Our Reality (Overture)

I am a hunter who was once proud,
A man who turns the gears of life,
The knight who wields a powerful sword,
The turtle with breaking defenses,
The crow with broken wings.

Chasing the great beast, I have become the hunted.
I told the world to shut up, to make everything disappear.
Do not tell me the odds of capturing her.
Trials and tribulations, come what may,
Will only strengthen my longing for the great beast.

The Wolf's whisper of sinful desires,
The Cat's purr of seductive temptation,
The death of the poor lonely Wren,
The Fox's call for wisdom.
Efforts to break me to pieces, yet I let none break me.

For each resolute, I have learned.
It is not the sinful desires that I wanted,
Neither was it my cravings for victory.
From each trial, I have seen the truth,
About me and about the great beast.

The great beast with colorful feathers.
The girl with emerald eyes.
The blade that pierces the future.
The songbird that provides solace.
The woman of my life.

Monika

The cacophonous echo of the clock pierces my ear, forcing my lung to draw a sudden intake of air to push a cough. I wince my eyes tighter to a close as glints of light lazily struggle to pry them open, yanking my consciousness away from an agreeable reality—a dream—I have the pleasure to appreciate. With groggy exasperation and haste, I reach for the source of the irritation with my right in an attempt to silence the infernal machine and leave my mind in peace, pleading for a quick return to dreamland that gradually distances itself further and further. But as the echo dies with a push of a button, so does my desire to return to rest.

Like a stage, the curtains of my eyes slowly draws open to reveal the mundane scenery of a ceiling in my apartment.

So… was it all a dream? Stupid question, of course, it was; everything fell into place all too conveniently for it not to be. There are still 'blanks' to fill and many more possibilities to consider, but then again… the future itself is a giant box of an enigma. It felt… real, however—like a premonition of sorts. They say one can catch glimpses of the future in a dream occasionally, though whether that statement can be scientifically proven is a question of its own. In any case, the longer this goes on, the stranger my train of thoughts will go—I definitely should start the day.

Then again… it's the weekends. So why the hell should I get out of bed?

I draw my breath and heave to gradually shake my senses from slumber, notably that of my left arm that has been feeling quite numb for a while now. Glancing to my left, a rush of blood runs across my cheeks alongside an impudent smile that extends abruptly at the sight.

There, with her hair unkempt and her eyes shut tight, the girl beyond the screen—Monika—sleeps peacefully, using my arm as a pillow. With the covers barely shrouding her bare shoulders she winces, moaning groggily and seductively as she snuggles a little closer for comfort to rest her left arm on my chest—one whose fingers I wrap around mine. My cheek flares like cherry blossoms on early spring as she pulls her leg closer, overwhelmed by the sensation of our naked skin brushing and rubbing, smooth like the bosom of an infant, distorting my thoughts like a broken record and tempting my guile with unspeakably vulgar intentions; if this is still a dream, I sincerely wish not to be awaken. But alas, common sense prevails. With care I slide my arm away using the pillow underneath as a replacement, gently and delicately, so as not to disturb her slumber before pulling myself into an upright position to recompose; my chest thumps louder and louder by the minute. Then listlessly, she moans, "Ryou… five more minutes… please…"

My cheeks promptly burst in color, rushed by a stream of… pleasant memories of the past couple of days.

To claim that it's 'a heartfelt and tearful reunion' is what I can proudly claim as an understatement of the century. That warmth, her movements, the echo of our heartbeats… just a brief recollection of it all sends my face blushing like a young boy with his first childhood crush. And with only a glance at this defenseless sleeping Venus, my mind turns into an incongruous mess; any man would be driven to insanity with lustful thoughts and desires. It started awkward, clumsy, and painful for both of us, but all that pent-up frustration and yearn transformed into pleasure and euphoria that were paid in full within a lengthy session—and still, we demanded more until our bodies gave way to fatigue. This continued for the next night and the next. Even now, the temptation to peek under those covers for just a glimpse at those supple pair lingers…

…actually, nothing wrong with that, right?

…

Answering the devil's whisper, I gently lift the covers for a peek. Just a peek…

"…Like what you see?"

