The Last Day
A Log Horizon fanfic by Nightelf
Log Horizon created by Mamare Touno. All rights reserved. Pick up the original, whether it's the manga or the anime or the light novels; it's an incredible series. Also, lyrics to "The Game" written by Ian Kilmister, Philip Campbell, and Michael Delaoglou.
I am the game, you don't wanna play me...
"Hey, Hiro."
Hiro quietly stared at the takoyaki balls cooking in front of him. With a deft move, he turned the balls over in the grill, turning each one over one-by-one. He looked up from his work, and sighed. "Hey, Nazuna. Do you want any?"
Nazuna smiled. "I could use a few, thank you." She sat down at the bar next to him, ignoring the leers from the other men at the bar. She was used to the stares, the men who wouldn't make eye contact with her, who preferred to make eye contact with her chest. Of course, that was why she was here: because of the one young man who never failed to look her in the eye.
He wasn't looking her in the eye tonight, though. His eyes bored into the takoyaki balls in front of them. That was Hiro, she knew; when he was upset, he brooded. She took a deep breath. "So Harumi broke up with you?"
Hiro nodded. "She said that if I hadn't gotten a clue by now, I never would." He continued his intense study of the octopus balls. "Just because I didn't take the hint when she passed a bridal store. Yes, it was a pretty dress… but she didn't have to take offense that I didn't read more into her pointing it out!" He sighed. "Why can't my love life be as simple as the Hades Breath raid?"
Nazuna sighed. She pondered saying something, then decided against it. There wasn't anything to say, really, nothing Hiro didn't already know, nothing he hadn't been told before, nothing he hadn't experienced before.
Hiro, at least on the surface, was an ideal boyfriend – at least, if one were interested in boys. He was handsome, charming, polite, welcoming, and well-spoken. He was also remarkably intelligent, though it often took people several conversations to realize this, as he preferred to listen to others over speaking, and rarely flaunted his intelligence.
The problem was what it always was. Hiro understood the need for friendship and company. What he failed to understand was that sometimes women have desires and needs beyond that. Thus, when a woman started hinting at any sort of commitment, the concept was simply foreign to him.
So, he had girlfriends. He'd be snatched up, and be too polite to refuse. The relationship would last several months, until the girlfriend grew frustrated and left.
And, as his best friend (and how many girlfriends had been threatened by that fact?) she'd come by and pick up the pieces. She bit her lip, and pondered.
"Well… look at it this way. It'll give you more time to game…"
Hiro snorted. "I guess the girls there will be happy with that! At least they just want help leveling, and not… other things."
A smile touched Nazuna's lips. Hiro really was clueless at times. Or did he not understand why so many girls joined the West Wind Brigade? Once they heard that innocent, clear-bell tenor of his, women clamored to find out who was behind "Soujirou Seta".
A stray thought struck her, and she grinned maliciously. "I know!" She stood up straight; several male eyes took note of this change in posture, but she didn't pay it any mind. "We get all of the old members of the Tea Party to raid the girl's house! Clearly she has to be a boss-level monster to do this to you, right?"
Hiro rolled his eyes. "Really, Nazuna? She wasn't that bad…"
Nazuna looked her friend in the eye. "There are three types of women in the world, Hiro." She started to count them off. "The first is the kind that, when looking for a boyfriend, want to find the best match for them, and are willing to accept what they find. The second… and this is the kind that I find distasteful… is the kind that view a boyfriend as a project, and want to mold that boyfriend into what they want him to be." She scowled. "Harumi was definitely the second."
Hiro thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah… considering some of the things she tried to do – try to cut me off from my friends, try to cut me off from the game – I can see that." He gave her an inquisitive gaze. "And the third?"
Her eyebrows wiggled. "Those that don't want a boyfriend."
Hiro nodded. He'd met some of Nazuna's girlfriends over the past couple of years. "There is that." He scooped the takoyaki balls out of the grill, placed them on his plate, and drizzled them with mayonnaise and aonori. He then handed the plate to Nazuna. "Want one?"
Nazuna picked two up with the back of a pair of chopsticks, and placed them on her own plate. "Thanks." Now safely on her own plate, Nazuna switched her chopsticks to enjoy one of the octopus balls.
She decided to change the topic. "So. Any plans with regard to the new expansion?"
He took a bite of his own takoyaki, and sighed. "Hard to say. Will be nice to find new places to train the newer members of the guild."
"New challenges to beat," Nazuna agreed. Her face faltered. "Not as fun as the Tea Party, though."
Hiro smiled. "You never know, Nazuna. Maybe the next Kanami or Shiroe will come out of these players."
Nazuna mock-shuddered. "Are you sure Seldesha could take another Kanami, or Shiroe? It would probably self-destruct at the first, and the second…"
"… would be like watching two demons fight over Hell," Hiro supplied. His grin widened. "There is one thing I don't have to worry about so much, though."
