2 - Noble Son, Embark

It was morning.

For Sakurako Ogi, mornings were a time of battle.

How swiftly and smoothly could she clear out the hordes of chores that stood before her? That was the battle.

She was a lover of tokusatsu heroes, robot anime, and shonen manga. Thinking of herself as the protagonist, and the countless tasks ahead as her swarm of enemies, caused her heart to soar. For a maid, housework was a battlefield.

“Cooking complete!” She stood alone in the kitchen and raised a fist in the manner of a true fighter.

She was going the extra mile and making Japanese food this morning. Most of Sakurako’s own favorite foods were the oily and spicy stuff that let her explore her Southeast Asian roots. But as a servant, she had to match her master’s palate.

Ichiro Tsuwabuki, as a rule, was a light eater, and preferred healthy food. He wasn’t especially picky, so he would go along with her if she prepared curry every day, even for a whole month. Once, she had decided to test how long Ichiro would eat Indian curry before he complained.

Ichiro had never complained, but one morning, he had abruptly greeted her with “Namaste.” That had convinced her to put an end to the curry marathon.

But all that aside, attempting to identify his unspoken cravings was a way for her to test her skills as a maid. Sometimes she got it wrong, and sometimes she just couldn’t resist doing curry either way.

This morning, Sakurako had deduced that Ichiro would want Japanese food.

A very small amount of rice in a bowl, lightly-flavored soup, and salt-grilled butterfish for the main dish. She’d also provided smaller dishes of aemono and tamagoyaki. Sakurako had come from a middle-class upbringing, but having worked here for five years now, she had grown accustomed to preparing high-class meals.

“Morning, Sakurako-san.” The cool and breezy tone of voice presaged her master Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s appearance in the living room. His hair, a delicate platinum blond, was just a little bit moist. He must have taken his usual swim in the apartment’s indoor pool this morning.

“Good morning, Ichiro-sama.” Sakurako lined the dishes up on the table, turned her entire body to face him, and bowed reverently.

Ichiro looked at the dishes and murmured, “Japanese food today...”

She picked up on the slight note of pleasure hidden behind his indifferent-sounding words and struck an internal victory pose.

She watched Ichiro’s movements quietly as he approached the table. “Well, Sakurako-san, will you join me?”

“Yes, sir! As you wish!” Sakurako nodded happily, and sat down across from him at the small living room table.

“Good job finding butterfish,” he commented.

“I asked the fishmonger in the shopping district about it,” she said excitedly. “You usually start craving grilled fish around this time of year. And butterfish is best for summer!”

“Aha.” Ichiro’s response was rather understated. He didn’t like letting his emotions show through, if he could help it. But she could hardly be his servant if she let that bother her. She hadn’t known him five years for nothing.

“You’re going to Thistle today, right?” she asked.

“Yes, Thistle.”

“If you hear any juicy behind-the-scenes gossip, let me know, okay?” she asked eagerly.

Sakurako was also a game otaku, so although she knew she shouldn’t stick her nose into her master’s business too much, she was very curious about Ichiro’s visit to NaroFan’s mother company, the Thistle Corporation.

Sakurako wasn’t entirely sure what circumstances had led Thistle to invite Ichiro to visit them in the first place. She had heard that he had been introduced to Thistle’s young president (shockingly, younger than Sakurako herself) when he had gone to Megumi Fuyo’s party the other day.

Of course, Ichiro was a beyond-rich-and-famous celebrity, both as an heir to a corporation large enough to silence a crying day trader and as a considerably talented person in his own right. It was easy to see why the president of a startup like Thistle would want to network with him.

Not to mention the fact that he threw tons of money to the developers via microtransactions, which made him a premiere customer of the service.

“We’ll see,” Ichiro said, tearing the butterfish apart dexterously with his chopsticks. “I still don’t know what President Azami might want to talk to me about. It’s a field in which I have technical interest, so as long as her intentions are not utterly foolish, I expect to enjoy myself. I hope that the rest of you will enjoy your time at the beach, as well, Sakurako-san.”

“Even though it’s just in a game!” Sakurako protested. It was a real-life beach that Sakurako had wanted to visit; she couldn’t even wear a swimsuit in the game.

“If your avatar is a man, can’t you wear a man’s swimsuit?” Ichiro asked, accurately surmising the motive behind her objection.

“It would expose my chest,” Sakurako whispered gravely, grabbing some breast meat from the stewed chicken soup.