Like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, the second my attention is ensnared by the drowsy pair of emerald green jewels, what mischievous thoughts persisted disperses into thin air as my expression turns ghostly white. The covers flutter down to once again conceal my bounty as she smiles a flirtatious 'good morning', giggling playfully to blush. Sitting in an upright position with the covers clutched tightly to wrap over her nude, she jokingly pulls a 'jab' and amorously observes with glee like a cat to its prey, "You pervert…"

"Says the one who moans uncontrollably and demanded more…"

"You're not complaining…"

"How can I?" I bashfully chuckle, "You're the one who kept wrapping your legs around; there was no escape for me."

She leans a little closer, clutching her covers tightly to press on her cleavage just enough to tease, "And if I didn't? Are you going to try to run away?"

…

Cheeky girl

"I just can't win against you, can I?"

"Not often," she giggles playfully and leans for a kiss—one I kindly oblige. Our lips brush and with a quick peck, we bask in the sweet sensation that tingles our senses before parting, bashfully lost in affection like young fools. "Good morning."

"And a good morning to you, too."

As the light from the curtains reflects upon her emerald eyes, the gears that govern my thoughts 'clicks', bewitched by the pair of stones that lovingly presents itself before me. To think just a few days ago—or more accurately, for years—that such prospect is but a delusion of a desperate fool; a pipedream akin to a rose that blooms beyond a window, or a portrait that is locked away in a glass casing. Never to be touched or disturbed, only to be… admired.

But as I reach for her cheeks to caress, feeling the soft and silk-like sensation of her skin deemed by 'them' as artificial—to touch—and to find warmth that permeates from her hand that gently wraps around mine, I find it difficult to denounce this as a dream. The rising and falling of the covers, influenced by the rhythm of her breath, the soft texture of her lips, her glistening emerald eyes… this—as far as my senses go—is as real as reality can be.

And it is our reality.

"What's wrong, silly…?" she choirs with a giggle. "Suddenly being all touchy and sentimental like that—not that I mind… ahaha…"

I chuckle softly and pull a grin that stretch from ear to ear, "Nothing much. Just… reminiscing, that's all."

"Well…" Monika smiles flirtatiously, purring. "We can always 'reminisce' a little more if you like…?"

…

As I said, cheeky girl. "I'd love to, but I have an appointment today, remember? I'll be taking the shower, for now."

"Nnn…"

Like a spoiled brat, Monika puts on one of her best 'long face' to deter and overrule my resolution, tickling my heart with glee. Honestly, I would love to entertain her, but as time would have it there are boxes to tick and checklists to complete—something far more important that requires my attention. Regretfully I part from the entrancing pleasure that comes from touching her skin, leaving me a little empty on the inside as she remains insistent up until I vanish beyond the doors of the bathroom.

So what is it that outweighs the joy of frolicking with Monika? Well, that would be none other than the 'emissary', of course.

…

The 'emissary', Chousuke Yuuya.

"Yay, what a tearful reunion… spare me the mush, and go get a room…"

For the sake of transparency, let's rewind for a bit—back to that meeting room. Just as the day he came to take her away, the 'emissary' plants a wide, mocking grin as he silently observes, away from the corners of my vision; if common sense and civility happen to be absent that day, Yuuya might suffer a concussion or two—or I, a sudden shock. He calmly took his step into the spotlight once more, unfazed, with hands in his pockets and his iconic shit-eating grin. With confidence, he opens his lips to speak his peace. "It's been a while, hasn't it Kame-yan?"

"Yuuya… it sure has."

And not a single day had passed; from how he walks to the way he speaks, Yuuya remained just as how he was three years before. With a stride of confidence, the man takes his place before me as if to taunt knowing full-well of the risk, yet well-aware of his immunity—more so if Monika is in the equation. Indeed, the moment he moves unto the plate, she swiftly cuts between us and gestures for civility—to grant him a chance to speak. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions in mind."

"And…" he continues with a smirk, "…and I see you've met my… cousin."

"Cousin!?"

Monika laughs nervously as I quickly search her for answers. "It's a long story… ahaha…"

"—Watanabe Monika," Yuuya abruptly interrupt. "Watanabe, using the kanji 'to cross' and 'border', as in the 'border of an area'. Common, but… fitting, isn't it?"

