2 - Noble Son, Watch Over

“Hiya, Taker!”

When the young girl in the blazer ran up to him, the man was absorbed in his task, picking up garbage by the riverbed.

“Shoko?” he asked.

“Yep, it’s me! Whatcha doin’?”

“Picking up garbage,” the man proclaimed, almost proudly.

Indeed, there was quite a lot of garbage scattered across the embankment. People could be so thoughtless. Empty cans and plastic bags, combustibles and non-combustibles, little odds and ends that were difficult to collect... He was hard at work collecting them all, tongs in hand.

Shoko tilted her head at his tone. “Trash picking up garbage?”

“I was only trash two days ago,” he said. “I’m myself again now.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good,” she said.

If he was feeling better, that was all that mattered. Shoko knew that he tended to suffer from fits of deep depression, but if he was feeling good enough to contribute to society, he was probably fine.

“Gonna play NaroFan again today?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’ve basically decided what we’re going to do,” he said.

She tossed him a can of cola, which he caught without even turning around.

“But Leader can’t log in until evening, so I’m making a little money by picking up garbage,” he added.

“Nem does have a company to run, after all!” Shoko said.

She decided to join him in his task. She tried stepping into the brush along the river and found her bare leg below her short skirt sink quite a ways down. She would have to be careful the leaves didn’t cut up her thighs.

He answered, “Yeah, she’s got business to run, but today she’s giving a lecture at some trade school, she said.”

“Ohh...” said Shoko.

What had Nem said her real name was, again? Shoko couldn’t remember exactly, but she knew that she was a famous fashion designer. She ran the fashion brand MiZUNO, which offered high-class yet casual designs. Shoko liked them, and bought them often. For being a brand-name line, the prices were quite reasonable.

If Nem was lecturing at a fashion trade school, there would probably be a lot of girls as discerning and tasteful as Shoko there. She would surely get a good reception. Shoko wondered if Nem might spare herself a lot of mental anguish if she spent more time in welcoming environments like that.

“Shoko.” The man turned back in the middle of his trash-collecting.

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“About the challenge Leader issued...”

“Hmm? Yeah?” Shoko parted the grass and discovered a rather sticky porno magazine. Were there still people who tossed these onto the riverbed? This was not trash, but treasure, so she left it where it was, praying that it might find its way to a curious young person.

As Shoko withdrew from the underbrush, the man continued, holding the garbage bag in one hand. “Do you want to be her model?”

Shoko was still picking leaves out of her skirt as she responded. “Sure!”

“You didn’t even hesitate?” he asked.

Indeed, she did not.

Airi Kakitsubata was a 17-year-old girl attending a design trade school. She wanted to be a fashion designer when she grew up.

Although it was summer vacation, Airi had come to school today. Charles Private Fashion College—“Charles” was pronounced in the French manner—was one of many trade schools in Tokyo for aspiring fashion designers. The curriculum included high school courses, making it possible to get a high school diploma when one graduated.

Despite being a school for fashion, the building itself was made of undistinguished concrete, which was the one thing Airi didn’t like about it. She was otherwise quite satisfied with the professors and the curriculum, including the way that, like today, they sometimes called in distinguished guests to give lectures.

Megumi Fuyo was the president of the up-and-coming fashion brand MiZUNO, and the wunderkind of the apparel world. It was not surprising that the students would come out in droves to hear her lecture, so the hall immediately filled up.

“Th-There are so many people here...” Airi said as she looked all around.

“A lot of people feel the way you do, Airi,” her friend said casually.

“What about you, then?” Airi asked.

“Me? I’m partly here for you, and partly here for the education. Fuyo’s super talented; I’m just not gonna worship the ground she walks on.”

“You make me sound like a crazy cultist,” said Airi.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Her tanned friend clearly wasn’t trying to be mean, but her word choice still grated on Airi’s nerves a bit. She was a good friend, but she was a natural talent, and she had the unflappability that came along with it. In addition, despite being aware of her own talent, she still worked as hard as anyone. All in all, being around her couldn’t help but trigger Airi’s sense of inferiority.

“I respect Megumi Fuyo; I don’t worship her,” said Airi. “I’m not gonna lose my head over her, either.”

“Oh, yeah?” her friend mused.

