2 - Noble Son, Lead a High School Girl Around

“What is the meaning of this?!” The Thistle Corporation had been invaded by Megumi Fuyo, president of the fashion brand MiZUNO and the heir to the powerful Tsunobeni Trading Co. The employees of Thistle, who were mere nerds at the end of the day, simply cowered, having no way of standing up to the avatar of rage that Fuyo had become.

It was an unlucky day.

Edogawa, tapping at his keyboard in a corner of the room, hunched over as much as he could, hoping to avoid any sparks flying his way. Ever since he’d been ordered to Tokyo for business, he hadn’t had a single day that wasn’t unlucky, and the removal of the DyDo DRINCO vending machine near Thistle’s parking lot had been another cause for sorrow.

Fuyo was angry about the arrest of Ichiro Tsuwabuki. Edogawa had had a feeling this would happen ever since watching the news that morning.

It had been a few days since they’d discovered traces of unauthorized access in the Ten Sages’ system, and the subsequent investigation made it clear that someone had built an ingenious back door into the system server via the Ten Sages. That meant that the hacker could walk right past the Ajax System that Edogawa and his teammates had taken such care to build, and could go directly into the server itself. The Thistle employees had been in a mad rush to put out fires and restore data.

Thistle had always been a rather private company, but with Pony now acting behind the scenes, Edogawa was even more in the dark. President Azami had almost been reduced to the role of puppet ruler. The lawyer Shaga seemed to have put quite a lot of effort into helping them, and even he had found this result somewhat expected.

It was an unfortunate situation. It had just had to happen after they’d gotten the service started up again, and in the middle of their mad dash to finish everything in time for the one-year anniversary ceremony on August 10th. Making things even more awkward was the fact that Ichiro Tsuwabuki had been planned as a guest at that ceremony.

“W-We never thought Mr. Tsuwabuki was the one behind the unauthorized access, either...” President Azami said timidly.

“Then why would he get arrested? I demand an explanation!” Fuyo roared.

Edogawa thought he was probably innocent, too. He hated Ichiro Tsuwabuki, certainly, but he also recognized his basic humanity. More importantly, they had worked together to discover the truth behind the account hack. It was because of that that he could make an educated guess about the real culprit.

It was Rosemary.

They had told the public that the “malfunctioning program” behind the account hack had been deleted, and that was probably what they had told Pony, too. That would spell bad things if the truth came to light, both for Thistle and for Rosemary. Ichiro Tsuwabuki was probably aware of that, too, and Edogawa couldn’t imagine he’d try to prove his innocence by putting the blame on Rosemary.

Still, they were between a rock and a hard place. Edogawa’s expression was grave.

If Ichiro Tsuwabuki wanted to prove his innocence, he would have to make Rosemary’s existence public. It was unlikely he’d want to do that, but if they prioritized Thistle’s standing and Rosemary’s survival instead, Ichiro would end up prosecuted for a crime he hadn’t committed.

The fact was that the unauthorized access had happened. They couldn’t pretend like it hadn’t. Someone had to take responsibility for the crime. In any other situation, it would be fair to make Rosemary carry the weight of the crime, but there was no legal framework under which to judge her. That was what made the situation so tricky to deal with.

“I’m asking you, why was Ichiro...” Fuyo began again.

But before she could launch into a new tirade, it happened.

“Um...” One of the office workers interrupted in a trembling voice. “We have a visitor, actually.”

“R-Really?” President Azami said finally, sounding relieved.

Fuyo clearly wasn’t done venting her anger, but she wasn’t so ill-bred as to simply insist the visitor wait outside.

Still, a visitor? Now? Who could it be?

Before Edogawa could begin to speculate, a voice, cheerful, piercing, and clear, reached his ears. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. From where Edogawa was sitting, he could see the astonished expressions on Azami and Fuyo’s faces.

“Hey, President Azami. Oh, and you’re here, too, Megumi. I’m glad to see you’re well.”

An unlucky day.

The worst of his life.

Edogawa hunched over in his seat and went back to typing, hoping to avoid any more sparks flying his way.

The Koenigsegg Agela that Airi and Ichiro were riding in entered the parking lot, followed by Shaga’s Vespa, which parked next to them.

Airi found something oddly appropriate about the image of the gangly Shaga in his black suit and felt hat riding a white scooter, but when Shaga said, “Reminds you of that drama, right?” she had no idea what he was talking about.

“By the way, Shaga, what happened to your tacky Benz?” Ichiro asked.

“Failed its inspection.”

“You really should take better care of your things.”

The Thistle Corporation’s headquarters was in Jinbocho. All Airi knew about Jinbocho was that it was famous for curry and used book stores.

Knowing it was the company that made the game she liked to play was strangely comforting for Airi. It wasn’t that she was excited, exactly, but it made things feel a bit like an extension of the game experience.

As she followed along behind Ichiro and Shaga, she started trying to think of what she would say when she was addressed.

The building was smaller than she’d expected. They used the phone receiver set on the first floor to negotiate their arrival, then ascended to the second floor. Of course, Airi had never been here before, so she couldn’t stop herself from goggling in all directions.

Just as Ichiro was reaching for the office door, they heard the sounds of raised voices inside.

“Oh?” Ichiro whispered.

Airi found the voice familiar, too. It was immediately obvious who was in there. “It’s Fuyo.”

Ichiro nodded. “An unexpected person in an unexpected place.”

“Who’s Fuyo? Like from the Hoenn Elite Four?” Shaga mumbled in a soft, distant voice, but they ignored his irrelevant nonsense.

Airi found Fuyo’s presence simultaneously surprising and unsurprising. It was only natural, after all, that she would try to take action after seeing the news of Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s arrest. It was only natural that she would assume Thistle were the ones who had charged him, and only natural that she would then rush to their headquarters to complain in person. It just seemed appropriate to the kind of impulsive person she was. Airi, who herself had charged the police station without considering the consequences, was in no position to judge.

Ichiro pushed the door open. “Hey, President Azami. Megumi, I’m glad to see you, although I wasn’t expecting to see you here...”

All eyes in the office fell on him.

Airi scanned the room and made a level-headed summary of their reactions. About a third were stunned, a third had expressions of “What the hell is he doing here?”, and a third seemed to be thinking, “Yeah, go figure.” There was not a single face that was happy to see him, though there was one person sitting in the corner who apparently refused to look up from his work.

The woman in a suit he had addressed as President Azami greeted him with a stiff smile. “I-Ichiro...”

She was so young—probably closer in age to Airi than to Fuyo—that it was hard to believe she could be president of anything.

“Hey, President Azami. Look who I brought by,” Shaga said, peeking out from behind Airi.

Airi decided she should probably say something, too, but before she could get to it, Fuyo broke in, wide-eyed.

“Ichiro... and is that you, Iris? What are you doing here?”

“Um, well... ahaha...” Airi trailed off, scratching her head awkwardly. She wasn’t sure what she was doing here, either. She had mostly come along out of inertia.

Megumi Fuyo stood there in confusion for a moment. But then she looked at Airi, looked at Ichiro, looked at Airi again, then gasped, as if realizing something.

“Oh, I-I... I’ll be back soon...”

Fuyo abruptly strode past them and left the office.

“I wonder where she’s going,” Airi said.

“Fixing her makeup, perhaps,” Ichiro put in.

“You know, and yet this is how you act? As always, you’re a real monster.”

After that little discussion of Fuyo’s departure, the three turned back to President Azami. She looked flustered. “Ichiro, Shaga... ah, and...”

“Oh, I’m Airi Kakitsubata. I enjoy your game very much and play it every day.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you...” Azami smiled slightly, but it seemed a little strained.

Ichiro added, “President Azami, you’ve always been thin, but you seem to have lost a great deal of weight in just these few days.”

“Well, so much has happened...”

With a strange sense of duty, Airi realized she couldn’t leave someone so unbalanced to have a conversation with the young heir, and prepared herself to interrupt if necessary. She had no idea whether the lawyer Shaga would be of use in that regard or not.

Ichiro and President Azami talked for a while and exchanged what information they had—the readers know all this by now, so we’ll skip the full conversation—but unfortunately, it was clear there was a lot she hadn’t known about the full situation. It seemed she didn’t even know much more than Shaga had known.

When Ichiro explained the whole situation to her, Azami turned her eyes downward, her expression serious. “I see... So, Rosemary was the one responsible?”

“Yes. Although, as I am the one who made her self-aware, I don’t feel free of responsibility myself.”

“That’s quite a thing to say so offhandedly.”

“Nonsense, nonsense. I’m always amazing.”

He must have talked to the AI like this, too, Airi thought. And as the saying goes, when the teacher is rotten...

“Ichiro, you mentioned earlier that Rosemary was living in your house,” President Azami said.