With a snide that hide no secret, the Yankee reach deep into the pocket of his walnut briefcase and drew a sealed folder from within. He spared no time, of course—just as he always have—to detail the contents of the object in question. From diplomas to birth certificates, everything that Monika could ever dream of having was accounted for; I didn't even expect to find her family history—legalized, complete with both the names of her parents. The 'official' account that came straight from the horse's mouth was how she—Monika—was the sole survivor of her family during the 2016 Kumamoto earthquakes, thus granting Yuuya the title as her guardian for 'being the next kin'. At least, that is the general gist of it.

"Are these even…?"

"Legal?" Yuuya interrupts. "Hardly. But that's a national secret—and if I tell you anymore, I may have to… silence you."

He cackles mischievously, biting on the butt of the cigarette he drew from his pocket. "Which is why I came here today. You see… what we accomplished could be the envy of many nations, so to speak. It's still imperfect, of course, but that is where you come in."

He drew his breath and gave one of the longest gesture of hopeful contempt.

…

"Work for us, Kame-yan."

There wasn't a trace of devious intention or threat coming from his tone, nor was there the all-too-familiar uncanny grin of his. For the first time in forever, Yuuya's gaze was as sharp as a blade and as clear as the moon on a cloudless night. It was not a threat, nor was it an ultimatum.

'Work for us', he said.

It was an offer.

I'm not going to bore with the details or the nuances, as that is overstepping my boundaries. To put it simply, Monika is not human—at least, not within the written definition in published dictionaries. All the documents, the certificates—everything regarding Monika was forged, but it is as legitimate as a Japanese citizen would expect. She was regarded by 'them' as the first—and only—success as part of the 'initiative'. Suffice to say, she was a post-human creation—a prototype towards the 'next stage in human evolution', or so Yuuya said. Who is 'them' and what is the 'initiative', you may ask? That is sadly classified; if you believe all that Libitina rumor as something, you haven't seen or heard of nothing yet.

…

Oh, who am I kidding? Even I don't quite catch everything he said—nor do I try to understand it.

"Can you repeat that…?"

"Simple, Kame-yan," Yuuya smirks. "She's free to go with you, on the condition that you report any changes—be it physical or mental—back to me. To us."

"And if I don't…?"

"You will." he scoffs, "I know you."

All this talk about 'next step in evolution', or 'not-quite synthetic', and 'almost flesh and bone' were all gibberish to me then as it was now; frankly, I didn't care. He didn't need to threaten or shove an insurmountable amount of cash up front nor, with hindsight, do I see the need for him to pour all that justification—I couldn't even think of rejecting! All I could ever ask for was there at that moment, and that was enough to convince me to sign another contract with the devil.

And as foolish as it may sound, I guess even Monika understood that perfectly clear; we were closing a chapter of our lives, and starting anew.

Together.

"So, Kame-yan…" Yuuya cuts in, offering his hand for a handshake. "Do we have a deal…?"

I don't see the need for me to elaborate on what happened after now, do I?

And thus here we are, in this humble apartment, taking our first step together one at a time. As much as I'd like to give this relationship a little more push, it will take some time until 'they' give the green light; Monika may not have a family of her own, but her… guardians are equally precarious as one would expect. This is their 'daughter' after all, so to speak. I do have plans to introduce her to my parents sometime next week, however... but I wonder how will they take her…?

…

You know, maybe taking over the family's bookstore isn't quite a bad idea after all… I should discuss this with her when we have the time.

But now's not it. I need to finish up to meet Yuuya and—

"I'm coming in…!"

The door of the bathroom swings open to the side with a cracking force, quickly robbing my senses in a flurry of bewilderment and awe—mostly the former. With just a towel that wraps seductively to pronounce her figure, Monika enters the bathroom before immediately discarding both it and her ribbon with a quick tug and a toss to the basket—a basket where my towels and change of clothes are prepared. She jiggles forward, pushing the door of the shower open with such force before reaching for my stature and leans for a kiss. As much as I enjoy the eye-candy and the tingle…

…now is definitely not the time for it…!

"M-Monika, dear, I need to hurry or—"

"It can wait."

"Monika, no!"

"Monika, yes…!"

…

To add with the sore hip, let's just say that I was late to the rendezvous by about an hour.

