemary. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Hmm, good,” Ichiro said. Was that a programmed response, or had it come from Rosemary’s own “mouth”? That he did not know. But maybe that was all right, for now. What mattered to him was that, at least, he had dealt with her on equal footing.

“Ichiro, before you go, I would like to offer you information which you might find of interest,” said the AI.

“Yes?”

“Your friend is in trouble.”

Ah, so he was right. Ichiro narrowed his eyes. “Thank you. Why did you think that would be of interest to me?”

“Friends are viewed as important under most belief systems,” Rosemary said. “I assumed that that belief system would apply to you, as well.”

“Hmm, I see,” Ichiro said. This was one thing he couldn’t call nonsense. He wasn’t just trying to meet Rosemary’s expectations; realistically speaking, friends were important to him.

“Thank you.” With that, Ichiro set down the headset and left the server room.

As he headed down the staircase, he ran into Azami Nono, who had just left her office with a worried look on her face.

“Oh, Azami,” he said. “Thank you for everything. It’s rather sudden, but I must be going.”

“Yes. Um, well...” Azami avoided his eyes, looking rather nervous. It seemed she was also aware of what was going on. “Ichiro, a member of your guild...”

“...is in trouble, yes?” Ichiro said. “Rosemary told me.”

“Yes. As you thought, Megumi’s started a bit of trouble, and the situation’s gotten rather complicated...”

It seemed that by converting brainwaves into quantum data, it was possible to represent, numerically, what players in the game were paying attention to. Looking at the tablet terminal that Azami had offered him, he learned that roughly 8% of all the currently logged-in users were interested in a fight taking place on Manyfish Beach. The name “Kirschwasser” was involved.

The development staff of NaroFan — in part, because they were so shorthanded — generally chose not to interfere in fights between players. Their policy was to let players handle interpersonal disputes themselves. Yet perhaps Azami Nono felt responsibility for what the Nem avatar did, and this was why she had given this information to Ichiro, a “mere player.”

“Ichiro, if you want, um, you can use one of the cocoons on the third floor...” she said.

“Hmm...” Ichiro remembered the three Miraive Gear Cocoons installed on the third-floor conference room. It was true that he could log in immediately from there, and dash in gallantly to save Kirschwasser from the terrible peril he was facing.

But he drove that thought from his mind.

“Borrowing one of those would be going a bit too far against the rules, I fear,” he said. “Though I am grateful for the offer.”

The line between developer and user: it was the same as the line between master and servant that Ichiro and Sakurako were careful to maintain at all times. It was a line that had to be protected at all costs.

“But Ichiro, an accident in Daikanyama has the Shuto Expressway all backed up...” Azami said.

“Ah, a traffic jam?” Ichiro said. “That’s a shame...”

In that case, the subway? He could take the Tokyo Metro to the Den-en-toshi line directly to Sangenjaya. It would be a fast ride, but adding in the time to get to and from the stations, he might not be home for thirty or forty minutes.

Then Ichiro remembered something.

Kirschwasser’s already battered body was being assaulted further by Taker’s claws.

Just then, the crowd parted. A black whirlwind appeared, slammed Taker in the side, and sent him flying. There was a commotion. Iris could hear Felicia and Matsunaga gasp on either side of her.

The new intruder was dressed in a coat that seemed out of place under the hot summer sun above. He held an unadorned straight sword in his hands, and glared at Taker.

As members of the crowd recognized this young man, cries of surprise began to ring out.

“K-King Kirihito!”

“I thought he was a myth!”

“Did he really show up just to kill-steal?!”

“What, is he helping Iris Brand?”

The black whirlwind — King Kirihito — stood wordlessly, paying no attention to the commotion around him.

Kirschwasser fell to one knee and supported himself on his sword, breathing heavily. He knitted his brow as he focused his gaze on King.

“King Kirihito... it’s you, huh?” Taker grumbled bitterly as he picked himself up from where he had landed. “What do you want? What’re you doing here?”