“Yes, I’m almost sure of it. She’s trapped my servant inside and seems to have some scheme in mind. While she’s done no harm to the servant for now, it’s hardly an agreeable situation.”

“You don’t think it’s jealousy or something?” Airi whispered, and Azami and Ichiro both looked at her.

“It might be,” Ichiro said.

“So, you admit it?”

Azami said, “I’d be happy to know that my program has evolved to the point where it can feel jealousy, but...”

Speaking of jealousy, Airi realized that it would be harder to talk about this once Fuyo came back. They were referring to the “Sakurako-san” who worked in Ichiro’s apartment, after all, and who knew what Fuyo might think about the Rosemary incident itself?

“By the way, is Sakurako-san currently logged into the game?” Ichiro asked. “I’d like to get in touch with her.”

“Don’t you have a cell phone?” Airi asked.

“When security in my apartment is fully activated, cell phone waves won’t permeate it.”

Airi didn’t bother to ask, at this point, why he’d installed such a terrifying system. One glance over at Shaga’s uneasy expression made it easy enough to guess; it was the same reason why the windows had been designed to withstand a blow from a rocket launcher.

“I’ll investigate right now,” President Azami said, then turned to her PC.

News of the young heir Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s arrest was already spreading throughout the game, but to most of the players, it was nothing more than idle gossip while they spent their days more or less as they usually did.

Service had only just resumed, but Glasgobara Merchant Town was already as lively as ever.

On the main street, intermediate-level players were seeking out new weapons to suit their skills, while high-level players arrived from the front lines looking to enhance or restore their existing equipment. While the high-level players headed for the famous crafting guilds and made small talk with the Blacksmiths and Alchemists they got along with best, they also traded gossip about what the latest trends were on the front lines, and their own tales of valor.

Still, the most trending topic was the anniversary ceremony to be held tomorrow, and since Ichiro Tsuwabuki had been listed as one of the guests in prior announcements, the topic of whether or not he would show up was a popular one.

It was in this environment that Kirschwasser and Yozakura walked together down the main street. They got a few surprised glances from those who knew both avatars belonged to the same player, but Kirschwasser ignored those for now.

“I cannot understand what you are thinking, Father,” Yozakura whispered. “It is true that I must understand Ichiro, but I could acquire that information by way of message exchanges. This is inefficient, and it is nonsense. What possible purpose could there be behind it? Please respond.”

“I told you, the nonsense is the point.”

“I cannot understand.”

“Oh, Shigechi...” Kirschwasser sighed, but the reference only made Yozakura even more confused.

She might have been acting laid-back, but to Kirschwasser/Sakurako Ogi, this was a true battlefield. The person walking beside her was the perpetrator of illegal hacks, and the reason her master Ichiro Tsuwabuki had been arrested for a crime he hadn’t committed. This was also the person who had locked her up in the top floor of her apartment.

Of course, she had faith that Ichiro would save her no matter what she did, and being the princess locked at the top of a tall tower was a situation she had always wanted to experience once. It was exciting. Of course, Sakurako’s ideas of femininity tended to differ from those of most of society, but setting that aside...

Sakurako had always thought that, when locked away in a tower, a woman had an obligation to try to win over her captor. It wasn’t about Stockholm Syndrome or Lima Syndrome or anything like that; the simple truth was that a woman had time to kill while she was waiting for the hero to save her. If she was the closest person to the criminal, she was obliged to try to pull the thorn out of the proverbial paw.

In this case, it was more than pulling a thorn out of a paw; she felt obliged to contribute to Rosemary’s emotional maturation. The fact that Rosemary had acquired self-awareness through her conversations with Ichiro was shocking, but she had likely achieved most of her psychological growth through self-study, and there were limits to what a person could learn that way.

That was why Sakurako was lending her her avatar, despite the legal questions it raised. Seeing, listening, touching, eating, smelling... Quantum signals regarding all kinds of sensory input were being sent to the artificial intelligence at once. To get her to not just process these things as information, but to feel for herself what was pleasant and unpleasant about them, seemed to be the first step towards getting her closer to human.

They could talk about love once that was done. First, Rosemary had to experience the world, even if that world was a fictional one.

There was also the fact that the continent of Asgard was a world that Ichiro loved, and while Sakurako would never suggest that Rosemary had to be completely in tune with him, she did want Rosemary to understand what it was that Ichiro wanted, and what he liked about this world.

“Um, I’m here, too, you know,” Kirihito (Leader) murmured from behind them.

“I know.” Kirschwasser nodded. “As long as you’re walking with us, allow me to ask you something. What do you think of my master, Ichiro Tsuwabuki?”

“Huh?” Kirihito (Leader) tilted his head.

Yozakura added in her monotone voice, “Please answer. It is necessary that I learn more about him.”

Those words alone seemed to explain just about everything to Kirihito (Leader). “I see. ‘Know the enemy and you shall not fear a hundred battles’...”

“Ichiro is not my enemy.”

“But love is always a battlefield.”

“Nonsense. I do not understand.”

Kirihito (Leader) cleared his throat and began to speak, atmospherically. “Mr. Tsuwabuki is... well, a terrifying person.”

“Kirihito-Leader, do you feel afraid of Ichiro?” Yozakura queried.

“Awe might be a better term for it. Indeed, the first time I met him was in the early days of the Grand Quest, in the Delve Necrolands.”

“I am aware,” she said.

“You knew that?!”

At the time, Rosemary would have been part of the system monitoring the game; hence, she probably knew everything that had happened in it.

Despite having his legs swept out from under him, Kirihito (Leader) continued the story of his first meeting with Ichiro in grave tones. It seemed to Kirschwasser to be a biased, exaggerated account, but since he had asked about the man’s personal view of Ichiro, he couldn’t claim this wasn’t what he wanted.

“...and so, I remember feeling shaken by his complete disregard for the value of money.”

“So, your first impression of him had to do with the Monetary Blade...” Kirschwasser murmured.

Kirschwasser couldn’t help but feeling that, if not for the meeting with the Kirihitters, he himself might have never fallen to the fiscal dark side. It was amazing how deeply people could affect each other. Matsunaga had also been involved in the creation of the Dark Transaction Knight, so they weren’t the only ones responsible, of course... and Rosemary/Yozakura, standing by his side now, had played a part, too. But the real responsibility lay with himself, for letting his heart be tainted by money.

But never mind that right now; it was a pointless line of thinking. Feeling a bit of a thorn in his own paw, Kirschwasser put an end to that train of thought.

“Kirihito-Leader, you do not spend a great deal of money on microtransactions like Ichiro?” Rosemary asked.

“Well, it’s a game. Games should be enjoyed; you shouldn’t stake your life on them.” It was an odd thing to hear from the leader of the Kirihitters, who frequently did die in the game. “But Miss Yozakura—I don’t know your name, so I’ll call you that—it can be worth staking your life on something you enjoy.”

“That is contradictory.”

“Well, sometimes contradictions are the way we express ourselves...”

It seemed to Kirschwasser that he wasn’t being very convincing, given that he was a player who spent very little on microtransactions.

Kirschwasser didn’t know if this conversation was of much use, but Yozakura seemed to be seriously considering Kirihito (Leader)’s words. It was a good sign of things to come. They kept walking and eventually left Glasgobara behind.

The group all watched silently as the conversation log scrolled past on Azami’s computer.

It was Kirschwasser, Yozakura, and Kirihito (Leader), which meant that both of Sakurako’s avatars were logged in at the same time. Given where they were logged in from, it was clear enough that Yozakura was Rosemary; she was probably using Yozakura’s ID to log in through Ichiro’s Miraive Gear Cocoon. Kirschwasser and Yozakura were separate accounts, so there was nothing odd about that by itself.

President Azami seemed at a loss for what to say.

In the end, it was Airi who spoke up first. “M-Maybe... I shouldn’t have seen this... right?”

“Ah... I probably shouldn’t let you see it, but it’s a bit late for that now...” President Azami said while looking nervously up at Ichiro.

The young heir put his hand to his sculpted chin in a practiced motion, gazing at the display with narrowed eyes. It was exactly the gesture he used when thinking about something in the game.

By contrast, Shaga leaned in to the screen curiously. “Tsuwabuki, were you spending your money like that in the game? Karma’s going to get you for that.”

“Nonsense,” Ichiro responded dismissively.

“Umm... Ichiro, should I get in contact with them?” President Azami asked.

“No...” He shook his head. “Let’s not. Sakurako-san seems to have some sort of plan, and I may have been worrying too much. President Azami, is there anything you wish to say to Rosemary?”

“No... I don’t know what judgment will be made about her after this, but... for now, I’d like to let her do what she wants to do.” Her expression had changed slightly as she spoke, now seeming slightly relieved. “Though I suppose that’s not a reassuring thing to say to you, Ichiro.”

“I don’t mind. We’ll leave Rosemary to Sir Kirschwasser for now.”

