I hadn't gotten any stronger. My body was no faster, no lighter, no more durable than it had been yesterday. If anything, I found I was recovering my stamina slightly slower, taking longer to get my breath back. But in terms of my physical ability, nothing had changed.
"What the hell Tatsuki?" the upperclassman swore as he panted on the hard dojo floor. "Have you been holding back this entire time?"
Grinning despite myself, I extended a hand to help him up. Drenched in sweat, I panted as the warmth of my fifth successive win radiated within me.
"Just having a good day is all," I laughed, exulting in the afterglow of my victory. "Anyone else want to go a round?"
"I'm game," the snarl barely hid the speaker's disgust as he stepped into the dojo. I'd never met the boy before, but his solid build, chiselled face and wooden sword were enough that I didn't need to read the words above his head to identify him. His reputation as the obsessive, highly volatile captain of the kendo club preceded him.
Takeshi Kuno
Level 4
Kendoka
He strode boldly into the dojo, looking on the upperclassmen of the karate club with disdain. "Disgraceful. If the karate club is being trashed by a woman, let alone an underclassman, it's bad news for all the martial arts clubs' reputations. Think about how it affects others before shaming yourselves in future."
Huh. Add misogynist to the list I guess. Still, no denying he was the strongest martial artist in the school besides me. That'd make it all the sweeter when I beat him into the dirt. He rolled his shoulders as he took his place in the centre of the room, giving a few practice swings of his bokken before looking me square in the eyes with a condescending smirk. Jerk.
"Much as I'd love to school you in swordplay, it would be a more even match if I came down to your level," he chuckled, motioning to hand his sword off to one of the spectators. Smart move- when he lost, he'd have a convenient excuse. Not an unwarranted one either- yesterday, there's no way I would have been able to beat him if he had a sword.
But hey, I was having a good day.
"Don't even think about it Kuno, I'm gonna kick your ass either way, so you may as well hide behind that sword so you stand a chance," I taunted him. I sounded a lot more confident than I felt, but the boast had its desired effect.
"Crass and arrogant- as expected of an undisciplined brawler. Very well, Arisawa, then learn your place!" He said his piece, then lunged with a ferocious forward thrust. It was fast. I backed away, bouncing backwards on nimble feet to gain the distance I needed to stay out of his range. That was going to be my greatest obstacle in this fight- getting close enough to land a hit before he could chase me away with that heavy wooden sword. For all his talk about brawling and his pretence at honour, that thing was definitely not tournament legal.
Still, I wasn't too worried.
He darted forward again, an overhead slice whooshing loudly through the space I'd just vacated. No openings- his sword wasn't still for a moment, instantly switching to a horizontal swipe that had me sucking my stomach in. It still grazed me.
-40HP
Yikes. This jerk was actually trying to hurt me! As expected, even a glancing blow was enough to do some real damage. A direct hit, without any of the padding or safety gear of an official match, would probably be enough to take me out of the fight altogether. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at my stats.
HP Bar: 260/355
Stamina Bar: 140/355
Status: None
So then, I just wouldn't get hit.
I ducked and weaved, ignoring the welt that was making itself known on my stomach. Ignoring the multitude of bruises from my earlier fights. All that mattered was keeping my footwork steady and my eyes on my opponent. With a grunt I ducked beneath a particularly wild swing, losing another 10HP in the process as it clipped my hair. More importantly, I watched a sizeable chunk of green drain from his stamina bar- he overextended! Before he could correct himself, I stormed into the opening he left with a palm thrust, knocking him back with a clap like thunder.
Kuno was fresh. He was stronger. He had a weapon. He was going to lose.
Takeshi Kuno
Level 4
Kendoka
HP Bar: 340/380
Stamina Bar: 260/380
Status: Winded
Knowledge. That's what The Gamer had granted me. I had an intimate understanding of my own limits. How much stamina I had left. How many hits I could take. What's more, I knew empirically how my opponent was fairing. How much he was putting into each attack.