It was just then that Megumi Fuyo finally appeared on stage. The small lecture hall was suddenly bursting with deafening screams, as if an idol had come on stage to give a concert. She was dressed in a chic black suit, just like the one she had worn on TV the day before.

As Megumi Fuyo took her place on stage, she projected into the microphone with the air of a veteran public speaker. “A pleasure to meet you, everyone. I am Megumi Fuyo, president of MiZUNO, Inc.”

The cheers grew louder. It was a surreal scene indeed, given that the audience knew this was supposed to be a serious lecture for educational purposes. The teacher waiting on the edge of the stage gave the students a severe scowl.

And as for Airi...

“Yeee! Fuyo! Eee! Eee!” That was her reaction.

Her friend just gave a small shrug.

As inappropriate reactions went, this was all going a bit too far. The teacher took up a microphone, and was just about to reprimand them, when Fuyo stopped her with a raised hand.

“Thank you all for your warm welcome. But before I begin, I would like to say one thing.” Fuyo’s words, delivered softly and with a bright smile, brought the whole hall into silence. “You’re all here as future fashion designers. I’m grateful and honored that you view me as a figure of admiration and aspiration. At the same time, I hope you won’t forget that someday, I may be your rival, your competition in the marketplace.”

A hush came over the formerly screaming girls as they listened to the words flow smoothly from her mouth. Airi was among them. Fuyo’s words had snapped their dreams back to cold reality.

“An artistic person must view other artists as rivals at all times,” said Megumi. “Regardless of our skill levels, I believe that I must view every other person trying to make it in this industry—yes, including all of you—as my rivals. Though some might say that’s petty of me.”

The words delivered a shock to Airi’s system. She had always thought of Megumi Fuyo as someone completely out of her league, as someone she could never possibly compete with. But now that she mentioned it, what if that wasn’t really the case?

What if Nem felt the same way? She knew that Airi was so unskilled that she could refer to her designs as “nothing,” yet Airi was still a rival, fighting on the same battlefield. It was only natural that she would try to make a show of force before her. Nem was not condescending, nor punching below her weight class. She was just dealing with Airi as one should with a potential opponent. Airi felt reinvigorated.

Meanwhile, her practical friend had kept her eyes fixed on Fuyo the entire time, showing little reaction. Perhaps she had reached this realization already, a long time ago.

With the auditorium now silent, Fuyo looked over them all and gave a small nod. “I’m glad to see you understand. Please listen to what I’m about to tell you as words from a rival. How you interpret them, and how you act based upon them, is all up to you.”

None of the students were cheering now. The only sound echoing through the auditorium was Fuyo’s own voice.

The two-hour lecture seemed to pass in no time at all. There was time afterwards for questions, but while Airi raised her hand, she wasn’t called upon, and in the end, she wasn’t able to ask Fuyo anything directly.

Still, the contents of the lecture had been fantastic, so it would be wrong to ask any more than that. In particular, it had been a good chance for Airi to reevaluate her naive ideas regarding the motivation and fortitude necessary to become a designer. All in all, it had been a wonderful two hours.

Indeed, it had been. And yet...

“C-Can’t we just leave it?” Airi stuttered. “The two-hour lecture was enough. I think it’s a little rude to try to talk to her directly even after it’s over...”

“But there’s something you want to ask her, right?” her friend asked.

Pulled along by her friend, Airi wandered through the empty school building.

“Being so timid about that kind of thing is so like you... yet so not like you,” her friend said.

“You just wouldn’t understand!” Airi cried.

Her friend’s grip was surprisingly strong as she pulled Airi along hard. Her friend was unflappable, but she was also completely shameless. It was because she was so uncompromising when it came to her vision. Airi couldn’t help but wonder if she could learn a thing or two from her.

“Ah, there she is!” her friend cried.

At her friend’s words, Airi jerked herself upright.

Ahead, loitering in the school hallway all by herself, was Megumi Fuyo. She was looking at a wall display of croquis sketches done by Airi and other students. Airi cringed in embarrassment.

“Well, good luck!” Her friend gave Airi a push, then turned around and walked away.

“Ah, um... w-wait!”

But her friend just waved airily to her without turning back. Airi thought about going after her, but to do that would be to lose sight of Megumi Fuyo. As shameless as it might be, this really was her chance to talk to her directly.

