“This is that stuff that’s 1,200 yen a glass, right?”

“I don’t know, but likely so.”

“It’s ridiculous. You could just give me the money, and I’d buy a whole case of Sarashibo Orange.” Despite her grumbling, Asuha’s anxiety appeared to be slowly washing away.

Of course, an objective look at the party guests would suggest she had a good reason to be suspicious of her great-grandfather’s invitation. His family tree was a vast one, yet his great-grandchildren, Ichiro and Asuha, were the only blood relatives he had invited.

Many of the guests were clearly hoping to see Ichiro’s father Meiro Tsuwabuki, president of the Tsuwabuki Concern, but he hadn’t come. As a result, Ichiro had been left to endure the brunt of the many high-society sycophants seeking an in with his father’s business. In other words, a lot of nonsense.

In the end, though, the deepest motive at play appeared to be nothing more than a desire to show off his accomplished great-grandson — Ichiro — and his lovely great-granddaughter — Asuha — to the outside world.

Despite appearances, Ichiro liked his great-grandfather, and had attended several such occasions. But all the same, he couldn’t claim he enjoyed them.

“Hey, Itchy. What have you been up to lately?” Asuha asked after finally gulping down her 1,200 yen orange juice.

“You mean in work, or in my private life?”

Asuha stared at him, exasperated. “I thought you didn’t help out with Uncle Meiro’s work that much.”

“I don’t help at all. Well, what I’m up to is much the same as ever. I’ve been spending a lot of time in Yamanashi lately.”

“Another weird bug?”

“That appellation is a matter of perspective. I think of them as beautiful insects, myself.”

As one might imply from Asuha’s use of “another,” bug-watching was something of a hobby for Ichiro. He’d set out for Yamanashi on a quest to find the rare species of Japanese emperor, the national butterfly.

Ichiro could spend all night talking about the fabulous appeal of its unique spot pattern, but he refrained in this case. He did have some self-control, after all.

“If you keep this up, Itchy, no girl’s ever gonna want to marry you.”

Asuha’s words caught the attention of the many beautiful girls around them. All of the eligible ladies at the highest levels of society were infatuated with Ichiro Tsuwabuki, young heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern. Many were wannabe Cinderellas who dreamed of marrying up into his beyond-rich-and-famous lifestyle.

But Ichiro’s response...

“As the human race has already reached its apex in me, I have no interest in spreading my seed.” That line was an immediate interest-killer, awakening the girls from their Cinderella dreams in a snap.

But his cousin Asuha, who had known him for a long time, was well accustomed to his unsettling outbursts, and responded without batting an eye.

“Itchy, are you interested in online games?” she began.

“No,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.

She stared at him.

He gazed back at her.

“You just cut me off before I could talk!” she exclaimed, finally.

“Nonsense. You of all people know what my personality is like, Asuha.”

“Y-You’re so mean...”

“I may appear that way to some.”

Asuha sighed, then started again. “Okay, um. Well, I’ve been playing a VRMMO lately.”

“Oh?”

The unexpected word caught Ichiro’s attention. A VRMMO, was it?

VR stood for “virtual reality,” technology for creating fully immersive fictional worlds. About ten years ago, some genius girl who had graduated from MIT had proposed “drive technology,” a form of VR that used particle waves that created sympathetic neural resonance to immerse the consciousness in a virtual space. Most talk of virtual reality nowadays referred to this.

MMO stood for “massively multiplayer online.” It was almost always followed by the word “RPG,” and, simply put, they were online games that were popular all over the world. When someone talked about playing games online, most of the time, they were talking about MMORPGs.

A VRMMO, then, was an MMO that ran on VR technology.

Asuha was still in middle school, as far as he knew. A girl of her tender age shouldn’t be spending a lot of time in online games, which fostered relationships in a virtual space and required significant investment to remain competitive in...

Or, at least, that was the conventional wisdom of the world, but Ichiro Tsuwabuki refused to be bound by such things. So he did not scowl excessively in response, but instead merely expressed mild surprise that the outgoing and athletic tomboy Asuha was devoting herself to playing a video game.

“That’s unusual.”

“Y-Yeah. The truth is, um, well...”

From the way she was stammering, he wondered if there must be more to the situation than she was letting on. Perhaps her inquiry about his interest was actually an invitation. Perhaps she was asking for his aid in some way.

“So, um. I was wondering if you might play with me, Itchy...”

“Hmm...” Ichiro stroked his chin and thought.

Relatively speaking, out of all his blood relatives, Asuha was the one he was closest to. He would feel bad about turning her down flat, but that alone wasn’t enough to motivate him. He would first do a thorough cost-reward analysis in his mind, and act based on that. Ichiro took it as a fundamental rule of life to only do things he really wanted to do.

What would it be like, he wondered.

He had certainly been lacking for amusements lately. A regular MMO he would dismiss out of hand, but the addition of those two little letters — that cutting-edge technology, “VR” — sparked an interest in him that he couldn’t deny.

“Is it interesting?”

“Umm...” Her lack of immediate confirmation indicated an honesty that he greatly appreciated. “It feels a little weird, really. It’s like a video game, but it’s also like you’re playing pretend. I guess because you’re really moving around.”

“I see.”