"Give up yet?" I taunted him again, praying that the stitch in my side would recede before he resumed his assault. I was exhausted from my previous fights and Kuno wasn't holding back at all- for all his grandstanding and shitty personality, I couldn't deny he was strong. I wiped my face in the lull with trembling hands and felt my mouth was twisted into a manic grin- geez girl, settle down! I'd always been competitive, but now I was literally salivating at the chance to fight someone who was actually trying to hurt me. Kuno was right- this wasn't a fight, it was a brawl. And I loved it.
He charged at me again, this time the strike aimed squarely at my neck. I caught the malicious gleam in his eye and felt tension rise within me. My mouth still watered. My chest still ached. My brain still buzzed. My body thrummed with energy- the desire to overcome, to grow, to triumph!
-140HP
I backhanded the sturdy wooden blade, flowing around the strike. There was a peal of thunder as something broke- I think it was the sword, but it might have been my hand if the steady trickle of HP loss while I pummelled the bewildered bully meant anything. It was the most in tune with a fight I'd ever been. I didn't need to think about what was happening, I didn't need to plan or plot or predict my opponent. My body simply flowed between forms, utterly silent as I delivered brutal strikes to the pathetic boy- his will to fight me shattered along with his wooden sword.
With a thud, Kuno fell to his knees and slumped over, defeated. I'd proven I was the strongest. I'd punished him for disrespecting the Karate club. I'd won.
Nobody cheered.
The exhilaration of the fight ebbed out of me as I looked around at the faces of my upperclassmen. Shock. Awe. Discomfort. Silence. Some of them nodded to me as my gaze passed over them, but most of them wouldn't meet my gaze. I understood. This was bloodsport, not martial arts. There was nothing to be proud of here.
But damn, it felt so good.
The silence was damning. My entire body ached as I withstood the scrutiny of my peers on trembling legs. As the adrenaline bled from my system, I began to feel each bruise, each scrape from the afternoon. My right hand was a galaxy of pain, each movement sending new stars bursting into existence. Definitely broken. With a mumbled goodbye, I turned to leave.
"Yo, Arisawa."
I paused, steadying myself on the doorframe. That was Kaito, a classmate in my year. I got along with him pretty well, but I wouldn't say we were close. I didn't turn back- partially because my body was so stiff, mostly because I couldn't bare to see them looking at me anymore.
"We'll see you next week, yeah? I want to learn that move where you slipped under his guard."
I let out a haggard breath and with it, the suffocating tension in the dojo began to disperse. I gave him a shaky thumbs up with my good hand and vowed to buy him a can of coffee tomorrow. It was impossible to hide my smile or my tears as the murmurs of assent grew louder and more frequent, so I made a run for it.
Figuratively speaking, anyway- I was still very stiff.
HP Bar: 120/355
Stamina Bar: 41/355
Status: Broken Bones (Hand)
Yup, definitely broken.
Holding my damaged wrist gingerly, I hobbled my way down to the school gates and eased myself into the least uncomfortable position against the wall, letting the rough brickwork massage my aching back. Usually, Orihime would be waiting for me here after practice and we'd hang out until it got dark. Since I'd left practice early today, I had time to kill.
Menu, I thought, marvelling once again as the blue pane appeared before me. I'd turned pop-ups off during first period- a new quest had popped up when I was asked to read, and my shriek of surprise had been embarrassing. Looking over the backlog of messages, I hadn't missed much. As expected, there were a handful of quests from class that I had no interest in completing. It looked like every time the class was posed a question, I received it as a quest. Not happening. I cleared them without reading them. With the junk out of the way, things got more interesting.
3:34pm
Your Karate Skill has increased to level 31!
Through conditioning of the body, your Constitution has increased by 1!
3:44pm:
Through persistent use of your natural stamina recovery, you have unlocked the skill Recuperate!
3:57pm
Your Observe Skill has increased to level 2!
You have gained the Broken Bone status. Until healed, performance decreased by 80%
Congratulations! You've advanced to level 5!
Huh, I hadn't even noticed. I idly perused the status page to see what had changed. My stats were the same- oh, but the unspent points had increased to 25. I thought briefly about where to put them, before another change caught my eye. Unspent Job Talents: 2.