After a bit of hesitation, Airi finally made up her mind and stepped forward. “Ah, um... Miss Fuyo...” Airi’s voice cracked as she addressed the woman from behind.

Megumi Fuyo turned around. Despite her plain, businesslike suit, she projected a sense of stylishness through her tasteful application of makeup, and more importantly, the careful styling of her hair. It showed that exquisite taste was projected in more than simply what clothing someone wore. Her hairstyle—intricate plaits bound together in the back—was one that Airi had secretly imitated.

“Ah... are you a student of this school?” Megumi Fuyo inquired with a gentle smile and a tilt of her head.

Ah, she really is an amazing person, Airi thought, her head swimming. She was the word “maturity” embodied.

“You’re one of the ones who put her hand up earlier,” Megumi Fuyo said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call on you.”

Airi was thrilled that she remembered. “Ah, yes. Um... Ah, might you have been looking at our design sheets, by chance?” She was trying her hardest to sound unimposing, and to hold off on barging right into the main subject.

“Yes,” said Megumi Fuyo. “Sometimes I find myself focusing too much on my own sensibility. It can make me lose sight of things, but looking at other people’s designs can give me new perspective.”

“B-But surely our designs are just embarrassing compared to yours...”

“Oh, that’s not true at all...” There was a note of loneliness in Megumi Fuyo’s voice. “Whether something is good or bad... at the end of the day, it’s up to a person’s subjective opinion.”

Her words sounded similar to those of the young heir. Perhaps, despite everything, he was a mature person, as well.

Those thoughts of NaroFan caused Airi to think of Nem. Which reminded her: she had to get Fuyo to give her some tips about how to beat her.

“Let me see. Which of these is by you?” Megumi Fuyo asked.

“Ah, um... this one.” As embarrassed as Airi felt about it, she realized this might also be a good chance. She pointed to one of the posted papers: a single design illustration labeled with the name Airi Kakitsubata. It was next to a piece drawn by her extremely talented friend, which just made her feel more embarrassed.

Fuyo looked at the design, and her eyes widened in surprise.

Airi shrank back. Was it really that bad? But Fuyo did not comment on Airi’s skill one way or another.

“Miss Kakitsubata,” Megumi Fuyo said. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Ah, right.” Airi straightened immediately. She had been asked, so she had to answer. “Um, I... in four days, I’m going to be taking part in a clothing design competition. Er, well, the truth is, it’s in a video game...”

“I see...” Fuyo closed her eyes, then turned back to Airi. She seemed to straighten, her manner no longer the gentle one it had been.

Airi had already been nervous about what she might say, but what she ended up hearing defied belief.

“You’re Iris, aren’t you?”

Airi stared at her. “Ah...”

“I am Nem.”

Fuyo and Airi were the only two people in that hall, and for that one moment, that isolation felt all the more vast. Everything else seemed to vanish. For that instant alone, Airi was Iris, and Fuyo was Nem.

“Um... but... um...” At last, Airi Kakitsubata understood.

The woman who, ten days ago, had stopped by Iris Brand and said, “It’s nothing.” The woman who, the other day, had visited the beach and started a quarrel with Kirschwasser, and had looked at Ichiro with those pleading eyes. It had been Megumi Fuyo all along.

The person who had picked that fight with her was, of all people, the designer she most admired. The shock of it made it impossible for Airi to speak. Seeing the clear panic in her eyes, Fuyo’s expression grew a little bit sad.

“Iris, do you like my designs?” she asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, Airi replied honestly. “Yes,” she said.

The truth was shocking to learn, but she just couldn’t hate the woman’s designs. Even the swimsuits she had designed for the game were incredible. One look at them had been like an electric shock shooting through her.

“But... Miss Fuyo, do you really think my designs are... nothing?” Airi asked haltingly, unable to meet her eyes.

Fuyo’s response was cruel. “Do you really wish to hear me say those words again?”

Airi could say nothing. It was as if she had done just that. She couldn’t even look at her.

“But Iris, the things I said during my lecture were all from my heart,” said the designer. “I must surpass you; your skill level does not alter that fact.”

“Because the young heir liked my designs?” Airi said unhappily.

