5 - Noble Son, Overturn

Two days passed in the blink of an eye. Morning and night, skipping meals, Iris devoted herself to finishing the maid-shinobi design.

Referencing Japanese-style maids (she had been surprised to learn that such a thing existed), she integrated shinobi-like elements, as well as (for the sake of her own pride) resort patterns and body con trends that were “in” for summer right now. The result was a true melting pot of a design. She certainly had her doubts. Is this okay? Is this really a design in my style? But those thoughts just made her prouder of what she had accomplished. That was the way Iris—Airi Kakitsubata—did things.

“Isn’t the skirt a bit short?” Yuri criticized.

“That’s about right for a shinobi, I think... I could make it skinny pants, but then it would lose the maid aesthetic...” Iris said in response.

Finalizing the design had taken longer than she’d expected. Now she just had to make the armor. She had already gathered enough components and recipes so that she could fail as many times as needed. She had the money, too—money she had worked herself into nausea to make.

She’d had help from a lot of people to get this far. Kirschwasser, Edward, Felicia, Yuri, Kirihito (Leader)—actually, he hadn’t done much of anything—as well as her friend from school and the angelic campaign girl.

And, while she was loath to admit it, the young heir had helped, too.

He hadn’t actually shown himself at all these last two days. Perhaps he was busy with something, or perhaps this was simply his attempt to hold faithfully to his promise not to interfere.

Kirschwasser was sadly missing today, as well. She had wanted to finish the armor with both of them present, but the deadline was today. She didn’t know how many failures she might have to run through, and she couldn’t wait for them to show up.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Iris lay the recipe and the components down on her magic circle. She opened the window and selected “Overlay Original Graphics.” It showed a display of the amount of money required, with a warning message that she wouldn’t get back the money she paid even if she failed.

She gulped, and with a trembling finger, pressed “Yes.”

The “Yes” button she had once pressed so freely when making accessories now felt so much heavier. It was only spending 800 yen, yet she had never needed so much courage for anything in her life.

“Ai?” Yuri knitted her brow in confusion as she watched Iris.

“It’s nothing... nothing. It’s okay. I have money. I have money...” Iris murmured again and again, as if trying to convince herself.

The 800 yen she was about to spend was 800 yen she had put herself through hell to earn. It was a portion of the daily wage forged standing beneath the blazing sun, dressed in a mascot costume, getting kicked by brats while on the verge of vomiting. Now was the do-or-die moment. Would that 800 yen become a pile of trash, or a dazzling armor design?

This was the first time that the middle-class Iris really appreciated how eccentric the young heir was. He was bizarre! How could he waste something as valuable as money so frivolously, while here she stood, so hesitant to convert a trivial 800 yen into garbage?

Iris, though... Iris knew. Eight hundred yen was a lot of money!

“Okay, let’s do it!”

With that cry, she made the payment. A sense of remorseful loss filled Iris’s heart. There went 800 yen she would never see again. All she could do now was pray that it wouldn’t go to waste.

While Yuri looked at her uncertainly, Iris opened her Alchemical Circle. The light coalesced above it, and the components merged together.

Please, my 800 yen! she begged. I know the chance of success is only two or three percent, but please, let me succeed on the first try!

Clunk. Doodly-doodly-doo.

The mocking BGM sounded out, and a blackened, charred item hit the ground in front of her.

“Ahh...” She had failed. Despondency gnawed at her heart. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry, my 800 yen...”

She could sense that Yuri, standing beside her, was put off by her behavior. “Ai, are you crying?” she asked.

Yes, she was crying. She was mourning the lost 800 yen that had given its life for nothing. That 800 yen could have done something with its existence. It could have been snacks, or part of an outfit. It could have been a commuting fee, or a night of karaoke...

Yet she had thrown it into the gutter! She had been forced to throw it into the gutter! With her own hands, Iris had closed the door on the unlimited potential of that 800 yen. And so, it had vanished into the darkness without a single word of complaint, with nothing but a prayer for Iris’s victory.

This was all in Iris’s head, of course, but she really believed it. Such was the pleasure and pain of wasting of 800 yen.

People sometimes referred to a payment as “a pound of flesh,” and Iris saw now that spending her own money really did feel like tearing out a part of herself. She was not cut out for capitalism at all.

Next try...

Iris hardened her heart. The battle wasn’t over yet. To stop here, or stay her hand, would be a blasphemy to the 800 yen she had lost.

She laid the components on the magic circle once more and paid another 800 yen. A few seconds later, another charred pile of scrap fell to the floor at Iris’s feet.

An hour passed.

The comrades with whom Iris had fought through that bittersweet summer battle were now gone without a trace, and she was embarking on a long campaign of grinding away at her New Year’s money. Her face was sunken and pale. Yuri continued to watch, uneasily, as Iris made payment after payment, her expression twisting in anguish every time.

She had spent a whopping 40,000 yen. She had told herself she’d been prepared to spend that much, but as she watched her bank account gradually shrink, the trembling of her hand reached its zenith.

If the young heir were here... if the young heir were paying... 40,000 yen would be a pittance. Even 80,000 yen would be nothing to sneeze at. Whether 400,000 yen or 4 million yen, he’d pay it like it was nothing.

You scumbag, Iris thought.

The suffering of earning money, and the pain of losing it. What meaning would there be in any victory achieved without knowing that? This was Iris’s fight. The competition hadn’t even officially started, yet here was Iris, battling hard.

Iris activated her Alchemical Circle for the umpteenth time. With a feeling like prayer, she watched the light coalesce and take form.

Clunk. Dat-data-dat-daaa!

At first, Iris didn’t understand the meaning of that cheerful fanfare that rang out. What fell to the floor at her feet was not a piece of black, charred trash, but the maid-shinobi outfit she had designed. The eye-catching and clever armor she had designed, made out of elements men loved, with its teeny-weeny skirt and its outrageous plunging neckline.

“Did I... succeed?” Iris said with a faint whisper.

“Looks like it,” Yuri nodded.

“I did it! I did it!!” Iris screamed. It had cost her 40,000 yen, but Iris had at last finished the armor she’d been trying to make. She had proof that all the 800-yens she’d sent to death had not died in vain. She hugged Yuri with joy.

“Um, Ai, it’s a little too soon to celebrate,” said Yuri.

The response cooled her head immediately. “That’s true. I still have to compete.” Iris felt like she had already fought a ferocious campaign. But the real battle was still yet to come.

Her fashion competition with Nem really was just about to get started. Iris picked up the completed armor and added it to her inventory. Now if she could just make it to the venue, she could face the battle with confidence.

What kind of armor design would Nem, Megumi Fuyo, bring to bear? As she imagined the glorious MiZUNO real clothing she had seen in the fashion magazines she loved, Iris maintained no illusions that she could make something on that level.

Even so, she felt like she could win.

This was about armor design.

Iris steeled her nerve and left the Iris Brand guild house with Yuri. Just then...

“Ah, Iris! Awful news!” Felicia ran up to her quickly. Her beloved long tails of hair were frazzled, and her face was gaunt.

Iris frowned. It must have taken something truly serious to get her to act that way. “What’s wrong, Felicia?”

“I can’t find any Warp Feathers!” Felicia wailed.

“Ah...” Iris had forgotten. Am I a fool? she wondered.

She remembered people talking here and there about Warp Feathers being sold out. Why had she stayed cooped up in the guild house all this time? To walk all the way to Manyfish Beach, where the contest was being held, would take far too long.

She looked towards Yuri, but her friend shook her head gravely, as well.

Wait a minute, Iris thought. Could the buying out of Warp Feathers have been in preparation for today, to make sure she couldn’t make it to the competition? Or was she overthinking things? Either way, the truth was that she’d known what was happening and hadn’t come up with any countermeasures.

What should she do, Iris wondered. Contact Amesho, who was on her friends list, and explain the circumstances? Whether the monopoly was an enemy tactic or not, if she could just explain, surely they would have to be flexible...

If only the young heir were here, Iris thought.

If the young heir were here, he’d surely produce exactly as many Warp Feathers as they needed from his inventory—not just for Felicia and herself, but for Yuri and the others—just as if he’d foreseen it all.

But for some reason, Ichiro Tsuwabuki was not here now. Kirschwasser wasn’t anywhere to be seen, either. Was this a message from him? “You said you’d handle things yourself, so go ahead and try”? Iris couldn’t help but interpret it that way.

“Don’t get so upset,” a voice said from out of nowhere. A now-familiar Machina was exiting the guild house across the way.

“Edward...” Iris moaned.