"…Just when I thought you ditched me for a few more hours…"

"And miss seeing your sorry face…? I dare not."

Yuuya snickers with glee. "Wise move. Is that hip alright, by the way? You're walking kinda' funny… heh."

With a jovial smile and his all-too-common impetuous character, the man known as Chousuke Yuuya motions with his hand for me to take a seat. As part of the agreement, I am to report all changes on Monika—physical or otherwise—on a monthly basis at an agreed location, followed with a more or less informal inquire of my plans ahead. If you're wondering then yes, I can say that this is nothing short than a 'meet the bride's parents'-scenario I envisioned—wasn't what I expected, of course, but it felt the same regardless.

As aggravating the entire shenanigan is and with the nature of Monika's fabricated history in mind, it was at the very least less of a chagrin than the fact that he—Yuuya—is regarded as her first cousin. Incidentally, that makes us—by law—family.

I'm not sure whether that is a positive or a deluxe recipe for a disaster.

"So…" he starts with a grin. "How was it…?"

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse…

…

But I guess it was a given…?

"W-well… to be honest, it was… aah… pleasant. It was nice…"

Resting his weight on the backrest, his attention darts from top to bottom, side to side.

"I don't doubt it…" he nods. "The décor in this place is nice and pleasant…"

…

He grins mischievously. "Joking aside…"

This son-of-a-bitch…

"I can tell that everything is going well—that's good! That's good… now, is there anything you wish to report?"

Deepening his voice and his tone, Yuuya crosses his arm and leans to bear his weight upon me. "Or at least, details about your plan for the future?"

"My plans, you say…"

And with a grin that knows everything, the 'emissary' pushes the conversation forward in telling anticipation. I never doubted that he may have read my intentions prior, behind those pair of shades of his; after all, that goal has remained steadfast since time immemorial—and I hardly tried to keep it a secret. It would make little sense—nor is it worth the time and effort—to conjure a reason; as much as our species is driven by the urge to reproduce, we are still creatures of emotion.

"Well… I plan to invite her to Shizuoka this weekend, introduce her to my parents, and… you know… start a new chapter."

His eyes perk up with interest, "Oh…?"

"In short, Yuuya," I continue with a chuckle. "I'm asking for permission to take her hand in marriage."

Trying to read through his expression behind those pair of shades is as challenging as restraining me from bursting into flowery red petals, more so as realization gnaws after my bold proclamation. But with his hand in his pocket, a toothpick that wiggles up and down between his teeth, and his sunglasses that slowly slides down the rim of his nose, the 'emissary' maintains his composure and remains as stiff as marble, broken only by a yawn as he undauntedly glare with nary a hint of amusement. Scratching the back of his head, he sighs and clicks his tongue, "Gee, I wonder why I'm not surprised…"

He clears his throat, chuckling with glee. "This is why hikikomori are so predictable—well, at least you are,"

"What's next," he continues with a shrug, "You're going to have three kids and continue your family's business?"

…

"…Were you spying on me?"

He breaks into a guffaw. "Blind luck, but… figures. Told you so—you're all damn predictable!"

With a grin that stretches from ear to ear, Yuuya breaks into a chuckle at my interruption, waving aimlessly to 'shoo' me away before he continues. I won't lie, sometimes I even surprise myself as to why I knew this rebel in the first place; someone as chaotic as him will definitely be the death of me long before age factors in.

But that's just… him, Chousuke Yuuya. Some things just never seem to change…

"So… is that a 'no', I guess…?"

"Oh, no it's not like that. Don't get the wrong idea, we'll support you either way—after all, you will still need to report all changes regardless. Question is…" he leans forward and peeks over his shades with a piercing glance…

"Are you sure about it?"

I pause to think. "…What do you mean by that…?"

"Nothing, just… you know," Yuuya continues as he flicks his toothpick unto the saucer or his tea. "As much as we're proud of our achievements, there are still things we're unsure of—more so because she doesn't consent to it. But since you're willing to take that extra step, I guess might as well..."

"Wait, what do you mean by—"

"Ask your girlfriend."

Taking a sip of his tea, Yuuya sighs with pleasure and clears his throat. "Aah… always calms me down; good shit, this is. But anyway… have you seen that movie about artificial human? The one based on that book of yours—its sequel, I mean."