“Ichiro... let’s set him aside for now.” Fuyo-Nem said that with surprising ease. She had seemed so fixated on the young heir before. “I’m glad I met you here, Iris. I know now, for sure, that I will never regain my confidence until I beat you.”

Regardless of their talent, all designers were rivals. And chief among those rivals for Megumi Fuyo, at the moment, was Airi Kakitsubata—Iris. Perhaps it was that loathsome young heir who had started it all, but right now, the instigator didn’t matter. To recover her shaken confidence, Megumi had to surpass Airi.

Small-minded. Petty. Airi could have called her any of those things... but she couldn’t.

“Let’s have a good match, Iris.” With that, Megumi Fuyo departed down the hall. What could Airi do but watch her walk away?

“G-Good match? How? How am I even supposed to compete?” she whispered, the words just barely wrung from her throat.

“Hydro... Blaaaah!”

The fireball fizzled! Felicia was forced to run helplessly as the giant lava-dwelling Volcano Dragon chased her! The maw of the giant lizard drew ever closer, and...!

“Hnngh!”

Its pursuit was interrupted by a spinning kick from Yuri! With techniques like “Kick Mastery” strengthening the force from her foot, she smashed it against the bridge of the dragon’s nose. The extremely short range of martial arts attacks stood out in greater relief against giant monsters like this, but Yuri fought well despite her handicap.

As the Volcano Dragon flinched back, Yuri and Felicia jumped aside to recoup. Fortunately, no damage had been done to Felicia, but Gobo-Two, which she had been using as a weapon, was severely depleted. She gave it a potion to bring it back from the verge.

“Felicia, can you keep going?” Yuri asked.

“I can! But... hey!” Despite the presence of the Volcano Dragon in front of her, Felicia turned back, then screamed. “Itchy, why are you drinking tea?!”

Indeed, while Felicia and Yuri were fighting, Ichiro Tsuwabuki was enjoying an elegant teatime just a few meters away. Naturally, it was Kirschwasser who was preparing it, and neither showed any intention of participating in the battle.

“I believed my interference would be counterproductive to your improvement, Felicia,” said Ichiro.

“But someone else interfered even though we didn’t ask!” Felicia shouted back, pointing towards a serious-looking young man in black.

“Felicia, Yuri, if you watch its movement patterns calmly, you can ascertain the perfect moment in which to strike,” the black-clad young man said. “Don’t just rush in recklessly. Plan your timing just right!”

It was Kirihito (Leader), who was on his own today.

He was the leader of a group of gimmick players, and while his level was not quite in the top percentile, it was a lot higher than either Felicia’s and Yuri’s. With the Warp Feather shortage ongoing, Kirihito (Leader) had wound up separated from his fellow Kirihitos. On his way to catch up with them, he had run into Felicia and the others and had volunteered to help them out.

“Really?” Ichiro asked. “He looks to me like he’s educating you as he’s fighting.”

“That’s right, Felicia.” Yuri nodded in agreement. “We didn’t ask for his help, but he’s giving it to us. Let’s do our best together.”

“O-Okay,” Felicia said. “I really didn’t ask for it, though.”

“Sure, leave it to me,” Kirihito (Leader) agreed, earnestly. As one would expect from someone who offered help where it wasn’t asked for, he was quite a good person. At the very least, in Felicia’s experience, Kirihito (Leader) seemed the closest to a genuinely nice person she’d met so far in the game.

The fierce attacks of the Volcano Dragon showed no signs of stopping while they talked. As Felicia ran away as fast as she could, Yuri found an opening and pressed the attack.

Their levels were about equal, but oh, the difference in how they dealt with it! It made Felicia realize just how soft she had become, having been raised in the power leveling bubble. She couldn’t stay this way; she had to become a proper gamer and impress Sera Kiryu.

Every time Felicia thought she saw an opening, she charged in. As a result, she was fried by its breath, raked by its scales, and batted aside by its tail. Kirihito (Leader) was an attentive assistant to her, using potions to restore her low health and keep her in the fraught battle. Eventually, through teamwork, they managed to drive the Volcano Dragon to the brink of defeat.

Then, finally...

“Time for revenge!” Felicia jumped up again, readied her battle-axe pitch in midair with one leg up high, then skillfully threw the ball. “Hydro Blasterrrrr!”

