by Blitz Kiva
It was Yuri. She smoothly interposed herself between Taker and Kirschwasser, then twisted her body with her momentum to execute a spinning high roundhouse kick at the Anthromorph. While he was distracted, Kirschwasser successfully logged out.
“Of course, there’s no physical way to stop someone from logging out...” Matsunaga whispered serenely. “But I will still stop Mr. Tsuwabuki from reaching the competition site!”
Matsunaga’s Shinobi Army fell upon Ichiro, who had spread his dragon wings in preparation to take flight. It was then that Felicia noticed the flower pattern on the Shinobi Army’s costumes for the first time, but she didn’t have time to comment on it.
Edward and Kirihito (Leader) both jumped off of Gobo’s palm. Edward ejected his shoulder plates to reveal the Lost Gun and began blindly firing lasers into the crowd to hold the Shinobi Army at bay, while Kirihito (Leader) plowed into the thick of them, dividing their forces.
“Felicia,” Ichiro said, looking up at Felicia as she stood on Gobo’s palm.
“Wh-What?” she stammered.
“In the time I’ve been away, you and Iris have both grown up a bit. I don’t really understand it, but it makes me extremely happy.”
“Huh?”
“I look forward to seeing where you go from here.”
With those as his final words, Ichiro began to dash across the ground. His Dragonet body flew into the air, the wind collected under his wings, and he became a ray of light sailing off into the eastern sky. Had he used a Warp Feather he had smuggled with him, or was he simply using a flight-related skill? Either way, he was moving at a speed Gobo couldn’t possibly compete with.
Felicia thought back over Ichiro’s last words to her.
He’d acknowledged that she had grown up—Ichiro had. He had said that she, someone he thought of as a child, was coming a little bit closer to being an adult. And not only that: he had said it made him happy.
To wonder if he really meant it would be nonsense; he was not a man to engage in idle flattery.
“Mmm!” In that moment, an emotion welled up from the bottom of Felicia’s heart, and she couldn’t hold it back. She clenched her hands into fists, raised them into the air, and shouted out proudly. “Let’s doooo thiiiiis!”
She never realized that being acknowledged would make her so happy.
“Go, Felicia!” Yuri, who had been trading blows with Taker, turned to her and shouted. The difference in their levels was plain to see, and she was clearly struggling, but Kirihito (Leader) swiftly moved in to cover her.
Felicia climbed from Gobo’s palm to his shoulder. The Power Golem’s massive body slowly stood up straight once more. Felicia stood with her hands in front of her chest, palms facing each other. Gobo mirrored the motion.
“Here it comes... my Fireball Miracle Pitch!!”
Then, just as promised, a massive fireball began to form between Gobo’s hands. She had spent a few growth points to let Gobo learn “Fireball,” which of course produced one in proportion to his size.
“Damn, what’s with this setpiece... It’s like we’re the villains, or something!” Taker spat.
“We are the villains. It’s all right, though. I’m used to it,” Sorceress muttered.
“Well, that is our guild’s philosophy,” Matsunaga agreed, distantly.
By the time that exchange finished, the Fireball produced between Gobo’s hands had grown to a diameter of about three meters. Its motions still mirroring those of Felicia, Gobo hefted the fireball and raised its right leg, battle-axe style.
“Hydroooooooo Blasteeeeeeer!!” And with that, the scorching miracle pitch was unleashed.
Players were allowed to rent the event stage on Manyfish Beach for whatever purpose they wanted. Nem and Ichiro had both signed off on it for the event, giving the appearance that this fashion show was the result of the agreement of both parties. Nem had been the one who’d actually requested it, but the vast majority of players—likely just looking forward to seeing some drama play out onstage—likely didn’t care about that.
The venue could hold 10,000 with room to spare, and today it seemed a bit over half full. That still meant five thousand players, about half the active user base, so it was an impressive number.
Backstage was a sci-fi-ish, cyberspace-ish place that didn’t seem quite at home with the setting of NaroFan. Iris craned her neck around, finding it all very interesting.