I closed the menu and settled back against the wall, watching the students trickle out on their way home from clubs. Without fail, each of their nametags followed the same format. Name, Level, High School Student. The only outlier so far had been Kuno, who was a kendoka, not a high school student. From what I'd heard about him before today, he was weirdly intense about kendo. Maybe he just thought of himself as a kendoka first and a high school student second? As a fellow martial artist, I could respect that.
That presented another problem.
When I woke up this morning and assumed the starring role in the world's most mundane RPG, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. A young priestess who needed guarding on her pilgrimage, a group of eco-terrosists in need of some muscle, a time portal torn open by a necklace sending a princess into the distant past- something to justify these weird powers. Instead, I was perplexed by how… normal everything around me was. Just a bunch of students and teachers- totally ordinary people. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. No leads, save for one.
Uryu Ishida
Level 39
Quincy
I was level 5 now. The next highest level I'd seen was another student in my class. He was level 7- and he was massive, so I didn't take it too personally. There was no way Perfect Score Ishida should be a higher level than me. No way. It was just too weird.
There had to be a connection- and I needed answers.
"Oh! Tatsuki, sorry to keep you waiting- Tatsuki! Are you okay?" Orihime's tone quickly turned to shock when she saw my purpling hand and grimace of discomfort, the sketchpad in her hands quickly disregarded as she rushed over to me.
"Just an accident at practice is all, it looks worse than it is. I'm gonna have to cancel though, sorry. I thought I'd pay Ichigo a visit and get his dad to wrap this up," I said, stiffly pushing myself off the wall and wobbling as I limbered up. Orihime took that as an invitation to help me, her slender arm hooking under my own without prompting and setting a pace that was far too quick. "Ow, ow ow- Orihime, not so fast," I laughed, jostling her affectionately as I righted myself.
"Oops, I'm sorry Tatsuki," she fretted, backing away quickly, "I'll come with you, okay?" She shuffled from foot to foot as she spoke, unable to hide the wavering in her voice. She was precious. Her thing for Ichigo was totally obvious- and utterly mystifying- but I resolved not to tease her too much about it.
Uryu would have to wait.
"Why! If it isn't little Tatsuki!" Ichigo's father greeted us as we opened the sliding glass door to his clinic. The clinic was totally empty save for him- even the reception staff had gone home for the day. He stepped around from behind the counter and welcomed us into the room. "What brings you around so late- Ichigo's not home yet, but you're welcome to- Wait, is this a date? I have to tell Masaki!" Isshin Kurosaki had always been an eccentric man, even when we were kids, and the death of his wife had only inflamed that facet of his personality. I felt a little guilty about showing up out of the blue to leverage a favour from him, but for all his quirks the man was a damn good doctor.
"I'm actually here to see you today, Dr. Kurosaki," I said, presenting my busted hand. Like a switch had been flipped, the goofy Isshin was gone and Dr. Kurosaki was all business. His rough fingers were surprisingly delicate as he prodded my swelling hand, hmming thoughtfully as I flinched and yelped at his ministrations.
"How long ago did you say this happened?" he frowned, stroking his stubbly chin as he mercifully turned his attention away from my hand.
"I came straight here from practice- probably about twenty minutes, right Orihime?" She nodded with an almost inaudible squeak. It seemed something about the good doctor was intimidating her. Maybe she just didn't like doctors. I gave her shoulder a quick squeeze with my good hand. She leant into it with a shaky smile.
"Strange," Dr. Kurosaki mused, stepping back behind the counter and rummaging through the drawers. "Given the degree of swelling and the extensive bruising, it looks like an older injury. A couple of days, at least. I know you don't want to miss practice, but an injury like this can do lasting damage if it doesn't heal properly. It's important to take care of yourself." I bristled a little at the implication, but before I could find my words the doctor was making his way back around with a bandage and some paperwork.