“But, but... I think you might really like it, Itchy. The graphics are really pretty.”

“If you insist, Asuha, perhaps I will try it.” Ichiro’s words caused Asuha’s expression to light up.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

If it would help to relieve his recent boredom, that alone would make it worthwhile. It wouldn’t carry much of a monetary investment, and if he truly enjoyed it, all the better. Even if the game itself didn’t tickle his fancy, depending on the nature of Asuha’s request, he might still be happy to help her out.

Just then, he recalled something. His live-in servant had recently made mention of a VRMMO she’d been addicted to. He wondered what the title was.

“So anyway, the game’s called Narrow Fantasy Online.”

Yes, that was the one. Then again, there were only two actual VRMMO games on the market right now. Among those in the financial world quietly monitoring the state of virtual reality technology, they were known as “the popular one” and “the unpopular one.”

He seemed to remember that Narrow Fantasy Online was “the popular one.”

“Sakurako-san plays that game, as well.”

“Oh, her? Yeah, I bet she would...”

Asuha had only met Ichiro’s live-in servant a handful of times, but she seemed to remember her well. Ichiro didn’t consider the servant’s personality terribly eccentric, but she must have left a strong impression on a girl like Asuha.

For now, Ichiro’s indication that he would try the game out seemed to inspire a relieved-looking smile in Asuha.

She didn’t seem overjoyed, which lent weight to his theory that there was more to this than a simple desire to play a game together. What, then, could have gotten a girl of Asuha’s age so deeply immersed in a VRMMO? He could speculate, of course. But without more solid proof, all he could do was wait for her to tell him.

“By the way, Itchy, do you even play video games?” she asked.

“A friend of mine in college liked games quite a lot. He lent me Populous, which I quite enjoyed.”

“Oh, come on,” she protested lightly.

Well, Ichiro’s college days were ten years in the past. He hadn’t played a computer game in a long time. He didn’t exactly yearn for those days when he’d been lionized as a prodigy, but looking back now, perhaps there might have been a more age-appropriate way to enjoy them.

Although he had said he didn’t play video games, he did enjoy feeling out his own playstyle within the strict limits of what was allowed by the program. Perhaps it would be stimulating.

“I’m so glad,” she said. “The truth is, I came to the party to ask you that.”

“You could have sent an e-mail or called.”

“You can’t ask someone a favor if you’re not face to face.” For a girl her age, Asuha was very conscientious about such things.

Well, one way or another, the girl in the white dress was now smiling. Ichiro nodded in approval. He asked her about how the game was played and other things, and made it through the rest of the party relatively free of boredom.

“By the way, would you like another juice?” he added.

“No, thanks. If I keep drinking this stuff, I’m going to go crazy thinking about how much it costs.”

Heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. In the highest echelons of society, there was no one who didn’t know his name. He never helped with his parents’ work and spent his free time searching for unusual insects. But he was more than a dilettante living off his parents’ dollar. He paid for his house, his living fees, and his maid’s salary, all with the money he earned himself. He hadn’t received an allowance from his parents since New Year’s when he was ten years old.

After all, he was the noble prodigy, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. He had graduated from Harvard University at the age of nine, and the influence his thesis had had on the economic world would be too much to state in these brief pages. The new theory sent a shockwave through business managers worldwide, and was still being cited in places as a work of enormous authority.

Ichiro had spent his earliest years in Vienna learning the violin and piano, and he played both at a professional level. Any music event held exclusively for the upper crust could be expected to have him in attendance. The pictures he painted to amuse himself were considered cutting edge works of modern art, and they sold for high prices. Just for fun, he’d traveled around the world, and had discovered over 20 kinds of new insects in the process.

All in all, Ichiro remained quite busily employed.

When he had spare time, he would sometimes visit universities as a guest lecturer, and he sometimes served as a paid consultant on asset management as an expert in the field of economics. He had spent two brief years thrilling living rooms as an idol singer, and through skilled investments, he had doubled the money he’d earned there many times over. Even as the rest of the world suffered under the economic downturn, he had more money than he could spend.

It was his money; he had made it himself. No one had the right to tell him how to use it.

Now, in Setagaya Ward’s Sangenjaya, there was a luxury apartment complex with rents far out of the reach of the average citizen: Tsuwabuki Pavilion Sangenjaya.

The landlord was Ichiro Tsuwabuki. The architect was Ichiro Tsuwabuki. The entire top floor was his personal living space. The rent he took in from tenants was chicken feed, but it was enough to cover maintenance costs and employee salaries with change left over.

It was after breakfast. Ichiro sat on the high-priced Armonia sofa in his living room, enjoying an elegant downtime. The news played on an LCD screen large enough to prompt thoughts of “bigger isn’t always better, you know” from the average observer. A newspaper and a tablet and other reading material sat close at hand.

At just this moment, Ichiro was on the phone, making small talk with the president of a general trading company.

“I see you’re just as wicked as ever,” Ichiro said with a smile, spreading his newspaper out on the table.

“My father thinks so, too. He says you really need to be more above-board about these things. Of course, I personally don’t object...”