Ah, but as a young woman, it seemed it was Airi Kakitsubata’s destiny to say things she shouldn’t. “It’s wrong to lend your accounts to other people, isn’t it?”

“I-It is... Well, technically, yes,” President Azami responded with a forced smile. “Though as devs, we tend to overlook it, as long as it doesn’t cause greater problems... For instance, if two brothers are NaroFan players, and the little brother sometimes logs into the big brother’s account to have fun, we can’t scold them for that every time.”

“The current situation seems a little more serious than that, though,” Airi said.

“We’ll just pretend we never saw it. Right, President Azami?” The one offering this absolutely un-lawyer-like statement was Shunsaku Shaga. “That rule is in there to prevent RMT and unauthorized access anyway, although the person he’s lending it to is someone who’s behind serial unauthorized access incidents... Well, an account is like personal property, so I don’t think it’s necessary to complain about lending them within the family in general, even if it is technically against the rules.”

“You’re a lawyer of fuzzy logic, as always,” she said.

“Well, there’s a lot of fuzziness in the law.”

It would be something else if there was some clear harm being done, like money changing hands, but otherwise, it seemed, the devs typically overlooked such things. Airi and Ichiro both nodded in agreement with that logic. They had already witnessed a few instances of accounts being lent out.

“Though since accounts are registered to the individual, they’re a bit different from property,” Ichiro added.

“We’ve managed to muddy the waters. Don’t mess it up,” Shaga replied, delinquent lawyer that he was.

“Well, it’s not really relevant to us, since none of us—the young heir, Kirschwasser, me, and Rosemary—have any NaroFan players in our family,” Airi said.

Shaga’s expression became amused, and he took his own opportunity to stir up the conversation. “That’s not true, Airi. There’s such a thing as common-law marriage.”

“What are you all talking about?” came a voice from behind them.

“Eek!” Airi screeched. It was Fuyo, who had just returned after fixing up her makeup.

Luckily, it seemed she hadn’t overheard any of the more dubious parts of the conversation, but Airi still felt a powerful sense of duty to keep the current line of conversation from continuing.

“N-Nothing, Fuyo! That’s right, um, there was something I had to ask you about design! Could I have a minute?”

“I don’t mind... but is this really the best time?”

“It’s a race against time! Let’s talk outside the office.”

“Oh, really... If you insist, Iris.”

Led by Iris, Fuyo left the office once more with an unsatisfied expression.

After watching them leave, Shaga whispered, “Of course, there’s a financial transaction between you and your maid, which means common law marriage can’t apply.”

“I think this line of discussion has exhausted itself,” Ichiro said. “Let’s go back to our previous subject.”

“That’s right. But let me tell you just this one thing.” Shaga’s expression became oddly serious. “Common law marriage does allow for ‘freedom of coupling,’ by which I mean sex.”

“What are you talking about?” President Azami burst in. Her face was the only one that stayed red from beginning to end.

“The trend for summer is full-body whites and pastels, but since we’re getting into fall/winter, I think it would be nice to focus on a single light pop of color,” Fuyo said.

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.”

“They say that houndstooth will be popular during this fall/winter season, so perhaps you could integrate that.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Fuyo was politely offering an explanation regarding the subject Airi had broached. She used her smartphone to capture trends, which meant she had saved various design pictures and video files on it, even from several seasons ago, and that by itself was extremely useful to Airi. It was a mountain of treasure, and it had Airi watering at the mouth.

She did wonder if she’d been imposing on Fuyo too much of late, but getting to talking with a real designer who was as far above her as the moon from the Earth was something she had to take advantage of. Airi Kakitsubata had grown enough to not sabotage herself with such thoughts.

The two were using one of the break rooms (somewhat without permission) above the office. Fuyo was staring at her smartphone, and Airi was taking notes with a notebook she had effectively stolen, though she couldn’t remember where she had picked it up.

Fuyo was watching her with a smile. “You’re very eager to learn, aren’t you?”

“Mm. Well, I have no talent, after all.”

“Oh, ah...”

Seeing Fuyo unable to answer right away, Airi winced. “I know you can’t lie, Fuyo. It’s okay. I’ll just make up for it with hard work. After all, only 1% of success is genius. The other 99% is perspiration.”

“W-Well, I suppose...”

Airi didn’t know the truth behind that Thomas Edison quote; therefore, she couldn’t perceive the dilemma that Fuyo was facing, wanting to correct her but being unable to.

At last, Fuyo said, “Incidentally, there was something I wanted to ask you, too, Iris.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“Do you know what’s going on with Ichiro?” There was the vaguest hint of a threat behind Megumi Fuyo’s glowing smile.

“W-Well... see...”

“I know you can’t lie, either, Iris.”

That was true, it seemed. Ever since she had been a very small child, Airi’s grandfather had taught her that truth was beauty. Viewed objectively, she realized she may have taken that teaching a little too literally. But in a culture where people rarely said what they were thinking, Airi Kakitsubata was the rare sort of woman who could use her tongue as a weapon.

Using one’s tongue as a weapon made scheming very difficult.

How, then, should she respond? Airi wasn’t a monster (even if some might say that she was something much worse). She had the skill of “Sympathy,” which she could activate to choose her words carefully to keep from hurting a dear friend when she had to break bad news. The situation wasn’t exactly that serious, but if she just told her straight, she knew that the information would probably hurt Fuyo a lot.

“Well, even if I don’t tell you, you’ll probably find out someday, so I’ll give you the whole story,” Airi said.

So, in the end, she did tell her the whole story, mixing in her own opinions here and there while glossing over some things. She did cleverly leave out the part where Ichiro lived alone in a house with the woman who played Kirschwasser and Yozakura; it was the one thing she couldn’t bring herself to be completely honest about. She doubted there was any funny business going on between the alien organism that was Ichiro Tsuwabuki and the woman living under his roof, but she didn’t know for sure, and whether or not it was happening probably wouldn’t matter to Fuyo herself.

But despite her attempts to tell the whole story, the information Airi had was sporadic. One of the artificial intelligences that managed NaroFan, an individual codenamed Rosemary, had acquired self-awareness through her conversations with Ichiro, and now appeared to be in something like love with him. That was about all she knew.

“So, this Rosemary has been illegally accessing their office from Ichiro’s house?” Fuyo asked.

“Um, yeah, basically. I don’t know all the specific motives involved, but the reason she took over the young heir’s avatar was apparently to learn more about him.” Airi went on to explain all she knew about the original account hack incident, then added, “It’s funny how she loves the young heir, but at the end of the day, she just keeps causing more trouble for him, isn’t it?”

“Ah, I understand that perfectly.”

Airi was surprised by how calmly Fuyo was taking all this. She’d assumed Fuyo would be angry.

“I made a great deal of trouble for both you and Ichiro, didn’t I? I don’t condone what Rosemary has done, but that’s just how love is.”

She was so mature, Airi thought. She wasn’t going to voice a single complaint. “So, you acknowledge that it’s love? Even though she’s an AI?”

“Even if she is an AI, she has feelings for Ichiro,” Fuyo said. “I can’t let my guard down. I don’t know how powerful a rival she might be, but that’s still what she is. And if so, then I must fight in the usual way.”

“Fuyo...” Airi was beginning to get emotional. Moved, she took her friend’s hands. “I really do admire you, both as a designer, and as a woman.”

“Iris...”

Such was the blazing friendship between women.

Of course, neither of them knew that Rosemary didn’t even see Fuyo as a rival, but perhaps ignorance was bliss.

Airi and Fuyo returned to the office, the bond between them even deeper than before. It seemed the uncomfortable conversation was finished; when they arrived, Ichiro, the lawyer Shaga, and President Azami were sitting together silently, with pensive expressions on their faces. They must have hit a dead end.

There was a saying: “three people together contain the wisdom of Buddha.” She had thought that, together, a genius of the humanities, a genius of the sciences, and some other kind of genius would have created a force to be reckoned with. But apparently, the discussion hadn’t gone smoothly at all.

“Ah... is everything okay?” Airi asked.

“Mm, it is, and it’s not,” said Ichiro.

Which one is it? Airi thought, but declined to ask.

“It seems that a true solution is proving difficult to find,” he explained. “The truth remains that Rosemary did commit a crime, and that I have covered for that crime.”

“The same goes for Thistle and Pony, too,” Shaga added. “Pony ignored Thistle’s wishes and reported Tsuwabuki for illegal access, and Thistle gave Pony a false report about Rosemary’s actions. Poking at that could hurt both parties.”

Adults really have it rough, Airi thought, self-servingly. “Young heir, can’t you just go bam, boom, zap, and fix things with your you-know-what as usual?”

“Yes, I could, if I wanted to.” Ichiro said it so casually, Airi was at a loss for words. “Money is an even more powerful force than you think, assuming you know who to throw it at. But that is against the rules.”