Sakurako enjoyed cosplaying and roleplaying as the elder Knight, but that didn’t mean she felt like the old man mentally. Even if it would just look like Sir Kirschwasser’s chest to everyone else, she couldn’t walk around feeling like her breasts were on display.

Sakurako Ogi was an innocent maiden. Even though she was pushing thirty, she was still an innocent maiden.

“Well, looking at Iris’s swimsuit designs should be enough feast for the eyes...” she muttered.

“Hmm, good,” Ichiro said.

“Is it okay?” Sakurako asked. “Do you think she’ll have to fail a lot, first?”

“I’ve heard that swimsuits are low-difficulty items, so she’ll likely be fine,” Ichiro said. “Ahh, but she’ll need a fee for the graphics overlay. Here.”

Despite being in the middle of a meal, Ichiro pulled out one of his many credit cards. Its stylish black design showed just how well he was trusted by financial institutions. It was a different card than the one he usually stuck into the Miraive Gear Cocoon’s card slot when he was playing NaroFan, the “business use card” that he lent to her when she went out shopping for the apartment. Ichiro paid the real money funds needed to run Iris Brand, but it seemed he wanted her to use this card to pay while he wasn’t logged in.

Sakurako silently accepted it and bowed.

“If you need potions or anything, you can buy those, too,” he added.

“I would never be like you in that regard, Ichiro-sama,” Sakurako snapped back. “The fun of the game is doing what I can with limited resources. There’s no tension if I can just pay real money to get unlimited recovery items.”

“But it’s not unlimited,” Ichiro said.

“If you spent your full assets on potions, the server would crash. That’s effectively unlimited.”

“I wonder if even fictional worlds are subject to entropy,” he mused.

“Who knows?” Sakurako had only ever heard the word “entropy” in a certain late-night anime series, so she kept her response vague.

Ichiro chose that moment to lay down his chopsticks, then politely thanked her for the food. He had not left a grain of rice, and he had polished off the fish, too. The bones left behind looked like a true work of art. Sakurako couldn’t understand how he could be satisfied with so little rice, but then, he did this every day.

“There’s not much entropy in the way you eat, Ichiro-sama!”

“Your usage is slightly off,” he said. “Do you want to talk about thermodynamics?”

“No, I’m finished! What would you like for after-dinner tea?”

“Roasted green, I think.”

“Yes, sir.”

She didn’t intend to linger at the breakfast table now that her master had finished eating. Sakurako was able to control her eating speed to make sure she always finished at around the same time Ichiro did. She ate almost twice the calories that he did, but she was always careful to make sure she wasn’t eating like a pig.

Sakurako finished her soup, let out a sigh, then stood up to make the tea. “By the way, Ichiro-sama. About the matter we discussed yesterday...”

“You mean Nem trying to interfere with Iris again?”

“Y-Yes. How did you manage to guess that without a single hint?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Ichiro said placidly, then continued. “I believe I know Megumi’s disposition quite well. She’s not an impulsive woman, but she is proud, prone to misconception, and has a rather reckless side to her. There is a chance that she may take her unjustified anger out on Iris. The truth is, I believe Nem is trying to pick a fight with her.”

“Over you, right?” Sakurako asked.

“Well, yes.”

From the fragments of the story Sakurako had heard, the cause of the quarrel was the brooch that Iris had made. Ichiro had had a real-life version crafted by a skilled and famous silversmith, and had worn it to her party. It wasn’t hard to imagine what must have gone through the head of professional apparel designer Megumi Fuyo when she had seen him so proudly flaunting the accessory.

Hearing the story, then, more or less confirmed it: Megumi Fuyo was in love with Ichiro.

The poor girl.

Sakurako didn’t like to speak ill of her master, but she couldn’t imagine Ichiro Tsuwabuki being a proper romantic partner to anyone. She felt the same way about Asuha. She didn’t know why they put themselves through it all... but no, best not to think about it.

Regardless, that was the incident that had spawned Megumi/Nem’s rivalry towards Iris. It was probably bothering Iris very badly, too. If Ichiro could nip it in the bud, then the hostility might die down. But Sakurako’s hopes weren’t high.

“Anyway, it was as I said yesterday,” Ichiro said. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but if Nem tries to do something unreasonable, I want you to keep Iris safe. If I didn’t have business today, I would do it myself... Oh, thank you.” The last was spoken as he took the tea she offered to him.

“Like the Edward incident the other day?” Sakurako asked.

“The primary difference between this and the Ed incident is that if Iris accepts her challenge, we’ll lose the right to interfere,” Ichiro said leisurely as he sipped his roasted green tea. “Speaking of Ed, I’ve always wondered where he got his handle name from.”