The young man’s flippant tone would make it hard to believe he was addressing the president of Tsunobeni Co., one of the world’s financial leaders. Ichiro often advised him, and he secretly admired the man’s skilled way around the stock market. There was nearly a 40-year distance between them, but their mutual respect had fostered a relationship almost like friendship. Of course, if you probed deeper, their interactions were mostly businesslike, concerned with the coming and going of money.

“Oh, your daughter? Back in the country, you say? She was in Paris, wasn’t she? With her new fashion line. Oh, is it going well? That’s very nice. She showed me her designs before, but... Hmm? Oh, no, that’s nonsense, of course.”

As Ichiro carried on his conversation, his servant came out of the dining room with a tray carrying a pot and a cup. Ichiro noticed and, with upraised eyebrow, began steering the conversation to an end.

“Anyway, tell her I’m not interested, and that I’m unlikely to change my mind anytime soon. Yes. That’s right. That would be best, I think. Yes, thanks. Talk to you later.”

With the casual goodbye, he hung up.

The servant gave Ichiro a respectful bow, then poured the contents of the pot into the cup. “Your coffee, Ichiro-sama.”

“Mm, thanks,” Ichiro responded, without so much as a smile.

Tsuwabuki kept a single live-in servant, who, incredibly, did her duties dressed as an old-fashioned Victorian maid. The outfit was by choice... her own, that is.

Sakurako Ogi was a live-in servant that Ichiro Tsuwabuki employed for his own amusement. He’d wanted a reasonably attractive, well-figured, well-educated girl, but she’d turned out to exceed his expectations, acting not only as a servant but as a secretary and chauffeur, as well.

The rest of her personality was... well, perhaps what you would expect from someone who wore a maid’s uniform for fun. Her room was full of stacks of manga, games, anime and tokusatsu DVDs, action figures, plamodels, and other bric-a-brac.

Ichiro once asked her what she would do if an earthquake hit, and her answer was a gravely serious, “I would die.” She had previously said that she would be happy to die surrounded by what she loved, so perhaps she really meant it.

“Was that the president of Tsunobeni?” she asked.

“Yes. He wanted to thank me for the financial advice I’d given him recently, and then we chatted for a while.”

She had come from a relatively ordinary family. The longer she worked with him, the better grasp she seemed to gain of her master’s relationships, but he could remember a time when she had expressed such astonishment at every big name he threw out, they could barely carry on a conversation.

“Sakurako-san, you enjoy games, don’t you?” he asked after taking a sip of his coffee and lifting his tablet off the table. Sakurako stared for a moment, then burst out into a smile.

“Oh, yes, I love them. And not just games, but manga and anime, too.”

Sakurako’s polite yet friendly speech was something Ichiro didn’t hear often from people around him. Frankly, it intrigued him, and was one of the reasons he had chosen to hire her.

“And recently, you’ve been playing Narrow Fantasy Online, correct?” He tapped his touchpad to open the web browser. He’d been doing research on the game here and there since the previous night. Opinions were firmly divided, and many of them seemed to carry strange biases, which was making it hard for him to learn anything.

During his conversation with Asuha, he had recalled that Sakurako was a heavy user. And indeed, once the subject came up, she started talking with great excitement.

“NaroFan! I’m obsessed with it! Last week, when you spent five days in Yamanashi? I spent the whole time immersed in it!”

“Ah, I thought your room seemed messier than usual when I got back...”

“I still do the work you pay me for. I hope you can overlook a little dust on the shelves.” Sakurako pouted as she handed him another cup of coffee.

“I was thinking I might try it out.”

“What, really?!” Another big smile; Sakurako was the kind of girl who never held one expression for long. “I guess none of your friends play, do they? You’ll have to use pick-up guilds for quests... that can be fun in its own way, but if you’re just starting, I can teach you all kinds of things! What kind of race and class do you want? Have you picked your spec?”

There was an unusual joy in her voice. But then, she had always been a lively girl.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I suppose I’ll choose when the time comes.”

“I see! Well, the controls take a little learning, and it’s easy to get motion sick, but knowing you, you’ll probably get used to it right away, Ichiro-sama.”

“Yes, I am a genius, after all.”

“You are a genius, after all!”

Sakurako didn’t even try to hide her excitement. She seemed to be enjoying the thought of playing a game with Ichiro. They’d known each other for five years, but this was the first time their interests had ever intersected. So perhaps it was to be expected.

“I’m surprised to hear you talking about things like this, Ichiro-sama. Usually I just see you gazing at bugs and grinning.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure that your expressions while consuming manga and anime are equally unbecoming of your good looks. The truth is, Asuha invited me.”

“Asuha, your second cousin? She’s in middle school, right?” That immediate recall spoke well for her memory.

“Yes. She turned 14 this year. She’s at least a decade younger than y—”

“Hey!” Sakurako thrust out a hand to cut him off. “Ichiro-sama, everyone has sensitive areas that should not be touched upon. To do so could be fatal.”

“Oh, I see.” She seemed to be quoting some novel or manga, but if she didn’t want it mentioned, he wouldn’t mention it.

Sakurako told him to wait just a moment, then walked off with the pot still on the table. He thought maybe she needed to finish something up the kitchen, but she returned soon afterward with something in her hands. It was the package for a game and some kind of large headgear.