“I thought this might happen... well, actually, I didn’t. But I do always keep one in stock for emergencies. You can have it,” he said lightly, and produced the Warp Feather from his inventory.

Iris stared at him. “Ah... um...”

“I’m sure Mr. Tsuwabuki would have enough for everyone, but I’m afraid I’m not as smart as he is,” he continued as he offered the Warp Feather, stating exactly what Iris had been thinking.

Edward had never before breathed a word about his possessions, but the Warp Feather was real. With this, Iris could jump right to the venue at Manyfish Beach... but only Iris. She couldn’t bring Felicia, her model, along with her.

Iris looked at Felicia, and saw her smiling brightly.

“Leave the modeling to me,” Felicia said confidently.

“Leave it to you?” Iris asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t go, but... I’m sure I’ll work something out.” Felicia’s words had a strange self-confidence... in fact, they had an absolute surety about them. “It’s too bad I won’t get to wear the armor you made, though.”

“Yeah...”

“But we need you to go, or it’ll all be for nothing,” said Felicia. “Go!”

How much has she grown, to be able to say something so heroic? Iris thought about the girl she hadn’t even known for very long.

Ah, and in the end...

In the end, the competition she had so bragged about being hers alone was being left in the hands of others. Iris lamented her unpreparedness, and at the same time, she felt as if she had acquired a bottomless power. That power further solidified the image of victory Iris had in her mind.

“Thanks, everyone. I’m gonna go now.” Iris nodded, then looked at the faces of those around her.

Felicia, Yuri, Edward... and for some reason, Kirihito (Leader), who had joined them at some point. He didn’t say a word, but just nodded, as if he had done something to help.

Iris used the Warp Feather. Her body was enveloped by a ray of light, and she could feel herself flying into the skies above Glasgobara.

“Okay...” Felicia said with a nod after she watched Iris go. She then started walking purposefully towards one of the many shops that lined the main thoroughfare. In addition to armor, the eaves were lined with cheap potions used by less popular crafting guilds to earn their daily wage.

“Felicia?” Yuri asked, head tilted. She was probably wondering what she was doing.

Felicia spun around to face Yuri and the others again. “I’m not sure if we can catch up or not, but we’re gonna go, too.”

“Seriously?” Edward asked dubiously.

“We’d need to pass the Volgund Volcanoes to get from here to the beach,” Kirihito (Leader) agreed. “The terrain is so rugged and winding, there’s no way we’ll make it.”

“When you said we’d be going, you didn’t mean we’d be walking there, did you?” Yuri asked.

“Of course not.” Felicia grinned wryly and shook her head.

Of course not. She had another way to get them there. When she’d said, “Let’s go,” that was what she had meant.

Felicia turned toward the shop again and pointed to a long shelf full of potions. “Please give me all your Fatigue Restorers, from here to here.”

“Sure thing,” the Seller Avatar said briskly. Felicia checked her status window and saw her cash on hand significantly decrease. Still, she had plenty left. It was money she had earned defeating countless Shimeji and Shiitake, in the hopes of buying new armor to suit her level.

Felicia now turned to a different shop and bought out all the Fatigue Restorers there. Even in a game, she had never spent money so recklessly before. She could understand a little bit how Ichiro felt. If it served her objectives, if it was for the people she cared about, she felt no hesitation in spending her hard-earned money. She felt a little happy, too, with the reminder that they had the same blood flowing through their veins.

Felicia had guessed the reason why Ichiro wasn’t here already. It was probably the same reason Felicia was doing what she was doing now. If she was right, then she had some idea of where she might find him, and Kirschwasser would be there, too.

She couldn’t cede that role to Ichiro, though. He had a more important role to play.

“Felicia, um, what are you...” Yuri was clearly baffled to see Felicia sink all of her money on Fatigue Restorers. Her confusion was only natural, but it was just as natural that Felicia wasn’t buying the items without a plan in mind.

Felicia pulled a knife from her belt. The object was known as the Dominion Dagger, a Beast Tamer-exclusive item. Only Kirihito (Leader) clapped his hands in understanding as he saw it.

Felicia brought her Dominion Dagger to her lips and played a lovely tune. Immediately, an enormous arm broke through the ground below them, causing tremors as it arose.

Yuri and the others were dumbstruck.

Eventually, not just the arm, but the head, body, legs, and whole body of a 50-meter-tall lump of inorganic metal rose out from the ground to stand before them.

It was Felicia’s friend: the Power Golem, Gobo. It had stamina issues, but other than that, its stats were extremely high.

The monster, as if in accordance with Felicia’s will, slowly lowered its hand. She stepped onto its palm. “Okay, everyone, get on! Let’s get going!”

“Huh? Get on? This thing?” Yuri whispered with unrestrained nervousness.

Edward, meanwhile, couldn’t hide his delight. “Can we, really?”

He really must love robots, Felicia thought. Which I guess you could tell from his avatar...

Kirihito (Leader) also stepped on without any hesitation.

“Okay, Gobo! Move out!” she called.

The Golem let out a wordless roar as Felicia pointed east, to the Volgund Volcano region. Flame shot out from the countless boosters on its back, and the mountainous frame slowly lifted into the air.

The various players coming and going on Glasgobara’s main street watched it go in open-mouthed awe.

Around that time, Ichiro and Kirschwasser were in the middle of the Volgund Volcanoes. They were surrounded by figures wearing identical outfits of chain mail and ninja gear, Japanese tabi on their feet, and horned noh masks covering their faces. A truly strange group. The group moved perfectly in sync as they surrounded them.

As he watched, Kirschwasser murmured, “The Dual Serpents Shinobi Army... So it does exist!”

“Indeed, but what’s up with their clothes?” Ichiro asked. It was truly a disastrous spectacle that inspired feelings of embarrassment by proxy.

The established color for ninja uniforms was black, or perhaps dark vermilion if you wanted to pursue greater realism. But that wasn’t the case for these. They were wearing knickerbockers in the year’s “in” floral patterns, granting them a refreshing spring mood (though it was already summer), and a stylish but not-too-casual aura. They also had coordinated hats in a pale pink gingham check. Such trendy pattern on pattern! What ninja fashion! Even the horns of their demon masks had been touched up with chic ornamental flowers.

The softness!

The color scheme!

The coordination!

It seemed unbelievable, but Megumi Fuyo was almost surely behind the designs.

“How fashionable!”

“Fashionable, but completely lacking in taste.” At their relaxed reactions, a single Elf appeared from amidst the frilly Shinobi Army.

“Oh, it’s you two,” said the familiar voice. “Hello.”

“Hello, Matsunaga,” Ichiro said. Sadly, he wasn’t wearing any sort of wonderfully elegant armor, just the usual ninja gear and Hide Coat. It seemed hardly fair.

With his usual superficial smile, Matsunaga said: “Your goal is to stop me, I assume?”

“Yes, more or less.”

Matsunaga raised one hand, and the frilly Shinobi Army unsheathed their Ninja Swords. Decorated with beads, these swords resembled chic fashion accessories, as well, but even that couldn’t hide their dangerous edge.

As Ichiro had more or less surmised, it was Matsunaga’s group that had bought up the Warp Feathers. He wished he’d gotten confirmation at a much earlier stage, but that just showed how skillfully they controlled the flow of information in the game.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t let you go, Mr. Tsuwabuki,” Matsunaga said. “As you know, I came prepared. I can’t allow you to ruin everything on your whim, as you did in the grand quest.”

“I think you’re being rather oversensitive.” With one hand in his pocket, Ichiro looked up at the sky. “Did you consider that Iris and Felicia might not make it to the venue?”

A voice as clear as a bell, yet with a coldness that sent chills down the spine, sounded out nearby. “Personally, I’m hoping that they won’t.”

Ichiro looked and saw a girl carrying a black, lacy parasol and an Anthromorph in a tattered robe. Both were walking up behind Matsunaga.

Sorceress and Taker. So the two of them were also part of this.

“It seems Matsunaga and Amesho didn’t think that far ahead,” said Sorceress. “But our role is to help our leader win through any means necessary.”

“Are you suggesting that Nem might lose to Iris?” Ichiro asked.

“She might.” Sorceress’s eyes, watching Ichiro, were their usual round shape and deep blue color.

It was all as he had expected. He couldn’t even bring himself to utter the word “nonsense.” Surely Sorceress understood Nem’s desire to fight a fair competition, and yet she still wanted to offer absolute victory to Nem, her leader. What could lead a person to such actions, he wondered.

It wasn’t necessarily what they really wanted, he thought, as he noted the naked annoyance in Taker’s expression.