Nazuna raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
He shrugged. "Another Naotsugu?"
"Oh, dear God. Don't remind me." She started eating her other octopus ball. "He was a really good tank… but a really bad pervert." She finished her food, and sighed. "God, I miss them."
"I know," Hiro supplied. Silence hung over the pair for a minute, finally broken by Hiro.
"Nazuna… thanks." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You've always been there to minimize the damage – here, and there."
Nazuna smiled. "What are friends for?" The pair shared a hug.
He gestured to the grill. "So. It'll be a few hours before the new expansion comes online. Want to hang out with me before then, have some supper, maybe a few drinks?"
Nazuna smiled. That was the Hiro he knew. "Yes… I'd like that very much."
"I am the game, you don't wanna play me
I am control, there's no way you can change me
I am your debt, and you know you can't pay me
I am your pain, and I know you can't take me!"
Masashi had his rituals.
Going to stop in a McDonald's before gaming was one of them. McDonald's reminded him of the past, of a place where he didn't feel invisible, like he didn't feel like the nail already hammered down, where he didn't have to worry about who he was supposed to be.
War was coming. His kind of war. And he wanted every part of it. He was practically bouncing with excitement as he thought of the carnage to come.
The customer in front of him completed her order; Lemmy's gravelly vocals faded as he took the headphones off.
"Hello! Welcome to McDonald's. May I take your order?"
Masashi didn't need to think. "Broadway burger, medium fries, medium Coke." He grinned. He may be a traditionalist, but he had to give his homeland one thing: cream cheese on burgers rocked. He smiled as the restaurant staff quickly assembled his order; he walked to a table, took off his Red Sox cap, and put his headphones back on – and dreamed.
He'd never had a chance to belong to any world. Not the Boston in which he was born, not the Tokyo that was his ancestral home. Seldesha, on the other hand… that felt more like home to him than any other place.
And his home was about to change.
Elder Tale had provided two things sorely needed in his life: a home, and a challenge. Seldesha was far more welcoming than either Boston or Tokyo had been; there, if a player could make their way, people respected that, regardless of background. And, if people could accomplish what no one believed possible, that earned a lot of respect.
He wanted to do the impossible. And, at that time, the Debauchery Tea Party practically defiled the word. They burned through Seldesha like a brush fire, defeating raids thought impossible, accomplishing things the guilds only dreamed of.
He wanted that. He ached for that.
By the time he'd reached level 90, by the time he was capable of getting involved… they were gone. He didn't know the details – something about their leader going off to Europe, or something – but he didn't care about the details. He cared about the results.
It hurt – for a little while, anyway. About a week. And then… he got the bright idea.
If Debauchery Tea Party was gone… why not have his own Tea Party? He knew a few talented players who could handle about any raid they came across; why not band together?
Thus was Silver Sword - his home, his family – born. They started by retracing the Tea Party's steps – Hades Breath, Rhadamanthys' Throne – and they had successes, and failures. More importantly, they learned – learned what worked and what didn't. And, eventually, they found a way. Their names weren't etched in stone like the Tea Party… but, eventually, they found their own challenges to meet.
Now, though… with the Homesteading the Noosphere expansion (and who came up with that name anyway?)… it was certain that new raids and monsters would be available. The Debauchery Tea Party was gone – and it would be Silver Sword's time to shine.
That is, if they seized the opportunity immediately.
He had plans. They would start exploring from the first second, seeing what new challenges awaited them. He would see Silver Sword there first, get them there first. Etch their names in stone as the new Debauchery Tea Party – as the true pioneers of Elder Tale.
And that meant starting immediately. Everyone in the guild knew how important this expansion was; he expected a high turnout tonight, to get started before anyone else could claim victory in the new content.
Smiling, he took a bite of his hamburger. It was perfect teenager fare: cheap, calorie-filled, and assaulted the taste buds with all the subtlety of Leeroy Jenkins.
To Masashi, it tasted like victory.
Umeko unlocked the door to her apartment in silence. She stumbled through the door, barely taking the time to slip off her shoes and hang up her jacket, and collapsed into her plush computer chair. She deliberately covered her eyes with her hands, blotting out any light that dared enter her apartment.
She didn't even want to think about looking at a computer screen. Too much had gone on with the day, too many tense moments, too many confrontations. It was the nature of her business: negotiations and numbers. Raw data and accounting rules provided the latter – and usually led to the former. Businessmen would desire one break or another, try to fudge one number or another, and she'd be left to clean up the details.
And now, more than anything, she just wanted to push all of it away. Forget the arguments, forget the numbers… forget it all. Time stopped having any meaning; she appreciated the silence and the night.
She wasn't sure how long it was – long enough to get lost, not so long enough to notice getting lost - before the Elder Tale theme began chiming from her phone. She took a deep breath to gather herself before answering.
"Marie?" she asked, quietly.