“Here it is, Ichiro-sama!” she declared, her ponytail of wavy, chestnut hair swishing. “This is NaroFan and the Miraive!”

Ichiro picked up the “Miraive” she had offered him and gave it a look over. It was heavier than he had expected.

The Miraive Gear was the latest game hardware from Pony Entertainment, a large company that produced video games and systems. They had hired the inventor of Drive technology into their research division, and the system had come out just last year. The girl had gone independent after that and designed the MMORPG in question.

“So I’ll need one of these to play the game?”

“And of course, you’ll need an internet connection, too. Of course, the quantum connection in this house gives incredible bandwidth, so your home network environment should be smooth and crisp!”

“Glad to hear it.”

Ichiro had signed a special contract with a communications company to install quantum internet in the apartment complex he owned. It allowed for far greater data transmission than the standard household connection. Even Ichiro knew that you needed just the right home setup to play online games smoothly, and he was once again glad that it wouldn’t be any special trouble.

“Ichiro-sama, will you be going to buy a Miraive today?”

“Hmm.” Ichiro handed the Miraive Gear back to Sakurako, then looked down at his tablet once more. “That’s the Miraive Gear X, correct? The market version. The IPU is eight teraFLOPS? Quite impressive...”

“It’s expensive, though, compared to other game hardware... And nowadays, most people play consumer games on mobile devices, so they really aren’t selling that well.”

Ichiro’s tablet browser was opened to the Pony product information page. But it wasn’t the home user page. It was the one for companies. “If I’m going to play, I’d like hardware with good specs.”

“Oh, you mean the next-generation one? It’s got a slightly bigger hard drive, and it’s lighter. Though I’ve heard the first wave of them had a lot of bugs...”

“No, I mean this Miraive Gear Cocoon.” Ichiro pointed to his tablet screen, and Sakurako’s eyes went wide.

The screen displayed an apparatus with a curved form suggestive of a mini-car, along with a snappy catchphrase. The base color was metallic silver, with eye-catching black plastic transparent facings.

The near-future silhouette was similar to Sakurako’s own Miraive Gear X, but the specs were totally different. The image processor’s floating-point calculation was 200 teraFLOPS. It was like the supercomputers of ages past. What a terrifying world they lived in, for things like this to be in circulation on the general market.

Sakurako spoke up hesitantly, to confirm his statement. “Um, you mean this commercial hardware?”

“Yes, that one.”

“The ones that arcades and network cafes use for their VR games?”

“Yes, those.”

“The super-expensive ones that even the biggest arcades can only afford one or two of?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Y-You’re going to buy one?!”

“It’s not as if it’s all that expensive. And if I’m going to play, I want to do it in the best environment possible,” Ichiro said, clearly ignoring her conversational hints.

Accustomed as Sakurako was to her master’s eccentricities, this still had her in a daze. Her already wide eyes opened even wider — an amusing sight, perhaps, to an outside observer.

“I-Ichiro-sama! I am but a commoner! Please do not commit such reckless spending in my presence! You don’t know what it’s doing to me!” Tears were building up in her eyes. Her plea seemed sincere, but Ichiro ignored that, too.

“I was thinking of buying one for you, too,” he said.

“Please do! Thank you!” she said immediately.

Sakurako was defeated. Greed was truly a terrifying thing.

Asuha Tsuwabuki was a 14-year-old girl attending a middle school in Nagoya.

She didn’t yet know what she wanted to be when she grew up.

She was related by blood to the Tsuwabuki family, who had run a zaibatsu in Satsuma, Kyushu, before the war. Her family tree was full of world-renowned celebrities, but her own family life was relatively banal.

Her father was a white-collar worker in the area, and her mother was just rather good at English. They were a slightly intellectual but otherwise ordinary husband and wife.

Asuha’s own personal achievements included taking second place in her elementary school traffic safety slogan contest and maybe being the ace pitcher for her rather weak elementary and middle school softball clubs.

A week ago, she had gone to her great-grandfather Hayato Tsuwabuki’s birthday party... to invite her cousin Ichiro to play the VRMMORPG Narrow Fantasy Online.

The next day, when he had sent her an e-mail to announce that he was buying the game system and software, Asuha had nearly jumped in the air. She had wanted to log in immediately and go to meet him, but the thick wall of reality stood in her way: Term finals were coming up, and her parents had forbidden her from playing any online games.

So she sent Ichiro a tearful apology e-mail, then spent a week obsessively devoted to the pursuit of academic learning.

Ichiro responded with an e-mail asking her to meet up with him in-game the day the tests were over, and Asuha used that as fuel for her spirit, pencil gripped tightly in hand.

So tightly, in fact, that she had ruined five pencils by now. Never underestimate the grip strength of an ace pitcher.

At last, after conquering the fearsome foes known as English and math, she returned home in triumph. Her mother pulled out her Miraive Gear with a smile and a warning not to overindulge, and returned it to her.

“Asuha, I hear Ichiro’s going to play with you. Is that right?” her mother asked with a knowing smile. “The family tells me that you don’t talk about marrying him anymore, even when you go to Grandpa’s house for New Year’s.”

“Stop talking about that!” She had been expecting to be teased about it, and having that confirmed just caused Asuha to bark out in protest. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m in middle school now!”