Gobo-Two, fired from the catapult of her right arm, spun at high speed and slammed itself into the dragon’s brow. After the initial impact, it kept dealing damage, shaving down the dragon’s health. Then at last, it pierced through its head completely.

As Felicia tapped back down, Gobo-Two returned to her right hand, and the massive Volcano Dragon slowly collapsed. It’s finished, Felicia thought.

The cheerful fanfare rang out, and the result window appeared before her eyes. Most dragon-type mobs had been created to be boss monsters for a quest, and the experience and money it gave out were appropriate to such a powerful enemy. Felicia felt terribly pleased with herself.

“Did you really have to jump?” Yuri asked, looking at her sidelong as she checked her own result window.

“My coach says it’s an important thing to do if you want to throw the perfect miracle pitch.”

“You moved very well,” said Kirihito (Leader). “If you could just anticipate your opponents’ actions a bit better, you’d be perfect.”

Kirihito (Leader), with the confidence natural to high-level players, just closed the window with a few taps without even checking it. Felicia liked getting praise like that. She’d increase her personal skill a little more and give Kiryu a real fright one day.

As Gobo-Two returned to its original size, Felicia hugged it to her chest, turned back to the young heir at his elegant teatime, and waved. “Itchy! Did you see?”

“I saw,” Ichiro said quietly, then brought the cup to his lips. “I would have saved you if something had gone wrong, but I’m glad that it didn’t prove necessary.”

Ichiro returned the empty cup to Kirschwasser’s tray and smiled very slightly. There was something vaguely satisfied in his expression.

“Hey, what’s with that smile?” Felicia complained.

“I think it’s good that you’re trying to find your own goal in the game.”

“Oh, uh, yeah...” She couldn’t remember ever telling Ichiro about that directly, but maybe he’d just inferred it.

It was just as she had told Yuri the day before: she was trying to find her own way of enjoying the game. She didn’t want her NaroFan life to be so shallow that she just casually logged in forever because Itchy was there. Still, she was a bit embarrassed to have him see through her like that.

She cast a glance at Yuri, but the other girl just shrugged. Kirihito (Leader) folded his arms and nodded, though he probably didn’t actually know what was going on.

“Well, what shall we do now?” Kirschwasser brought a tray with tea for three, as if to congratulate them for the successful battle. “You could wait for it to respawn and fight it again, or we could head back to the guild house for now. I have a feeling Iris will be returning soon.”

“Hmm...” Felicia was pensive as she took the cup of tea. A thought was rising up in the back of her mind—a suggestion of a sort, or a recommendation. But she was wondering if it might make her sound like a poser.

Ah, well. She’d say it anyway.

“Itchy, you guys head back. We’ll stay here and level up for a little while longer.”

“Hmm?” Ichiro’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t blame him for being suspicious; it wasn’t the kind of thing she said very often.

She put her hands on her hips and hummed, trying to make a great show of adulthood. “I’m not a member of Iris Brand, but you are, right? I’m sure you’ll have a lot of things to talk about when Iris gets on. Besides, I’ve got Yuri and Leader with me. I’ll be fine.”

“I see.” Ichiro smiled in a way that suggested true satisfaction with that response, and stood up. “I’ll do that, then. Sir Kirschwasser?”

“Sir,” Kirschwasser answered immediately at the sound of his name. As usual, he was every bit the loyal servant.

Felicia would be lying if she said she wasn’t reluctant to say goodbye. To be honest, part of her wanted him to stay and keep watching her fight. But as long as she continued to ask for such things, she’d always be a child. She had to feign adulthood until she truly felt it.

A thought had occurred to Felicia during the Nem incident the other day: in order for Ichiro to acknowledge her, she needed to get some space from him.

As she watched Ichiro and Kirschwasser go, Yuri turned to Felicia. “Felicia, why are you looking so grim?”

“Growing up is a sad thing.”

“Miss Felicia, don’t say that line,” Kirihito (Leader) said, looking as if he’d received some sort of trauma.

Ichiro and Kirschwasser returned to the Iris Brand guild house. As usual, the sale of Warp Feathers on the market was being controlled or limited by someone, leaving hardly any available for purchase. This had completely limited players’ ability to move around in the game, and many were turning to the developers to complain and ask for fixes. Ichiro wondered what the developers would do; their decision to put an upper limit on the number of daily goods in circulation had been made fully with the knowledge that it might result in things like this. But that didn’t mean most players would accept that. This would truly be a test of Azami Nono’s abilities.