"UmekoUmekoUMEKO!" Marie's voice intruded through the phone and into her existence. "Are you ready for tonight?"
Umeko blinked. She struggled to engage her mind. "Are we doing something tonight?"
"It's the new expansion!" Marie replied. "Don't you want to be there for the grand opening?"
Umeko sighed. Sometimes Marie forgot what it was like to live a normal life. "Marie… I don't think I'm going to be on tonight."
"Ohhh…. Why not?" Marie whined.
Umeko leaned back in her chair. "Marie… it's been a long day, I'm tired, and I need to go to work in the morning. Getting on at midnight for a new expansion… it's just not worth it. I can look at everything tomorrow, after work."
"Oh, come on!" Marie's voice complained. "How often does a new expansion take place? It wouldn't be right for you to miss it; most of the guild is going to be there!"
Umeko sighed. It probably wouldn't be good for the guild's second-in-command to miss the new expansion. That said… the last thing she wanted to look at was a computer screen. "Okay. I'll be on in about an hour. Right now, though, I need food, and a little time to myself. It's been a very long and frustrating day. Is that all right?"
There was a pause in the discussion. "You've been having a lot of those days lately, Umeko," Marie finally supplied.
Umeko's face twisted at that. "You're probably right. The economy hasn't been doing well lately; when that happens, businessmen usually try to get their accountants to solve their problems for them." She thought about it for another moment, her energy slowly coming back to her. "I'll definitely be on. Just let me make supper first."
"Okay!" Marie's cheerful voice rang through the connection. "I'll see you online then. Bye!"
"Bye, Marie." Umeko ended the call, and placed her cell phone back in her purse. She slowly began to disrobe, to shed the uniform of business and replace it with something far more human.
A few minutes later, clad in a favorite shirt and sweatpants, Umeko walked into the kitchen and began preparing supper.
It hadn't taken much for her to cave in to Marie's demands, she knew, and there were reasons for that. Put simply, Marie – Elder Tale – were the only times left when she really felt like a human being.
She really wasn't sure where real life was going, to be honest. She'd heard all of the "Christmas cake" comparisons for the past several years. She'd tried, honestly tried; relationships happened, but never became too serious. She was good at her work, but knew her gender was hampering any future success. Everything in her real life, it seemed, had gone wrong.
With Elder Tale, by contrast, she'd found her place. She would never have Marie's charisma and leadership skills; Marie, by comparison, would never have her gift for organization. Both were needed to run a successful guild. The Crescent Moon Alliance was not a large guild, but it felt right; everyone knew everyone else, and helped each other out. Together, they had made a place for young players to develop and grow in the game. In them, she had a second home; in them, she had a family.
Right now, she needed that family. Right now, she needed a place to belong.
Umeko smiled slightly to herself, and poured water into her rice cooker. Suddenly, the evening was looking far more pleasant.
Hideo wrapped his hands behind his back, his fingers fumbling with the hooks. After a moment, he managed to get one hook connected; the difficult part done, he finished hooking the bra around his chest, and adjusted its fit.
He allowed himself a moment to look in the mirror, at the empty black lace around his chest, at the matching lace around his privates, barely visible through nylon pantyhose. He bit his lip, wishing he could extend the moment – or perhaps complete the look – but he knew that was impossible, at least for now. With a sigh, he pulled on more clothing – bulky, ugly clothes – to cover what he desperately wanted to wear. A gray sweatshirt covered the bra; jeans and socks covered the panties and hose. His deception hidden, he looked back at himself in the mirror.
What stared back from the looking-glass appeared to be a slim, lanky boy – at least, enough to fool those around him. Hideo knew better. To him, the tight bands around his chest and lower body were truth; the mirror, in this case, told a cruel lie.
He walked out of the bathroom, and began to make his way down the hall to his room.
"Hideo?" He heard his mother's voice call to him. He poked his head out of the hallway toward the living room.
"Yes, Mom?"
She looked at him sternly. For a split second, he wondered if his secret was discovered. "Don't be up too late playing that video game, okay?"
"Okay, Mom," he lied, and walked back to his room. Normally he would respect his mother's wishes; unfortunately, right now, he desperately ached for its escape.
He'd learned to classify his days as good days and bad days. Some days were good. Some days he felt almost normal. Those days, he could go through the motions – go through the hell of school, make it back home, study hard and get his homework done, be the good son.
This was not one of those days. At that moment, Hideo so desperately wanted to be female, to be the girl that every fiber in his being told him he should be, to the point of wanting to rip his own skin off. On days like that, she – and oh, how she loved referring to herself with such words! - needed to express herself, even if in covert ways.
Covert ways, such as wearing girl's underwear underneath his clothes.
Covert ways, such as playing a female avatar in Elder Tale, to be the girl, if only in fantasy.
