Another macaroon lifts into the air and she takes a bite. With his off hand, FeeTwix grabs the gun and returns it to his inventory list. His revolver, however, remains unreturned and pointed at the Thulean’s heart.
“So there are only three in your guild, correct?” Zaena asks. “I mean, not counting the kidnapped White Warrior.”
“That’s right.” Ryuk’s nerves calm, but only slightly.
“And you’re meeting the goblin at the Hour of the Morning Fire tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.”
“And where will you go from there?”
“We will level up some more,” he answers. “We’re supposed to meet the Shinigami in Aramis in two days now.”
“Do you know where you’re supposed to meet them?” she asks.
Ryuk looks to FeeTwix.
He jumps as a hand brushes against his shoulder; the Thulean has left her seat
“Well, it was interesting speaking with both of you,” she says.
“You’re leaving?” FeeTwix asks. “Just like that?”
“Just like this,” she yawns. “It has been a long day, and I’d better get some rest.” She strides to the waist-high door, pauses, and turns back to the two with a half-smile. “What? Did I even mention joining up with you?”
Before either of them can formulate a reply, she pops open the door and is gone.
Chapter 11: Back to life, back to reality
To recharge their avatars, Ryuk and FeeTwix book a room in the love hotel.
Without so much as a raised eyebrow or askance glance, the front desk hospitality host tells them that there is only one room available, the heart-shaped Salle d’Amour featuring a heart-shaped bed, heart-shaped throw pillows, heart-shaped candles, heart-shaped water-based lubricant dispensers, heart-shaped vibrating novelty toys, heart-shaped towels, loofahs, sponges, and a single bar of soap shaped like a spleen. From floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall, the heart motif is displayed with the same pernicious ubiquity that the North Koreans give their current juche pimp’s portraiture.
“I’m logging out,” Ryuk announces. “I’ll be back in at the Hour of the Morning Fire.”
FeeTwix plops onto the bed and his eyes go from black to blue. “It’s been a long time since I spent the night at a love hotel. Fun places, really.”
“You’ve stayed in one?” Ryuk asks.
“I’ve visited South Korea several times for Proxima conferences. I have a pretty big following there, especially in Busan. So yeah, I have. You must have as well, being from Japan and all.”
“Not all Japanese stay in love hotels.”
“Sure, and not all Swedes have blue eyes and blonde hair.” FeeTwix places his hands behind his head.
“I will see you in the morning.” Ryuk offers FeeTwix a small bow. He logs out before his guildmate can say anything else.
As the wave lengths on the inside of his NV Visor slow to a crawl, Ryuk slowly becomes aware of his surroundings. It’s almost three in the morning in Tokyo, and his mouth tastes like the entire cast of the all-orc version of Riverdance has tap danced through it barefoot.
He removes the NV Visor and stands on wobbly legs. He yawns, stretches, and rolls his head on his neck. A half-finished water bottle on his nightstand diminishes the orc-flavor somewhat, and he’s just getting into bed when he notices the stygian outline of someone sitting seiza in front of his bedroom door.
“Hajime!”
The humandroid’s eyes open. “Ryuk.”
“You scared me!”
“I dismissed Kodai’s men; it’s safer if I am in the room with you.”
“Just stay in the living room, like you normally do.” Ryuk props a pillow up so he can sit with his back against the headboard. “It’s stupid. You know how much protection I have. And for what?” He kicks his legs onto his bed.
Hajime considers his statement for a moment and says, “The man who sleeps with a machete under his pillow is thought foolish until the one time that he isn’t.”
“I remember you telling me that once before, but with a gun.”
“A gun is even better. How is the ultimate quest going?”
“Just leveling now. We encountered a Thulean warrior woman who was attacked by the Shinigami. They had Tamana, and one of the players looked just like me.”
“A doppelgänger? Intriguing. More intriguing still is that they refer to themselves as ‘gods of death’. And this Thulean female, what of her?”
“I really don’t know. She attacked us because she thought I was the evil Ryuk, and she played with FeeTwix’s gun a little bit, but other than that, she didn’t seem too bad.”
Hajime is silent for a moment. “And tomorrow’s plans?”
“More leveling up. If I can get to Tamana, I’ll be able to figure out what happened to her.”
“Wants and needs, wants and needs.”
“Excuse me?”
“You should rest,” Hajime says after a short pause. “Your training begins in four hours.”
“My training?”
“Goodnight.” Hajime stands, bows, and exits the room. Ryuk can hear him sit down on the other side of the door.
My training?
The familiar smell of Hajime’s Nag Champa incense drifts in from the living room. Ryuk rolls to his side and focuses his attention on a glowing icon on the bottom of his iNet screen; a reminder that a new episode of an anime set in Tritania called Flight Feet,フライトフィート, has just been released, a show loosely based on some of the more infamous quests undertaken within the game.
The icon senses his attention; the show is painted across the inside of his eyelids. In the latest episode, a group of mercenary forest ninjas and their leader, a buxom elf wench with blue hair, fight their way through the Attla Forest with a goal of collecting Attla spider venom to use in a future battle against their rival guild.
It’s a tried and true story line, based on something the Knights of Non Compos Mentis did years ago, in the distant past before Ryuk was born.
He fights to stay awake to finish the episode, but struggles in vain. The last troubling thought on his mind before sleep takes him is about Tamana – he should have done something more to save her.
He should have done something.
(0)__(0)
A prompt from Hajime wakes Ryuk:
Ryuk selects option two.
He rolls to the right, and even with eyes still closed, a beam of morning sunshine sears his rods and cones. Covering his face with a pillow is the only logical action, but he’s awake enough at this point to check a few feeds he follows on GoogleFace Line. He’s deluged with non-news, celebutard oopsies and lolcats, and reaches his threshold of annoyance pretty quickly. He rises, scuffs into his slippers, and heads straight to the bathroom.
Examing himself in the mirror, Ryuk runs his hand through his black mop of hair and tries to smooth out that damn cowlick one more time.
He splashes cold water on his face and jolts himself slightly more awake. The delicate scent of gently bubbling miso broth meets his nostrils, beckoning him to the kitchen.
His stomach feels particularly empty, but he decides he has enough time to shower. He frees himself from yesterday’s clothes, adjusts the water temperature and seats himself on the plastic stool under the showerhead.
The steam billows around him and the image of Tamana leaping in front of the train flashes before his mind’s eye. He does his best to push it away as he lathers his hair, and the warm water sluices down his face, runs down his chest and back and twists to the drain.