Setting that aside...

“I was surprised to hear Lady Felicia say that,” Kirschwasser said, walking one step behind Ichiro. That was all he had been talking about this whole time.

“That means she’s growing up,” said Ichiro. “It’s a good thing.”

“Still, Master Ichiro, I wonder if you miss her?”

“Are you being serious?” he asked.

Kirschwasser chuckled. “Nonsense, then?”

Even so, Ichiro had been surprised by Felicia’s statement. Ichiro had once diagnosed himself as “always underestimating the vitality of others,” and it seemed that held true once more. Felicia was always struggling to prove that she was an adult, and he had given her minimal advice up until now. As a result, Felicia, Asuha Tsuwabuki, was now trying to stand on her own in this game world. It seemed like a good thing, in his mind.

“I suppose we can add Felicia to the list of heroes that Demon Lord Ichiro has high hopes for,” said Kirschwasser.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was true that Ichiro’s favorite violin solo was Ernst’s “Der Erlkönig, The Demon Lord,” but he had never himself given thought to becoming one himself.

It was just about then that the Iris Brand guild house came into sight on the merchant town’s main street. But as they drew closer, they realized there was something unusual going on. A crowd of people had gathered in front of the building.

It was unfortunate that a crowd of people in front of a crafting guild’s house could be classified as “unusual,” but then, such was the reality of Iris Brand. Had there been a complete upheaval in the aesthetic sense of the world’s people, such that Iris’s armor designs were spontaneously being appreciated? Probably not.

“I wonder what happened,” Kirschwasser mused, voicing the question in Ichiro’s mind.

“We’ll probably see if we go inside,” Ichiro answered.

“Indeed.”

Ichiro and Kirschwasser tried to make their way through the crowd to go in, but as the others noticed their presence, they parted to make way.

“Oh, Mr. Tsuwabuki. Hey, it’s a bad scene in there.” An Anthromorph addressed him in familiar tones. He’d seen this man before: he was a member of the Akihabara Forging Guild who appeared to be friends with Edward.

“What has happened?” Ichiro asked.

“Ed went over to your guild house to apologize to Iris,” the Anthromorph said.

“I thought he already apologized.”

“He wanted to do it again while you weren’t around.”

“I see.”

It did seem that Edward hated Ichiro quite a lot—which, really, was perfectly understandable—but he was also clearly aware that the incident with Iris had been the result of his own misplaced resentment. If he’d wished to apologize again to suit his own sense of personal integrity, Ichiro had no objection to that. But what exactly had happened between them?

“Iris seemed to be in a really bad mood,” said the Anthromorph.

“Oh?” said Ichiro.

“So she vented at Ed for a while...”

“Oh.”

“...and now she’s pounding her head against the wall.”

“I see.”

Despite saying that, though, Ichiro couldn’t fully parse the scene being described. He exchanged a glance with Kirschwasser, who shrugged slightly—well, surely they’d see once they got inside.

First, he decided to open the door and enter the guild house. When he did, he saw Iris there, just as advertised, banging her head against the wall.

The repetitive motion was reminiscent of a woodpecker, but no matter how much she hit her head, she would neither deal herself damage nor feel any pain. Self-harm was an unproductive avenue to begin with, and he had no idea why she was trying it—but her efforts would prove fruitless either way. The virtual world could be truly unaccommodating.

Ichiro, Kirschwasser, and Edward watched her strange behavior trepidatiously. It was only when Iris abruptly broke out into a dash towards the second floor, looking like she might dive out of the window, that Ichiro finally moved to stop her. As he grabbed her slender wrist to restrain her, Iris cried out.

“Let me die!” she yelled.

“This is all kinds of nonsense...”

“I’m too stupid to live!” she screamed. “Only death can cure stupidity! Let me die!”

“Some say that not even death can cure it,” Ichiro responded with a serious gaze.

“That’s not helping,” Edward commented from behind.

Kirschwasser winced.

“First, Iris, calm down,” said Ichiro. “You can’t take damage in the cities. If you fall, not only will you not die, you won’t even take falling damage. In addition, I view stupidity as the same thing as earnestness, which I interpret as beauty.”