"You mean Blxde R4nner Twxnty-for—"

"Yeah, yeah… that's the one. Seen it?"

"Yes, I have…? But what does that have to do with—"

"Then, do you remember the details about… the offspring? Or its complication…?"

…I envy people who haven't met you…

I shake my head, keeping my mouth shut. A cocky grin stretches across his features from ear to ear. "I thought as much."

"Well, theoretically she can do what I think you're planning," he continues with smugness. "But there may be problems… such as immune-system deficiency or what-not, for example—though, I'm guessing dumping you all this shit won't faze you anyway. Why the hell do I even bother…?"

Yuuya takes another sip from his cup to wet his throat. "Anyway, if things do work out, we'd love to examine the offspring, naturally—and don't worry, we'll compensate handsomely."

"Like hell you will…"

"In any case," he proceeds with a chuckle as he fixes his shades. "You will have our permission, but…"

He takes a pause.

"This time, do think about it seriously—of your action, and our offer."

The road that leads from the station branches unto the distance, illuminated by an interval of street lights and adjacent commercial and residential buildings that towers on both sides. Amongst the crowd of nobodies, I am but a number in the census, a name in a roster, another expendable manpower; just a gear in society's grand contraption. We move according to the laws dictated by those gone before, live by the code of our ancestors, and one day perish by the natural order. Yet like the billions of other strangers, we all have a story of our own—a tale that is sometimes heartwarming, sporadically inspiring, and also periodically gut-wrenching.

As I walk down this familiar path, it gradually dawns on me how fast the end of my story is approaching—or to be clear, a chapter of it.

Gazing up towards the sky under the towering presence of this manmade structure, I catch a glimpse of a resonating warmth from one of the room as it beckons to welcome my return. Another line is read and another page will soon be turned as the elevator takes me up towards the source of that amenity and my feet pulls me ever closer towards the door, intensifying the beating of my heart. Pages after pages, word per word, up until I stand before this door with a key at hand. With just a turn and at the echo of a 'click', the door is unlocked and with a voice, I called; thus, the last few pages of my story is turned.

"I'm home."

From beyond a second door, pass the kitchen and the hall, a gentle voice echoes.

"Welcome home!"

Taking my time, I undress my footwear and align them side by side her pair of white flats before making my way through the kitchen towards the door. Immediately, a sweet, enticing waft of what I can assume to be apricots tickles my nostrils as I pass the bathroom, firing the pistons in my mind to conclude her latest activity. Was it her soap? Or perhaps, her shampoo? Regardless, the answer to that question lies beyond the door and I—just as I had always been since our first rendezvous—gently open the door.

And there she is.

With a smile that could keep you warm on a cold winter's day and rose-tinted cheeks that seemingly levitate her pair of reading glasses, Monika rises from her seat at the beckon of the door. My heart skips a beat as I examine her attire from head to toe; a simple striped cotton shirt and long pants, with an apron dress that is vaguely analogous to a housewife. A sight any man would desire. Gently setting aside her spectacles, Monika closes the distance between us and pulls me into an embrace that is followed by a soft kiss. A surge of electricity runs through my spine as my heart wallops, corresponding to the soft and sweet sensation that envelopes my lips, gradually absorbing my exhaustion and sending my thoughts to euphoria; pleasant energy lingers as we part, welcoming me home and tinting our cheeks.

Still locked in our embrace, Monika giggles bashfully and starts, "Welcome home… would you like to have dinner?"

"Is that the only thing you're offering?"

"You're expecting a 'dinner, bath, or me'-question, are you?" she presses on my chest with her index finger, grinning flirtatiously. "Too bad~…ahaha!"

With a gentle shove and a wink, she breaks free from my clutch to make her way towards the kitchen—not forgetting to reach for the kitchen apron at the side. For more than a minute or two, my mind is dazed, smitten by how the thin piece of fabric hugs her anatomy to accentuate her voluptuous, yet delicate posture. How lucky can one man be? But I guess even if the world's fortune smiles upon you, all of this won't be possible without Yuuya and their help to bring her to reality. The woman of my dreams, then but a character of a successful visual novel out of chance, now working her magic with the knife, chopsticks, and frying pan.