In a way, everything he did was motivated by her. He was one of the top students in his class, not because he wanted a successful life, but because he wanted to move far enough away to get "her" own apartment. He played Elder Tale because it was one of the few times where he could actually interact with others as a female. He'd learned how to modulate his voice to sound feminine; Tetra wouldn't be winning any singing contests anytime soon, but that wasn't the point.
Tetra was a girl. SHE was a girl. For those precious moments online, she could forget the fact that she was a boy, that she had this hideously misdesigned body. The other players would hear a girl on the line, treat her as a girl – and she could forget, at least for a little while. And those few hours she played online were the only times she felt truly alive.
To be honest, Hideo didn't know how much longer he had left. Something had to give, and soon. He didn't even know if he'd make it to graduation; the pressures of exams were starting to get to him. The good days were coming fewer and farther between, and the thought of raking Mother's cooking knives against his wrists carried more and more appeal.
He had to get out, before he took the easy way out.
He had to get out, so she could be free.
Until then, he bided his time, and took the only escapes he knew. She adjusted her position in front of the computer - a lady did not slouch, after all – and daintily pressed the power button.
"Forever, and ever, and ever…"
The guitar felt heavy in Isuzu's hands as she finished the song, as razor-thin metal cut into her fingertips. She wrote what she knew, which she admitted wasn't much. She was fifteen; it wasn't like she knew every in and out of the subtle dance of love. She could be forgiven for being a teenager.
Father apparently didn't think so. She wasn't sure what to think of what he said. That Father had actually told her she wasn't good enough to go professional, that she'd never be good enough... weren't parents supposed to encourage their children, rather than beat them down? She didn't get it, didn't understand.
"Not bad." Her older brother, Tatsumi, leaned in from the doorway; he ran his fingers through his messy waves of hair. "Kind of a bubblegummy feel to it, but not bad."
Isuzu stared at him for a moment, taking a second to decide whether or not the words were complimentary. "Thanks, I guess," she said, somewhat dejectedly.
Tatsumi stood up straight, and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Oh… it's nothing," she replied, in the sort of tone that implied a weighty meaning of 'nothing'.
Tastumi was willing to accept the definition, at least. He looked over at her computer. "So. How's the game coming?"
Isuzu shrugged noncommittally. "It's all right." She sighed. "At least I can be a musician in there…"
He frowned, catching the implication in her words. "Who says you can't be a musician?"
She put up her guitar onto the rack, and huffed. "Father. He said that I would never have the skills to be successful as a professional musician."
Emotions shifted across Tatsumi's face, from confusion, to anger, to finally understanding. "Ah. I see."
She frowned. "See what?"
He gestured to the guitar. "Do you mind?" She nodded her assent; he picked it up, and began to play a familiar set of chords. "I don't think Father was telling the whole truth – or, at least, not in the way you think."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Tatsumi's fingers danced along the guitar's neck; Isuzu could hear the progression of the song lightly from the unplugged strings. "Being a professional musician is more than just being a musician. It's not like the idol singers you're used to. It's traveling a hundred miles to play a gig in the scariest places on Earth for peanuts. You're too young to remember, but I got to go with Father on a couple of gigs when I was young. Those were scary places – and I know those were probably the tamest places he played." He stopped playing, and looked hesitant for a moment. "Also… for all the difficulties Father had when we were young… I suspect it would be even tougher on you." He grimaced. "Some places aren't kind to women."
Isuzu growled. "So what does he want me to be? Some housewife?" Tears started to well in her eyes. "Is it wrong to at least want to try?"
Tatsumi put a hand on her shoulder. "It's not wrong." He looked away, thinking for a moment. "Keep on playing; keep on writing. See, Father forgot one thing."
Isuzu raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"Sometimes you have to get deep into something before you realize what a treasure it is. You've got time; take a few years, get better at it, maybe work a 'safe' gig or two, and see how things are then. It's tough at first… but it gets to be fun after awhile." He looked over at the computer. "It's why I gave you the pass. The deeper into the game you get, the more fun it becomes."
Her eyes narrowed. "How long before that happens?"
He smirked. "Just give it a couple more days, okay?"
She nodded. "Okay." She looked down at her hands. "And Tatsumi… thanks."
Tatsumi smiled. "Anytime, little sis… anytime."
"Of all of Dostoevsky's characters – Raskalnikov, Stepan, Prince Myshkin – it is the character of Alyosha Karamazov that is clearly closest to his heart. While Myshkin may have been his attempt at an ideal, Alyosha is by far the most shining character within the dark, brooding world of Dostoevsky's novels; both innocent and wise, a monk without a monastery, a dutiful and loving son and brother who cared for and watched for his family." Kouta's breath caught in his throat. "Alyosha Dostoevsky, Fyodor's three-year-old son, died from an epileptic seizure just before he began work on the story. Thus do we realize the final purpose of The Brothers Karamazov: it is an elegy for the son he lost, for the life so cruelly cut short." He smiled wistfully. "We've talked enough about the nineteenth century. It is time to go to the twentieth, and the literature of war and revolution; we'll start by talking about the works of Ivan Bunin, in particular 'The Village' and his Russian Revolution diary, 'Cursed Days'." He took a deep breath. "Until then, be well, take care, and have a good day."