“You follow rules?” she asked skeptically.

“I think it’s important that this world not be mine alone,” Ichiro said, immediately expanding the scale of the conversation. He cast a glance at Airi, then at Fuyo, then at Shaga and President Azami, then at the silently working office worker, before continuing. “You do not live for my sake; none of you do.”

Airi clamped a hand over Fuyo’s mouth, realizing she probably would have shouted, “I do live for you, Ichiro!”

“The world does not exist for my sake, and that’s what makes it interesting. While it would be easy to bend the rules, that is territory onto which I must never, ever tread. I never want to give the world permission, even for an instant, to exist for me.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Airi snorted.

At her blunt words, Ichiro laughed slightly, then looked at a corner of the office. The man who was hunched over and facing his PC twitched slightly as Ichiro’s eyes fell upon him.

Ichiro said pleasantly, “I’ve been told that before.”

“Does that make you happy?” Airi asked.

“I suppose it does.”

“Tsuwabuki’s philosophical reasons don’t matter.” Shaga seemed to want the conversation to move along, too. “What does matter is that as long as he’s unwilling to use his money to grease the wheels, we have to reach a solution the honest way. First, we need to prove that it was Rosemary who was behind the illegal access, and that Tsuwabuki himself is innocent. Next, we need to prove that Rosemary should not be treated as a mere program, but as an individual with free will. That would prove that President Azami can’t be held responsible for creating a virus. That turns the point of issue into how Rosemary should be dealt with. In the process, Thistle and Pony may both have to pay for their role in the cover-up, and Tsuwabuki and President Azami may also be asked to take responsibility for raising Rosemary to be what she is.”

The lawyer could give quite a speech, though perhaps that wasn’t surprising. Thanks to him, Airi and Fuyo at last understood the situation they were in clearly. It was sounding like a genuinely dicey situation. In addition to that, while Shaga was rattling off the points rather swiftly, there was no telling how much time it would take to clear through each of them.

“Either way, it’s necessary that Rosemary ‘turn herself in,’ so to speak,” he finished.

“True,” Ichiro agreed. “But I think we can leave that point to Sir Kirschwasser. If he can persuade Rosemary, that would be the best thing for her, I think.”

The view was finally starting to clear. The future ahead didn’t look terribly bright, but being able to see the road ahead brought with it a certain sense of relief. At least, that was how Airi felt. Fuyo and the others had gone a bit pale at the thought of what Ichiro might have still to go through.

Airi looked at the clock and found that, at some point, it had become evening. Quite a lot of time had passed, it seemed.

“It’s a bit early, but let’s have dinner,” Ichiro said. “President Azami, shall we go to the curry restaurant we visited before?”

Azami Nono had been staring silently into space, but she immediately smiled and nodded at that. “Ichiro, do you like that place, by chance?”

“I suppose I do. Iris, Shaga, Megumi, are you coming?”

Airi and Shaga nodded, naturally, but it was Fuyo who leaped to her feet. “A-Am I invited?!”

“Yes,” he said. “I have no intention of always leaving you on the outs, even if it does often happen as the natural result of things.”

“C-Certainly! Please allow me to join you!”

She thought they’d eaten together at the Knights’ restaurant, too, but that had been more just something that had ended up happening; Fuyo seemed to find it important that Ichiro was inviting her personally. It was a bit sad, really.

“Well, I need to finish my work for the day. Could you wait a minute?” Azami asked.

“Mm.”

Azami went back to her desk.

Just as the atmosphere in the room was starting to come together, Ichiro looked back to the man typing fervently at his keyboard in a corner of the office. He seemed to be trying to sink into his desk to escape Ichiro’s gaze.

“Ed, I assume you’re not coming,” Ichiro said. “Is that correct?”

The man struck the desk with a bang and stood up. He was scrawny and rather unhealthy-looking, but he glared at Ichiro with fiery irritation.

“I’ll go.”

There were so many opinions about Ichiro.

“Tsuwabuki, eh? I’ll tell you, buddy, he’s a strange one. Not that I’m one to talk...”

“I can say this since he isn’t here, but his whale play has done huge damage to the reputation of the Knights! In that regard, I hate him!”

“I feel the same way Stroganoff does.”

“Oh, him... he seems rather wealthy. I envy him. He probably doesn’t have to work, so he can play games to his heart’s content.”

“To be honest, I haven’t interacted with him much.”

“He’s gotten the better of me a few times, though at least it made for good blog material. If you leave him to his own devices, he’ll always find a way to foul up the works. Even this last time...”

“I find his indifference to the feelings of others detestable.”

“I find his natural talent detestable.”

“I guess I’m grateful for him for discovering Ai’s talent and becoming her friend...”

“Well, he’s not as purr-fect as me, that’s for sure. He doesn’t seem to have many friends.”

“He is unique, certainly. He seems to have a doctorate at his young age, and while it’s not in my own field of scholarship, I have to respect him.”

“My knife, you see, is coated in poison!”

“Is this really the place?” Kirschwasser asked skeptically as the knife-wielder dissolved into particles of light. “Has this been useful to you at all?”

“I do not know.” There was a calm sort of confusion mixed into Yozakura’s expression.

The players who had known Ichiro Tsuwabuki for close to two months all seemed to have fairly firm opinions about him. Yozakura/Rosemary’s thought algorithms could sort through the multiple contradictory opinions and offer an overall judgment (or so she had claimed), and while it shouldn’t have been hard for her to sort out the variety of opinions people had about Ichiro, it seemed to Kirschwasser that her own biases about him might have been acting as a wall in that regard.

Regarding his recent arrest, almost everyone had had the same opinion: “I don’t think he’s the type to commit a crime, but I had a feeling he’d be on the news some day.” That was also the opinion of Kirschwasser/Sakura Ogi, who had been his servant for five years, so it was probably as close to objective truth as one could get.

Kirschwasser and Yozakura were currently sitting in a branch of the Adventurers’ Guild in Martial City Delve. Despite being a city, Delve had its combat restrictions between players lifted so that they could get into street fights, which meant the guild building was one of the few anti-combat zones there that all players could share. In other cities, the Adventurers’ Guild was mostly a place players would visit to achieve specific ends, such as founding guilds or changing classes, but here in Delve, many players used it as a hangout.

Kirihito (Leader) had followed them all the way here for some reason, and leaders of small guilds, such as Yuri, as well as guildless players, such as Amesho and Tomakomai, had all stopped by to witness the rare sight of Kirschwasser and Yozakura together.

“It sorta takes me back,” Amesho said. “This is the first place I ever met Tsuwabuki...”

She gazed out the window to the streets of Delve, tail swishing. The human mind shouldn’t have been capable of mimicking the motion, but she had apparently put great effort into mastering it. Apparently “looking cute” was all the practical purpose Amesho needed to find a skill worthy of dedicated pursuit.

“The same applies to me... Actually, doesn’t it apply to most of us?” Tomakomai agreed.

He was a legendary hero who had been said to have never logged out once since the service began, but thanks to the service outage the other day, that record had been interrupted. Still, he showed no signs of regretting it, and had even stated he was happy that it meant he could attend Iris’s online meetup. Iris had invited him, it seemed.

“We met him in Glasgobara, but it was around the same time. Strange how it feels like a fond old memory, but it was only a little over a month ago...” Yuri agreed.

As if to pick up on that, Stroganoff folded his arms and agreed heartily. “The fight with the Devil Zombie, the fight with Duplichiro... It’s been an exciting summer. Though we haven’t gotten much spotlight during it.”

“The fashion show, too,” said Taker. “The maidenly heart of our former leader really was burning then.”

“I had quite a lot of fun,” Sorceress agreed. “I think you did too, Taker.”

Taker nodded in agreement, then seemed to search back in his memories. “For heaven’s sake... Anywhere I go, he shows up.”

“Trouble does seem to follow him mew-round.”

“But I never expected that he’d be arrested...”

The atmosphere was like one of a funeral.

Yozakura remained silent. She must have felt some responsibility for getting him arrested.

“Incidentally, why did you want to know more about him?” Here, it was Yuri who finally asked the natural question.

For some reason, it was Kirihito (Leader) who spoke up, with an air of pride. “Don’t be shocked when you hear it. It seems Yozakura here has a crush on Tsuwabuki!”

“I’m shocked.”

“I told you not to be shocked!”

It was hard to believe that Tomakomai was really shocked by it, but Yuri and Amesho seemed genuinely so. There was something perversely enjoyable about the sight of Amesho acting surprised by something.

“I-Is that true?” Yuri asked trepidatiously.

“There are parts of him I cannot understand, but...” Yozakura hedged before answering, “I have tremendous interest in Ichiro.”

“You’ve got me-ousy taste.”

