Prologue Pt III:

The Same Old Birthday

Friday, July 1st, 2022

It was July 1st, 2022, the day of my fourteenth birthday. The smell of warm French Toast drifted into my bedroom and slowly aroused me into the world of the living. Something absolutely delicious was cooking.

I was standing before I even knew it. My feet walked me out of my door and into the kitchen. There my dad was, standing in front of the electric griddle with a bowl of juicy egg-butter-sugar mix to his right. Another slice of bread was dipped into the mix and then laid out carefully onto the burner until it was cooked to perfection.

My mesmerized eyes watched steadily until he was done with the batch. With a plate full of beautifully looking French Toast in his hands, he turned around and became aware of my position. He smiled as he carried the plate to the table and took off his apron.

"Good morning," he said, grinning as he filled up our glasses with orange juice. "I thought I'd wake up a little bit earlier today so I could make you a breakfast you'll remember. No reason in particular, just felt like it."

"...No reason in particular?" I asked, confused at what he meant. It's my birthday today, and he knew that… right? "Aren't you forgetting about something?"

"Mmm, nope. I think I've got everything in order. Just had a craving for French Toast and thought to share, that's all," he said, his grin growing even wider.

Oh, haha. What a funny prank.

"You should be a comedian," I replied in a monotone.

Finally, he broke out laughing. Once he found the composure, he responded.

"You really think so, huh?" he spoke in an almost undertone. "Happy birthday, kiddo. Congrats on fourteen."

He suddenly whistled and held up his arms as if to measure the years one-by-one.

"Phew, fourteen years? It hasn't felt that long. You're old, man."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically as I looked up to meet his eyes. "But no really, thank you, Dad."

We ate up in a comfortable silence. It was an odd Friday, as most Fridays, Dad has to go to work. I didn't think much of it, but he must've called in a vacation day just to be with me that day. In hindsight, I should've thanked him a million times more than I did. He truly was the greatest dad.

Once we were done with our feast, Dad helped me put up the dishes in the dishwasher and put away the equipment. We cleaned the griddle and all of the supplies that couldn't fit. Finally, we were done and collapsed on the living room couch together.

"Man, that was goood. Too good, almost. Didn't want to stop eating," I said as I rubbed my belly.

"Hey, I don't mind not having leftovers," he said, muffled by the couch and without turning his head from his prone position opposite of me.

Another sigh escaped my lips, but this time, it was one of contentment. We sat there for a few minutes before my father suddenly jerked up and fell off the couch.

"Agh – I almost forgot!" he blurted out.

He scrambled out of the room and into the office. When he finally emerged, he held a large, unopened, dark brown package in his hands. With a box cutter in his freehand, he set the package down on the floor in front of me and then flipped the knife in a forward motion, reversing the direction so that he could point the handle towards me. I grabbed the knife without a second thought and began questioning him on the contents of said box.

"What's this, Dad?" I asked.

"I think you know very well what it is. It's your birthday present," he said, another lopsided smile present on his face. After a moment, he spoke again. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it up already!"

I didn't wait for a second directive. The knife glided through the tape, and before I knew it, the box was completely stripped of its contents and the only thing left lying on the floor was another, smaller package.

"Really, Dad? Russian nesting dolls?" I was not amused.

"C'mon, just keep going," he replied, clearly finding this joke funny.

I unwrapped the last few boxes until just a single smaller one remained. The shining color of the parcel shone to my eyes as I delved into the final casing and pulled out the final package. A large case with a slick plastic wrap was presented in front of me. On the box was a photo of a helmet-like device with cables. On the sides there were pictures of a real-to-life looking video game that I recognized as the launch title.

In front of me laid a NerveGear, the first of the FullDive console line.

I stayed silent for a few seconds, but inside, a chaotic and thunderous storm of emotions were turning. I was unsure how to feel; on one hand, it was always my dream to play on this, but on the other hand, my fate has basically been set into stone.

My gaze slowly turned to my father who stood behind me. I could not be beaming brighter. He probably used a large amount of savings just to buy this for me.

I jumped up and hugged him around the neck and we fell backwards onto the couch.

"Hahaha, I knew you'd like it. You've been talking about it everyday for the past month," he said as we parted. "But there's a condition."

I looked up and suddenly sobered. His expression was grim now, too.

"...you cannot play on the NerveGear…" My breath hitched. "...unless you let me play Beat Saber on it. I've been dying to try this thing out, too."

I sighed a sigh of relief so hard that it was rather audible. My dad just chuckled.

"I wouldn't say otherwise," I agreed.

In a different apartment in a nearby neighborhood, Shino Asada opened the door out of her apartment and bent down to pick up a package. There was a skip in her step as she walked back to her computer.