“Really? But you wanted to play a game with Ichiro, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but... oh, never mind! I’ll be down for dinner!” Asuha huffed as she stormed out of the kitchen.

As she stomped up the stairs, her obsession was already turning from academics to something else.

Her mother didn’t understand anything. Asuha Tsuwabuki was no longer a child. She was 14 years old, after all.

It was true that a long time ago, she had earned snickers by hanging on to “Itchy” and insisting she was going to marry him. She understood that. But that was in the past.

It had been allowed while her age was in single digits, but as of her tenth birthday, she had officially abandoned those childish ideas without a single particle of regret.

It was true that “Itchy,” Ichiro Tsuwabuki, was handsome and smart and really nice to her. Girls liked him because he was so rich. He was athletic, he was talented, he painted beautiful pictures, he played instruments and sang well, and he had great taste. And when they used to go shopping together, he always picked out the best outfits for her.

He was a wonderful man. And they were only second cousins, so there was no legal reason they couldn’t be married... but she was like a little sister to Itchy, and he would never see her as a romantic partner. Besides, as her grandmother said, unrequited first love was the most beautiful love of all.

But as for her motives this time around...

Yes, the reason she had invited Ichiro to play the game with her went beyond the mere childish impulse to spend time together. She wasn’t without an ulterior motive... but that motive was, yes, something much more profound. Something her mother wouldn’t understand.

Some of this introspection was just boasting to cover up her own blossoming embarrassment, but Asuha didn’t realize that, of course.

“Whew!” Asuha strode into her room with her Miraive Gear and slammed the door with a bang.

Six months ago, she had begun begging her parents to buy it for her. Of course, half of the cost had come out of her New Year’s money.

She hadn’t wanted it because of any interest in the game. She was looking for someone. There was someone inside the game that she had to find.

Unfortunately, the game world had turned out to be much bigger than she had expected, and a character’s level and spec severely limited where you could go. A nice older lady had told her that teaming up was the fastest way to advance, but no guild or party would take on a player like Asuha who was busy with real-life club activities, and game systems were expensive, so she couldn’t just expect her friends to sign up.

That was where Ichiro came in.

Ichiro had more than enough money and time. He would probably conform to Asuha’s schedule, and he was smart, so he could probably help her. At least, that was Asuha’s thought.

Of course, Ichiro would start as a beginner, too. Asuha had been playing the game for far longer. This was, in fact, another important point for her. After all, Ichiro was the “flawless superhuman.” It wasn’t often that she’d have a chance to teach him something. Her straightforward leveling had born fruit, and Asuha’s avatar was already in the high 30s. Thus, the first thing she would do was go around with Ichiro in the field and help him level up.

She chuckled as she turned on her Miraive Gear and connected it to the internet with her LAN cable. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

“Itchy, I’m not going to be a child forever.”

She was going to shock him with how capable she’d become.

Although she did have to admit... Ichiro’s live-in servant, the maid Sakurako, was a concern. She also played a lot of video games. Then again, she had lots of distractions, too. She had to clean Ichiro’s big house, and prepare three meals a day. She probably hadn’t played much more than Asuha.

Asuha didn’t entirely trust Sakurako, who lived under the same roof as Ichiro. Asuha wanted Ichiro to settle down and get married already, but to nip in the bud any woman who didn’t meet her standards was part of her duty as a second cousin.

“Okay...” Asuha held her Miraive Gear in both hands, knelt down on the bed, and closed her eyes. It was a mental preparation ritual that she employed when she needed to get pumped up. She did the same thing before softball tournaments.

There’s so much I have to do in the game today. I have to meet Itchy, tell him the real reason I invited him, help him level up... And if Sakurako’s along, I need to find out what kind of weird “help” she’s been giving him, and put a stop to it... It’ll be hard having to do it all by myself, but I’ll do it.

Asuha put on her full face gear Miraive Gear X and lay down on the bed. She didn’t know exactly how it worked, but there was a sensation, like strange waves getting into her head, and before long, her consciousness was completely severed from the real world.

Normally, as a commercial-use device, the Miraive Gear Cocoon came with a credit card slot. It was there to let you input your card information directly without having to type out the code every time, a perverse sort of consideration from the maker. But it was such a blatant feature that many users objected to it, enough so that the Cocoons found in internet cafes and arcades often had their card slots covered with tape or advertisements.

Nonsense.

Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s philosophy was, “If you can use money, you should,” and he had no scruples about inserting his black credit card into the slot. There was a type of virtual currency called Future Points that you could buy at convenience stores, but if he was buying anyway, he thought, why not just use a credit card directly?

The Cocoon’s reclining seat seemed comfortable enough, if not quite on par with his Armonia luxury bed. He rested his entire body on the seat, then placed the helmet-like device — the commercial Miraive Gear X he had bought — over his entire face.

As always, he found it a bit stifling, a disappointment from a so-called state-of-the-art virtual reality device.

But that feeling only lasted for a minute as Ichiro felt his consciousness and senses gradually cut off from the real world, drawn into the artificial reality created by the Miraive Gear. Darkness and light wove together, forming a single icon in the user-controlled cyber space. “Narrow Fantasy Online Premium Pack.”