“I’m surprised that you could tell,” Ichiro said. He opened the microtransaction screen from the menu window and called up a sword.

“Oh, you’re going to meet us head-on?” Sorceress asked, looking mildly surprised. “Knowing you, I’d expected a snarky comeback and a blunt refusal to participate.”

“Nonsense. You’re acting as if you understand me at all.”

Sorceress narrowed her eyes at Ichiro’s words, as if she were trying to restrain some kind of intense emotion rising up within her.

Ichiro looked to Kirschwasser. Kirschwasser gave him a small nod.

Ichiro had been told not to interfere with Iris at all, and so he had no intention of getting deeply involved in the competition. He wasn’t trying to take Iris’s side, but merely trying to watch the match to its end as a player.

This, though... this was just too much nonsense. It was a blasphemy on the sacred name of competition. He was trying not to get righteously indignant, but if he let them continue on this way, it would be the height of disrespect both towards Iris and Nem. Ichiro himself would probably never admit it, but he was angry, in his way.

Matsunaga, showing no interest in Sorceress and Taker’s attitudes, pulled out a Kunai Dagger and said: “Now, would you stay here with us for a little while?”

“Nonsense. You’re not holding me here at all,” Ichiro said, speaking a bit faster than usual. “I desire, of my own will, to strike you down here. Whether or not you wish to fight is of little interest to me.”

Sorceress stared at him in bemusement. “You really are quite twisted.”

“We’re not gonna take that from you,” Taker agreed.

At the same time, Kirschwasser readied his sword and shield. A new air of tension ran across the battlefield.

It was just then that an intruder flew down from the sky above...

The enormous Power Golem Gobo used the boosters on its back to pick up speed and touch down on the side of the Volgund Volcanoes—though perhaps “touch down” would be a less accurate term than “crash.”

While Yuri and the others tried desperately to hold on, Felicia, with the special privilege of being the Golem’s master, merely stood confidently on its palm. The Shinobi on the mountainside scattered like spiders exposed to the light.

Gobo made landfall with a thunderous sound and a huge cloud of dust. Then slowly, it stood back up to its towering height. Felicia knew that everyone was looking up at them in awe.

“Hey, Felicia.” Of all those assembled, only Ichiro offered her a leisurely greeting. “I thought it was about time you’d be showing up.”

“I had a feeling you’d be here, too, Itchy,” she said. And just as she’d suspected, he seemed to be revving up for a fight with Matsunaga, Sorceress, and the others.

Felicia didn’t know Ichiro as well as some—for instance, Kirschwasser, who was standing beside him—but lately, she was starting to realize that he was not quite mature enough not to stay out of something just because he was told to. That was all the more reason why she was here.

“Itchy, Mr. Kirsch, leave this to us,” Felicia said, thumping a hand against her chest.

Ichiro, who was just about to open his item inventory to retrieve something, suddenly stopped. He looked up at Felicia with an expression of mild surprise. Kirschwasser’s expression mirrored his.

“The competition may be between Iris and Nem, but I can’t shake this feeling that you need to be there, too,” Felicia explained. “Besides, having seen how hard Iris has been working, I really want to stick it to the people trying to sabotage her.” Felicia looked down at Taker and Sorceress from her vantage point atop the Golem’s palm.

“What about your modeling?” Ichiro asked softly.

Felicia looked at Ichiro. What she was about to say was something she knew Iris would never say, yet she had no choice but to say it. She was aware that this was a decisive difference between them, but for Iris’s sake, it had to be done.

“You can work something out, can’t you, Itchy?” she said.

When Felicia—Asuha—said something like that, she knew that Ichiro couldn’t refuse. She also knew that this was because he saw her as a child. It was unbelievably frustrating to her.

“Like, maybe you can log out right now, buy a new NaroFan game, use it to make a new character, and make it in time? You and Mr. Kirsch can work out something, right?” she said.

She knew it was a pathetic thing to say. After her posturing to Iris that she would handle it, in the end, it was not she, but Ichiro who would.

“Um...” Matsunaga, who had been quiet up until that point, finally raised his hand. “Are you finished talking yet?”

“Ah, yes. Do forgive the wait. I’ve decided on my course of action.” Ichiro turned back to Matsunaga and the others. “Let’s give Felicia what she wants. Sir Kirschwasser, I want you to put ‘her’ into action.”

“Yes, sir.” At his master’s words, the silver-haired elder Knight nodded reverently, then opened his menu window to prepare to log out—but there were two others present who weren’t about to let that happen. Naturally, it was Taker and Sorceress.

“I don’t think so!” The Anthromorph, dressed in his rags, raced across the mountain path to press closer to Kirschwasser. But a single shadow leaped out like a shot from behind Felicia to intercept him.

It was Yuri. She smoothly interposed herself between Taker and Kirschwasser, then twisted her body with her momentum to execute a spinning high roundhouse kick at the Anthromorph. While he was distracted, Kirschwasser successfully logged out.

“Of course, there’s no physical way to stop someone from logging out...” Matsunaga whispered serenely. “But I will still stop Mr. Tsuwabuki from reaching the competition site!”

Matsunaga’s Shinobi Army fell upon Ichiro, who had spread his dragon wings in preparation to take flight. It was then that Felicia noticed the flower pattern on the Shinobi Army’s costumes for the first time, but she didn’t have time to comment on it.

Edward and Kirihito (Leader) both jumped off of Gobo’s palm. Edward ejected his shoulder plates to reveal the Lost Gun and began blindly firing lasers into the crowd to hold the Shinobi Army at bay, while Kirihito (Leader) plowed into the thick of them, dividing their forces.

“Felicia,” Ichiro said, looking up at Felicia as she stood on Gobo’s palm.

“Wh-What?” she stammered.

“In the time I’ve been away, you and Iris have both grown up a bit. I don’t really understand it, but it makes me extremely happy.”

“Huh?”

“I look forward to seeing where you go from here.”

With those as his final words, Ichiro began to dash across the ground. His Dragonet body flew into the air, the wind collected under his wings, and he became a ray of light sailing off into the eastern sky. Had he used a Warp Feather he had smuggled with him, or was he simply using a flight-related skill? Either way, he was moving at a speed Gobo couldn’t possibly compete with.

Felicia thought back over Ichiro’s last words to her.

He’d acknowledged that she had grown up—Ichiro had. He had said that she, someone he thought of as a child, was coming a little bit closer to being an adult. And not only that: he had said it made him happy.

To wonder if he really meant it would be nonsense; he was not a man to engage in idle flattery.

“Mmm!” In that moment, an emotion welled up from the bottom of Felicia’s heart, and she couldn’t hold it back. She clenched her hands into fists, raised them into the air, and shouted out proudly. “Let’s doooo thiiiiis!”

She never realized that being acknowledged would make her so happy.

“Go, Felicia!” Yuri, who had been trading blows with Taker, turned to her and shouted. The difference in their levels was plain to see, and she was clearly struggling, but Kirihito (Leader) swiftly moved in to cover her.

Felicia climbed from Gobo’s palm to his shoulder. The Power Golem’s massive body slowly stood up straight once more. Felicia stood with her hands in front of her chest, palms facing each other. Gobo mirrored the motion.

“Here it comes... my Fireball Miracle Pitch!!”

Then, just as promised, a massive fireball began to form between Gobo’s hands. She had spent a few growth points to let Gobo learn “Fireball,” which of course produced one in proportion to his size.

“Damn, what’s with this setpiece... It’s like we’re the villains, or something!” Taker spat.

“We are the villains. It’s all right, though. I’m used to it,” Sorceress muttered.

“Well, that is our guild’s philosophy,” Matsunaga agreed, distantly.

By the time that exchange finished, the Fireball produced between Gobo’s hands had grown to a diameter of about three meters. Its motions still mirroring those of Felicia, Gobo hefted the fireball and raised its right leg, battle-axe style.

“Hydroooooooo Blasteeeeeeer!!” And with that, the scorching miracle pitch was unleashed.

Players were allowed to rent the event stage on Manyfish Beach for whatever purpose they wanted. Nem and Ichiro had both signed off on it for the event, giving the appearance that this fashion show was the result of the agreement of both parties. Nem had been the one who’d actually requested it, but the vast majority of players—likely just looking forward to seeing some drama play out onstage—likely didn’t care about that.

The venue could hold 10,000 with room to spare, and today it seemed a bit over half full. That still meant five thousand players, about half the active user base, so it was an impressive number.

Backstage was a sci-fi-ish, cyberspace-ish place that didn’t seem quite at home with the setting of NaroFan. Iris craned her neck around, finding it all very interesting.