“Are you not going to deny that I’m stupid?!” cried Iris.

“I am not.”

“Let me go! Let me die!”

In the end, Ichiro Tswuabuki’s all-too-honest, unhelpful attempts at dissuading her went on for about 30 minutes, until at last (likely just due to the passage of time), Iris finally started calming down.

“By the way, Ed, why did you stay here the whole time?” Ichiro cast a glance at the Machina in question, who was still standing there quietly.

When Ichiro had first come in, Ed looked like he had been thinking about sneaking out of the guild house. But in the end, perhaps concern over Iris’s bizarre behavior had stopped him from leaving.

Edward folded his arms defiantly, and responded, “Something wrong with me being here?”

“I never said it was wrong...” Ichiro shrugged. “But from an objective point of view, I don’t see how your presence could have helped, either. You’re neither poison nor cure.”

Edward did not respond. But, well, he didn’t matter. Ichiro looked back at Iris. She returned his gaze sharply, with bloodshot eyes.

“I have a lot to say to you, young heir,” she snapped. “So much to say! First! You knew that Nem was Fuyo, didn’t you?!”

“Yes. ‘Nem’ is the Chinese name for the Fuyo, the cotton rose.”

“I see! I didn’t know that! I sure wish I’d known it earlier!”

Ah, they must have met, Ichiro thought. The much-admired fashion designer who had come to visit her school must have been Megumi Fuyo.

As entertaining as this was to watch, for her own sake, he wished she’d calm down a little more.

“By the way, who is this Fuyo person?” Edward asked, having likely born the brunt of Iris’s earlier venting.

“The vanguard of a new generation,” Iris responded unashamedly. Her tone indicated a deep respect for Megumi Fuyo, but that wasn’t all she had to say. “The exciting new fashion designer, idol to young girls everywhere! President and designer of the casual women’s fashion brand, MiZUNO! Professional among professionals! The daughter of the owner of the something-or-other group that runs Mizuno Bank! An heiress, born with everything every girl wants, including talent!”

High praise. At her core, Iris was an honest girl. She could acknowledge when something was good—but here, it was all just a way of channeling her malice towards Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

She pointed her finger at Ichiro again and screamed, “And she picked a fight with me because of this man!”

“But you’re the one who accepted her challenge,” said Ichiro.

“I did. Yes, I did. I did, but...” Iris clenched her hands into tight fists, her gaze wandering around the room. There was indecision in her eyes.

Just as Felicia was finally dedicating herself to something, now it was Iris who seemed lost in a maze. It would be easy to offer her a helping hand, but would that be what she really wanted?

“I can’t win. I can’t beat someone like her,” slipped the words, at last, from Iris’s lips.

Coming from a girl of such questionable talents, those words sounded sincere. No matter how confident she acted, she knew that she didn’t have a gift—and here she was, fighting the professional among professionals, the wunderkind who stood at the vanguard of the industry. There was no way that a novice like Iris could possibly compete with her. Moreover, Megumi Fuyo was the person she had looked to for inspiration for her entire brief career.

Ichiro didn’t really understand what it meant to look up to someone, and he didn’t know how it felt to struggle with one’s own lack of ability. Still, he did say this to her:

“If you wish to run away, you may. No one would blame you if you did.”

From the opposite perspective, it could also be said that this was all he said to her. He felt it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to try to tell her what she should be, or to convince her to be what he wanted her to be. How Iris wanted to be was up to Iris to decide. If that moved her away from Ichiro’s own hopes for her, then it was what it was.

“Iris.” Edward, who had been quiet up until that point, spoke. “I know what it means to look up to someone who’s better than you.”

“Yeah...” Iris nodded quietly.

Coming from someone who had shown such great respect for his guild’s leader—which was what had led him to hate Ichiro so much in the first place—the words did indeed carry weight.

Ichiro said nothing, waiting to hear what he would say next.

“I can’t imagine what it would feel like to realize that that person was your enemy,” Edward said.

“Yeah...”

“But...”

“Yeah?” Iris said.

He paused.

She waited.

“Ah...”

But then, when it came to the crucial moment, Edward just twiddled his thumbs, unable to find anything meaningful to say. He seemed to be completely stumped.