There were two versions of NaroFan that consumers could buy: the standard and limited editions. The limited edition, which offered exclusive classes and content, was one example of the game’s bias in favor of users willing to invest more real-world currency.

This sometimes led to tragedies like user flaming and carelessly sold items being resold off for even higher prices, but Ichiro had no interest in such details — if it gave him more options, he wanted it. So he ended up paying an exorbitant price for a limited-edition pack picking up dust in the corner of an Akihabara shop. More could be said on this subject, but we’ll save that for another time.

The words above it read: “Choose your game.” It was likely that the Cocoons currently operating all over Japan displayed dozens of installed game icons in this virtual space. Nothing quite felt real here, but Ichiro merely thought “Touch it,” and instantly, the game icon lit up.

The light consumed his “vision” and the logo for Pony Entertainment, Inc flashed up, followed by the one for Miraive Gear, then at the end, the name Thistle Corporation. All that trouble to create a virtual reality, yet this part wasn’t any different from standard game hardware.

It was hard to concretely identify exactly when he passed from the real world into this cyberbrain space. Every time he put it on, he found himself there before he knew it. It was clear from the way it could trick the mind that the Miraive was a very advanced device.

He felt his consciousness bathed in light once more, and before long, it cleared. He was being moved — more precisely, the device was sending the illusion to his brain that he was being moved — to a place that, unlike the earlier cyberspace, came with a definite feeling of air and ground.

Ground, sky, and myriad objects. He was standing at the precise coordinates where he had been when he had logged out the night before.

Ichiro opened and closed his hands several times, testing the sensation. They felt exactly as they had a few minutes ago in the real world.

He had been at this for a week now, and he never stopped being impressed by that.

Yes, it had already been a week since Ichiro Tsuwabuki had begun playing Narrow Fantasy Online. Now that he was here in the fictional continent of Asgard, he was no longer Ichiro Tsuwabuki, heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern. He was Ichiro Tsuwabuki, Magi-Fencer of the Dragonet race.

That’s right, if you can believe it — he named his character after himself.

As a dedicated player herself, Sakurako Ogi had gently admonished him for this. “Playing under your real name will make people think you’re a land mine,” she said. But Ichiro declared her concerns “nonsense.”

“Land mine” was a term used for players who lacked the skill and etiquette to engage in proper party play, invoking the imagery of how stepping on a land mine could take off an arm or a leg.

In fact, it wasn’t just the name. He had many of the telltale signs of being a land mine.

Thanks to Ichiro’s nauseating real world belief that he was the apex of humanity, he’d made his avatar a faithful recreation of himself, from the graphics down to the voice. He couldn’t remove the horns and tail native to the Dragonet race, but the Premium Pack-exclusive — in other words, pay-to-play — Dragonet was otherwise a faithful recreation of Ichiro himself.

So, if his avatar was a perfect self-insertion, then what about Sakurako Ogi’s?

“Forgive the wait, Master Ichiro.” A voice rang out, clear, yet carrying the weight of years. It resembled that of a now-deceased famous actor.

The speaker was a man in the prime of life, clad in full-body plate mail. He had short-cut silver hair and a scar that traced vertically from his forehead to his left cheek. His armor clinked with each step he took towards Ichiro.

“We logged in at the same time, Sakurako-san.”

“Now, now!” At Ichiro’s words, the man threw out a hand. “To use one’s real name is counter to the rules of online etiquette. As of this moment, I am the somber front-line Knight, Sir Kirschwasser. My house has served House Tsuwabuki for generations.”

“Yes, very well, if you insist.”

“I mean it. You keep acting like you forgot and start calling me by my real name. You need to stop. It’s already been a week.”

“You’re dropping character, Sir Kirschwasser.”

Yes, shocking as it might seem, this was Sakurako. Of course, in a game, it was naturally possible to give your avatar a very different appearance from your own. But to pretend to be the opposite sex?

But while Sakurako admitted that you saw fewer people doing that in a VRMMO, where it was harder to get a third-person view of your avatar, playing as the opposite sex was an everyday occurrence in most online games. It was an unsettling thought.

“What I find hard to understand is why you want to play someone exactly like yourself in real life. Just how in love with yourself are you?” she demanded. Even the “loyal servant’s” tone was strange.

“It is not that I am in love with myself. I simply feel no need to lie about who I am.”

“You never want to try being someone else?”

“No.” As he spoke, Ichiro tapped the air twice with his index finger, and a semi-transparent browser window opened before his eyes.

“Oh, I see you’re getting used to that.”

“It has been a week, after all.”

This was a menu window. The care put into the depiction of Narrow Fantasy Online’s environment made it easy to forget you were in a virtual space, but a handful of elements did provide a reminder that it was all a game.

From the menu screen, you could change equipment, call items out of inventory, log friends, and buy virtual items. You could also access “Mirai Network,” a cyberbrain community formed between Miraive Gear players; read webpages; and download apps exclusive to the platform.

Ichiro’s window was already full of apps, both free and paid. He had been impressed by how much software they had that was useful for his businesses.

“Now, we don’t have much time.” Ichiro looked at the small clock at the bottom of the menu screen.

“That’s right, isn’t today the day you’re meeting your cousin, Asuha? Do you know her avatar’s name?”