Nem had already arrived—Amesho planned to meet up with her later—and walked straight up to Iris as she noticed her entry.

“Iris,” Nem said.

“Y... I mean, what do you want?” For a moment, Iris wavered on whether to use polite language or not. Then she remembered she’d been speaking rudely to Nem the entire game, so she decided to continue with her ill-mannered ways. Ah, but Nem was someone she respected greatly for her fashion sense, and with this statement, she would be digging the nearly insurmountable trench between them even deeper.

“I won’t lose to you,” Nem said.

Only a few words, yet Iris could sense total dedication behind them. Thus, she decided not to say anything more, but just to reply with a short phrase of her own.

“I won’t lose, either.”

In as little as an hour or two, one of their statements would be proven a lie.

To be honest, Iris thought, the competition still didn’t feel real. It also didn’t feel like something she could stand a chance of winning under most circumstances... if it’d been a regular fashion design competition, anyway.

But this time, Iris’s words weren’t a bluff, or a superficial show of strength, or a faint hope. It was a statement of exactly how she was feeling in her heart.

Nem smiled, a bit sadly, and continued. “By the way, your model was... Felicia, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, um... that was the plan, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out.”

“You’re not?” Nem tilted her head in confusion.

It wasn’t an act, Iris thought. She didn’t seem calculating enough to be that subtle about it. She seemed to genuinely have no clue why Felicia couldn’t make it. It was possible she didn’t even know about the Warp Feather shortage.

Iris felt a faint sense of relief. Even if someone was trying to sabotage Iris behind the scenes, apparently, Nem wasn’t a part of it. That was enough for her.

“There was an incident... So if I can’t find a model in time, I’ll wear my outfit myself.”

“My...” Nem furrowed her brow. “I can’t say I’m happy to hear that. The conditions should really be equal.”

“Yeah. I’m glad to hear you say that,” Iris agreed. She had said the conditions should be equal. Even though the gap between them was something no amount of handicaps would close. Even though they were Amadeus and Salieri, Betelgeuse and a turtle.

“I wonder if Ichiro will come today,” Nem murmured.

“I’m not sure. I told him not to interfere.” Iris was aware that when she talked about the young heir, her word choice typically became 20% more derogatory. She decided she’d have to watch that. “I guess you want to beat me in front of him?”

“Well, yes,” Nem replied quite readily. Iris had thought she might hesitate, but apparently not. “Of course, even if the laymen players vote for me to beat you, I don’t expect Ichiro to notice me, or acknowledge my designs. But I can’t move forward until I beat you.”

“Nemmm, nobody says that except rival characters who lose all the time!” a cheerful girl’s voice interrupted Nem’s words. “Meow-hoo, sorry for the wait!”

It was Amesho. She was Nem’s model, so she had to be here, but it felt like she was cutting it a bit close, even so. (Not that she’d need to go through makeup or anything like that, here in the game.) Amesho was accompanied by another player, but it was neither Felicia nor Ichiro.

“Is that...” Iris whispered. “...King Kirihito?!”

“Shut up.” The black-clad boy turned his face away, his voice strangely hesitant.

What was he doing here? Shouldn’t the game’s second-strongest solo player be off being... solo? Even if he had been invited, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would come to such a lively event. But then, he’d mentioned that he was Felicia’s classmate... Perhaps she had invited him?

“You don’t want me here?” King asked.

“I didn’t say that...” Iris said.

His already-low voice had gone a few dozen percent lower. It was clear he was in a bad mood.

“So I guess Felicia really couldn’t make it?” Iris asked.

“Yeah, looks like.” King closed his eyes and nodded.

“Oh? Is that relief I see?” she asked.

“I’m just relieved that you won’t be sticking Felicia in some bizarre outfit.”

“R-Right...”

True, maybe it was better not to have to make her wear that armor in front of her classmate. They might not be able to look each other in the eye when they met up after summer vacation. Still, not having her model here was big trouble.

I guess I’ll have to wear it myself, after all.

Iris steeled herself. This was what was known as karmic retribution. After designing that costume without a trace of embarrassment, she couldn’t complain about having to wear it.

Perhaps Nem would mock her... then that, too, would be karma. She reaped what she sowed.

Winning was much more important right now.

Iris was just about to steel herself again, when just then...

“Forgive the wait!” a cheerful woman’s voice rang out as a figure came barreling backstage. It was a voice Iris had never heard before.

The group looked over and saw a female avatar standing there. Her white skin and red eyes marked her as a member of the premium-only Demonkin race. She was equipped with simple starting equipment, beginning with a Leather Jacket, that suggested she was new to the game.

She certainly stuck out like a sore thumb. But what was she doing here? While the others looked at her questioningly, she bowed low and introduced herself.

“Do forgive my late arrival. I shall humbly be serving as Iris Brand’s model. My name is Yozakura.”

Iris was genuinely surprised. Felicia had said she’d work it out somehow. Was this what she’d meant? But how had she found this girl? Iris wondered.

“I think you’re just in time,” Nem said in relief.

Yozakura turned to Iris with a smile, then took both her hands. “I was told everything. If I may, I would be honored to serve in the role of your model.”

“R-Right...” There was something Kirschwasserian in her way of speaking, Iris thought.

“Iris, Yozakura, good luck today!” Amesho exclaimed.

“Ah, right,” Iris said. “Good luck to you, too.”

Amesho’s words were spoken smoothly with her usual friendly smile. There was much about her that Iris was hesitant to trust, especially that overly rambunctious demeanor of hers, but the Anthromorph committed to the gestures without a trace of sarcasm. Iris couldn’t help but feel it was sincere.

A truly mighty opponent stood before her. Half of the enemy she had to defeat today consisted of Amesho and her 2,000 followers—and it wasn’t Iris who would be crossing blades with them directly, but Yozakura. She looked and saw that behind Yozakura’s smile, too, there was a fighting spirit blazing.

Iris gave her a light nod. It was as if the sparks of battle were already flying.

King Kirihito seemed strangely fidgety, as if he could smell the distinct scent of a battlefield in the tense air around them.

“Um, is this everyone?” Iris asked.

“Naw, Stroganoff and the others gotta come, too,” Amesho answered with a shake of her head.

“Stroganoff and the others? Why?”

“They’re judges, just like King,” said Amesho. “I mean, they don’t get to award any special points or nothing. It’s really just for fun!”

“Oh, are you here as a judge?” Iris looked over, finally realizing the real reason King was there.

King averted his eyes. The bashful type, perhaps.

“Anyway, we’ll need a bit of time to prepare the armor. Shall we move to the greenroom?” Nem suggested.

“Okay,” said Yozakura. “I’m curious to see the armor you made, Iris.”

Iris looked up suddenly. That’s right, the armor! She had prepared it, but was it okay to put it on a player she’d only just met?

She caught Yozakura’s arm, and whispered into her ear. “H-Hang on, Yozakura.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know the armor I designed?”

“Yes, I am fully acquainted with it,” Yozakura said with a solemn expression. “But I shall see my orders through. Shame means nothing in the face of loyalty.”

“You sound a lot like Mr. Kirsch...”

“He is my father.”

“O-Oh, I see.”

Iris didn’t know, of course, but she meant that purely in-character. As wise readers have likely ascertained, Yozakura was really Sakurako Ogi, and she and Kirschwasser were one and the same. It was relatively common, both in online games and tabletop RPGs, for one’s secondary character to be related to their primary in some way.

Still, Iris took the claim at face value. She couldn’t fully dismiss her guilt at the thought of putting something so immodest on the daughter of that dignified Knight, but she renewed her determination to be ruthless for the sake of the competition. Yozakura had mentioned orders, hadn’t she? Which meant the young heir might be involved somehow. Of course, given all that had happened, she didn’t think of that as unnecessary interference. If he had done this, she was genuinely grateful.

“Okay, Yozakura,” Iris said. “I won’t show any mercy.”

“Yes. I am prepared.”

Iris and Yozakura exchanged a firm handshake.

“Iris, your greenroom is over here,” Nem called.

Led by Nem, they headed to their greenroom.

Just before they broke up, Nem turned to her and smiled. “Let’s have a good match.”

“Yes, agreed.” Iris bowed low again.

King Kirihito was left alone in the large backstage area.

“Ichiro isn’t coming?” Nem looked up and asked while they were doing their final preparation and discussion in the greenroom. The object of her gaze was Amesho, wearing the design she had put her soul into, twirling in front of the mirror. She was choosing from the many accessories Nem had designed, equipping them and removing them from her inventory in turn. She sometimes even employed the “Perspective Change” Skill to get a full-body look at herself, and seemed to be enjoying the coordination.