Watched Edward struggle, Kirschwasser spoke up. “It would be better not to try to force the words of wisdom.”

Edward froze, his camera eyes letting out a faint whine as they scrolled left and right. “Yes, you’re right,” he agreed, at length.

“Wait, what? You weren’t actually building up to something?” Iris asked.

“Yes, I thought something might occur to me while I was talking, but it didn’t...” Edward said.

Iris seemed dumbfounded by Edward’s careless behavior. But, well, he didn’t matter.

Ichiro, unusually for him, decided to offer Iris real words of guidance. “You could apologize to Megumi and withdraw the challenge.”

“No,” the red-haired Elf whispered, her eyes averted. “I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it. Someday, I’ll have to compete on the same stage as even the people I idolize. If I hesitate now, I’ll just be kicking the problem down the road.”

“On the same stage?” Edward asked.

“Yes. If I want to be a fashion designer, she’s going to be my rival someday. That’s something she told me herself, actually. But...” Iris buried her face in her hands.

She was probably thinking about how it didn’t change the fact that she was running into a battle she knew she couldn’t win. She would need time to accept that and steel herself for what was to come. At the end of the day, that was something that only Iris could do.

Ichiro had a fundamental detachment when it came to such matters of the heart. He would wait for her to overcome it, or brush it aside. If it did end up crushing her instead, he’d quietly lift the heavy burden, then work something out on his own.

Some might call that irresponsible, but it was his way of being sincere. Of course, to argue the point would be nonsense from start to finish; there was no single correct answer. At times like these, covering for her if she stumbled was the best that Ichiro could do.

“As it appears I’m the cause of all this anyway, I wouldn’t mind assisting you,” he offered.

“Assisting me... how?” Iris demanded. “You can’t buy me talent.”

“True.” Ichiro put a hand on his chin, and made a great show of thinking.

The idea that came to mind wasn’t a very appropriate one, but he decided to offer it up anyway. If it was something she wanted, he would be remiss to withhold.

“For instance, Iris,” he said, “we could buy player votes. There are 30,000 registered accounts in NaroFan, but only 10,000 active users. If we were to go to these 20,000 absent players, and offer them 5,000 yen apiece to log in for 30 minutes and vote for us, then we would win easily.”

“That’s nonsense.” Iris wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We wouldn’t win, then. You would win.”

“Well, true enough,” said Ichiro.

“But hearing you say that has made it all come clear,” said Iris. “This isn’t your challenge; it’s my challenge. I don’t want you to interfere.”

At some point, the old fire had started to return to Iris’s eyes.

Ichiro wasn’t trying to be mean, but couldn’t help but ask: “Even against an opponent that you know you can’t beat?”

“You’re not the one who decides that,” Iris said, glaring at him. “I am.”

He couldn’t help but feel that there was a bit of reprisal mixed into those words. She clearly believed that no matter what Ichiro might say from the sidelines, it was she who would decide how things turned out. The words she used to express that feeling were the same ones that had caused her to wince when he had said them to her so many times in the past.

“Good,” Ichiro said, with true satisfaction in his voice.

“And could I add one more thing to that?” Iris added.

“Yes?”

“You are not to spend any money in this challenge.” Iris’s bloodshot eyes met Ichiro’s blue ones. “Not one red cent.”

Between the two of them, an unspoken exchange was taking place. Kirschwasser and Edward, watching from the sidelines, would not be permitted to interfere. They both just quietly sipped their tea.

“This is my challenge,” Iris said firmly. “I recognize that it’s an opportunity I’ve been given because of the encouragement and help you’ve given me in the past, but right now, it’s between me and her. You may not offer your help or your money, and I can’t ask for them.”

“I see...” Ichiro sat back against his chair, looking up at the atrium ceiling. He quietly closed his eyes, his expression changing once again. “You surprise me.”

His pronouncement caused Kirschwasser to look up from a quiet sip of tea, his eyes opening wide. It was an expression not befitting of the elder Knight.

“If you insist, then very well,” said Ichiro. “I won’t do anything. I’ll just watch you compete.”

Having obtained Ichiro’s agreement, Iris reclined back arrogantly, while Kirschwasser just watched in wonderment.

Only Edward was left behind, awkwardly sipping his tea.