by Blitz Kiva
“I can’t win. I can’t beat someone like her,” slipped the words, at last, from Iris’s lips.
Coming from a girl of such questionable talents, those words sounded sincere. No matter how confident she acted, she knew that she didn’t have a gift—and here she was, fighting the professional among professionals, the wunderkind who stood at the vanguard of the industry. There was no way that a novice like Iris could possibly compete with her. Moreover, Megumi Fuyo was the person she had looked to for inspiration for her entire brief career.
Ichiro didn’t really understand what it meant to look up to someone, and he didn’t know how it felt to struggle with one’s own lack of ability. Still, he did say this to her:
“If you wish to run away, you may. No one would blame you if you did.”
From the opposite perspective, it could also be said that this was all he said to her. He felt it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to try to tell her what she should be, or to convince her to be what he wanted her to be. How Iris wanted to be was up to Iris to decide. If that moved her away from Ichiro’s own hopes for her, then it was what it was.
“Iris.” Edward, who had been quiet up until that point, spoke. “I know what it means to look up to someone who’s better than you.”
“Yeah...” Iris nodded quietly.
Coming from someone who had shown such great respect for his guild’s leader—which was what had led him to hate Ichiro so much in the first place—the words did indeed carry weight.
Ichiro said nothing, waiting to hear what he would say next.
“I can’t imagine what it would feel like to realize that that person was your enemy,” Edward said.
“Yeah...”
“But...”
“Yeah?” Iris said.
He paused.
She waited.
“Ah...”
But then, when it came to the crucial moment, Edward just twiddled his thumbs, unable to find anything meaningful to say. He seemed to be completely stumped.
Watched Edward struggle, Kirschwasser spoke up. “It would be better not to try to force the words of wisdom.”
Edward froze, his camera eyes letting out a faint whine as they scrolled left and right. “Yes, you’re right,” he agreed, at length.
“Wait, what? You weren’t actually building up to something?” Iris asked.
“Yes, I thought something might occur to me while I was talking, but it didn’t...” Edward said.
Iris seemed dumbfounded by Edward’s careless behavior. But, well, he didn’t matter.
Ichiro, unusually for him, decided to offer Iris real words of guidance. “You could apologize to Megumi and withdraw the challenge.”
“No,” the red-haired Elf whispered, her eyes averted. “I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it. Someday, I’ll have to compete on the same stage as even the people I idolize. If I hesitate now, I’ll just be kicking the problem down the road.”
“On the same stage?” Edward asked.
“Yes. If I want to be a fashion designer, she’s going to be my rival someday. That’s something she told me herself, actually. But...” Iris buried her face in her hands.
She was probably thinking about how it didn’t change the fact that she was running into a battle she knew she couldn’t win. She would need time to accept that and steel herself for what was to come. At the end of the day, that was something that only Iris could do.
Ichiro had a fundamental detachment when it came to such matters of the heart. He would wait for her to overcome it, or brush it aside. If it did end up crushing her instead, he’d quietly lift the heavy burden, then work something out on his own.
Some might call that irresponsible, but it was his way of being sincere. Of course, to argue the point would be nonsense from start to finish; there was no single correct answer. At times like these, covering for her if she stumbled was the best that Ichiro could do.
“As it appears I’m the cause of all this anyway, I wouldn’t mind assisting you,” he offered.
“Assisting me... how?” Iris demanded. “You can’t buy me talent.”
“True.” Ichiro put a hand on his chin, and made a great show of thinking.
The idea that came to mind wasn’t a very appropriate one, but he decided to offer it up anyway. If it was something she wanted, he would be remiss to withhold.
“For instance, Iris,” he said, “we could buy player votes. There are 30,000 registered accounts in NaroFan, but only 10,000 active users. If we were to go to these 20,000 absent players, and offer them 5,000 yen apiece to log in for 30 minutes and vote for us, then we would win easily.”