The students filed out of Kouta's classroom; he stood, dignified, as he watched them leave. Once most of the students had fled, having made sure that no questions to be answered lingered from his students, he silently picked up his books, and made his way out of the building and back to the office.
It was a bright day, shining, the chill of spring finally gone. Sendai tended to get cold in the winters; it took time for the sun to beat away the spring chill. He stopped for a moment to bask in the sunlight, taking comfort in its warmth, in the energy of the students milling about around him. There were precious few warm spots in his life, anymore.
Eventually, he found his way back into his office; he sat down at his desk, and sighed. Some things would always hurt; the last Dostoevsky lecture qualified. His eyes focused on the picture on his desk, of three people he knew, once.
"Kouta?"
He didn't bother to look up. "Come in, Masahiko."
Masahiko pushed up his glasses, and frowned. "Are you doing okay?"
Kouta continued to look at the picture. The man looked a hundred years younger than he was now; not a strand of gray appeared in that man's mop of hair. The woman next to the man smiled with a mix of joy, love, and pride; he'd made a study over ten years of every meaning to her different expressions. The child between them beamed with a gap-toothed smile toward the camera, her bright eyes dancing with mirth.
He swallowed. "Some days are easier than others, Masahiko."
Masahiko nodded slowly. "You know they wouldn't have wanted you to hurt like this."
He smiled quietly. "I know." And he did know, intellectually. That didn't help the quiet evenings cooking and eating dinner with only his cat to keep him company, or the painfully empty futon he slept on at night. "It's just that the Dostoevsky lecture always brings them back."
"Ah." Masahiko ran his hand over his bald head. "You know, you could always teach that sci-fi and fantasy literature course next semester… the students love that, you know."
Kouta nodded, his smile widening slightly. "I can't teach that every semester, though. And Russian literature… for all its pain, it is catharsis as well." He shrugged. "Besides, I have yet to see any genre explain the human psyche with a skill to match the Russians."
Masahiko raised an eyebrow. "People have to suffer for their art?" He paused for a moment. "Even yours?"
A throaty, almost choked laugh burst from Kouta's mouth. "That's one way to look at it!" His laughter died softly, though he did feel somewhat better. "I'll be fine, Masahiko.
"Okay…" Masahiko said, a little uneasily, before moving to leave the office. "Are you going to be at the Fencing Club tonight?"
Kouta nodded. "Perhaps it is sadistic of me, but I find stabbing people repeatedly to be remarkable catharsis."
Masahiko laughed. "Okay, okay!" He walked toward the door.
Kouta sighed as Masahiko left, opened up his computer, and pulled up the notes for his sci-fi course. There were quite literally more things in heaven and earth than could be found in Russian literature. Sometimes one needed a touch of the fantastic.
Which is why he returned to the fantastic every night. A new game called Elder Tale had been a lively escape for him during his undergrad days. He'd eventually put all that aside to be a husband, to be a father; it was a trade he'd make a thousand times, a million times over. During those halcyon days, Elder Tale was simply a distant and fond memory, moments of a reckless youth. They were ten of the best years of his life; in many ways, he never left those days, preferring to be frozen in time.
Unfortunately, time was not so kind, and a drunk driver shattered that life in one night. In its aftermath, with his entire life torn apart, he found himself searching for anything familiar and comforting. His work helped, of course, to act as a mentor to his students, but it wasn't quite enough. To his surprise, Elder Tale was still there, waiting, with a different set of young men and women, each with their own dreams, their own problems. Thus did he fill the gaping hole in his life. It was only the palest shadow of what he truly wanted, but it was something.
A professor, after all, will always profess. A teacher must always teach. Elder Tale was simply another classroom to do so.
He took a deep breath as he began to review the materials for the course. Masahiko's idea was a good one; he needed a touch of the fantastic in his classes. And later that night, after the Fencing Club meeting, as the new Elder Tale expansion came online, he would be there for a touch of the fantastic in his life.
Minori had never liked soccer all that much, she mused as she slowly pushed her brother along the sidewalk. Soccer had been Tohya's game, back before… well. She'd never been the active type, preferring her books to any sports. There was apparently some sort of strategy to it, one that she never quite understood; Tohya had explained some of it to her once, but to her it still seemed like a bunch of people chasing after a ball.
In front of her, she could see Tohya's gaze dart between players, clearly following the action. Whatever was going on, he understood. She sighed as one player tried to push the ball into the penalty area, only to be intercepted near the line, starting a counterattack.