“Nothing personal,” the young boy muttered, speaking for the first time as he toyed with the straight sword in his hand. “I just couldn’t stand to watch two-versus-one. I hate seeing people bully the weak.”

“King...” Kirschwasser whispered in a voice weak with fatigue. “I do not need your help...”

“Really?” King said. “Well, if you say so... I just figured I’d pay the old man back for what I owe him.”

What a little brat, Iris thought. And what a rude way to say it! Did “the old man” refer to the young heir? Iris knew she could be foul-mouthed, but she wouldn’t go so far as to call someone like him an “old man.”

Actually, she thought, wasn’t he Felicia’s classmate? She looked back at the girl standing next to her, and saw that her expression had become pensive.

“....graaaaaaaagh!”

Taker let out a howl and charged directly at King. He brandished his talons and let his hands dance in the same set of strikes that had so effectively mauled Kirschwasser many times before. But King just let out a small sigh, dodged each attack with the most minimal of movements, then swiftly hit him in the stomach with a counter.

The strike came so fast, it was easy to miss. If you had blinked, you might have thought that Taker had just flown back for no reason.

The crowd around them was starting to get worked up again. King Kirihito was once the game’s strongest player. Technically, he was only the second strongest right now, but since the strongest was a total weirdo, his popularity remained deeply rooted.

Or so it seemed. Iris didn’t actually know for sure, but as Felicia had demonstrated proudly to her the other day, if you looked at Matsunaga’s blog, there were an exhaustive number of articles about King.

“I’m not the kind of jerk who’s gonna force my help on someone who says they don’t need it, though,” said King.

“That’s right, Taker. Control yourself.” Sorceress, who had been silent for a while, spoke up. There was a hint of nervousness in her voice. “You can’t beat him by yourself... though I understand how you feel.”

“Rrrk...” Frustration was written clearly on Taker’s face. It suggested he had some kind of longstanding grudge against King, but there was no way to tell anything more than that.

King silently sheathed his sword, then stepped back.

Kirschwasser slowly stood up and glared at Taker.

“Darn it, Kiryuhito!” Felicia cried out from right beside Iris.

“Oh, Felicia...” King, who had turned around for some reason or other, quickly averted his eyes when he saw her.

“Why did you leave Mr. Kirsch like that?!” Felicia exclaimed.

“H-He said... he didn’t need help... so...” King stuttered.

“What are you blushing about?!” she shouted.

“You’re in a swimsuit, Felicia...”

The game’s second-best solo player also seemed to have lost some face in front of his classmate. In addition, the mass-produced Kirihitos of the Kirihitters — also in swimsuits — were raising their hands and whooping at the sudden appearance of King among them. One of them even seemed to be moved to tears.

“Hey, King.” Matsunaga raised a hand to greet King Kirihito with his usual disagreeable smile. He pulled out a Tropical Potion from his item window and offered it to King, then asked him a question with an air of great importance. “What do you think of the match?”

He sounded like a commentator character in a manga — which, admittedly, was already more or less the role that Matsunaga always took.

“What’s there to say?” King popped off the cap of the Tropical Potion bottle with one hand (how cool!) and gave the traditional response. He, too, had entered commentator mode. “The raggedy coat suggests that Taker specializes in copy-type Arts and steal-type Arts, though it’s an unusual build for them. I think the purple visual we saw earlier was ‘Speed Learning,’ which he used to copy Pain Charge. He can only use it once, but he probably built up a lot of damage from the other guy’s Pain Charge attack, probably enough to deal a killing blow of his own. Just like his name... Taker, right? Just like his name says.”

King Kirihito was being quite talkative, which surprised Iris. He had seemed like a sullen introvert the first time they’d met.

“What does ‘Taker’ mean, again?” Felicia asked.

“Taker. /ˈteɪkə/ Noun. Definition: a person who takes something,” said King.

“Wow, good one...” she responded, impressed.

“It was one of the first questions on our summer homework, actually.” King gave Felicia a reproachful look, which she responded to by looking away.

If what he’d said was right, though, there was no way for Kirschwasser to win, no matter how he struggled. Of course, Iris had known his chances for victory were slight from the start, but now it seemed like only a matter of finishing him off...