Nem had already arrived—Amesho planned to meet up with her later—and walked straight up to Iris as she noticed her entry.
“Iris,” Nem said.
“Y... I mean, what do you want?” For a moment, Iris wavered on whether to use polite language or not. Then she remembered she’d been speaking rudely to Nem the entire game, so she decided to continue with her ill-mannered ways. Ah, but Nem was someone she respected greatly for her fashion sense, and with this statement, she would be digging the nearly insurmountable trench between them even deeper.
“I won’t lose to you,” Nem said.
Only a few words, yet Iris could sense total dedication behind them. Thus, she decided not to say anything more, but just to reply with a short phrase of her own.
“I won’t lose, either.”
In as little as an hour or two, one of their statements would be proven a lie.
To be honest, Iris thought, the competition still didn’t feel real. It also didn’t feel like something she could stand a chance of winning under most circumstances... if it’d been a regular fashion design competition, anyway.
But this time, Iris’s words weren’t a bluff, or a superficial show of strength, or a faint hope. It was a statement of exactly how she was feeling in her heart.
Nem smiled, a bit sadly, and continued. “By the way, your model was... Felicia, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, um... that was the plan, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out.”
“You’re not?” Nem tilted her head in confusion.
It wasn’t an act, Iris thought. She didn’t seem calculating enough to be that subtle about it. She seemed to genuinely have no clue why Felicia couldn’t make it. It was possible she didn’t even know about the Warp Feather shortage.
Iris felt a faint sense of relief. Even if someone was trying to sabotage Iris behind the scenes, apparently, Nem wasn’t a part of it. That was enough for her.
“There was an incident... So if I can’t find a model in time, I’ll wear my outfit myself.”
“My...” Nem furrowed her brow. “I can’t say I’m happy to hear that. The conditions should really be equal.”
“Yeah. I’m glad to hear you say that,” Iris agreed. She had said the conditions should be equal. Even though the gap between them was something no amount of handicaps would close. Even though they were Amadeus and Salieri, Betelgeuse and a turtle.
“I wonder if Ichiro will come today,” Nem murmured.
“I’m not sure. I told him not to interfere.” Iris was aware that when she talked about the young heir, her word choice typically became 20% more derogatory. She decided she’d have to watch that. “I guess you want to beat me in front of him?”
“Well, yes,” Nem replied quite readily. Iris had thought she might hesitate, but apparently not. “Of course, even if the laymen players vote for me to beat you, I don’t expect Ichiro to notice me, or acknowledge my designs. But I can’t move forward until I beat you.”
“Nemmm, nobody says that except rival characters who lose all the time!” a cheerful girl’s voice interrupted Nem’s words. “Meow-hoo, sorry for the wait!”
It was Amesho. She was Nem’s model, so she had to be here, but it felt like she was cutting it a bit close, even so. (Not that she’d need to go through makeup or anything like that, here in the game.) Amesho was accompanied by another player, but it was neither Felicia nor Ichiro.
“Is that...” Iris whispered. “...King Kirihito?!”
“Shut up.” The black-clad boy turned his face away, his voice strangely hesitant.
What was he
doing here? Shouldn’t the game’s second-strongest solo player be off being... solo? Even if he had been invited, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would come to such a lively event. But then, he’d mentioned that he was Felicia’s classmate... Perhaps she had invited him?
“You don’t want me here?” King asked.
“I didn’t say that...” Iris said.
His already-low voice had gone a few dozen percent lower. It was clear he was in a bad mood.
“So I guess Felicia really couldn’t make it?” Iris asked.
“Yeah, looks like.” King closed his eyes and nodded.
“Oh? Is that relief I see?” she asked.
“I’m just relieved that you won’t be sticking Felicia in some bizarre outfit.”
“R-Right...”
True, maybe it was better not to have to make her wear that armor in front of her classmate. They might not be able to look each other in the eye when they met up after summer vacation. Still, not having her model here was big trouble.