“Hush!” Yuri quickly planted a hand over Amesho’s all-too-honest mouth.

“Well, love is always a cyclone, as they say,” Kirschwasser told them.

“Don’t you mean a hurricane?” Yuri asked.

“I prefer the Cyclone. Especially the newer one.”

Yuri seemed confused by Kirschwasser’s laid-back attitude. “Um...”

“What is it?”

“You’re a woman, too, aren’t you, Mr. Kirsch?”

“Yes,” Kirschwasser answered, having a good idea of what her next question would be.

“Don’t you have any feelings about this?”

Kirschwasser couldn’t help but laugh. It was just as he’d expected. “You want to hear me say it in my current voice?”

“Actually, no.”

“I thought not.”

The group, consisting of Airi, Shaga, Fuyo, President Azami, and Edogawa, arrived at the curry shop. It was a large, diverse group, and Airi wondered what they must look like to observers. The difference in ages was too unnatural for it to be a mixer. Still, the employees there didn’t look at them as anything too unusual; given that they weren’t far from Akihabara, they were likely used to odd groups of people coming together for offline meetups.

In a way, this was an offline meetup. Aside from Shaga, they all had avatars of a sort in NaroFan. Airi was a little unhappy about her long-awaited first online meetup taking this bizarre form, but there was no point in saying that right now. To the contrary, she decided she would enjoy it, as a rehearsal of sorts.

“I was surprised to see you there, Edward,” she told him.

“I told you I was on a business trip to Tokyo.” Domon Edogawa, a.k.a. Edward, had a severe look on his face as he glared at his menu, an odd mismatch for the warm tone of his voice (which was very unlike his monotony in the game).

When she pointed that out, Edogawa cast a glance at Ichiro sitting next to him, and responded, “I understand basic politeness, that’s all,” and nothing more.

“You make it sound like the young heir and I don’t understand basic politeness.”

“You don’t,” Shaga said with a cackle.

“It’s a good restaurant, though,” Ichiro commented, focused only on his own affairs, as usual. “It’s my third time here. The first time was with President Azami, the second with Ed.”

On an otherwise gloomy day, the store itself was a single point of light. Ethnic music and aromas hovered in the air, giving the restaurant a pleasantly Indian feel. Airi opened her menu, hoping to enjoy an extremely authentic curry here, but she balked when she saw the first item listed included beef.

She was sitting between President Azami and Fuyo. and the president’s fingers, exceptionally slender perhaps due to days spent typing on a keyboard, flipped through Airi’s menu.

Airi felt a bit abashed at being stuck between these two geniuses, but she was at least in better shape than Edogawa, sandwiched between Shaga and the young heir. Watching his face tremble with tension, she was reminded of the first time they’d met.

“Mr. Edward, it’s been over a month since you laid into me, hasn’t it?” she asked.

“You really want to talk about that before we eat?” Edogawa asked, his face pinched.

President Azami, sitting to Airi’s left, winced. “Oh, that... I didn’t see it personally, but I do monitor situations like that. I got chills when I read the log afterwards.”

“Y-You read it?!” Edogawa yelped.

“VRMMOs are delicate games. We have to check from time to time to make sure players aren’t experiencing exceptional levels of stress and fear.” That was a bit surprising to hear, Airi thought, given the way the zombies in the Necrolands seemed designed realistically to inspire greater terror.

“I’m sure it’s not your fault. Airi is just so very good at making people angry,” Fuyo said with a teasing smile.

“Hold on a minute, Fuyo,” Airi protested. “I’m pretty sure it’s someone else’s fault that you and Edward came after me.”

“I believe I’ll have the Dinner Set A,” said Ichiro.

“How can you be choosing your meal while we’re talking about this?! And I’ll have the same!” Airi shouted.

Wasn’t he the one whose actions had turned Edward and Megumi Fuyo’s ire towards her? Now that she thought about it, this recent incident had been just the same way. It was so annoying. It was annoying, but the Dinner Set A that the young heir had chosen did look delicious, so Airi had picked that, too.

“Set A comes with a drink, it looks like,” said Edogawa.

“I’ll have orange juice, I think,” said Ichiro. “Since I’m driving today.”

“Yeah, and I’m underage,” said Airi.

“I’m going to drink,” said Edogawa. “I can’t not drink.”

“Edogawa, they say drinking while you’re stressed can cause cancer,” Shaga told him.

Though, given that he was sitting between Ichiro and Shaga, he was likely to get an ulcer before he got cancer.

As they kept up their conversation inside the cozy restaurant, they placed their orders to the chef behind the counter. The attractive middle-aged man with short-trimmed facial hair narrowed his eyes, said, “Understood,” and then headed into the kitchen with the determination of a mujahideen going into battle.

Edogawa and Fuyo were the only ones who ordered alcohol; the young heir and Shaga would be driving home, and Airi and Azami were underage.

Airi was absolutely stunned when she learned that President Azami was closer to her age than to Fuyo’s. She restrained herself from explaining why she was surprised, and the others let it pass, recognizing that inquiring would deal some psychological blow to either President Azami or to Fuyo.

“But why milk?” Airi muttered, eyes on the glass of white liquid in Shaga’s hand.

“You’d do well to drink it, too, Airi, dear,” he said.

“Is that a knock at my physical or my mental status?”

Shaga set down his spoon, and looked all around the table. “Something extremely rude just came to mind, but I’ll refrain from saying it.”

“So, you’re angling for a fight.”

Incidentally, there’s a theory that the mightiest being on the planet is a high school girl. As a trade school girl, Airi would technically be of a different species. But considering that she had conquered both Edward and Fuyo in the game, real-life Airi was surely close to invincible. Though of course, she had matured to a degree, as well.

“Iris, having you here spares me the need to point out the nonsense in all of Shaga’s statements,” Ichiro said as he ate, an incredible smile on his face.

“What, you’re leaving the objections to me?” she sputtered.

“Your tongue is razor-sharp, Miss Iris,” Edogawa murmured in agreement as he brought the a spoonful of “mild” ogura-green tea curry to his mouth.

Over the plates piled high with incredible food, the group did not try to make eye contact. The sharp tongue in question had insisted repeatedly that “mild” didn’t mean “sweet,” but he looked happy every time he took a mouthful of it, so she’d decided not to press the issue.

“One does tend to feel it through one’s body,” Fuyo said.

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t awakened two months ago,” Azami agreed.

“No, I saw glimpses of her talent from the start,” Ichiro smiled.

“Ngh.” Even the mighty Airi had to flinch in the face of such a barrage. At some point, she’d found herself on hostile territory. Of course, the situation was completely of her own making—a razor might have a sharp cutting edge, but it could easily snap when pressure was applied from the side. At the end of the day, she had dumped all of her points into attack, with few left for defense.

“Airi, do you know why Indians treat cows as sacred?” Shaga asked, a glass of milk in one hand.

Hoping for a change of subject, Airi naturally jumped on the question. “Oh, I don’t know. Because of Hinduism?”

“It’s because milk goes best with curry.”

“Oh, I see...” Airi’s face quickly turned white. At times like these, she was an open book.

Just then, Ichiro received a call on his cell phone. He said, “Excuse me,” then pulled out his smartphone. It seemed it wasn’t a phone call but an e-mail, and he gazed at the phone for quite a while.

“Who’s it from?” Airi asked.

“My father. Very unusual.”

“Y-Your father?!” Fuyo jumped to her feet. “P-Please allow me to give him my regards!”

“Fuyo, calm down,” said Airi. “It’s an e-mail.”

“Why is that unusual? You were just on the news being arrested this morning. Isn’t it natural that he would be worried?” President Azami asked.

Her words were perfectly logical, but Ichiro put his smartphone in his jacket pocket and shook his head. “My father rarely says anything about anything I do.”

His father’s name hadn’t been on the list of relatives who called him at the police station earlier. Meiro Tsuwabuki, “shifty manipulator,” just didn’t meddle much in Ichiro’s life. It had always been that way. Part of that was trust, of course, which meant that when he did go out of his way to get in touch with him, something else had to be going on to supersede that trust.

Other than that, he regularly sent New Year’s and Bon gifts, along with letters basically telling Ichiro to come help him with his work, though those had become primarily ceremonial gestures.

President Azami and Edogawa had apparently decided not to pursue the topic. They were under no obligation to be considerate of Ichiro, but the two, who were good at reading the mood, simply remained silent throughout the discussion. Meanwhile, Airi seemed to have her hands full just keeping Fuyo silent.

Just then, Shaga stood up from his place on the other side of Edogawa. He pulled a pack of Seven Stars from his jacket pocket and looked all around.

“A cigarette?” Ichiro asked.

“Yeah, time to sate the nicotine craving,” said Shaga. “Tsuwabuki, come join me for a smoke.”