"Takagi always did have a habit of holding on to the ball too long," Tohya sighed. "Never did trust his teammates." His fingers drummed softly against the armrest.
Something about the tone of Tohya's voice raised the hackles on Minori's neck. She frowned. "Tohya, are you okay?"
Tohya paused for a moment. When he turned around, Tohya was smiling, "I'm fine." After a moment, he turned back around. "Come on. Let's go."
She started to wheel him down the sidewalk. Going on the train was always difficult; people always felt that Tohya took up too much room. Better to head home sooner, rather than later, when the trains would be packed with work commuters. Her lips thinned; she began pushing him in earnest.
On the soccer field, a defender deflected an attack by clearing the ball; the ball bounced toward the pair, hitting against Tohya's wheelchair.
Minori stared at the ball for a long moment. She was never good at athletic endeavors. She moved a few steps behind the ball, then tried to kick it back onto the field. The result was almost comical; she didn't hit the ball square, and nearly fell from being off balance. The ball dribbled across the grass, barely making it onto the pitch.
Minori huffed, and dusted herself off. "Well. That was pathetic."
"No. No, it wasn't."
Minori frowned once more at the tone in Tohya's voice – a strange, hollow tone, like not all of his voice could make it to speak. She looked at him – his wide smile, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.
She moved back to pushing Tohya's wheelchair. "Come on. Let's go home."
Hasegawa Naotsugu walked toward his apartment in silence, his mind lost in thought.
It was the nature of the commute. Sometimes he thought of nothing on the way home, and let the rhythm of travel lull him to quiet. Occasionally – well, more than occasionally - he thought of the woman-only train a few cars back from his own, and all of that beauty so close, yet so far. And, on a rare occasion, he'd find himself reading the advertisements posted on the subway car's walls. It was the last that had happened tonight, one that acted as a gentle reminder, of a place he'd known quite well – indeed, he was one of the few people who did know the place.
The picture was of Radamanthys, clad in armor, standing from his throne, greatsword in hand. In the foreground, a set of adventurers prepared to battle the boss monster: a female swashbuckler in white, a dark-eyed enchanter with eldritch spells in his hand, a youthful samurai ecstatic for battle, a suspiciously-familiar hulking tank in full armor. The action shots were far more dramatic than anything that truly went on in the game, but it wasn't difficult to determine who the picture was based on, and he smiled in remembrance. That had been a truly challenging raid; without Shiroe's insight and Kanami's pure stubbornness, there was no way they could have beaten him.
It was not just the picture that grabbed his attention, though. It was the announcement below it:
New Expansion – Homesteading the Noosphere – Online May 3!
A new expansion. It had been a few years since the last one. Then again it had been a few years since he'd played. He found his eyes drifting to the characters in the poster, to the life he'd once had.
He'd wronged those people, to be honest. He had his reasons, to be sure – work had been so hectic in his first years out of school - but he should have stopped in on occasion. To put it very simply, he'd forgotten. In the rush to build a life for himself, he'd left too much of his old life behind.
Even worse… the person in that picture he'd wronged the most was the one in the full armor. Was it worth it to trade a set of armor for a suit? Was it worth it to throw that armor away like a soda can? That was the life he'd built. That was the life they'd built. And he'd discarded it too carelessly.
Smiling, he began to make plans. It couldn't hurt to pop in to the old server for an hour or two, just to say hello. Kanami was gone, so he'd heard, but Shiroe was planning on going to grad school, and Nyanta and Nazuna were likely to be around at least.
His mind drifted back to Nazuna, at her immense talents, and he smiled. Those were the good old days, for certain. He'd been so busy at his job that he hadn't even had a chance to be a proper pervert.
This certainly would not do.
Smiling, Naotsugu increased the pace to his apartment. His day was done, and a few hours with some old friends was just what he needed.
Hanekura Shizuka pulled the helmet off of her head, and set it down on the bench. She unclasped her breastplate and eased it off of her chest. She then untied the protective skirt from around her waist, and sighed.
She always hated taking off her kendo armor after practice. Armor made her feel like she was more than she was, that she wasn't quite so small. The armor made her into a fellow practitioner, someone to be respected. No one saw a fragile child when that fragile child was in full kendo gear.
It always had to end, though. Every practice, every match, every tournament had to end, which always led to this moment – coming back to herself. At tournaments, she'd learned to keep her armor on, as she'd had her right to 'compete with the adults' challenged on occasion. No one challenged her once they saw her in the arena, but it still rankled. The armor and the mask gave her anonymity, gave her strength – but there came a time every day when that strength would have to be put aside, and she'd have to go back to being "Little Shizuka-chan".
There were times when she really hated being called "Shizuka-chan". And she despised ever being called "little".
She stripped herself of her remaining clothes, pulled a towel and some toiletries out of her locker, and placed her armor inside. At that moment, she needed a shower.