Ichiro Tswuabuki hadn’t arrived at the venue. He had been late to the party, too, and he did have his own schedule to keep, so the idea that he might be delayed was expected. But not coming? What could that possibly mean? To Nem, at least, the battle couldn’t start until he arrived.

“Yeah, Matsunaga’s holding him off,” Amesho answered, adjusting the angle of her beret.

Which meant it wasn’t “not coming.” It was “couldn’t come.” And he was being intentionally inhibited by the Dual Serpents. No one had mentioned this to her.

“What is the meaning of this, Amesho?” Nem demanded.

“I dunno,” Amesho shrugged. “I don’t really get it, either.”

Nem certainly wasn’t happy to hear that evasive answer. She decided to ask once more, a faint irritation running through her. “Amesho, do you know why I asked for this competition?”

“Yeah. You were really mad that Tsuwabuki—the guy you like—ignored you, right?”

“W-Well, yes... In other words, there’s no point to this if Ichiro isn’t there.” Nem had stewed over it for five days, but she still couldn’t understand what kind of clothing it was that Ichiro liked. She had no idea what kind of clothing would win his favor.

But because she didn’t know, that just meant she just had to put everything she had into the design, trusting in her own sensibility. She had created a design that she felt boldly proclaimed “I am Megumi Fuyo,” all in the name of being judged fairly.

Given everything that had happened, she couldn’t worry about whether or not it was to Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s taste. If she could just get him to offer an honest opinion, she’d be satisfied, even if it was a damning one. And oh, if only he would say “it’s good” or “not bad”... then even if no one else in the venue felt the same way, she wouldn’t care!

That had been her hope. But now, she was even going to be denied that?

“Look, Nem.” Amesho, seeming to have finished her accessorizing, turned around. “I understand how you feel, a little. Just a little, okay? But I think you need to stop thinking about Tsuwabuki, and look at the person you’re here to fight.”

Nem immediately realized she was talking about Iris.

“I bet Iris has been working really hard these past five days to beat you. Of course, I doubt she can... But before you talk about wanting Tsuwabuki to look at you straight on, don’t you have a duty to meet her straight on first?”

There it was. Right as Nem thought she was wearing her heart on her sleeve... How could this girl understand the hearts of others with such ease?

Amesho’s words were surprisingly easy to accept, and Nem’s heart drank them in. At the same time, she felt a sharp frustration that this girl, seemingly so much younger than her, could see through her, right to her heart. And not just hers, but Iris’s, too.

“Children are certainly precocious these days...” Nem murmured.

“Aw, yeah. I guess I shouldn’t’ve said that to someone who’s lived twice as long as me, huh?” Amesho asked.

“I have not lived that long!” Nem snapped. Though she probably wasn’t that far off, given that Nem was pushing 30.

Still, Amesho’s words swept away the annoyance that was building in Nem’s heart. The show was going to start in ten minutes. She had only a small amount of time to ready herself, and in that time, she even found herself capable of forgetting entirely about Ichiro Tsuwabuki, who had himself been the cause of it all.

Ah, it’s started. I’ve really been swept along, huh? Yozakura realized, a bit belatedly.

She had been a willful person since birth, so it was rare for her to get swept along in a situation like this. She could have resisted if she’d wanted to, and she’d had plenty of chances to say no. But in the end, she hadn’t. She’d wanted to see through Felicia’s request, and she’d wanted to support Iris. Of course, she wanted to fulfill Ichiro’s orders, too.

Sakurako Ogi wouldn’t admit to it publicly, but she loved cosplay. Thanks to the special upbringing given to her by her two older brothers since she was born, for as long as she could remember, she had been a tremendous geek. Their otaku interests merged with a girl’s natural interest in fashion and produced a passion for cosplay. That was nothing to be ashamed of—the problem was her twisted family environment.

So, since she could see this fashion show as another opportunity to indulge in cosplay, she didn’t mind taking on the model role. It was just a game, after all, and she was even looking forward to wearing Iris’s armor design in a way.

If not for that gimmick...

B-But that was fine. That was fine. She wasn’t necessarily going to be exposed like that; it was only a last resort. If they could earn enough votes from the start, there would be no need to reveal it.

In preparation, Edward had also prepared her a few weapons: made-to-order weapons with original graphics perfect for the Maid-Shinobi. Having come from the Akihabara Forging Guild, they were naturally excellent.

Since it was a fashion show, there were formalities to be observed. Yozakura and Amesho waited in the greenrooms while Iris and Fuyo stood out on stage. In the judges’ seats sat King Kirihito and the Red Sunset Knights. You would expect them to be off fighting on the game’s front lines, but they must have really had nothing better to do.

Hot sparks were already flying between the two designers on stage. Nem stood with one hand on her hip in a model-like pose, glaring down at Iris provocatively. “I’ll give you credit for one thing, at least—that you didn’t turn tail and run!”

Yozakura was surprised to hear her go that far. “Amesho. What ideas have you been putting into Nem’s head?”

“Hmm, nothing in particular,” said Amesho. “I just advised her to face Iris head-on.”

“And this is the result of that?” Yozakura asked. She sounded like a third-rate villain. Who did she think she was, Matsunaga?

“Don’t be mean to Nem, okay?” Amesho said. “This is taking everything she has.”

“That’s true... she does seem a bit overly stressed...” Yozakura murmured. Perhaps her strange demeanor was the result of trying very hard to pretend to be brave. If it was, she really couldn’t blame her.

“We’re about to compete, to establish once and for all whose design sense is more refined,” Nem declared.

“Oh, but Nem, we all knew from the start that you’re far more wonderful than me,” Iris said.

Still, in a competition of bravado, Iris wasn’t about to lose. She spread her legs to shoulder width, folded her arms, and fixed her opponent with a piercing gaze. It was a manly way of comporting oneself, a daunting pose.

The two who had been treating each other as worthy rivals before had now thrown themselves completely into the mudslinging. What was going on here? It was like the promos professional wrestlers cut before a show.

“You really are divine, Nem. You’ve always been my idol.”

“H-Have I?” Nem scratched her cheek, openly embarrassed by the praise.

“Ah, Nem is such an easy mark...” Amesho said with an awkward smile.

“I always thought the difference between us was like Betelgeuse and a turtle,” said Iris. “But, you know... while I may lack your taste and your talent, there is one field in which I win.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” Nem asked.

“Youth.”

Crackle.

There was the sound of the air freezing around them.

The words were like barbed wire. No matter how thick the walls one might prepare around them, there were some things that couldn’t be guarded against. Iris’s words pierced right through those defenses and cut deeply into Fuyo’s heart. There was no sign of a damage visual, but as a woman pushing 30, she couldn’t avoid a hemorrhage of the soul. Megumi had not reached a level of maturity required to shield herself with the weight of her years.

Amesho was cackling irresponsibly. “Nice one, Iris! Hey, Yozakura, what’s wrong? You’re all wriggly... does your tummy hurt?”

“N-No, I’m fine...” Yozakura said. But the spear of Iris’s words had dished out collateral damage.

“Y-Youth has nothing to do with—” Nem began.

“It has everything to do with it!” Iris declared. “I beat you in vivacious emotion and flexibility of thought! It’s not old people who create the future, but the young!”

“Iris! How dare you...”

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” Iris mocked. “But a woman’s shelf life is a short thing, and anger will give you wrinkles, big sister.”

“Yozakura, if you’re not feelin’ good, you can log out for a while...” Amesho said.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Yozakura gasped.

Having revved herself up to the battle to this degree, Iris was throwing herself into the role. And the rant had only gotten started. “You know, you really are a red giant star, shining in the sky! But red giants are also at the end of their lifespan. And when a supergiant goes supernova, they don’t even become a black hole! Just an ugly neutron star! Unlike me. An ugly little turtle like me has limitless potential. I could even live 10,000 years, and become the great turtle that bears Mt. Penglai on its back!”

“What’s Iris talking about?” Amesho wondered.

“I’m not even sure she knows,” Yozakura answered.

After that machine-gunning of random thoughts, Iris followed up with this, shoulders heaving: “I’m going to show you how a turtle fights. Once it bites down, it never lets go!”

Maybe that was what she had been building to.

“Why don’t we meet the models?” Stroganoff, who had for some reason taken up MC duties from his judge’s chair, said in a stern voice.

“Oh, looks like we’re up. Okay, Yozakura. I’ll go first!” Amesho cackled, then headed for the stage.

The crowd burst into cheers. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeah! Ameshooooooo!”