“I asked him a while back, and it turned out it’s from his favorite character in Cowboy Bebop,” Sakurako said.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You don’t know?! Oh, please! I’ll lend you the DVD!”

“If I feel like it.”

There was only one anime Sakurako had ever successfully gotten Ichiro to watch via an exchange like this in the five years she had worked for him, but setting that aside...

“Returning to the subject at hand,” Ichiro said, “the incident with Ed was sparked by my choosing Iris, who prioritized design over numerical ability, to make my armor. So even if Iris had accepted Edward’s challenge, there would have been no easy way of comparing the two. But in this case, the comparison would be between each girl’s design sense. Ed and Nem have something in common in that they both disagree with my decision, but if Iris wishes to use her own skill to silence Nem, then I won’t interfere.”

“But at Iris’s skill level, she’s probably going to lose, right?” Sakurako asked.

“That’s right. She has no design sense at all.” Ichiro’s words were harsh, but his expression was a joyful one. “If she accepts the challenge regardless, we should respect her feelings.”

Sakurako thought his expression made him look a lot like an archvillain. He always looked like he was really enjoying himself when he talked about Iris’s lack of talent. She had to say, she found it in extremely bad taste.

Then again, even if Iris accepted Nem’s challenge, things wouldn’t necessarily be straightforward. Nem’s designs were acknowledged by the world at large, but Iris’s designs were the ones that Ichiro liked. Nem wanted the latter, while Iris wanted the former. As long as that was true, it would be hard to say what “victory” would look like for either of them. At the least, Iris certainly wouldn’t be happy to have it decided based on Ichiro’s opinion.

“Dear, dear...” Sakurako let out a small sigh. “I understand what you’re saying, Ichiro-sama. As Sakurako Ogi, and as the elder Knight Kirschwasser, I shall follow your instructions to the best of my ability.”

“Hmm, good,” Ichiro said. “You’re quite dedicated, aren’t you?”

“It is my job, after all.”

“But you’re enjoying it, yes?”

“You could tell?” she asked. Though it was partly roleplaying, she did enjoy following her master’s orders.

Sakurako wondered if the great retainers of history had felt the same way. It was truly an ideal job. The pay was good, she had a place to live, and she had three meals a day.

“Leave it to me,” she assured him. “I am your loyal retainer, after all. Will you be departing shortly?”

“No, I’d like to spend some quiet time on the sofa after my meal, as usual,” said Ichiro.

“Yes, sir. Shall I drive you?” she asked.

“I’ll drive myself today.”

“Yes, sir.”

They closed the conversation there. Ichiro sat down on the sofa in front of his wide-screen LCD and started reading through the newspapers Sakurako had set out in advance.

Sakurako, for her part, quickly tidied up after breakfast, prepared some black tea, then set out the key for the Koenigsegg, Ichiro’s favorite car. It was a different car from the Lincoln that Sakurako drove. The lustrous metallic blue “Supercar” had a stylish chassis in keeping with Ichiro’s taste. Whenever he drove out by himself, it was always in the Koenigsegg.

“I’ll see Ichiro-sama off at a little after 9:00, then hurry to finish up the housework... which means I can log in at around 10:00, I suppose...” As she thought things over, Sakurako cleaned the dishes at a speed that would make most people do a double-take, but to write about it in more detail would take more unnecessary space, so, moving on...

“Meow-hoo! Matsunaga, I’m here!” The short, cat-eared avatar beamed at him broadly as she led two others along behind her. Her bouncy aura seemed criminally inappropriate for the gloomy Dual Serpents guild house.

She was quite famous among players of Narrow Fantasy Online: Amesho, “the player with over 2,000 friends.” Her name derived from “American Shorthair,” and she had that breed’s same cheerful, curious, sociable personality, which allowed her to make friends within ten seconds of meeting most people.

But Matsunaga knew the truth: she was actually just very skilled at “damsel play.” She was friendly with everyone, but skillfully kept them just at arm’s length. It was easy to lose track of her clear calculation if you didn’t watch her carefully at all times, but no one could incorporate cat puns into their speech that naturally. The effortless way she seemed to use them was the result of total calculation.

...At least, he was pretty sure it was calculation.

In fact, Matsunaga wasn’t confident about that at all. Rationally speaking, he couldn’t believe this could be her natural personality. He assumed she was just a dedicated crossplayer, but whenever he actually dealt with the girl, she really was very... very natural.

“I see you’re well, Amesho,” he said.