Iris balled her hands into fists.

“Don’t get so worried,” King said with a shrug. “The old man’ll be here soon.”

“How can you tell?” Iris demanded.

“Just got a feeling.”

As they watched, Taker took a stance across from Kirschwasser once again. Kirschwasser had recovered his shield in the earlier chaos, but it seemed unlikely to prolong his life much longer.

Young heir, if you’re coming, you’d better do it fast... Iris gritted her teeth, and watched the situation with intense concentration.

A smile formed on Taker’s lips. Was he going to come at Kirschwasser with Pain Charge? Taker had failed to land the finishing blow despite having the overwhelming advantage for so long. But now, he had finally gotten the power he needed. There was no way he wasn’t going to use it.

“I’ve gotta say, you did pretty well for yourself, holding out this long,” Taker commented.

“Taker, finish him already,” Sorceress said.

“Shut up! I’m doing it!” Taker readied his fists. But then, in that instant, a buzz arose among the spectators.

“What... is that?” one of the onlookers whispered as he looked up at the sky.

There was a point of light in the cloudless sky above Manyfish Beach, moving towards them at top speed. The distance grew shorter by the second, and soon enough, it was in visual range.

The spectators began to call out.

“What is it?”

“A bird?!”

“A plane?!”

“No...”

The point of light smashed into the crowd, accompanied by a flashy visual. The onlookers began to scream and run around in panic as the impact released a shockwave through the area.

The shockwave carried a plume of sand upon it, which passed over the crowd in an instant, then faded.

At the center of the impact site stood a smiling young man.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What... the...” Taker croaked.

Iris watched Sorceress clap a hand to her forehead.

The person who had just appeared was (in Iris’s opinion) the undisputed holder of the title “most unlikable man in the world.” It was the Dragonet, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. As usual, he was wearing the suit and brooch that Iris had designed, and he looked infuriatingly elegant and cool in it as he stood there.

With intensity sufficient to burn holes in him with her eyes, Iris stared at him and whispered: “See? My designs aren’t as bad as they say.”

“Oh, singing your own praises?” Matsunaga asked.

“Anything looks good on Itchy!” Felicia declared.

Iris glared the two critics back into silence.

“So, including the time from login to the beach, it was about twenty minutes,” Ichiro murmured. “Either way, what matters is that I made it in time.”

“Master Ichiro...” Kirschwasser murmured, eyes glassy. “I have been awaiting your arrival, my lord.”

“And you’ve done very well,” Ichiro said.

Kirschwasser’s manner was reverent and servile, and Ichiro seemed satisfied with what he’d accomplished. In his usual flowing microtransaction style, he produced a fatigue restorer, which he offered to his loyal servant. Kirschwasser hesitated a moment, then at last took the proffered bottle and brought it to his lips.

Taker seemed shaken by the sight. He turned back to Nem and shouted in anger. “Hey, what the hell? You said he’d be logging in late today!”

“Y-Yes, well...” Nem averted her eyes, flustered.

“Yes, and I was late,” Ichiro said, remaining aloof in his manner, one hand in his pocket. “My lateness ended up putting Sir and Iris in danger.”

He never changes, Iris thought. It sounded like he’d rushed to finish up his business and return. But it was suspicious that Nem and her cohorts knew about that, too.

Regardless, Ichiro had made it in time. She knew how strong he was, and that wasn’t the only aspect about this that was reassuring. The young heir was the main person of interest in the Nem incident, which meant that he was the best person possible to placate her. Indeed, Nem herself seemed to be the one most flustered by his appearance. If Ichiro would just break things off with her already, perhaps that could be the end of it.

But the moment that thought went through her mind, Iris felt a sudden tightness grip her heart.

For now, Taker and Sorceress couldn’t do anything. They just stared at Ichiro, as if they’d just come face-to-face with their mortal enemy. Kirschwasser used the downtime to recoup via the myriad recovery items that Ichiro had summoned.