So much passion, just from her appearing on stage... She really was incredibly popular, and such popularity was power.

There were about 5,000 people gathered in the venue. Two thousand of them—over one-third of the total—were only there to see Amesho. The fact that every single one of the young men cheering for the self-proclaimed middle schooler Anthromorph girl was handsome was also a sight unique to the game. There were Humans and Elves, and the occasional pay-to-play race, and the sight of all these handsome men who didn’t look Japanese cheering one girl’s name at once was strangely invigorating in its unreality.

They didn’t care about the show. Their attention was focused on one person: Amesho. They’d be flinging out those rapturous, flirtatious cries no matter what she’d come on stage wearing.

“Hey guyyys, thanks for coming out to see me today!” Amesho called.

And what kind of introduction was that? What was she, an idol?

Watching her perform with microphone in hand, it was impossible not to feel envy. This sheer shamelessness... Was this the nature of youth?

Yozakura gritted her teeth a little as she watched Amesho from backstage. Could she manage a performance clever enough to trump such overwhelming popularity?

“Now, about the armor she’s wearing...” Stroganoff urged.

“Right.” Megumi Fuyo picked up the mic. “As you can see, Amesho is so charming, I wanted to keep the design simple.”

Fuyo, cleverly realizing that all the interest was focused on the model, avoided a lengthy explanation about the design, instead just providing commentary that allowed Amesho’s charm to do the talking for her. It was unlikely that any of the players present were interested in fashion, so that seemed like a wise decision.

The truth remained, though, that Fuyo’s design was very good. The design, prizing simplicity and avoiding patterns, felt lively and refreshing. It was the perfect way to emphasize Amesho’s youthful and sprightly appeal. The eye was drawn to the sky blue pintuck blouse and the lime green shorts. Rather than the patterns and body con trends that were hot this summer, they emphasized evergreen concepts like peplum, pastels, and neon colors, which all helped to keep it from feeling tacky.

It was silly to think that fashion alone didn’t matter just because it was a game. It was true that most of the players weren’t looking at the clothing that Fuyo had designed, but it was her clothing that helped assert Amesho’s charm and appeal. Perhaps this was the meaning of the saying “the charisma of the talented.” Fuyo had come out swinging, and her attempt had been completely aboveboard. Her sheer talent had eliminated the need for any overt self-assertion.

“Ah, it’s so cute...” Tiramisu of the Knights said, offering an earnestly feminine expression of her feelings. She was a dedicated gamer herself, but she was also a woman. In addition, since she was a popular player, Tiramisu’s words had weight. They imprinted the idea of “this is a good design” deep in the subconscious of the fashion-ignorant spectators.

“Next up, show us the latest from Iris Brand!” Stroganoff’s cried in a voice that sounded almost like a threat.

Iris turned her gaze to Yozakura from the stage.

Yozakura nodded. That was her cue.

The music on the stage changed, and the lighting went down. Smoke billowed out and psychedelic lights danced around the stage. Iris had picked the BGM and the staging herself. It was known as “Showa Rock.”

The audience was snapped back to attention by the atmosphere that seemed unusual for a supposed fashion show.

Here it was. Yozakura prepared herself mentally. She leaped onto the stage and began a martial arts demonstration beneath the lights. Maybe she couldn’t compete on cuteness, but she could compete on coolness. She did imaginary battle with countless invisible enemies, and when the BGM finished its cycle, she froze in the middle of dishing out a backfist. The lighting returned to normal.

Reluctantly, she straightened up and bowed slowly to the audience. The venue burst into applause.

Good, it went over well. Despite the tension prickling throughout her body, Yozakura struck an internal victory pose.

“It’s nice to meet you, everyone!” she called. “I am the maid-shinobi Yozakura!”

“Wow! Cool!” Amesho, standing beside her, clapped her hands while cackling. “It’s just like a superhero show!”

“Oh, how embarrassing...” Yozakura scratched her cheek. A superhero show, huh? Well, maybe that had been what she was going for.

Iris was behind her now, so Yozakura couldn’t see her expression, but she hoped this matched her vision. She also hoped Iris wasn’t feeling excessive pressure to push things further. She hoped...

“Now, about Yozakura’s armor,” Stroganoff called. “Iris, please explain.”

“Okaaay!” Iris’s voice, in reply, sounded surprisingly relaxed.

Yozakura exhaled in relief.

“Um... explaining it officially is a little embarrassing. As you can see, she’s a maid-shinobi. I based it on bug monsters from the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea. It’s light armor, so it has no level requirements, and the full set offers agility and perception bonuses. That’s what allows even the low-level Yozakura to perform those action moves you just saw.”

A pleased murmur could be heard, starting from the judges, then spreading. Stroganoff, Gazpacho, and Gorgonzola seemed the most interested. Parmagiano, who seemed most likely to appreciate it on a class level, was actually focused more on the thighs peeking out from the hem, while King Kirihito had kept his eyes averted in disinterest the whole time.

In terms of design, the maid costume was more the “Japanese maid” style. Given the need for a Shinobi to be active, Iris had given the hem a rather bold cut. The thighs that Parmagiano was staring at so intently were covered in chain mail stockings and concealed with knee-high boots. The hand guards, knee pads, and other dangerous parts had a shuriken motif, as well.

Yozakura decided to look at Nem’s expression, and saw her grimacing. Maybe she had some opinions about Iris’s design, which straddled the line between fashionable and functional... even if it was just that it was trying too hard to be clever.

It was a strong reception.

“Hmm...” Stroganoff mused quietly. “King, which do you like better?”

“The one that came out first,” King said sullenly, without even looking at the stage.

Parmagiano whistled. “Oh, is that how you like them, King?”

“No, but the maid-shinobi is so pandering, I can’t stand it.”

King’s words caused Yozakura’s smile to freeze on her face. Immediately, she got angry, to stifle the waves of regret and embarrassment that were assailing her. That bratty little boy—er, bratty little girl, possibly. Of course, she didn’t show any of that on her face.

“Shall we take a straw poll, first?” As Stroganoff said that, voting panel windows appeared in front of all the players in the hall. “This isn’t the real vote yet. If you aren’t sure, don’t press anything. Choose whichever one gave you the best first impression.”

The eyes of the four people on the stage—in other words, Iris, Yozakura, Fuyo, and Amesho—all turned to focus on the big panel set up nearby. The words “MiZUNO” and “Iris Brand” were written there, and the numbers displayed beside them started surging upwards.

2,109 votes for MiZUNO. 1,726 votes for Iris Brand...

No, 1,727 votes. Lower than expected. If not for what that stupid King Kirihito had said...

Considering that close to 2,000 people there were fans of Amesho’s, though, maybe it was a good showing.

Close to 600 people in the venue hadn’t yet voted. It might still be possible to win, but...

Yozakura turned around trepidatiously. Iris met her eyes and said with a smile...

“No time to be playing the good girl, Yozakura. It’s time for Plan B.”

Yozakura noticed something especially nasty in Iris’s tone. King’s thoughtless words must have made her angry.

But Plan B... Plan B, she’d said? Was she... was she telling her to do that?

Yozakura clutched her head in her hands. She really didn’t want to.

It was true that it was a tradition for ninja, and had been ever since that classic RPG. Yozakura, as Sakurako, had two older brothers. The eldest, Umehiko, was a fan of Wizardry, while the second brother, Momotaro, was into Ultima. She’d been made to play them both until she was sick of them, so the traditions were firmly entrenched in her mind. Even so, she didn’t like it.

“Aw, there’s no need to push it, Yozakura,” Amesho said with a giggle, casting a triumphant smile at the votes shown on the display. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, but I’ve got lotsa friends. About 40% of the people in this hall are on my side, y’know? It’s always the power of connections that wins in the end.”

“Th-Those are insightful words, Amesho...” It was Amesho’s words, surely unintentionally, that gave Yozakura her final push. “You’re right. It’s the power of connections that will win in the end...”

“Right? So...”

“But one of my loyal friendships is worth a thousand of yours!”

Jerking her face upwards, Yozakura pressed one of the shuriken designs on her bracers. An electric visual ran through her body and she shouted the keyword to activate the gimmick:

“Cast off!”

“Haaaah!!” Yuri raced across the ground, exchanging blows with Taker. To bridge the enormous level gap between them, Yuri had PvP-specialized Grappler Skills and Arts, as well as her own personal history as a former attendee of the national karate tournament. Of course, Taker had the same class, and he appeared to have just as much combat experience as she did.