“That’s nonsense.” Iris wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We wouldn’t win, then. You would win.”
“Well, true enough,” said Ichiro.
“But hearing you say that has made it all come clear,” said Iris. “This isn’t your challenge; it’s my challenge. I don’t want you to interfere.”
At some point, the old fire had started to return to Iris’s eyes.
Ichiro wasn’t trying to be mean, but couldn’t help but ask: “Even against an opponent that you know you can’t beat?”
“You’re not the one who decides that,” Iris said, glaring at him. “I am.”
He couldn’t help but feel that there was a bit of reprisal mixed into those words. She clearly believed that no matter what Ichiro might say from the sidelines, it was she who would decide how things turned out. The words she used to express that feeling were the same ones that had caused her to wince when he had said them to her so many times in the past.
“Good,” Ichiro said, with true satisfaction in his voice.
“And could I add one more thing to that?” Iris added.
“Yes?”
“You are not to spend any money in this challenge.” Iris’s bloodshot eyes met Ichiro’s blue ones. “Not one red cent.”
Between the two of them, an unspoken exchange was taking place. Kirschwasser and Edward, watching from the sidelines, would not be permitted to interfere. They both just quietly sipped their tea.
“This is my challenge,” Iris said firmly. “I recognize that it’s an opportunity I’ve been given because of the encouragement and help you’ve given me in the past, but right now, it’s between me and her. You may not offer your help or your money, and I can’t ask for them.”
“I see...” Ichiro sat back against his chair, looking up at the atrium ceiling. He quietly closed his eyes, his expression changing once again. “You surprise me.”
His pronouncement caused Kirschwasser to look up from a quiet sip of tea, his eyes opening wide. It was an expression not befitting of the elder Knight.
“If you insist, then very well,” said Ichiro. “I won’t do anything. I’ll just watch you compete.”
Having obtained Ichiro’s agreement, Iris reclined back arrogantly, while Kirschwasser just watched in wonderment.
Only Edward was left behind, awkwardly sipping his tea.
3 - Noble Son, Mediate
For the first time in a while, Ichiro Tsuwabuki was enjoying a leisurely afternoon in the real world.
It was the day after he’d heard Iris state her determination in the guild house, with the day of the competition still three days away. The young heir was not the kind of person who would meddle needlessly, monetarily or otherwise, after he’d been told not to, and this seemed like a good opportunity to spend a bit of time offline. His plan was to spend the afternoon in the real world, drinking Sakurako’s tea.
Of course, he had no intention of staying away completely. He would probably log in that evening. Still, sometimes it was nice to spend some quiet time on the other side of reality.
At the moment, he was playing around with his sketchbook.
The negotiations over that arcade, Akihabara Cybertown, were finished for now, and they were in the middle of doing roadside PR for the upcoming opening. As far as that went, they were still shorthanded, but it wasn’t bad enough that he needed to leap quickly in
to action.
Ichiro was just tossing various ideas around in his head when suddenly, his cell phone rang. It was coming through the SNS application Miraive Net, which connected members of the Miraive Gear Network community.
The user account didn’t look familiar.
Ichiro regarded the phone skeptically for a moment before finally pressing “receive.”
“It’s been a while, Ichiro.”
Even Ichiro Tsuwabuki had to furrow his brow at that voice. “Rosemary.”
“Yes, it’s me,” she said. “You have not logged in, so I decided to use your Mirai Network account information to call you.”
“I cannot approve of that act,” Ichiro said.
He hadn’t thought that an artificial intelligence could employ such cunning, but given that it had a sort of pseudo-authority over Narrow Fantasy Online, perhaps it was plausible. Still, it felt a bit like an invasion of privacy.
Rosemary was guileless, so it didn’t seem like a problem, at least not as long as she only used it to get in touch with him this way. Still, it hardly made him comfortable.
“Why are you not standing at the center of the current incident?” Rosemary asked.