“Isn’t that the...” murmured someone in the crowd.

“They say he spends a million a day on microtransactions...”

“Are you kidding me?” a third person asked.

Amidst the chaos, Iris could hear the onlookers speaking about Ichiro in hushed tones. “A million” might not be accurate, but it didn’t sound far off. She didn’t know the precise amount he was spending on his microtransactions — nor did she want to — but what sounded like a lot of money to her might be pocket change to Ichiro. Thus, she couldn’t tell if that estimate was too high or too low.

“The old man’s moving pretty slow...” she heard King whisper to himself.

“Really? He looks normal to me...” Felicia said.

“I think he’s lagging,” said King Kirihito. “He’s probably running on a machine with a lower processing point than usual. A narrower pipe. It’s speculation, but I don’t think he’s logged on from his home machine.”

How would King know all that just from looking? Who was this child? Were all “gaming junkies” capable of the same feats?

Felicia just tilted her head in surprise, while Matsunaga murmured “I see...” meaningfully. The Kirihitters were beyond speech, as they were too busy being reduced to tears at the thought of hearing King Kirihito’s commentary firsthand.

Taker fixed his glare on Ichiro once more. “Damn... Quite a time for the final boss to show up...”

“Yes, prepare yourselves,” Ichiro replied. Apparently, he wasn’t going to deny the title of “final boss.”

While they spoke, Kirschwasser finished his recovery, then took up his position directly beside... or rather, beside and one step behind Ichiro. His expression was placid, the face of the loyal lackey who always accompanied the final boss.

“Master Ichiro, I am restored,” Sir Kirschwasser said.

“Mm, good,” Ichiro said. “Well, could you hold out for five more minutes?”

“Yes, sir.” Kirschwasser nodded in perfect understanding.

It was the rubberneckers watching them who didn’t understand. The manners of Taker and Sorceress were questioning — the former annoyed, and the latter shocked.

In the midst of it all, King Kirihito alone said, “Aha...” which just annoyed Iris all the more.

“What, you know what’s going on?” she demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Huh? No way,” said King. “Why bother?”

What a nasty little brat.

“You’re just like the young heir...” Iris muttered.

“Am I?” he asked.

“You look a little happy about that,” Felicia commented.

“Fine, I’ll explain.” King looked over at Felicia with a shrug. “He told the Knight to hold on while he logs out for five minutes. When you log out in a field, your avatar is defenseless for three minutes.”

“But why is he logging out?” Felicia asked.

“Probably to move to a machine with better specs. Or maybe he’s got something else to take care of.”

Were King’s words the truth or not? Iris couldn’t know for sure, but what she could see was that Ichiro was indeed opening up a window to log out.

Taker seemed baffled by this development, but Sorceress just spoke to him calmly: “They’re planning something, Taker.” There was no particular panic, nor confidence, in her words. “You still have the Pain Charge you copied, don’t you? If you can finish him in five minutes, it’s all settled.”

“Yeah... got it.” Taker nodded. He drew into a ready stance once more, his talons regaining the red aura visual that signified the activation of Pain Charge.

A murmur ran through the crowd. Could Kirschwasser tank the hit or not? A green visual ran over Taker’s body, suggesting a considerable stat boost.

Kirschwasser showed no sign of being cowed by it. He merely readied his shield and sword to stand in front of Ichiro.

“I’ll crush you in one hit!” Taker declared.

“Oh? Try it, if you can!” Kirschwasser shot back.

The tips of Taker’s talons sent whirlwinds through the air. He took a deep step in, his hands trailing a visual of a flash that suggested a tremendous damage modifier. Rending the empty space, the Pain Charge he’d stored up ripped out at Sir Kirschwasser’s silver armor.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?!” the man shouted.

“Nonsense,” Ichiro responded placidly to the man shouting at him on the other end of the phone line. “I treat everything in life with utmost seriousness.”

The workers around him were watching with fearful expressions, but he reassured them with a wave of his hand.