"First thing we'll need to do is wrap it," he began, sitting me down in a waiting room chair and deftly wrapping the bandage up and down my arm as Orihime and I looked on, enraptured. "This is just a temporary fix to try and immobilise it. I'm also sending you for an X-Ray." Craning my neck, I was able to make out my name on the paperwork. A referral form. "It's usually nothing, but we'll want to check and see how things are healing up. Much easier to realign it now than two weeks down the line." He tied the bandage off and clapped me on the back.
"Thanks for your help Dr. Kurosaki."
"Any time, Ms. Arisawa," he bowed low with an extravagant flourish, instantly reverting to the goofy old man I knew as a child. I smiled despite myself. The dork. Next to me, Orihime chuckled nervously. I knew the issue she was having- it was difficult to reconcile this clown of a man with the stern and fearsome Ichigo she knew. I couldn't blame her. Even knowing how things used to be, they had both changed in completely different ways. Where Isshin had hidden his sorrow behind cheap jokes and gags, Ichigo had grown a shell of anger and resentment around his. It was part of the reason we'd grown so distant- he could hide it from our classmates and morons like Asano, but he couldn't hide his pain from me. I think that made him uncomfortable.
"Ah, but before you go," suddenly, Dr. Kurosaki was all business again. There was a clack as he opened the adjoining door from the clinic to his house proper, "I'd like you to ice your hand when you can for a couple of days. Come on in and I'll see what I've got in the freezer."
With a bag of peas pressed to my bandaged hand, Orihime and I walked side by side down the empty street while the sun set behind us. We were heading back to my place, discussing what to make for dinner. Orihime was a frequent guest at our table and an interesting, albeit difficult to follow, conversationalist. Our families were so small that we'd naturally banded together, sharing more meals together than we did alone.
"Maybe curry?" I mused, shifting the peas slightly from where the chill was growing unbearable. No sense letting them go to waste.
"Curry would be good!" she replied enthusiastically, though I could tell she was distracted. She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, lapsing into silence as we walked the familiar road. I lived on the opposite end of town to Ichigo, so the trek back to my place naturally took us past the school again.
"Hey Tatsuki," Orihime began hesitantly as we passed the gates, "You've known Ichigo for a long time, huh?" I felt my body tense as she deliberately avoided looking at me. It was an innocuous question, but it paved the way for other, more uncomfortable questions. Questions I didn't really feel like answering.
That's when I saw him.
Stepping out of the gates just before they were closed, Uryu Ishida turned and crossed the street towards us. He stood tall and slender, confident in his stride but utterly unassuming. If I wasn't already suspicious of him I wouldn't have noticed, but he walked steadily and purposefully. It was the pace of a martial artist. He gave us a curt nod as he brushed past us, not quite brusque enough to be impolite but definitely not what you'd call friendly.
"Sorry Orihime, keep going without me for a sec okay? I've got to talk to Ishida," I apologised, turning and chasing after him. He walked fast. In the seconds that had passed he was already at the end of the street- how had I ever missed that?
"Wha- Tatsuki?" I heard her bewildered plea behind me as I jogged to catch up. I tried not to think about her crestfallen expression. I'll make it up to you later Orihime, I promise. But if you forget to ask me awkward questions about our classmates, that's fine too.
"Yo, Ishida wait up!" I called out to him. He stopped and turned, his expression as always just a hair shy of being annoyed. As I approached, I felt our height difference keenly as a looked down at me. The setting sun glinted off his glasses, giving his indifference a menacing tint. Or maybe I was just letting my nerves get the better of me.
"Arisawa," was his terse response, leaving the conversational ball squarely in my court. Surly. Luckily, I had one hell of a backhand.
"What's a Quincy?"
He froze. has encountered an error and needs to close. I exulted in his reaction, tilting my head quizzically for maximum effect as he processed my question. No doubt about it now- he definitely knew something. His eyes lost focus for a moment, as though searching for something only he could see. It seemed he couldn't find it though, his face scrunching up for an instant before he regained his composure.