The shower, in some ways, made up for her regained mortality; armor couldn't feel, after all. The hot water soothed tired muscles after a practice, while the soap washed away the stink of the day. She cleansed herself slowly, reveling in the moment, taking care to enjoy every second.
The other girls in the shower talked of going to a bar later; she purposefully ignored the conversation. It wasn't that they weren't friendly; they'd invited her once to join them. The night had been a disaster, as the bartender thought her ID was forged, and removed her from the bar. They'd mutually agreed afterward not to repeat the experience.
She didn't bother to look down at her body. Her body had developed as much as it was going to. Unfortunately, that wasn't much. She was slim, at least, and fit – kendo saw to that. That said, she didn't have much in the way of curves – her breasts and hips were barely developed, and her height was nonexistent. She looked like a 12-year-old rather than a college student.
It worried her, to be honest. She was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in a child's body. She wasn't going to grow any more; she wasn't going to develop any more. Almost perversely, she was looking forward to developing the first signs of age, as people would finally start to treat her as an adult.
Sighing, she turned the water off, toweled herself dry, and began to prepare for the outside world. She'd learned a long time ago to be conscious of things such as clothes and makeup. It was a tricky balance to dress older without looking like she was dressing older, all while trying to find clothing in her size. Makeup was the same way; any excess of makeup gave off the impression of a child who was trying too hard. A modest khaki skirt and baseball shirt, colorful without being flashy, made for a decent outfit; a soft lip gloss and a bit of eye makeup was all she dared for her face. Her final preparations came quickly; she hurriedly brushed out her hair, tied it back into a scrunchie, slipped on her shoes and backpack, and made her way out into the world.
The world towered over her. Her meter-and-a-half height always found itself lost in a forest of people, and Tokyo was notorious for its population. She made her way through Tokyo's streets and to the trains, to start the journey home.
If she had a choice, she only used the women-only cars. Good men didn't pay attention to her, and glossed over her existence as a matter of course. Bad men took advantage of her diminutive size to either rob her or try to molest her. Damn loliperverts. On the women-only cars, the women at least knew better than to gloss over her existence, and were far less likely to try something. She waited for her stop in silence, watching the city fly by in the twilight.
The sun had set by the time she made it back to her apartment. She quietly took off her shoes, began some basic preparations for supper, and walked to her computer.
On the screen, a tall, dark figure appeared – Akatsuki, the silent assassin.
Shizuka smiled. She was tired of being small. It was time to become something larger.
"Hi, I was wondering if I could get help on my assignment."
Shirogane Kei raised an eyebrow, and gauged the student's body language. The tall, lanky student's posture was that odd mix of sheepish and languid that sometimes came with asking a teaching assistant for help. Not a good sign, in Kei's opinion, as it likely meant a difficult experience. Kei smiled, but the light didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. What do you need help with?"
The student ruffled his hair. "Um… I was wondering if you could show me how to do some of the problems here."
Kei didn't show any change of emotion; inwardly, however, he winced. "Which problems do you need help on?"
"Um… can you start with the first?" The student pulled out his notebook, and flipped to a new page.
Kei took a deep breath. He was all but certain as to how the meeting would go – the student wanted help, wasn't specific on areas, asked to start with the first problem, and flipped to an empty notebook page. Still, Kei had his methods – dig for specifics until the student's issues and motivations were exposed. He opened his textbook to show the problem. "Okay. Where in the first problem are you having trouble?"
The student sighed. "Can you start with setting up the problem?"
Kei grit his teeth. "Okay. You need to read through the paragraph here and find two things. First, find the objective function, and second, find the constraints for the problem. So. For this problem, what is the objective function?"
The student frowned. "Um…" Kei's face remained impassive as the student read through the problem. "Maximize profit?"
"Well, yes…" Kei agreed. "So how do you determine profit? What goes into the formula that determines profit?"
"I don't know!" the student whined. "I thought you were supposed to help me out!"
Kei kept his face impassive. "I am helping you out. I'm pointing out the next step in solving the problem." Light glinted off the round lenses of his glasses. "Now. What goes into the formula that determines profit?"
"Like I said, I don't know!" The student growled. "I thought you were supposed to help me solve these problems!"
"Help you solve them, yes." Kei's face was an emotionless mask. "Give you the answers, no."
"Nakamura gives me the answers whenever I come to see him!" the student whined.
Kei's gaze could have frozen air. "Then Nakamura isn't following procedures."
"Screw this! I've got better things to do!" The student stormed out of the teaching assistant office, and slammed the door behind him.
A voice came from the next cubicle. "That was harsh, Kei."
Shirogane Kei looked over at his colleague, and shrugged. "There wasn't much I could do, Hayao. The student didn't want to learn; he just wanted me to do the assignment for them." He sighed, and went back to his computer. "You know how Professor Taniyama doesn't like that."
Hayao sighed, and took a sip of his coffee. "You know that Nakamura probably did give that kid the answers to the first homework."