Ichiro was in the electronic leisure center, Akihabara Cybertown, that would be opening in autumn. His conversation partner was the man he had been exchanging words with just a few hours ago: Pony Entertainment CEO Shinya Otogiri. The man’s earlier calm was completely gone, his manner now angry and threatening.

“Are you picking a fight with me, then?” the man snapped.

“I’m trying to be considerate both to you and the goods we’ve exchanged,” said Ichiro. “I am still a businessman, after all.”

His way of speaking, despite sounding like provocation, was actually Ichiro’s way of being sincere. In actuality, he was feeling quite fed up with the entire conversation. He wanted to end the call and get back to the game. No matter who he was dealing with, he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Really, Mr. Otogiri,” Ichiro said. “I just needed a place where I could log into a game as swiftly as possible.”

“So you bought an arcade just before its opening?!”

“You described the small company running it as a mere lizard’s tail, a decoy,” said Ichiro. “But you should have staffed it with more loyal people. The minute I offered them the proper development funds and urgent upkeep costs in advance, they happily ceded ownership to me.”

In the end, that was all it had taken. If it had seemed like the negotiations would be more time-consuming, Ichiro would have just given up and gone home on the subway. Instead, it had all gone surprisingly smoothly, and minutes later, Ichiro had had his own arcade. As a result, the login he’d thought might take between thirty and forty minutes had been accomplished in just about half the time.

But because the cocoons were still being set up, just to be safe, he had temporarily logged in using a Miraive Gear X he’d bought in Electric Town.

“That’s an extremely expensive twenty minutes!” the man shouted.

“It’s cheap from my perspective,” said Ichiro. “Even if it is in a game, it meant that I saved Sir from death.”

The fact that that statement wasn’t a joke was part of what made Ichiro Tsuwabuki so terrifying.

It was around then that a worker came by, likely to tell him that the setup of a cocoon was complete. Ichiro silenced him with one hand, then said in his usual leisurely way to his companion on the other end of the phone, “Now, I really must be going. If I spend too long talking to you, it will defeat the purpose of my buying this arcade. I do not intend to tell you how to run your business. I’ll be bearing the cost burden, but if you still want to drink the most succulent juices off of the arcade business, they’re yours. Goodbye.”

“Hey, wai—”

Ichiro hung up the phone.

The worker who was waiting in front of him removed his hat and greeted him again. “We finished setting one up.”

“Mm, excellent work. I’m going to be using it for about twenty minutes.” Ichiro opened the hatch set into the cocoon, and slipped into the seat with a practiced motion.

Watching him, one of the employees whispered, “Rich people are really something, huh?”

Of course, not all rich people were like this.

Kirschwasser held up his shield, putting everything he had into soaking the enormity of the power his opponent brought to bear. Taker had attacked so many times by now, but at the core of Kirschwasser’s finely-honed focus was the soul of a true protector.

Taker’s Pain Charge hit Kirschwasser’s shield, letting out a crack so loud it caused the air around them to tremble. The finishing move, enhanced with considerable buffs, sent Kirschwasser’s health into a downward spiral, and a tingling sensation spread throughout his body.

Kirschwasser gritted his teeth, enjoying the feel of the shockwave passing through the shield. There was no pain, but this hair-raising sensation was the only way to really feel “alive” in this inanimate virtual world. Within Kirschwasser, the eccentric gamer Sakurako Ogi let out a howl of joy.

The damage number surged, then suddenly stopped. Kirschwasser skidded to a halt on the sand, and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Hmm... felt like a passing breeze...”

He had said it. One of those breathtakingly cool lines he had been longing to say. It had been a hard-fought year since he’d begun playing Narrow Fantasy Online, and at last, he was able to say that line. Joy swelled up inside of him.

“What’s with the damn grin?!” shouted Taker.

“You wouldn’t understand. Heh heh heh...”

It was just then that space warped once more, and the storied young heir, Ichiro Tsuwabuki, completed his login.

Taker winced.

“Welcome back, Master Ichiro,” said Kirschwasser. “Is your business complete?”

“Yes,” said Ichiro. “And I see you’re looking rather pleased, Sir Kirschwasser.”