The game allowed multiple people to use the same avatar name, so just having the name wasn’t the final word in finding someone. Of course, without it, there was no way to even begin. Fortunately, Ichiro had asked for her character’s name in advance.

“Yes. I believe it was ‘Felicia.’”

“Felicia! I-Is Asuha a fighting gamer, by chance?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I believe it’s a reference to the blue felicia, a flower of the Asteraceae family, like the tsuwabuki.”

They were currently out on a map called the Volgund Volcanoes. According to Kirschwasser, it was the best place for building up levels and skill points, so they were there hard at work on the mundane task of leveling up. It would be a long walk to “Starter Town” where they were set to meet Asuha, a.k.a. Felicia.

As they walked down the mountain road, Kirschwasser spoke earnestly. “Ah, I wish I had a horse to get around. I am a Knight, after all. I get a bonus to my horseback riding skills.”

“Once I get a little more agility, I can learn ‘Dragon Wings.’”

“You sound rather pleased about that.”

“It’s just that, in the real world, I’ve never lacked for anything. In terms of both money and talents.” Ichiro gazed happily at the sky over the volcanoes.

“You’ve been focused on building up your strength stat lately, right?”

“Yes. But now that I’ve acquired ‘Break Object,’ I think I can lay off.”

“Oh, the Dragonet exclusive skill. That one didn’t look very useful in a fight, though it really does add flavor.”

“The game is so rigid about stats. Isn’t it wonderful not to have things go your way all the time?”

“Is it? What an enviable thing to enjoy,” Kirschwasser murmured.

There was acid in Kirschwasser’s tone, but Ichiro shrugged it off like a Poison Toad hit in the face with “Water Spear.” He was entirely shameless.

It may be time to explain the general ins and outs of Narrow Fantasy Online.

It was only the second VRMMO ever released, and in terms of both sales and active numbers, it far outstripped its predecessor.

It was published by the Thistle Corporation, the company founded by the girl who had developed the virtual reality Drive technology and participated personally in the creation of the Miraive Gear.

Thinking about it that way, it was understandable that it used the full potential of the Miraive Gear’s specs to create such a big world and that so many of the players it attracted chose to stay.

Apparently the name “Narrow Fantasy” was a reference to the fact that even that huge game world was small compared to the VR worlds the company wanted to develop. The fact that it was first conceived of in a small research lab in a university was also suggested as a possible origin of the name. Either way, Narrow Fantasy Online plunged you into a wider world.

The game’s “Grand Story” detailed how players were assuming the role of adventurers exploring the newly-discovered continent, Asgard, taming it, and unearthing the sleeping mysteries it contained. The players’ information was managed by the Adventurers’ Guild, and the dev team would sometimes assume the role of the guild when releasing new information.

The only things, stats-wise, that the players could choose when making their character were race and class.

Races were Human, Elf, Dwarf, four kinds of Anthromorph, and the Premium Pack exclusive races: High Elf, Dragonet, and Machina.

Classes ranged from more orthodox ones like Fighter and Mage to specialist ones like Alchemist, Grappler, and many others. The player could only choose one class at the start, but then add up to two subclasses, for a combined total of three.

Kirschwasser, for instance, was a Human, with Knight, Fighter, and Acolyte classes. His main class, Knight, excelled in defensive and mounted combat. His subclasses were Fighter, which encouraged the growth of all physical stats, and Acolyte, which specialized in healing and support. The end result was a front-line tank made for drawing aggro. His offensive prowess was lower than DPS specialists of the same level range, but he was that much tougher for it.

“Do you enjoy playing that way?” Ichiro asked.

“As a tank? It’s not that I especially enjoy it,” Kirschwasser responded, rubbing his jaw. “But I suppose I do prefer support to being a damage-dealer. For instance, if an ally gets in trouble... Yes, let’s say he’s a high-DPS ally who could finish off the boss in one hit, but his life is low. That’s when I’d charge forward. I could absorb an attack that would knock out ten of him and shrug it off, and even if I died, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I find that very hard to understand.”

“That’s not terribly surprising... Oh, there it is.”

They had already moved from the volcanoes to a field. At the edge of the Vispiagna Meadow, a safe zone relatively free of dangerous monsters, stood a rather large harbor city known as “Starter Town.” It was bustling with beginner adventurers. Ichiro himself had started there just one week ago.

“Incidentally, I failed to ask Felicia’s... Lady Felicia’s race and class.”

“Were you trying to figure out what title to give her?”

“Do you know what they are?”

“She said her race was Human, and her class was Beast Tamer, I believe.”

Ichiro’s words inspired a thoughtful frown to come over Kirschwasser’s face. “I see. That’s quite a niche class.”

“Not many people use it?”

“More than use your Magi-Fencer class, Master Ichiro, but they are in a similar boat. As I explained to you, the most powerful characters in games like these tend to be specialist builds, who...”

“Ah, nonsense. Let’s save the lecture for another time.”

Kirschwasser — Sakurako Ogi — was a gamer. A heavy gamer, at that. Theories about how to make a powerful avatar had been beaten into her head, and that expertise occasionally gave rise to a sort of grandmotherly solicitude.

But to Ichiro, it simply sounded like his loyal servant was scolding him. He was happy to listen to advice, but he did get bored with hearing the same thing over and over again.