He swiftly sidestepped each of Yuri’s kicks as they came. Felicia wanted to go to help her, but the masked-and-frilly Shinobi Army was keeping Gobo locked in place. Meanwhile, Matsunaga had scaled the Power Golem’s huge form.

“Eek! It’s him!” Felicia screamed.

“You make me sound like a monster or a stalker...”

“You are a stalker, Mr. Matsunaga!” Felicia’s honest expression of her feelings caused the grin to disappear from Matsunaga’s face; he must have been genuinely hurt by that one.

In the momentary opening this created, Felicia threw Gobo-Two. It slammed Matsunaga in the forehead and sent him plunging to the ground. Given that he managed to break his fall, though, he must have still had HP remaining.

Edward was crossing swords with the Shinobi Army on the ground, firing off his Lost Gun on support. Gobo’s arms swung around, tossing the swarming frilly Shinobi Army this way and that.

It was then that Felicia noticed Sorceress, whose support magic was making a lot of trouble, as it had on the beach a few days ago. Felicia knew they had to take her out somehow, but all of her allies were currently being held at bay by the strengthened Shinobi Army.

With a cry, Felicia held Gobo-Two aloft, then catapulted him using a Masakari Submarine Pitch. The steel shot flew towards Sorceress at high speed, but she just quirked a smile and erected a wall. Gobo-Two bounced harmlessly off the new barrier.

“It’s all pointless,” Sorceress giggled.

Felicia stiffened. What was with this girl? The way she smiled... it was like she was mocking any attempt at effort. She had even trivialized Nem’s and Iris’s honest competition. What was she trying to accomplish?

“You’re not the one who decides what’s pointless!” A black shadow flew in from an unexpected direction. It was Kirihito.

The black-clad swordsman attacked Sorceress from behind with his sword. With an expression of mild surprise, the girl jumped away. Although she managed to get her barrier up just in time, the swordsman had taken out a chunk out of her HP.

“Leader!” Felicia cried.

“No, that’s not me!” Leader’s shouted response came from directly below her.

She looked down, questioningly, but indeed, Kirihito (Leader) was there, fighting the Shinobi Army alongside Edward.

Which means, Felicia thought, raising her eyes... but Kirihito was there, too. In fact, there were now multiple Kirihitos on the field.

“Sorry we’re late, Leader!” one of them cried.

Kirihito (Leader) shouted out the name in joy. “Kirihito!”

“I’m here, too!”

“You’re not the only Kirihito here!”

“Ahem!”

A total of six Kirihitos had appeared from the rear line of the fight.

“So this is the power of friendship!” Edward whispered.

It was The Kirihitters. These seven Kirihitos, stranded in two different lands by the lack of Warp Feathers, were together once more. From the beach, the six Kirihitos had crossed meadows and volcanoes, traversing long distances to reunite with their comrade. The Kirihitos surrounded Sorceress. It was a dangerous sight.

“Get out of here, witch!” Taker screamed. But Yuri pursued him, lashing out with a straight punch that hit the Anthromorph in his solar plexus.

“Don’t call me ‘witch’!” Sorceress shouted.

“Don’t argue with me!” Holding a hand to his chest, Taker tried to break out of the ring of Kirihitos. “We finally finished that damn goth loli outfit of yours! Don’t lose it to the death penalty! Get lost already!”

“Taker!” Sorceress screamed.

“We’d lost the minute we let Tsuwabuki and the others break through!” he yelled. “And these guys won’t make it in time for the vote, even if they start running now! We’ve held them up long enough!”

Sorceress hesitated for just a moment, then gave a small nod and produced a Warp Feather. Immediately, her body became a ray of light soaring into the western sky.

Felicia watched it all, dumbstruck. “Just who are those two?”

“They’re mercenaries,” Matsunaga responded, having climbed Gobo once again.

“I’m not asking what their job is,” she snapped. “They said they sympathized with Nem... that they took the side of people without talent. But they seem really serious about it...”

“Hmm...”

Yuri’s fists continued to fly, but Taker didn’t dodge this time. A clean hit landed a critical and dealt massive amounts of damage to him. Felicia watched Taker’s HP slip to zero, and his body shatter.

Matsunaga’s army promptly surrendered, and the battle was over, just like that. The Kirihitos hugged and wept over their emotional reunion, while Felicia looked up at the sky.

She hoped a model made it in time.

She hoped Iris was fighting her hardest.

She hoped Ichiro would get to see the battle play out.

The next time she saw King Kirihito, she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

Narrow Fantasy Online contained what was called “gimmick equipment.” This referred to weapons or armors that would change appearance if certain conditions were met, such as the activation of special Arts or the engagement of certain passive Skills. It also included coats with special abilities like the Hide Coat and the Accel Coat. The Accel Coat that King Kirihito equipped, for example, had a unique speed-up ability that, when activated, caused geometric patterns to appear on its surface.

As befitting their distinctive appearance, most gimmick equipment had special effects like that. Of these, the ones with the highest crafting difficulty were of the Insect Armor series. These couldn’t be acquired at NPC shops or as monster drops; they could only be created by a crafting class player with extremely high skill levels.

Insect Armor used components from bug-type monsters that appeared in the depths of the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea, and it came with the gimmick “Emergence.”

The apron dress that Yozakura’s maid-shinobi was wearing as her main piece was based on one type of Insect Armor. When she pressed the switch on the back of her hand and shouted the command word, the apron dress revealed its true form.

Cast Off! Choriki Shorai! Cross Out!

A bolt of lightning struck Yozakura’s body. At the same time, the polygons that made up the apron dress began to crack apart and scatter. She collected the lightning effect wreathing her body in one hand and tossed it aside, and Yozakura’s “emergent” phase was complete.

Her skin, as white as porcelain, shone beneath the sunlight. That curvy, feminine silhouette contrasting with long, slender limbs was a truly dazzling sight. The pastel green cloth offered precious little coverage, revealing Yozakura’s body for all to see. A scarf covered the area from her mouth to her neck and then trailed into the wind, and the way it concealed her expression despite the extreme exposure of the rest of her body left her feeling extremely unbalanced.

Naked! In the all-ages world of NaroFan there were limits to how much you could expose, yet it was clear to all assembled that Yozakura was wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a scarf! Each part of it—bikini, panties, and scarf—had just enough of an insect wing motif to them that the purpose could be identified. Indeed, it did look a bit like an insect spreading its wings.

“Ah, the motif is the mayfly,” Iris began, though Yozakura knew that nobody watching would care. It was true that the way it forced your eyes to wander without ever settling anywhere was evocative of the transience of the mayfly.

“Now that is amazing!” Stroganoff shouted.

“I’m so impressed!” Parmigiano cried.

It was extremely likely that they spoke for most of the people currently in the audience. Even if Yozakura was a fictional avatar, her perfectly balanced proportions were still being laid bare, with only a thin cloth separating them from the outside air. The air passing in and out of their lungs (even though breathing meant nothing in this game) was the same as that touching Yozakura’s skin! The feelings of the silent, frenzied spectators were united.

They are so creepy! Yozakura thought disgustedly.

“How vulgar.” Those words, said by Nem with a scowl, were also true.

It was vulgar. It had artistic appeal, but it was still vulgar. Saint Tiramisu, in the judges’ seats, was likewise shocked. There was a clear difference in the reactions of men and women. Amesho alone praised Yozakura’s “courage” and smiled and clapped her hands.

“King, what do you think?” she asked.

“I-I-I-I d-don’t c-c-care... I-It’s pandering, and um...”

The king did not even try to meet her eyes. He was innocence incarnate.

Even if it wasn’t really her own, Yozakura had no illusions about what would happen if you exposed your body to a crowd.

Still, what was with this audience reaction? Even taking into account that most of them were men, the result was greater than she had ever expected. She wasn’t getting whoops like Amesho had up on stage, but the responses were largely positive.

The power to compete with Amesho’s popularity! The angelic campaign girl had been right to use the gimmick. Their votes in the straw poll were rapidly rising.

“It’s a bit of a mystery, though,” Stroganoff proclaimed in his usual grandiose manner from his place in the judges’ seats. “No matter how freely you can customize your graphics, there is no ‘naked’ in this game. The underwear graphics are always there under everything else you wear, and they aren’t as revealing as this. Besides, she was originally wearing chain mail under the apron dress, wasn’t she?”

It was a truly gamer-ish perspective, a question about how it worked within the system. He was right: it was impossible to throw off all your clothing in this game and stand completely in the buff, and the underwear that all characters wore underneath everything was not as revealing as her Mayfly Bikini.

However, this was where Iris held her head high. “If I may spoil the trick, Yozakura’s body itself is part of my design. She’s still wearing the chain mail underneath.”