And I want to make this last. I will make this last.

"What's for dinner?" I start. "I can cook as usual—or we can order out, you know…"

"Fujiwara-san taught me, so of course I know how to cook! And ordering out is not healthy! We're having stir fry vegetables, by the way!"

"Just vegetables?"

"Ahaha…! I'll change your mind, you'll see!"

As she returns to her activities, I can't help myself but feel at ease at our prospect. There will probably be arguments and disagreements down our path, or unforeseen obstacles emerging out of nowhere, but that's just how life is. Like nature itself, the sun will rise again in the distance and before long, the dawn will lit the road once more to lead us towards a world of infinite choices. Someday we'll fade away and disappear like foam, but until that day comes, at the very least we will shower and drown in each other's love selfishly, side by side. And I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Yes… I've made up my mind.

Disappearing into the bedroom, I make my way to the closet and reach for a box I kept away for some time. Its contents are nothing more than remnants of my past life, a collection of paraphernalia from USB sticks to works of fiction we grew to love—one of which, an item I couldn't properly gift to her, safely stored in a small, elegant, black velvet box. A glimpse at the object brings forth a surge of memories of the past; the road we paved isn't always easy to traverse, yet still, it was just the beginning. Gently I pocket the velvet box and sigh to clear my mind, pacing back and forth before the closet, reciting everything to near perfect order—or at least, as close as I can make it. Satisfied, I march back to the living room to find Monika waiting patiently on the kitchen table with the dish served at the center; a rice cooker sits neatly at one end of the table. "You… you did cook the rice properly, right?"

"I prepared them before you're home, silly!" she pouts before plopping open the cover of the rice cooker. A sweet, distinctive fragrance immediately tickles my nose. "Jajya~n…! Have some faith in me sometimes… ahaha!"

"Last time I did, a girl trapped me in an eternal classroom."

"Oh? And where is that girl now?"

"Gee… where, I wonder?"

Monika leans forward, as if to emphasize the voluptuous pair of bosoms she presents on the table alongside a teasing know-it-all smile that I can never mistake. "Are you having second thoughts?"

A grin stretches from ear to ear as I break into a chuckle.

"Not. One. Bit. Now, let's see if what you said is true…!"

I do have to confess, she does know how to prove a point…

….

…But I would still prefer having the one thing that truly makes a meal: meat.

Everything began from a single visual novel, eight years ago.

She was but a fictitious tragic character written by one man, designed to capture the hearts of millions. I was but a statistic, a single digit amongst a million others who were enamored by her charm. As those who remembered her gradually dwindle from the passage of time, I—the fool—remained steadfast. Whether it was out of stubbornness and passion, or out of obsession and pride, the fool pursued her to the ends of the earth with all available knowledge and skills at his disposal, recruiting a shady ally along the way in a selfish desire to answer her ripping cry for help in the name of love; self-preservation was the least of his concern, as long as they could be united in a single reality. Unbeknownst to him, fate led him down that path all along. As far as legends go, the 'Red String of Fate' may tangle, stretch, or change its shape. But it will never break.

This was a story about 'the Hunter' and 'the Beast'.

The tale of the 'Knight' and the 'Sword'.

An anecdote of 'The Turtle and the Songbird'.

This is my story as much as it is hers.

"Say… Monika?" I start as I tidy the last of the dishes. "Can I ask you about something?"

Sitting at the desk, Monika was fondly caressing the computer before my interruption disrupted her focus. With a gentle—but troubled—smile, she pours her attention towards me, as if knowing precisely to the nature of the question. A lump forms under my throat, forcing me to swallow a ball of spit as well as a sigh to ease my thoughts as I rummage through my pocket and feel the texture of the velvet box. Timing is everything, and there will be no turning back. "Do you… miss of the old days, by any chance?"

"What makes you say that?"

I shrug, slowly closing our distance. "Well, you've been quite fixated to the computer for a while."

"O-oh, I-I just… I just think it's well-made, that's all…?"

"Reeaaally…?" I grin, hoping to lighten the mood. "I do admit that it was top-of-the-line at the time, but that's an old model that is barely functioning these days. I plan to throw it away, but I guess it held a lot of sentimental value to you. After all…"

I reach out towards her object of fixation, examining it. "It was a place you used to call… Home, right?"