At last, the two went through the gate to enter Starter Town.

“I haven’t been here in a week,” Ichiro commented.

“That’s true. You’ve become so much more impressive since then, they probably wouldn’t recognize you. Your equipment, especially.”

The outfit that Ichiro wore definitely stood out in this fantasy world. A lustrous pattern, like butterfly wings, stood out against his blue jacket and slacks. Beneath his jacket he wore a dress shirt that came with a visual effect of constantly producing a light magical mist, owing to the spiritwood of the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea from which it was made. The belt, the watch, and the leather shoes were all made from some of the hardest items in the game to acquire, and they complimented him perfectly, as if they’d all come custom-ordered from famous brand-name stores.

It seemed unbelievable that a person could get that far in just a week. The only disruption to his flawless image was the slightly tacky butterfly brooch at the chest, but Ichiro still acted terribly fond of it.

It was true to say that he’d grown so impressive that people wouldn’t recognize him. As usual, he turned heads, but it had less to do with his physical attractiveness and more for the way his equipment clashed with the fantasy setting around them.

“Yes, Iris did a fine job, too.” Ichiro’s mood was restored by getting to talk about his equipment.

“Do you think she might log in?”

“She appears to be busy with her term finals. It’s a shame. I had hoped to introduce her to Felicia.”

Soon, they reached the fountain plaza that was to serve as their meeting spot. The area was crawling with new players and the mid-level players who’d likely invited them. He was thinking it would be hard to find Felicia in all this, but before he could even start searching, she found them.

“Itchy!”

There was a girl at a corner of the plaza waving cheerfully to them. He focused his attention on her and confirmed that the name above her head read “Felicia.”

As she had described in their earlier communication, Felicia was a petite Human girl, though still a little taller than the real-life Asuha. She looked nothing like her, but the way she jumped up and down was so much like Asuha that it created an eerie sense of cognitive dissonance.

“Hey, Felicia,” Ichiro said as he waved.

“She looks as cheerful as ever,” Kirschwasser noted with a leisurely air.

“I’ve never talked to you in the game before! Itchy, I can call you Itchy, right? Since you used your real name!” She ran up to him, babbling on and on, clearly unable to conceal her excitement.

“I don’t mind. I’ll call you Felicia.”

“Okay! Oh, that’s right, Itchy, friending! Let’s friend each other!”

Felicia knocked twice on thin air to open up the window. She worked so quickly that before he could even respond, “Friend request from Felicia” popped into the air right before his eyes.

As it was Felicia who invited him to the game, he had no reason to refuse. Ichiro touched “Yes.” It was followed by a cheery automated noise, and the window displayed a new message.

“You are now friends with Felicia. Friends: 3. Remaining: 996.”

“Yay! Itchy, let’s work hard together!”

“Yes, let’s.”

She grabbed Ichiro’s hand uninvited and began swinging it around. Then her eyes fell on the man beside him. Kirschwasser smiled awkwardly.

“Ah, ahem.” He gave a little cough, then a real smile. “Would you kindly add me, too?”

“Um, ah, okay...” Felicia was clearly surprised at being addressed by an avatar she’d never seen before.

“Ah, um... are you a friend of Itchy’s?”

“It’s Sakurako-san,” Ichiro answered.

“What?” Felicia asked, her brow furrowing at Kirschwasser.

“Master Ichiro, you gave it away too quickly.”

“It was tasteless of you to even think about hiding it in the first place.”

“Huh? Huh? Wh-What? Sakurako... you mean your servant?” Felicia was clearly at a loss. This was only natural.

Felicia, a.k.a. Asuha Tsuwabuki, had only come by Ichiro’s house two or three times. She had met Sakurako Ogi.

Sakurako was a bouncy, pretty servant girl who had wavy chestnut hair styled into a single ponytail and who dressed in a Victorian maid outfit. She was quite well-proportioned, as well.

But the person standing before Asuha Tsuwabuki, a.k.a. Felicia, was a silver-haired man who looked nothing like Sakura Ogi. His body was covered in plate mail, and he wore a Kite Shield and Knight Sword on his back. The scar on his face told of past noble deeds. And he was extremely well-proportioned.

Yes, it certainly was confusing trying to imagine them as the same person at first glance, thought Ichiro. But Kirschwasser confirmed it in his austere, clear voice.

“Yes, I am Sakurako Ogi!”

“You’re a man!” Felicia’s comment was certainly accurate.

“My avatar is a man. Is there something wrong with that? Part of the fun of this game is getting to be someone different than you are in real life.”

“W-Well... Ugh.” Perhaps it was because Felicia was aware that she had made an avatar much more attractive than she was. “But ugh. Ugh! Ugh!” she kept protesting, sounding a bit like a caveman.

“Now, Felicia, you improved yourself a good 20%, too.”

“I wasn’t trying to improve myself! Ugh! I just... ngh... I just...!”

Perhaps she had been rehearsing something she would say to Sakurako when she met her, and that something was precluded on her assumption that Sakurako’s avatar would be a beautiful, busty woman. When she instead turned out to be the silver-haired Knight Sir Kirschwasser, that had been cut off at the knees, and she could do nothing but sputter. Maybe that was it.