“Purrfect as always! And you look like you’re plotting something wicked, as mewsual, Matsunaga.”

“Well, I won’t deny that I have something in mind. Ah...” Matsunaga cast a glance behind him. Nem was standing there. She looked slightly overawed by Amesho’s personality, but was able to manage a bow for courtesy’s sake.

“Allow me to introduce her. This is Nem.”

“Oh, yeah! Nice to meetcha!” Amesho waved, grinning. “I heard the whole story! Umm, you’re the president of a big fashion brand, and you started playing the game to get revenge on Tsuwabuki, yeah?”

“I do not intend to take revenge on Ichiro,” Nem answered, slightly indignantly.

“Well, whatever you’re gonna do, you’ll need a guild! Matsunaga told you about that, mmright?” Amesho asked.

“Yes, more or less.” Matsunaga nodded. Regardless of what Nem was trying to do in the game, she would be better off having players to help her. Especially since she was obviously a beginner. She seemed to be in contact with the game’s development staff, but she didn’t seem to want to rely on them.

Matsunaga had made it clear in advance that he wouldn’t help her directly. The Dual Serpents’ philosophy was to quietly manipulate things behind the scenes, and guild policy was to play the villains and have fun doing it. The members of the guild were all long-time internet friends; they had plotted out their race and appearance in advance, and had made their avatars to one standard. The result was the “Dual Serpent Shinobi Army,” spoken of in legendary tones, and much discussed in rumors — rumors started, of course, by Matsunaga himself.

He could hardly send that same Shinobi Army to accompany Nem; working with Matsunaga would get her branded as a villain in game terms, which would probably be contrary to Nem’s intentions. And trying to explain the concept of “roleplaying” to this rich heiress would likely be a fruitless distraction.

“Now, Amesho,” he said. “As to the favor that I asked of you...”

The people that would make up her guild had to be more or less familiar with the game, more or less capable, more or less discreet, and more or less able to sympathize with Nem’s motivations. Matsunaga had had no idea where to start; that was where Amesho came in.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Amesho said. “Of course, I told you I wouldn’t join any guilds myself!”

“Though you do have an official fan club, I hear,” he commented.

“A fan club is just a fan club! It’s official, yeah, but I’m not part of it. ‘Cause when you join a guild, it’s like picking sides with friends! I could never do that!”

Behind her gleaming, guileless smile, the self-interest in her words flitted in and out of view. She must not have intended to hide much in front of him, Matsunaga thought.

“So anyway, Nem?” Amesho asked.

“Y-Yes?” Nem asked.

“Matsunaga told me the deal pretty much, so I brought my bestest friends with me. I’ll introduce you!”

At last, Amesho turned her attention towards the two avatars she had brought along with her. The fact that she was willing to talk this way in front of them suggested that they must, like Matsunaga, have taken an academic view of Amesho’s damsel playstyle.

“Finally...” the man murmured.

The man and woman were of very different heights, and it was the man who spoke up, with a grunt. He wore a threadbare, full-length robe, and was a DPS class of the Anthromorph race. His sharp, curved talons came from the effect of the “Beast Claw” Skill, which suggested he was of the barehand combat class, the Grappler.

“I was wondering when I’d be allowed to speak up...” the woman added. She was a striking, petite girl, wearing a black dress in the Gothic Lolita style. She was clearly a support class; most likely a spellcaster. She carried a silver staff that resembled a giant key; it was a rare item known as Randolf the Magic Key, and it could only be equipped by high-level spellcasters.

The man’s eyes glittered red in the darkness. The girl’s eyes, by contrast, were a deep and gloomy shade of blue. Just from looking at them, Matsunaga could tell that they filled the conditions of “familiar with the game” and “capable.”

The girl was fine, but the man’s attitude suggested a rather vulgar personality. Appearing to bite back her nervousness, Nem managed to offer them a greeting. “Yes, um. A... pleasure to meet you.”

“Sure.” The man gave a short response and nodded. But that was all.

She waited.

He waited.

“U-Um...” Nem began.

“Yeah?” the man said.

Seen up close, his visage was grotesque. He had seemed to have gone for more of the intense visuals available for the Anthromorph race. It was understandable that someone as unaccustomed to the game as Nem would be frightened by him.

“Hey!” the girl said.

Matsunaga was just about to offer some help, but before he could, the girl grabbed the man’s tattered sleeve and rebuked him.

“Isn’t there something else you should say?” the girl scolded. “She’s frightened.”

“Shut up. I was thinking up a proper greeting.” The man grimaced at the girl’s rebuke.