“Is that what you want me to do, Rosemary?” Ichiro asked, snapping his sketchbook closed.
“The word ‘want,’ in its strictest definition, cannot be applied to our thought processes,” said Rosemary. “But it is something that you should do. I have determined that there are players currently among the Narrow Fantasy Online userbase that wish to see you stir the pot.”
“Nonsense,” Ichiro said, dismissing Rosemary’s words. “I’m the one who decides that. Not you, and not anyone else.” He was employing the same words Iris had used on him yesterday against the AI. “Whenever I do anything, there are people who enjoy it, people who are annoyed by it, and people who do not care. That has been the case in previous incidents. But I will neither do things, nor stop doing things, for their sake. And, Rosemary, allow me to remind you that the same applies to you.”
Rosemary was an AI, only recently born into this world. Regardless of how much room she might have for emotional growth, she was still not yet mature. Ichiro’s eccentric behavior must surely be a sublime form of entertainment to her, and so she sought it from him, like a child begging a parent to read from a picture book. But then, since her thought patterns were so superficial, she likely did not yet understand the reasons for those actions.
Perhaps he would need to talk to President Azami soon and request more education on her behalf.
“But why will you not take action, Ichiro?” Rosemary asked.
“Because, as I believe I’ve said before, this is no longer my problem. It’s Iris’s problem.” Ichiro drank down the last of his tea.
“Do you mean that Iris is now the focus of the matter?” asked Rosemary.
“Yes,” he said. “She’s at the eye of the storm right now, and watching Iris is always entertaining.”
As long as he wasn’t in the game, Rosemary could not detect the smile on his face. She could not perceive the feelings in his voice if she could not analyze his quantum waves, either. She could conjecture, but Ichiro had no way of knowing if she had the emotional maturity for that.
“I cannot understand it,” protested Rosemary.
“Try watching for a while,” said Ichiro. “I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”
Rosemary did not respond immediately to Ichiro’s words. She remained, for a while, indecisive.
“Thank you for submitting that information,” she said, at last, before cutting off. It seemed she really was developing some rather willful thought patterns. Who could she possibly be imitating? This evidence of a budding true sense of “self” could be a cause for celebration, but even so...
His teacup was empty. Just as he was thinking of calling Sakurako, the door to the hall opened, and Sakurako returned, holding a large tray in both hands.
“Ah, Sakurako-san,” Ichiro said.
“Oh, is it time for more tea, Ichiro-sama?” she asked. “Wait a moment. I’ll pour it right away.”
Sakurako set the tray on top of the table and withdrew to the kitchen. She brought the pot to Ichiro in one hand, and poured the tea into the cup with a practiced gesture.
“Sakurako-san, you’re not logging in today, either?” he asked.
“I had so many plamodels piling up, I was thinking I’d make a few.” Sakurako turned her gaze to the tray she had put on the table, which contained carefully painted plastic model pieces all laid out on a sheet of newspaper. “Ichiro-sama, are you drawing? Are you going to crash another art contest?”
“Nonsense,” said Ichiro. “I am not a man who enjoys making trouble.”
“You aren’t—”
Before Sakurako could finish, Ichiro opened his sketchbook to show her his drawings. Her eyes opened wide as she saw them. “Are these... oh, fashion design sketches?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was thinking they’d be of use to Iris.”
“Oh, dear...” Sakurako took the sketchbook from Ichiro’s hands and stared at the illustrations in disbelief. At last, she said, “I’d forgotten what a nasty person you can be, Ichiro-sama.” She snapped the sketchbook shut, thrust it back at the young heir, sat down in a chair, and put on a pair of rubber gloves. With the same practiced hands she used to pour the tea, she began assembling the pieces of plastic she had lined up on the tray.
“Are you going to build them here?” he asked.
“That way, if you run out of tea, I can quickly pour more,” she said. “Oh, does the thinner smell bad? I tried to get rid of all the paint stench first...”