Kei shrugged. "I'm not Nakamura." He frowned. "And that student's attitude – thinking I'd just give him the answers, rather than have him find them himself – will get him nowhere."
Hayao raised an eyebrow. "Okay… Just…"
"Just what?" Kei asked.
Hayao shrugged. "Most teaching assistants aren't willing to put up that much of a fight on it, even if it's professor's orders."
Kei softened. "I learned a long time ago the difference between someone who genuinely wants and needs help and someone who just wants to take something from you." His shoulders sagged. "After awhile, there's nothing left to give."
Hayao frowned at him. "You're a grad student. When did you ever have anything to give?"
Kei adjusted the fit of his glasses, took a sip of tea, and smiled quietly.
"Mommy?"
Kanami Fuchs smiled, and looked down at her daughter. Herself in miniature stared up at her: a mop of black hair, beaming smile, mischievous dark eyes alight with energy. "Just a moment, Aloïsia." She cut the apple into sections, and placed them in a bowl. "Here you go!"
"Thanks, Mommy!" Aloïsia bounded off to her play.
"You're welcome," Kanami whispered, her eyes twinkled as she watched her daughter run off. She'd tried to instill in Aloïsia an energy for life and for not being afraid to try new things; she shouldn't have worried.
Her daughter, afraid? It happened – rarely. Fortunately, that's what mommies were for – to guide their daughters through their fears, to pick them up when things don't go as planned. Frankly, it was her job to be afraid; it was her daughter's job to explore the world – and maybe beyond.
Smiling at her own private joke, she poured herself a glass of ice water, and walked into the office. A new update to Elder Tale was coming online at midnight Tokyo time. It just wouldn't do for her to miss it – not after all she'd been through there. She pushed the power button to boot up her computer, and walked back out to watch her daughter.
She and Reinhardt had held long conversations about how their daughter should be raised. It ended up being an interesting mix, but it boiled down to one word: fearless. That embodied more than just physical activities. It took mental courage and determination to become a surgeon, and it took moral courage as well as physical courage to work for Médecines do Monde.
To quote from Shakespeare, "Cowards die many times before their death. The valiant never taste of death but once." That was how she lived – how her family lived, to be honest. And, as she saw her daughter build a tower with large blocks, she hoped that her daughter would come to understand that.
She had to admit: her daughter didn't dream small. Already the tower was taller than Aloïsia; her daughter was straining to put more blocks onto the top of the tower.
Kanami took a sip of her water, and wondered what Aloïsia would do next. This was a test in its own way. Would Aloïsia simply stop there, or would she find a way to continue?
Kanami didn't need to wait long. Aloïsia ran out of the room; a moment later, she lugged the kitchen step stool into the room. It took her a moment to unfold it; once she was done, she pushed the step stool into position. She hesitated a moment, placed two blocks onto the top step, and then climbed onto the second step.
Kanami smiled. Courage to do something different; courage to take action; courage to go beyond her physical limitations.
She looked at the clock: 3:57 PM. Elder Tale was releasing a new expansion in a few minutes, and she wanted to be there. She left her daughter's construction for the moment, and returned back to her office.
If any room represented the family and what it stood for, it was the office. Risk and hard work had brought its rewards, and the family office was no different. The furnishings were eclectic, a mixture of their travels over the years. Diplomas and pictures lined the walls, chronicling all they'd done and seen. Souvenirs and books dotted the shelves, mementos of crises past and challenges met. On the bottom shelves, Aloïsia had started her own collection, small accomplishments and creations that merited a place in the family office. Almost all of the furniture in the room was bought secondhand or at surplus, as new technologies and styles pushed aside old designs; in some cases, they'd had to restore the furniture to working condition. The desk was an example of this; made of oak many decades ago, she and Reinhardt had bought the desk at surplus from the University, and sanded, polished, and finished the wood to perfection.
She clicked on the "Elder Tale" icon at the bottom of the screen, typed in her login credentials, and waited. She took a sip of her water, and set it on a leather coaster; once the game screen popped up, she began to walk to Latium's guild hall, to check on the status of some items she'd placed for sale.
She took a moment to glance outside. It truly was a beautiful day out. Perhaps she could convince Reinhardt to take them for a stroll through the city tonight, once he got home. All the while, her ears were tuned to her daughter's voice, ready to act if she needed to.
In the corner of the room, an old-fashioned clock began to chime the hour.
"Mommy, Mommy!" Aloïsia stormed into the doorway of the office. "Mommy?" She frowned. The glow of the computer monitor cast glares on the wooden furniture, giving the natural tones an artificial sheen and shining a glare on the picture frames. A glass of ice water sat on the desk, slowly gathering condensation. A basket with some of her favorite toys lay in one corner of the room; more interesting things sat on shelves she couldn't reach.
Other than that, the room was empty and silent.
Nightelf
January 29, 2016