"Where did you hear that word?" he finally said, his speech slowed as though he was deliberating over every single word. The gaze he fixed me with was intense, as though he was giving me his full attention for the first time. I faltered for a moment beneath the weight of his scrutiny. My heart beat furiously in my chest, thrumming in time with the throb of my broken hand. I'd already dealt with one guy trying to intimidate me today- and this one didn't even have a sword. Anger blossomed and I embraced it.
"Just answer the question," I snapped, stepping forwards. He staggered backwards, his eyes widening slightly as he got out of my way. Good. "What's a Quincy, who are you and what's happening to me?" My voice cracked, some small measure of the day's stresses leaking into my questions. I turned away before he could see my stinging eyes, disguising the motion behind an exaggerated huff. He definitely noticed. Dammit.
He took a little longer than I'd like to digest my outburst. "I'm sorry," he said, softening a little. "It's not a question I ever expected to be asked by a classmate. Particularly not one without any spiritual pressure." Spiritual pressure? He seemed to take my confusion as another point in my favour, relaxing even further.
"Wherever you heard that name, it's best that you forget about it," he offered, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Even if I told you, even if you believed me, all that knowledge would do is part the veil to a world of nightmares. Turn away, Arisawa. It's for your own good."
"Unacceptable," I grabbed him by the arm as he turned away, gripping tight enough to leave a mark. "Ishida, since I woke up this morning," my voice dropped to a whisper, "I've been seeing things. All day. You have to know something about it. I'm not letting you go until I get answers." He sighed.
"So even with your low spiritual pressure, you've been able to see them," he mused. "Very well then, but not here. Come with me." He began walking without waiting for me to respond, dragging me behind him for a couple of steps before I released my grip and matched his stride. The streetlights flickered on as the sun finally made its descent below the horizon.
"As I'm sure you've guessed, the people you've been seeing are ghosts," he began, his voice low so as not be overheard. Wait, what? Ghosts? "They become tethered to this world, the world of the living, when they die with regrets or unfinished business. Usually, they're harmless. However, if they let their hearts become corrupted by bitterness, or anger, hatred- any negative emotion will do- they become monstrous spirits. Hollows. Beasts that have forsaken their humanity and hunt other spirits to reclaim what they've lost." My mind raced as I processed what he was saying. I had no idea what he was talking about and it didn't really explain my situation, but it definitely sounded like a game plot. I considered his exposition carefully while he fished a can of sweet tea out of a vending machine. He tossed me a can, before opening his own and continuing. "That's where Quincy come into the picture. Harnessing the energy of our spirit, we eradicate Hollows and protect the living." He took a sip, pausing more for dramatic effect than to wet his throat. "I am the last Quincy."
I nodded sagely, taking a sip of my own tea. "I have no idea what you're talking about. When I woke up, my life turned into an RPG. I've been seeing names above everybody's heads all day and I've got stats and everything."
He nodded along with me, seemingly having his own difficulties processing what I said. "I see, if you'll excuse me-" abruptly, he turned around and began walking the other way.
"Nonono- don't you see?" I grabbed his arm again, dragging him back into step with me. "All that crazy nonsense you were just talking about- shut up let me finish- it has to be related! There's no way that it can be a coincidence! What's the alternative- you think we both just happen to be in the same class and I just happen to develop superpowers that just happen to lead me to you?"
He frowned. Wow, he really did not want to be having this conversation. Well tough, because I wasn't letting up.
"Look, you said you were the last Quincy. That sounds like a big job for one person- so I'll help you."
"What?" he choked, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. I narrowed my eyes.
"Is that a problem?"
"It's dangerous! You have no idea what you're getting into," he dismissed me, pounding his chest to clear the tea he had inhaled.
"I can take care of myself. I thought you were supposed to be smart- haven't you read like, a single book?" That earned me a glare. "I'm going to be thrust into your little secret world whether I like it or not. That was guaranteed the second I looked in the mirror and read 'Tatsuki Arisawa' floating above my head. At least if I stick with you, I'll be prepared for it. Besides," I looked away, a flush rising to my cheeks as I touched on something embarrassing, "you just told me there are innocent ghosts that need to be protected. I might- I want to do that."