“Mm.” Ichiro didn’t smoke, but he agreed immediately. With Airi keeping Fuyo held down, the two more introverted members of the party would be left alone together, but as they seemed to be enjoying their curry very much, he decided not to worry about it.

The chef said there were ashtrays outside, so Ichiro and Shaga left the restaurant.

“You wanted to talk?” Ichiro asked.

“Yes. Let me get a cigarette first.”

Ichiro had broached the subject immediately once they were outside, but Shaga didn’t seem to be in any kind of a hurry. Still, him having asked Ichiro to join him for a smoke was an immediate sign he wanted to talk about something in particular.

Though it was summer, it was two months past the solstice, and nights were falling a bit earlier. By the time the two made it outside, the streets of Jinbocho were already dim. The smoke Shaga exhaled wafted hazily beneath the street lamps. The evenings were still as sweltering as ever, but he could hear some hasty crickets begin their song in the underbrush.

“Changed your brand again?” Ichiro asked.

“Yeah, it’s a little superstition I have. I change it every time something bad happens to me. I’ve gone through the whole cycle, and I’m back to Seven Stars.”

It struck Ichiro that he must have changed cigarette brands quite often while they were running that detective office five years ago.

“Now, the thing I wanted to talk about...”

“Yes?” Ichiro asked. From their current positions, he couldn’t see the expression on Shaga’s face.

“I’ve been thinking some things over, and I decided I should tell you this.”

“You’re putting on airs again.”

“Atmosphere is important for things like this,” said Shaga. “Anyway, it’s about the Rosemary thing.”

If he had waited until now to say it, it must be something rather serious, Ichiro thought, and silently urged him to continue.

“It might be tricky to get Rosemary treated as an individual with free will.”

“Mm.” Ichiro closed his eyes and let the words hit him with full force. “Even with your skill?”

“Well, you see... now, this might run a bit long.”

“Proceed.”

Shaga put his cigarette out in the ashtray. There was a period of silence, and then he spoke again. “First, all the technology President Azami has come up with, Rosemary included, is incredible. It goes way beyond what our existing laws were designed to deal with. Thistle Corporation has become a huge topic of conversation not just in the economic world, but in the legal world, too.”

Ichiro was realizing these statements were a mere prelude to the talk that was going to “run a bit long.”

President Azami, Shaga went on to explain, had developed Rosemary, the Ten Sages, and cutting-edge virtual reality technology. In particular, the Drive technology, which used resonance between quantum information and brain waves to plunge the user consciously into a virtual world, had sent shock waves through every sector of society.

Ichiro knew the repercussions in the economic world as well as Shaga knew them in the legal world, but it seemed there was more to it than that. For instance, he had learned from Tomakomai how Drive technology was being treated in the medical world. Many people in medical-related fields were skeptical about the effects that Drive technology might have on the body, and Tomakomai was literally putting his life on the line to prove that their skepticism was groundless.

“The truth is, we’ve already had people pointing out deficiencies in our legislation when it comes to handling Drive technology. For instance... hm, yeah.” Shaga thought for a minute, then continued. “Your maid. She uses a male avatar, right? And it comes with a man’s voice, naturally?”

“Yes. She said it was a voice actor she’s fond of.”

“But they didn’t necessarily record and sample that voice,” Shaga said. “Apparently, they got that full cooperation from some voice actors, but many voice actors have merely loaned out the use of their names.”

It took even Ichiro’s swift mind a few minutes to grasp his meaning. “Ah, the collective intelligence system?”

“Yep. They use it to amalgamate the general ways people think that voice actor sounds into a cohesive image. Then, signals representing a corresponding voice are sent directly to the brain. I don’t know all the details, but that’s apparently how they do it when they only lease the rights to use the name.”

“Which means they can use deceased actors’ voices, too,” Ichiro said.

“Apparently, there are dead voice actors whose agencies have rented out use of their names, yeah,” Shaga said. “It’s a little unsavory, but being able to use a voice you’d otherwise never get to hear again makes for a pretty popular feature. So, do you see what I’m getting at?”

Using the virtual space created through Drive technology, the dead could be made to speak again. Most players were probably choosing voices without thinking about it, but as the practice became more pervasive, it would erode people’s ideas about value more than ever before. Naturally, that was cause for concern. But that wasn’t what Shaga, as a lawyer, was trying to say.

To create a voice completely out of common knowledge of that voice, you needed a voice actor’s name to become the basis for that knowledge. It was a practice that could shake the very foundation of the legal notion of “likeness rights.”

“And voices are just one problem,” Shaga went on. “‘Likeness rights,’ you know? In the legal world, they’re a big deal right now. Thistle wanted to keep things amicable, so during development, they bought the rights to the voice actors, even if they were just using the name, but...”

“There’s a chance that future VR products might not keep things so amicable.”

“Precisely. Anyway, back to the main subject. That’s one field in which people want to get the things Drive technology can do on clearer legal footing, even if it means changing the law itself.” Shaga paused, then continued. “Japan is a country that puts code of law first, but precedent still matters. Without established legislation, when a trial about Drive technology comes up, there’s a good chance that whatever decision they make could have an influence on future legislation.”

Ichiro was starting to understand what he was saying. It wasn’t just Drive technology; any ruling about Rosemary in court could also have an influence on future legislation. In a void, that would just mean that it was a problem that needed a careful legal ruling, but Ichiro knew the darkness of the world too well.

There were people out there who wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of changing the current laws. Some would profit from it, and others wouldn’t. If Rosemary was deemed an individual by a court, the creation of laws to govern sentient programs would be unavoidable. This would make problems for some segments of the world. Of course, one could say the same about Drive technology in general.

“There’s a faction of people who would want to pressure the ruling so that they could craft legislation to be more favorable to them,” Shaga explained. “That’s what I’m trying to say. That’s what’s difficult about the Rosemary thing.”

“Have you told President Azami about this?”

“No. She doesn’t realize she’s at the eye of a hurricane, though she’s going to have to find out someday.”

Ichiro pulled his smartphone out of his pocket. He still hadn’t opened the e-mail his father had sent him earlier.

The man was a shifty manipulator, but he generally had faith in Ichiro. Yet he had gone to the trouble of sending him an e-mail...

A fatherly warning, perhaps. Ichiro’s intuition drew a natural link between his father’s e-mail and Shaga’s words. There could be more turbulence ahead.

With that in mind, Ichiro returned his cell phone to his pocket. “Well, I’ll pray this incident doesn’t cause you to lose your taste for those cigarettes.”

“I’d rather have your efforts than your prayers.”

Shaga got ready to smoke another cigarette, but Ichiro had only agreed to stick around for one, and thus, he returned to the restaurant.

It was well into the night by the time they had finished their curry, and they were now sitting around, relaxing. It was the end of a very long—or very short, by some measures—day. Each paid their own bill, and they left the restaurant, heading out together into the hot, humid Tokyo night. The spontaneous offline meetup was winding down.

“Thanks for tonight, everyone,” Airi said, holding the limp Fuyo on her back. Megumi Fuyo had been left in a state of bleary half-consciousness thanks to her heavy drinking.

“Thank you, as well,” Ichiro said. “Will you be able to handle Megumi?”

“Yeah. If I get her to Kanda Station, someone from the Mizuno Group can come and get her, she said.”

“Mm, good,” Ichiro said.

Fuyo didn’t seem like the type of person who could hold her liquor, yet she had been surprisingly eager to drink. Getting plastered like this was unseemly behavior for the heiress to a big corporation, and while it happened rarely enough, she’d probably get a scolding from her father later for it. What was even worse, she had done it in public.

“You know, if you’re so worried about her, you could help...” Airi’s razor tongue did not suffer at all for her body being nearly crushed beneath the other woman’s weight.

“I don’t have time for that,” Ichiro said. “I need to finish things up quickly so that I can enjoy our offline meetup.”

“Fair enough. I’ll take care of her, then.”

“Please do. Goodbye.”

Airi was a bit shorter than Fuyo, so the woman’s pumps scraped along the ground as Airi tottered off down the sidewalk. The group watched as her silhouette—or more precisely, the silhouette of Fuyo, carried on her back—disappeared into the darkness.

“She’s a good girl,” Shaga said. “But with an edge.”

“She gets ten points to all craft skills by default...” Edogawa murmured. He’d been discreet in the amount of alcohol he drank, and there was no sign of stumbling in his walk, but the softening of his prickly demeanor was probably the power of the alcohol. He had said he was staying at a nearby business hotel, so he was probably going to walk home.

“Well, I’m going, too,” Ichiro said. “I did bring a Miraive Gear with me, but I won’t have any time, so I probably won’t see you until the next offline meetup.” It sounded like he intended to take part in it.

In his usual low voice, without the slightest trace of excitement, Edogawa said to Ichiro, “Let me know if there’s any way I can help with Rosemary, too. You can get in touch with me through Shaga.”