"Ahaha… busted, I guess." she laughs nervously. "It's not that I miss those days, Ryou-kun, it's just…"

…

"Have you ever thought about… everything? About how we got together, how odd and absurd everything was, how…?"

"…Lucky, we are?"

She giggles in response. "…Yes, that too. But don't you feel troubled to be in a relationship with someone like me?"

"I am thankful, don't get me wrong," she continues with unease. "But… why me? I mean, let's face it, I'm not even sure I can grant you the future you want."

Not this again…

"I-I don't mean to discourage you, it's just that… I'm not exactly real, my body is—itta-ta-ta-tai…!"

Monika flinches and struggles briefly as I pull on her cheeks as hard as I possibly can. Instinctively, she flails her arm and attacks the perpetrator in a—admittedly—pathetic display of resistance. It does look adorably cute, however. Loosening the grip of my index and thumb, I failed to hide the extending grin that stretches from ear to ear as she starts rubbing her cheeks and mounts a desperate—but sorry—attempt of counter-attack involving light jabs across my chess. With a smile, I start, "Did that hurt?"

"Of course it does, you idiot!" she whines in protest. "You stupid, stupid, stupid—"

"Then that's real enough for me."

"Monika," I continue as she slows down. "I know that the road ahead won't be easy, nor can I promise you that it will all be roses and butterflies all the time."

I touch her shoulder, prompting her to search for my dark eyes. "There will be sadness, there will be pain. And there will likely be moments of doubts and hesitation. But at least, this time..."

With the widest grin I can muster, I look deep into her emerald eyes.

"…this time, we have each other."

Her irises rise and her lips went agape as if her desire to speak vanishes along with her voice. She darts her eyes to the side, her cheeks bloom in color, and she mutters unintelligibly as if at a loss of words. Then, looking up with a glint from her emeralds, she giggles lightly and clutches the fabric of my shirt. "You always know how to calm me down, somehow…"

"What can I say," I chuckle and pat her head. "It's my specialty."

"Ha-ha… very funny, you silly turtle."

"Says the moody songbird."

"Songbird!?" she exclaims. "Is that what you call me?"

"Indeed it is—which, reminds me…"

Using my free hand, I reach into my pocket and feel its texture one last time. With her attention occupied on my patting hand, gently I pull and present the collection of our desires and hope on the desk, beautifully preserved in a small, velvet box. Her eyes lit up as she gasps, more so after I carefully lift the covers open to reveal a single silver band that rests between two pillows—a sight, I'm sure, she's seen before in a different reality. "I believe this belongs to you."

Delicately, she takes the ring off from its hold, admiring its glint with marvel, shifting her eyes back and forth from the object to the giver—to me. She looks up with eyes that glosses under the light and a smile that beams with anticipation, pulling her hand close to her chest as the echo of her heartbeat resonates between us. "Is… is this… are you sure about this?"

"Well…" I cough to clear my throat. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Positively? Definitely?"

"I'll say that a thousand times, yes. Yes, I am."

"Absolutely, without a single hint of regret?"

"The sun can explode and the world can sink under the waves if I lied."

My eyes closed shut and I exhale the last of my worries.

"So… can I have your answer?"

Monika giggles softly and wipes the tears that form under her pair of emeralds, grasping her left hand and pulls it close to her chest, enveloping her fingers. Even if our lips were sewn shut or our ears had grown deaf, with just our body language and eye contact to spare, we knew of the answer far before it was asked. As much as this is a story about me, it is also hers.

This is a story about Monika.

And as the last page of my chronicle is turned, a new chapter begins. With our hand on the pen and an empty page of infinite possibilities, we draw the first stroke to start a new journey of our own. A story about us.

…

"Do I have to sing for it?"

This is 'Our Reality'.

-FIN-

Author's Note

From my self, I thank you for reading up until the end. Although this epilogue concludes 'Monika', this is only one half of the entire story as this is the end of SIDE A. Alongside a few side-stories I plan to work in the near future, SIDE B will be focusing exclusively on Monika's perspective.

Once more, I say thank you very much from the bottom of my heart! Please look forward to my next work, Oogame: The World the Girl Only Knows.