"You just said you can't even see ghosts, how are you going-"
"So teach me," I replied simply, "I've got an MP bar now. What could that be for, if not your spirit magic?"
"Please don't call it magic," he groaned, massaging his temples. I could tell he was warming up to the idea, if he was arguing over semantics.
"It's getting late," I said, resting my good hand against his arm. "We can talk more tomorrow. Here," I scribbled my mail address onto a scrap of paper, "text me when you want to meet up. Oh, and Ishida?" He looked down at me, exhausted. I grinned wide- all things considered, that had worked out pretty well.
"Don't make me track you down again."
My good mood lasted all the way home, until I remembered Orihime was waiting for me. My mind raced, searching for excuses and justifications. Well. Time to bite the bullet.
"I'm back," I ventured as I opened the door.
"Oh! Tatsuki!" Orihime's voice answered me from the kitchen. She seemed… chirpy? I found her peeling potatoes for the curry- fortunately, I had caught her early in the prep stage. I eyed the vinegar and orange juice she'd laid out on the counter and vowed to take over before she could employ them in her grim cuisine. "Welcome home! How did everything go with Ishida?"
"It went fine," I said, taking another sip of my canned tea. "I'm really sorry about the way I raced off though. Here, let me help you." I laid the can of tea down on the counter, took the bag of peas out from under the crook of my arm and put it down next to it. I took a peeler from the draw and stared blankly at the potato I could not hold. Working one handed was getting annoying. "I guess I'll just stir?" I laughed, planting myself in front of the pot. If she tried to put anything weird in this curry, she'd have to sneak it past me.
"Haha, don't worry about! So… what did he say?" Orihime asked. Why was she so insistent on that? Gulping the last of the tea, I gave her a look. Seeing my puzzled expression, she continued, "Ishida, what did he say?" She tilted her head, "You confessed right?"
Tea everywhere.
"Absolutely not!" I gasped, wiping my mouth. If anything, that only made Orihime's smile wider.
"Aww, I thought we'd finally found Tatsuki's type!" she crooned. Orihime could be surprisingly sadistic when it came to matters of the heart. She had a kind of sinister honesty to her where you couldn't ever be sure if she was truly joking. "You know I would have supported you, right?"
"Yeah, sure," I rolled my eyes as I wiped flecks of tea from the counter. If some light teasing was the price I had to pay for bailing on her this afternoon, it was a price I'd gladly pay. The fact that she dropped her question about Ichigo was a relief, though I was sure we'd revisit it in the future. Orihime would often dwell on things like that, questions popping up days or weeks after the conversation that precipitated them. She was an introspective girl.
We bantered some more until the curry was done, ate together and sat in front of the TV for a while before we said our goodbyes. I wrote a note for my mother and placed the curry in the fridge, content that when she got home the quest would be complete. My phone buzzed.
Ishida. U: Tomorrow, after school
Ishida. U: The riverbank
Tatsuki Arisawa
The Gamer
Level 5
Strength: (15+4) 19
Dexterity: (14+4) 18
Constitution: (13+4) 17
Intelligence: 5
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 10
Unspent Stat Points: 25
HP: 121.56/355
Stamina: 355/355
Stamina Regen: 0.026/minute
MP: 140/140
MP Regen: 0.008/minute
EXP: 14,340/21,000
Buffs:
Debuffs:
Broken Bone (Hand): Activities performed with the affected limb suffer an 80% reduction in efficacy.
Job Talents:
Skills:
Observe: Passive/Active: Level 2: 6%
Information received increases with level.
Unarmed Strike: Passive: Level 10: 37%
Increases the damage dealt by bare fisted attacks by 20%.
Karate: Passive/Active: Level 31: 2%
A fighting style that relies on empty-handed strikes. Passively, +4 strength, dexterity and constitution. While active, enhance the benefits of Unarmed Strike by 50%. 10 stamina/minute
Recuperate: Passive/Active: Level 1: 43%
Passively increases the speed at which stamina recovers by 0.01. Active: Increase stamina recovery time from per minute to per second while resting