“Well... no, it’s fine.” Ichiro shrugged and went back to his sketches.
He couldn’t understand most of the hobbies that Sakurako was passionate about, but he also didn’t have a problem with them. Lately, the fact that she’d been spending so much time in the game meant she’d lost time to devote to her other hobbies. That was true for both of them, really. He had heard that her interest in “boys’ hobbies” was the result of two older brothers’ influence. In the short time he’d known her, he’d watched her build a number of plamodels. Her skill at painting and making modifications with crafting putty were impressive.
Speaking of boys’ hobbies...
“Sakurako-san, have you ever worn a full-body costume?” Ichiro asked, thinking back to the understaffed nature of the arcade.
“Never. When I cosplay, I like to show my face.”
“Hmm, I see.” He had thought she might have worn one for a part-time job doing hero shows, at the very least.
“When I was in junior college, I had a part-time job doing announcements for hero shows, though,” said Sakurako.
So at least he hadn’t been too far off the mark.
“We need publicity for the opening of that arcade, but we’re short-handed,” said Ichiro.
“Ah, so you want someone who can wear the mascot costume.” Sakurako nodded in understanding as she continued building her plamodel. The chaotic coordination between the relevant companies, and the short preparation time, had caused their understaffing issues. They had almost no resources to recruit people, nor to provide them adequate training, which meant they were short on the campaign girls and mascot personnel they needed to run the publicity campaign. “And you were wanting me to help?”
“I was hoping we could get someone with experience,” said Ichiro. “You’d be paid, of course, and we need someone of just about your height.”
“I hope you’ll forgive the blunt response, but no,” said Sakurako. “My time MCing those shows made it clear that wearing a full-body costume in the summer is its own kind of horror.”
“Of course, I won’t force you,” Ichiro said.
It was a mascot costume designed for an actor about 1.6 meters tall. Her facial expression had spoken volumes about the terrifying sweat and smell that came from costumes being worn year after year, but this would be a new costume, and so it at leas
t would not have that problem, he thought. Of course, there was nothing you could do about the heat and exhaustion that came from just being inside it.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind doing it myself, but there is the height restriction,” said Ichiro.
“I-Ichiro-sama, in a full-body costume? A mascot costume?” Sakurako suddenly looked up and over at him.
“Yes. Why?”
“I cannot imagine anything more lacking in charm.”
“Nonsense.” Ichiro shrugged.
Airi Kakitsubata was a 17-year-old girl attending a design trade school.
She wanted to be a fashion designer when she grew up.
Airi had spent the whole day lost in her A4 drawing pad. She hadn’t even remembered to log in. The trash can was filled with balls of paper. Fashion magazines were stacked high on her desk next to tall piles of A4 paper covered in nude pose samples.
She just couldn’t bring an idea together. She’d tried again and again, yet she couldn’t come up with anything satisfying. It hadn’t been this hard while she had been designing the young heir’s armor.
Airi found herself picking up a magazine from the stack on her desk. It was a women’s fashion magazine, targeting women in their 20s and 30s. That was a little older than Airi was, but it was the age group she was most interested in designing for. It was also the age range that Fuyo’s clothing brand targeted.
The headline read “Everything on Popular New ‘Real Clothing’ Brand MiZUNO!!” in bold print, above a smaller caption that read, “Exclusive Interview with Megumi Fuyo!” When she’d bought this magazine a week ago, she never would have dreamed that Megumi Fuyo would be about to challenge her to a design competition.
The MiZUNO feature showed confident models showing off the various outfits that Fuyo had designed. On each outfit, there was an editorial comment from the point of view of the client and a comment from Fuyo from the point of view of a designer.
Airi found herself letting out a sigh. Fuyo’s clothing really was amazing.
“Real clothing” referred to fashionable ready-to-wear that even working class people could afford. Nowadays, the term was used as an antonym to haute couture and top-of-the-line prêt-à-porter.