“Aw, it’s just a flesh-colored leotard?” Amesho complained.

“I don’t like that way of putting it.” Iris scowled at the comment, but she didn’t deny it.

Yes, Yozakura wasn’t naked at all. It was clothing designed to make her look naked. Iris’s original plan had been to not even include the bikini, but fearing reprisal from the devs, she had added polite covering around the chest and crotch.

Still, that fact was cold comfort to Yozakura. If her avatar looked naked, it meant she was naked. The argument “you’re wearing clothing, so it’s fine” was nonsense when the body being exposed wasn’t Sakurako’s real one to begin with. If that fact had been enough to cheer her up, Yozakura wouldn’t be so upset to begin with.

“I-It’s vulgar,” Nem whispered once again.

Yozakura slumped a bit, as if it was she herself that was being labeled vulgar.

“Iris, don’t you think it’s a bit overly pandering?” Nem asked.

“I don’t see the difference between catering to the needs of the market and pandering,” Iris said. “Nem, the market in this place is a little different from the world you exist in, the one I’m trying to reach.” She wore a serious expression now, different from the one she had assumed when they were trash-talking each other. “All I did was pull out all the stops to beat you. You know, this ‘naked’ equipment... it was really hard to make! You know what a physics engine pawn is? I incorporated one! Though I won’t say where I did!”

“It’s the scarf,” Yozakura said.

Iris’s words weren’t a lie. You could say she was pandering overly much, but if this was the result of her earnest attempts to appeal to the market, she had no regrets whatsoever. What really hurt Iris’s pride as a designer was when she cut corners to compromise with herself.

“I feel no shame over this, only pride!” Iris declared.

“That’s right, because I’m the one bearing your shame for you, Iris!” Yozakura shouted.

Nem couldn’t help but fall silent in the face of Iris and Yozakura’s cries. She brought her thumb to her mouth to chew on the nail. What could be going through her mind at the moment? Was she ruminating over Iris’s words, or scorning her for them? Perhaps she was tying it to “designs Ichiro likes” and performing some mental arithmetic based on that.

The clothing Nem had designed was wonderful. It was no exaggeration to say that in Yozakura’s mind. Amesho, clad in those simple pastel colors, was a formidable enemy. She’d love to wear the clothing Nem designed in the real world. But Nem’s common sense did not apply to the world of the game.

“Nem, it’s okay.” Amesho tugged on Nem’s sleeve as the woman seemed to fall deep into thought. “Iris worked hard, and Yozakura’s very cool, but we’ll still win.”

There was no trace of panic in the young Anthromorph’s voice. She seemed the most relaxed of everyone on the stage, beaming with easy confidence and a smile that caused her fans to whisper “angel.” Her grace in the face of Yozakura’s overwhelming nakedness belied her supposed 15 years of age. But was she really lying about her age, or was it simply some otherworldly charisma? Well, Yozakura hoped it was the latter.

“You have a lot of confidence, but not a lot of basis for that confidence,” Yozakura said.

“Yozakura, are you the sort of person who needs basis to have confidence? People like that tend to fold very easily,” Amesho said with a grin. “We’re gonna win. Nem’s clothing combined with my charm makes us the best. What basis do we need besides that?”

“We’re not going to lose, either,” Yozakura declared. “I gave it my best, bared all, and now we just have to wait for the results!”

The two models glared at each other on the stage, listening to the noise from the crowd grow even louder. From the judges’ seats, the Knights began offering up some color commentary, as if bored.

“This is quite the competition...”

“I thought the choice would be obvious, but...”

“They’re both pretty appealing, huh?”

“But if one or the other has to win...”

“Yeah, it’s obvious.”

As usual, none of it had any substance at all.

King Kirihito, despite fervently averting his eyes, cast the slightest glance at Yozakura. It was to the point that she was worried about creating a significant impediment to these young men’s mental development.

Then, just as the tension in the hall seemed to be reaching its breaking point, Stroganoff finally took the mic, and said in a grave voice: “Well, let’s start the voting.”

It was finally time. The judging time of destiny.

Yozakura gulped, and Iris narrowed her eyes. Nem did the same. Amesho was the only person still smiling happily. A grand figure in a small package—she was a truly remarkable person.

The numbers from the straw poll reset, and panel windows appeared in front of the spectators again. Yozakura gazed at the large display above the stage as if she was praying.

The tabulations began silently, without any prelude. Iris Brand and MiZUNO: both of their totals started surging. Iris Brand’s votes were rising far faster than they had the last time.

We might just make it, Yozakura thought, clenching her hands into tight fists.

But of course, MiZUNO and Amesho had a steady base of support. Their numbers, rising with even greater force now, were every bit as impressive. At last, the movement on the count for each slowed and became sluggish, and it was clear to see that they were neck-and-neck.

Yozakura’s thoughts of Reach them, reach them had by now turned into Beat them, beat them. And then, mercilessly, the tabulation stopped.

Everyone in the hall, with various thoughts riding on it, read out the the numbers on the display.

“MiZUNO, 2,331 votes! Iris Brand... 2,331 votes!”

“It’s a tie?!” someone in the hall shouted above the din. A tie. Unbelievably, it was a tie.

“What do we do in a situation like this?!” Yozakura whipped around, the physics engine pawn responding as it should.

“There’s no one in the arena who hasn’t voted... Which means it’ll come down to a judges’ decision.”

They were going to talk it out, then? Their team might be at a slight disadvantage here, Yozakura thought, biting her lip. Tiramisu held a lot of sway among the judges, and she had likely voted for MiZUNO, as had King Kirihito. The only one who was clearly on their side was the Knights’ playboy, “Shooting Star” Parmigiano-Reggiano, and he couldn’t necessarily be counted on.

But Nem seemed to think this put her at a disadvantage, too. In fact, she was looking slightly ill. It was true that from her point of view, the only clear allies she had were King and Tiramisu. The “cast off” strip gimmick aside, there was a real possibility that gamers like Stroganoff might prefer the in-game functionality of the maid-shinobi costume.

“Though if just one more person votes, that will tip the balance,” Stroganoff whispered, and with those words, it was as if he was predicting the future.

It started with a stir among the spectators. The little ripple quickly spread, and soon, everyone in the venue was pointing towards the sky.

In Manyfish, the seaside resort town, the sky was blue. The air was clear. Anyone could see the point of light in the azure sky above, rushing at them from a great height, at great speed. The players onstage all immediately knew who it was. The only ones that didn’t notice were probably Nem and the judges.

“What is that?!”

“A bird?!”

“A plane?!”

“No...”

Even as they were talking, the point of light picked up speed, and dropping dazzling visual effects, it made a beeline for the stage at a sharp angle. It was like a beam of light had been released. It slid across the stage, leaving a charred visual in its wake, and then slowed to a stop.

“Hey, it’s me,” said the young heir, Ichiro Tsuwabuki, as he folded his Dragon Wings.

So late! It was one thing to be fashionably late, but here, the deadline for voting was about to close!

The reactions around the venue were varied, but the majority opinion seemed to be, “I thought it was too quiet around here.” The judges seemed to share a similar opinion.

Despite being a member of Iris Brand, as neither a presenter nor a model but just a “mere player,” Ichiro had the right to vote as long as he was in that hall. As if to convey that, the panel window appeared before him.

“Master Ichiro...” Yozakura murmured.

“Y-You’re late...” Iris said.

Those were the only words they could muster.

“Ichiro...” Nem said quietly.

“Meow-ho, Tsuwabukiii!” Amesho cried.

Nem immediately averted her eyes, as if vexed by his timing. Why had he had to show up now? Perhaps that was what she was thinking. If her vote total had been more overwhelming, maybe she could have faced him. Even knowing that her superiority in the voting meant nothing, perhaps she wished to use that as a shield to stand tall in front of Ichiro.

The victory was as good as decided. Who would have expected that the clinching vote would be cast by Ichiro’s hand?

Ichiro looked at the display on the stage, then at the panel window before him, then at Yozakura, then at Amesho, lingering for a while on each. Yozakura found herself wanting to wrap herself up in her scarf.

After seeming to understand the circumstances, more or less, he opened his mouth. “May I vote?”

“Rules are rules. By all means, choose the winner,” Stroganoff said with a shrug.

Ichiro scrutinized Yozakura and Amesho’s clothing one more time, then reached for the panel window. Everyone involved gulped as they watched where his finger would go. And then, he said: “Mm, I’ll go with this.”

MiZUNO: 2,332 votes. Iris Brand: 2,331 votes.

With that, victory was decided.