I guess I’ll have to wear it myself, after all.
Iris steeled herself. This was what was known as karmic retribution. After designing that costume without a trace of embarrassment, she couldn’t complain about having to wear it.
Perhaps Nem would mock her... then that, too, would be karma. She reaped what she sowed.
Winning was much more important right now.
Iris was just about to steel herself again, when just then...
“Forgive the wait!” a cheerful woman’s voice rang out as a figure came barreling backstage. It was a voice Iris had never heard before.
The group looked over and saw a female avatar standing there. Her white skin and red eyes marked her as a member of the premium-only Demonkin race. She was equipped with simple starting equipment, beginning with a Leather Jacket, that suggested she was new to the game.
She certainly stuck out like a sore thumb. But what was she doing here? While the others looked at her questioningly, she bowed low and introduced herself.
“Do forgive my late arrival. I shall humbly be serving as Iris Brand’s model. My name is Yozakura.”
Iris was genuinely surprised. Felicia had said she’d work it out somehow. Was this what she’d meant? But how had she found this girl? Iris wondered.
“I think you’re just in time,” Nem said in relief.
Yozakura turned to Iris with a smile, then took both her hands. “I was told everything. If I may, I would be honored to serve in the role of your model.”
“R-Right...” There was something Kirschwasserian in her way of speaking, Iris thought.
“Iris, Yozakura, good luck today!” Amesho exclaimed.
“Ah, right,” Iris said. “Good luck to you, too.”
Amesho’s words were spoken smoothly with her usual friendly smile. There was much about her that Iris was hesitant to trust, especially that overly rambunctious demeanor of hers, but the Anthromorph committed to the gestures without a trace of sarcasm. Iris couldn’t help but feel it was sincere.
A truly mighty opponent stood before her. Half of the enemy she had to defeat today consisted of Amesho and her 2,000 followers—and it wasn’t Iris who would be crossing blades with them directly, but Yozakura. She looked and saw that behind Yozakura’s smile, too, there was a fighting spirit blazing.
Iris gave her a light nod. It was as if the sparks of battle were already flying.
King Kirihito seemed strangely fidgety, as if he could smell the distinct scent of a battlefield in the tense air around them.
“Um, is this everyone?” Iris asked.
“Naw, Stroganoff and the others gotta come, too,” Amesho answered with a shake of her head.
“Stroganoff and the others? Why?”
“They’re judges, just like King,” said Amesho. “I mean, they don’t get to award any special points or nothing. It’s really just for fun!”
“Oh, are you here as a judge?” Iris looked over, finally realizing the real reason King was there.
King averted his eyes. The bashful type, perhaps.
“Anyway, we’ll need a bit of time to prepare the armor. Shall we move to the greenroom?” Nem suggested.
“Okay,” said Yozakura. “I’m curious to see the armor you made, Iris.”
Iris looked up suddenly. That’s right, the armor! She had prepared it, but was it okay to put it on a player she’d only just met?
She caught Yozakura’s arm, and whispered into her ear. “H-Hang on, Yozakura.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know the armor I designed?”
“Yes, I am fully acquainted with it,” Yozakura said with a solemn expression. “But I shall see my orders through. Shame means nothing in the face of loyalty.”
“You sound a lot like Mr. Kirsch...”
“He is my father.”
“O-Oh, I see.”
Iris didn’t know, of course, but she meant that purely in-character. As wise readers have likely ascertained, Yozakura was really Sakurako Ogi, and she and Kirschwasser were one and the same. It was relatively common, both in online games and tabletop RPGs, for one’s secondary character to be related to their primary in some way.
Still, Iris took the claim at face value. She couldn’t fully dismiss her guilt at the thought of putting something so immodest on the daughter of that dignified Knight, but she renewed her determination to be ruthless for the sake of the competition. Yozakura had mentioned orders, hadn’t she? Which meant the young heir might be involved somehow. Of course, given all that had happened, she didn’t think of that as unnecessary interference. If he had done this, she was genuinely grateful.