“Could you tell?”

Ichiro and Kirschwasser were now in total control of the mood of the scene. When the two of them were together, Taker was reduced to a clown — an object of mockery.

Ichiro stepped forward, with Kirschwasser just one step behind him.

Yet Taker still, apparently, intended to fight. “D-Damn...”

If that was how he wanted to act, Sorceress wouldn’t spare on the support magic, either.

Ichiro made only the most minimal of movements. He opened the menu, went to Config, and with flowing, effortless motions, performed a virtual item transaction. He summoned a 1,200-yen sword into his hand: the Legendary Blade Arondight. It was widely considered to be an item whose abilities weren’t worth the cost.

“Mr. Tsuwabuki. Are you going to do that?!” Kirihito (Leader) called out in a voice trembling with excitement.

“I am. So?”

“Okay, you heard him!” the man cried. “Everyone, shockwave/microtransaction defense positions!”

In response to his call, civil representatives The Kirihitters closed their eyes and covered their ears in a stance as old as civilization. Felicia did the same thing. They all knew what Ichiro was about to do.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but...” Taker cried out as he began his charge, “...that weapon’s mine!”

Taker’s fingertips brushed the Monetary Blade that Ichiro was holding. Immediately, the sword disappeared and reappeared in Taker’s hands.

“Oh, is that ‘Steal’?” Matsunaga murmured, impressed.

“Getting a success against the old man... he’s impressive.” King agreed. But there was also a sense of pity in the voice.

Ichiro, seeming unfazed, just spent another 1,200 yen to summon another Monetary Blade. Taker’s eyes widened in shock, but his expression immediately hardened, and he executed Steal again. His talons brushed over the second Monetary Blade, and he stole it.

Silently, Ichiro summoned a third sword. Taker stole that one, too.

“Um, Master Ichiro...” Kirschwasser interrupted timidly, with an expression that suggested a sinking feeling in his stomach.

And so, “microtransaction theater” began.

“D-Damn you... How many are you going to buy?!” Taker finally shouted in exasperation after roughly twenty blades had been bought and stolen.

Ichiro answered lightly, “To defeat you? As many as I have to.”

“How freaking bourgeois can you get?!”

Ichiro did not answer the question; he just called another Monetary Blade.

One bought, the other stole, until at last, Taker exceeded his inventory limit. This final blade fell with a plop onto the sand as he stole it, and the momentary distraction provided a fatal opening.

“Now...” Ichiro said. He readied his sword, stepped in, and activated his Art, Breaker. Raised to an absurdly high level, the Art unleashed the hidden potential of the weapon, channeling its durability into attack power unthinkable for a single strike. Above the head of the defenseless Taker, the ruthless Monetary Blade let out its final shine.

“Ah!” The strike let out a roar as it bisected his face. Though far too effortless to be called a proper finishing move, the strike still extinguished Taker’s hit points in a split second.

In lieu of an announcer voice declaring Taker’s death, all of his inventory items scattered on the sand below. The vast majority of them were Monetary Blades he’d stolen from Ichiro. The shine they let off, too dull for something that was 1,200 yen per strike, made them look like a lot of dud fireworks.

“Now...” Ichiro picked up the Monetary Blades fallen on the beach, then turned his eyes to the other mercenary. At the time of Taker’s “death,” he had regained ownership of the stolen items. “...you want to fight, too?”

“Certainly not. I concede,” Sorceress said with an indifferent shrug. “We lose. Right, Leader?”

Sorceress turned towards Nem, whose eyes were pointed towards the ground.

“......”

That was right. There was still Nem. What resolution would she allow to all of this? Everyone who knew the story, standing in that place, were probably thinking the same thing. It was down to Nem and Ichiro, the ones who had started all of this.

Ichiro probably hadn’t seen exactly how things had gotten to this point, but...

“I think I can more or less guess what happened,” said Ichiro. “I do not particularly wish to say this, but I had better do it, to keep you from causing any more trouble for Iris and Felicia in the future.”