“When will you ever be honest with your feelings?” Ichiro asked.

“Please don’t say it that way. It’s upsetting, even as a joke.” With that, Edogawa turned on his heel and began walking in the direction opposite the one Airi had gone in.

Shaga also dismissed himself, claiming he had some documents he wanted to clear up before morning. As a result, Ichiro and Azami were left behind together.

Ichiro was gazing up at the sky.

“What’s the matter, Ichiro?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking back on the first time I played NaroFan...”

“Are you getting sentimental?”

“Nonsense.”

It had all started when his second cousin Asuha had asked him to join the game to try to find King Kirihito. It felt strange, now, to think that she had been the start of it all.

They had been at his great-grandfather’s birthday party, in the restaurant on top of that towering hotel. From its heights, he had lorded over that view of the city at night. A view that included Jinbocho. Back before he had known Airi or Edogawa... It was hard to believe that had been a mere two months ago.

“If not for your cousin, I would never have met you,” Azami said.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ichiro replied. “Asuha was the one who started it, but I think that one way or another, I would have developed interest in NaroFan, and tried playing it.”

“So, if I had asked you to play it, you would have been interested?”

“Perhaps there’s a world in which you did.” Ichiro shrugged jokingly. “A great deal has happened in the game these last two months. I can say one thing clearly: I’ve had fun. I’m very happy that I was able to learn that NaroFan exists, and to play it.”

“You’re making it sound like it’s all over.”

“Am I?” He gazed at the sky, eyes narrowed. There in the dark, its faint light reflected in the eyes of Ichiro Tsuwabuki. “Regardless, I do think we’ve reached a crucial juncture.”

His words made Azami feel suddenly anxious. She wondered if Ichiro Tsuwabuki knew something about this incident that she didn’t. His cool and detached mannerisms had always come with a seeming all-knowing perceptiveness, but this time, they made her especially nervous.

“To be honest, my hopes were not high at first... but it was more fun than I thought it would be,” Ichiro went on blithely, denying Azami her chance to inquire further. “Though I do think there’s room to improve on the game system front.”

“Ah... Ichiro?” she asked hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“May I ask what it is about our game that you like so much?”

Azami was the one who ran NaroFan’s development team, after all. She was in a position to read the activity logs of all players at all times, and with Ichiro Tsuwabuki being an important customer as well as a client, she was always monitoring what sorts of things he was doing in the game. (While it might seem a bit unsavory, the possibility of being monitored in this way was written clearly in the game’s terms of service.)

She knew, from this, that he did genuinely enjoy the game. What she couldn’t understand was why he enjoyed it so much. In this moment, she wasn’t asking as a developer trying to make her game better; she was simply curious.

“The first thing I liked was the craftsmanship,” Ichiro said. “I found it a well-realized world.” His eyes were gazing into the distance, perhaps remembering the continent of Asgard that had been burned into his brain via quantum waves. “Then I found I liked the players that I played with. Many of them shouted at me, but they were all enjoying the game. It was my first time really wanting to be a part of something like that.”

“The players?” Azami asked.

“You may not realize it, but I believe they all love the game you made. Do you remember Matsunaga? He’s quite famous, so I’m sure you do.”

Azami nodded in response.

“I believe that his investment in your game is many more times that of anyone else,” Ichiro said. “He may be genuinely upset about the thought of the service ending someday. Though I’m sure we all know that the idea of an online game you can play for 100 years is just a slogan...”

After Matsunaga, Ichiro described many of the other players. For instance, Stroganoff. It was apparently his first time playing an online game, but with the help of friends and a little luck, his “Knights” had become the top guild in the game. He was proud of that, and he dedicated himself more than anyone else to the game’s events and quests.

After the famous players, Ichiro named a few others; Azami was surprised to hear him show such an interest in so many people.

“I think you can take pride in creating a game that so many players can enjoy,” Ichiro added. “I, of course, am one of them.”

Hearing those words, which seemed to come from the heart, made Azami feel slightly maudlin. “But Thistle is no longer the game’s main developer.”

“That’s true. I don’t know how Pony may change the game in the future. That’s part of the crucial juncture we’ve arrived at, I believe.”

“Once this incident is resolved...” The words drifted naturally to her lips.

“Hmm?”

“...I’m going to see if I can get my leadership of NaroFan development back.”

The truth was, NaroFan’s development had grown far smoother since it had been transferred to Pony Entertainment. Cash flow had been greatly improved, and the game balance was also being tweaked. Azami had felt a great weight removed from her shoulders, too. The truth was, she wasn’t cut out to be a developer.

However...

She hadn’t finished making the game she and her team wanted to make, and she didn’t like having others mess with it before it was done. Hearing Ichiro’s words had made her realize that clearly for the first time.

“Though, as I said before, I think the balance and the system require some reworking,” he added.

Of course he couldn’t just let an honest compliment stand. Ichiro Tsuwabuki was a man of little mercy.

“W-Well, I’ll work on that...”

“For now, I’m just glad to see that you’ve cheered up,” Ichiro said. “That’s right. Once this incident is resolved...”

Ichiro lowered his voice as if chewing over the meaning of the words she had said moments ago.

Watching his face in profile, Azami remembered something. “Ichiro, ah, when you and Mr. Shaga got up to talk at dinner...”

“The contents of that conversation are top secret,” he said. “Shaga may decide to speak to you about it sometime. But to be honest, it was a conversation with Shaga that convinced me to invite you out here. Those things you said before... I was glad I was able to hear them.”

“Ichiro?”

“I think it’s just about time now,” Ichiro muttered after looking at his watch. “You don’t want to be out too late. Shall I walk you home?”

As before, Ichiro was acting like he knew something she didn’t. It got under her skin just a little.

“Speaking of which, Ichiro. Tomorrow’s...” she began, when just then...

There was a squeal of tires as a car drifted around a corner and drove straight for them. It was a black minivan. Azami cringed, and nearly jumped into Ichiro’s arms instinctively, but he remained calm, his bangs stirred slightly by the wind it kicked up.

The door opened with a bang, allowing a ball of energy in her early teens to come charging out.

“Itchy!!”

“Hey, Asuha.” Ichiro raised a hand to the girl who leaped out. Azami was startled and bewildered, while he continued smiling in his usual cool way. “We were just talking about you. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I can’t believe it! It’s such a coincidence! Kiryu’s mother drove us right from Nagoya, and then we just happened to see you right here...”

Asuha, or in other words, Asuha Tsuwabuki, glanced in the direction of the minivan. In the driver’s seat was a woman who was probably in her thirties, waving and grinning. In the back seat was an androgynous child about Asuha’s age, whose eyes were focused on a portable game screen. The child showed no sign of looking her way.

“Itchy! I heard you were arrested! Are you okay? What are you doing walking around here? What happened? You didn’t break out, did you?!”

“Nonsense.”

Asuha pressed herself on Ichiro and began tugging at his clothing, but Ichiro rebuffed her with his usual line. Ichiro cast a glance at Azami, then looked at Asuha and said this:

“Asuha, this is Azami Nono. She is the president of Thistle, the company that creates NaroFan.”

“Oh, ah... ah!” At being introduced, Asuha suddenly straightened up and turned toward Azami with a bright smile. She seemed to be from a more middle-class upbringing than Ichiro was, but her manners were entirely proper.

“A pleasure to meet you, President Nono. I’m Asuha Tsuwabuki. I really enjoy your game.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

“That’s Kiryu. She’s King Kirihito’s player.” Asuha pointed to the girl sitting in the back seat of the minivan, who suddenly seemed to realize she was being addressed, glanced out the window at Azami, and gave a quick nod.

With the introductions finished, Asuha spun around to face Ichiro once more.

“So, Itchy... what’s going on? Explain! Kiryu and I were both so worried!”

“King doesn’t seem worried at all.”

“Okay, so Kiryu wasn’t! I lied! I’m the main one who was worried!” Asuha cried as she bounced up and down. She really seemed to be a walking ball of energy.

Even so, Ichiro remained unfazed. “Now, Azami. It seems I’ll have to explain the situation to Asuha and her companions.”

“U-Um, Ichiro...” Azami spoke to Ichiro hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“About tomorrow’s ceremony...”

“Ahh.” Ichiro smiled slightly as she brought that up.

Asuha tilted her head in confusion at his reaction.

“I’m sorry, but I have a few pieces of business I’ll need to attend to tomorrow,” Ichiro said. “Besides, it wouldn’t be good for me to attend, having just been arrested.”

“Right...”

Pony Entertainment had issued a directive to disinvite Ichiro from the anniversary ceremony, but Azami hadn’t tried to broach the subject until now. Ichiro probably hadn’t guessed her dilemma, and even if he had, he wasn’t the sort of man to make an excuse to protect her feelings... so it was probably true that he had business to attend to tomorrow. Still, Azami felt a little bit guilty over Ichiro bringing it up before she could.