“Okay, Yozakura,” Iris said. “I won’t show any mercy.”
“Yes. I am prepared.”
Iris and Yozakura exchanged a firm handshake.
“Iris, your greenroom is over here,” Nem called.
Led by Nem, they headed to their greenroom.
Just before they broke up, Nem turned to her and smiled. “Let’s have a good match.”
“Yes, agreed.” Iris bowed low again.
King Kirihito was left alone in the large backstage area.
“Ichiro isn’t coming?” Nem looked up and asked while they were doing their final preparation and discussion in the greenroom. The object of her gaze was Amesho, wearing the design she had put her soul into, twirling in front of the mirror. She was choosing from the many accessories Nem had designed, equipping them and removing them from her inventory in turn. She sometimes even employed the “Perspective Change” Skill to get a full-body look at herself, and seemed to be enjoying the coordination.
Ichiro Tswuabuki hadn’t arrived at the venue. He had been late to the party, too, and he did have his own schedule to keep, so the idea that he might be delayed was expected. But not coming? What could that possibly mean? To Nem, at least, the battle couldn’t start until he arrived.
“Yeah, Matsunaga’s holding him off,” Amesho answered, adjusting the angle of her beret.
Which meant it wasn’t “not coming.” It was “couldn’t come.” And he was being intentionally inhibited by the Dual Serpents. No one had mentioned this to her.
“What is the meaning of this, Amesho?” Nem demanded.
“I dunno,” Amesho shrugged. “I don’t really get it, either.”
Nem certainly wasn’t happy to hear that evasive answer. She decided to ask once more, a faint irritation running through her. “Amesho, do you know why I asked for this competition?”
“Yeah. You were really mad that Tsuwabuki—the guy you like—ignored you, right?”
“W-Well, yes... In other words, there’s no point to this if Ichiro isn’t there.” Nem had stewed over it for five days, but she still couldn’t understand what kind of clothing it was that Ichiro liked. She had no idea what kind of clothing would win his favor.
But because she didn’t know, that just meant she just had to put everything she had into the design, trusting in her own sensibility. She had
created a design that she felt boldly proclaimed “I am Megumi Fuyo,” all in the name of being judged fairly.
Given everything that had happened, she couldn’t worry about whether or not it was to Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s taste. If she could just get him to offer an honest opinion, she’d be satisfied, even if it was a damning one. And oh, if only he would say “it’s good” or “not bad”... then even if no one else in the venue felt the same way, she wouldn’t care!
That had been her hope. But now, she was even going to be denied that?
“Look, Nem.” Amesho, seeming to have finished her accessorizing, turned around. “I understand how you feel, a little. Just a little, okay? But I think you need to stop thinking about Tsuwabuki, and look at the person you’re here to fight.”
Nem immediately realized she was talking about Iris.
“I bet Iris has been working really hard these past five days to beat you. Of course, I doubt she can... But before you talk about wanting Tsuwabuki to look at you straight on, don’t you have a duty to meet her straight on first?”
There it was. Right as Nem thought she was wearing her heart on her sleeve... How could this girl understand the hearts of others with such ease?
Amesho’s words were surprisingly easy to accept, and Nem’s heart drank them in. At the same time, she felt a sharp frustration that this girl, seemingly so much younger than her, could see through her, right to her heart. And not just hers, but Iris’s, too.
“Children are certainly precocious these days...” Nem murmured.
“Aw, yeah. I guess I shouldn’t’ve said that to someone who’s lived twice as long as me, huh?” Amesho asked.
“I have not lived that long!” Nem snapped. Though she probably wasn’t that far off, given that Nem was pushing 30.
Still, Amesho’s words swept away the annoyance that was building in Nem’s heart. The show was going to start in ten minutes. She had only a small amount of time to ready herself, and in that time, she even found herself capable of forgetting entirely about Ichiro Tsuwabuki, who had himself been the cause of it all.