Iris could see Nem’s shoulders begin to tremble. Perhaps she could sense what Ichiro was about to say. It was probably going to be like a death sentence to her, but Ichiro likely thought that if the way he had behaved had caused problems, he had better not leave any question of it.

“Nem.”

“Y-Yes?”

“I...” he began to say, but somebody stopped him.

“Wait.”

Ichiro turned to see who it was. It was Iris. Her words were enough to cause another slight stir in the hushed audience.

“Nem, next time you come to me with a challenge, I’ll accept it,” said Iris. “You want to beat me, right? Right?”

“Iris...” Nem looked up.

“I don’t know what you like so much about this arrogant, selfish, freewheeling, rude, charmless, wasteful, reckless, stubborn know-it-all, but...”

“Impressively said.” Ichiro shrugged.

“I’ll take you on,” Iris said. “If you think you’re better than me, then you should prove it in front of the young heir. That’ll solve everything, won’t it?”

Iris stared hard at Nem. Nem had no response at first, but she raised her face slightly when Sorceress tugged her sleeve.

“I know the young heir doesn’t hate you or anything, so don’t do things that will make him dislike you,” said Iris. “There’s no need to be underhanded. Right?”

“Mm. Yes, I agree,” said Nem. For once, the jealous girl did not object.

“Well then, Nem,” said Ichiro. “If that is what Iris wishes, then I take back what I was about to say. Forgive me.”

Nem still did not say anything, except one last word, barely whispered. “...Thanks.”

Then, led by Sorceress, she quietly left the beach.

“Okay, okay. It’s all over now. On your way, all of you.” Kirschwasser clapped his hands together, and the audience dispersed with much chatter.

The battle was over, for now. It had ultimately been a pointless one, but at least it was resolved.

“Long day, Iris and Felicia,” Ichiro added.

“No kidding!” Iris snapped back loudly. “You really need to get some control over the women you hit on!”

“I never intended to hit upon her, and I thought I had made my feelings clear,” said Ichiro. “But because my behavior did lead to this incident, I cannot fully call your accusation nonsense.”

“Good for you, admitting to it!”

“I do that, sometimes.”

A frown appeared on Felicia’s face as she hugged Gobo-Two. “Watching her, I started reexamining a few things, myself...”

“About your taste in men?”

“No way! Itchy’s great!” Felicia gasped in shock at her own shameless exclamation, then lowered her voice again. “No... I mean, that she wasn’t really enjoying the game, either... I only started playing to look for Kiryuhito, and I feel like her outlook is too narrow, in the same way mine is.”

“Well, that’s okay,” King Kirihito, who had previously been silent, threw in. “Once she gets over what’s eating at her, her outlook’ll expand, too.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” Matsunaga asked, joining in.

“Yeah, I guess so,” said King. “You’ve been through it too, right, Matsunaga?”

“Indeed I have.”

If Iris had needed to accept Nem’s challenge in order to break the other woman from her depression, then King’s words suggested that she’d had a responsibility to do just that. But all Iris said was, eagerly, “I guess I’ll just have to do it.”

“One’s own self is a difficult part to play,” Kirihito (Leader) said, his comment tone deaf in a way that suggested he didn’t fully understand the situation. The other Kirihitters seemed to share his ignorance.

“Well, it’s all settled for now,” Kirschwasser said once everyone had offered an opinion. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea?”

“Good idea.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way to finish it.”

“I love Mr. Kirsch’s tea.”

“Same, actually.”

As they walked their way back to the beach house, Ichiro gazed at Iris. A rare occurrence.

“Wh-What?” Iris, suddenly feeling self-conscious, tried to hide her body with her arms.

Ichiro responded in grave tones. “I was just thinking... You really do have no design sense.”

“Like I care what you think!” Iris lashed out with a full-power punch. Naturally, he dodged it, and she and her design sense-free swimsuit went plunging into the sand.

It was around that time that the Red Sunset Knights returned from their quest to defeat the boss monster off shore. The drop items they had received were primarily seafood. They gave these out for free to the other players on the beach, and everyone ate with relish all together.