“Anyway, let me walk you home, Azami,” Ichiro said.

“Ah? But, um...”

“I said I’d walk you home just before the others arrived. Thus, you take greater priority. Asuha, wait with King’s mother for a while, won’t you? I was planning on staying in a hotel tonight, so you could head there, if you wish.”

“Ah, okay. Got it.” Asuha took a tablet computer proffered to her by Ichiro while casting glances over at Azami. “We hadn’t decided where we’re staying yet, though...”

“Really? Shall I reserve you a room, then?”

“Hmm... Let me talk it over with Kiryu and her mother,” Asuha said, then ran back to the minivan with the tablet.

“Is it okay to just make them wait?” Azami asked.

“I decide what’s okay and what’s not. That’s how I’ve always done things.” It was a roundabout way of speaking, but that was the only way Ichiro Tsuwabuki ever expressed himself.

Still, despite the way he stood there calmly, that implacably cool smile on his face, there was still something different about him. Even Azami, who hadn’t known him long, could tell.

Afterwards, just as he had declared he would, Ichiro walked Azami to her apartment. Still, she never did get a chance to ask him what was on his mind.

As the night went on, the number of players conversing in the guild had actually gone up. Evening through late night comprised the few hours when the employed could log in after work and share time with student players and others.

In other words, this was the time when “battle,” the most exciting element of a VRMMO, tended to pick up, and even in Martial City Delve, it was common to see players unaffiliated with guilds looking for pick-up parties to acquire experience and components. Hosting bulletin boards for such things was another function of the Adventurer’s Guild.

One way in which VRMMOs differed from regular MMORPGs was that at night, all players would take a break to log out at some point. This was because they couldn’t eat while logged in.

Real-world hunger wouldn’t affect one’s virtual world persona, but in spite of (and because of) that, the developers had instead instated an alarm system. If a person continued ignoring the warning messages that indicated changes in the signals to their brain, the system was set to log them out by force. There was no room for argument. Since getting logged out in the middle of a battle or other important scene could be a huge inconvenience to your party, the VRMMO was unusual in that the players who skipped proper meals were the ones treated as land mines.

Kirschwasser found it a good trend: The more a player got deeply involved in the game, the more they hated the idea of being thought of as a land mine. In addition to lowering the rate at which they’d be accepted into parties, they’d also be labeled someone who didn’t understand the game, which could be a huge blow to their pride.

As a result, everyone ate proper meals. They went to the bathroom. They got sleep at night. Kirschwasser loved those alarm message windows.

This was also why “Eat proper meals” being part of the Red Sunset Knights’ code wasn’t something that was looked down on.

“I’m going to log out for now, too,” Tomakomai said with a peaceful smile. “I enjoyed my first meal in the real world in a long time the other day, and it confirms my belief that food should be eaten with one’s own mouth and digested with one’s own stomach.”

“I wonder who you are, Sir Tomakomai,” Kirschwasser said.

He chuckled. “Just a gamer. Goodbye.” With a logical smile behind his glasses, Tomakomai logged out.

Amesho watched him go, then let out a big yawn. “Well, guess it’s about that time. I’m gonna log out, too. Gotta eat! Taker, Sorceress?”

“I’ll eat, too. Today’s been way too long...”

“Speaking of which, Taker, I hope you’re eating properly. Are you?”

The three of them, who seemed to know each other in real life, logged out one by one.

Yuri watched them carefully, and looked about to log out herself, when she whispered softly, “Speaking of which, Ai hasn’t logged on today, huh?”

Kirschwasser looked up. It was true that he hadn’t seen Iris today.

“Maybe it was the shock of Mr. Tsuwabuki’s arrest?” Yuri questioned.

“I wonder. Iris isn’t the kind of person to get hung up on such things. I think you know that, don’t you?”

“Well, true, but she’s always been a little delicate, psychologically speaking...”

“Ahh...” Kirschwasser mused. Iris’s psychology was maximized for offense; not so much for defense. He was well aware of this; she was like a human version of gizami armor. “I’m more worried about Fuyo, personally. I hope she doesn’t resort to anything too drastic...”

“There’s something about those two that makes you worry, isn’t there?” Yuri sighed.

“They are both fine people, but things do tend to snowball when they’re left to their own devices,” Kirschwasser murmured. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Though I may worry if she goes for too long without logging in, for the moment, it would be premature.”

“Yes... I suppose. Well, I’m going to get something to eat.” With that, Yuri selected the log out option from her menu window.

“It seems I’m getting hungry, too,” Kirschwasser murmured, gazing at the red-bordered warning window that had appeared before his eyes.

“Father, will you feed yourself?” Yozakura asked.

“That was my intention.”

Yozakura fell silent.

“What’s the matter?” Kirschwasser asked curiously.

“I cannot take in food in the real world.”

“Aha...” Kirschwasser stroked his jaw, then nodded. “In other words, you feel lonely that you can’t join me for a meal.”

“I do not understand. It is nonsense.”

“I don’t mind. I can just convert the flavor of the food I make into data and transmit it to you.”

Yozakura seemed to have difficulty accepting his words, whispered so offhandedly. The expression didn’t appear on her face, but she put out an atmosphere of bewilderment. Such was the nature of the “feelings” she had expressed several times today. “Can that be done?”

“I believe that it can. Master Ichiro brought back a VR laboratory from America. It contains quite a few pieces of equipment that transfer sensory information into data.”

Ichiro hadn’t given Kirschwasser/Sakurako explicit instructions on how to use it, but for some reason, he had left the manual he’d made in his spare time lying around, so she assumed she could probably work it out. Even if he hadn’t done that, it was Sakurako who thoroughly cleaned the already-unused laboratory facilities, and scrutinizing those machines day after day, she had more or less figured out what everything did.

“It may be difficult to get textures across, though. I should choose something where texture doesn’t matter much. In other words, curry.” Grinning, Kirschwasser began preparing to log out.

Yozakura watched him indifferently. “Father, I do not aspire to that.”

“Don’t you? I think Master Ichiro would be impressed to hear that you had learned what it is ‘to eat.’”

“I aspire to it.”

“Good.”

Which meant that Rosemary wanted to impress Ichiro. Or perhaps she genuinely wanted to try eating, and was using that as an excuse. Either way, Sakurako was genuinely excited by the prospect of getting to show her cooking skills to an AI.

As Kirschwasser and Yozakura logged out together, they didn’t realize that another player was watching them from the shadows.

“What do you think, Ms. Hishoyama?” Otogiri asked.

The fingers of the woman typing at her keyboard near the door stopped.

“The player of that avatar, Yozakura,” he continued. “Have you heard anything from Thistle?”

“No, sir, nothing in particular.”

“Hmm.” Otogiri gazed at the Miraive Gear on the table, then at the large box of lollipops set next to it. He chose one at random, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. “That lawyer boy must have colluded with them. They were lying about deleting that artificial intelligence.”

“It would seem so.”

“Hmm. I thought the Tsuwabuki boy was being awfully sloppy. So, that’s the reason... Thistle will have to be penalized for this, too.”

The truth was that, when he had first learned that Ichiro Tsuwabuki might be engaging in unauthorized access, he had wanted to jump up on his desk and dance—in fact, he actually had—for the excellent chance it might give him to smear the man’s father. He had forced himself to regain his calm, then begun issuing directives in all directions. Was the access route just part of a complicated mask from elsewhere? In other words, was his joy premature?

The moment he’d received confirmation that the Ichiro Tsuwabuki household was definitely behind it, he’d reported the incident to the police. Given who Ichiro was, the police had also been hesitant to act, but he’d had a friend in the department higher-ups. Smoothly and legally, Ichiro Tsuwabuki had been arrested, but...

If the real perpetrator was an artificial intelligence, that changed the story. Ichiro Tsuwabuki was completely innocent; he had been wrongly arrested. Objectively speaking, Pony had to report everything they knew. At least if they did it now, it would keep the social damage done to Pony to a minimum—though either way, it was Thistle, who had filed the false report, that would take most of the damage. This would be an excellent opportunity to get Azami Nono fully under their umbrella. However...

“We really can’t leave that artificial intelligence at large, Ms. Hishoyama,” Otogiri said.

“Yes, sir.”

“We must delete what we said we would delete, Ms. Hishoyama.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ms. Hishoyama, are you sleepy, by chance?”

“Yes, sir.” His secretary was excellent, but she could also be a bit willful at times.

“Ah, well.” Otogiri looked up at the ceiling. “After I finish a bit of work, will you help me level up for a while?”

“Certainly.”

The secretary nodded obediently, and Otogiri crunched down on his lollipop with a smile.

As he thought, the sweet simulation was not enough. He needed some other flavor added in.