The business card provided had ‘Freelance writer Junichiro Tokuoka’ printed on it.
It was my first time receiving a business card, so I looked at it closely with both hands.
“Just in case, this should make getting in touch easier,” Mr. Tokuoka said as though making an excuse for some reason.
We came to a coffee shop near a hospital.
It was not a chain coffee shop that I would use occasionally after school.
It was instead a coffee shop with a retro appearance and an aura of the early Heisei or Showa eras. On the glass wall were the words ‘Internet Cafe Okhotsk’.
This is the first type of store that my generation will use as its top choice.
“Ha…”
I looked at Mr. Tokuoka in such a way so as not to be rude.
I didn’t think that Mr. Tokuoka’s suspicion would be reduced with just one business card.
He wore round sunglasses and a plain baseball cap. Top top it all off, a Hawaiian shirt with a purple tinge. Oh, I just remembered. It was the color of clay.
Was he about forty years old? I have a hard time telling people’s ages.
When I had been called, it would have been a reasonable response for a junior high school student like me to immediately escape from the place and rush to a children’s shelter or something like that.
In fact, I tried to do just that.
It was Mr. Tokuoka’s words that stopped me.
“Want to know why your friend fell into a coma?”
Does he know anything about what is happening in The World?
“I’m Junichiro Tokuoka, thirty-four years old, unemployed for a reason. Single. Please excuse me if I don’t care to tell you anything more private than that.”
After taking a sip of the coffee he brought in, Mr. Tokuoka introduced himself.
I was indifferent. I tried to drink the cocoa served in front of me. Huh, wait a minute, I thought.
“You’re unemployed?”
I was a little surprised and spoke again.
“But your business card says you’re a freelance writer.”
“Oh, I can’t just say I’m unemployed there. Being a freelance writer is similar anyway. No need to worry about the little details,” he said as though getting angry.
“Let’s get into the topic at hand. Your friend… uh, what did you say his name was?”
I answered his question.
“That’s right, Yasuhiko. There are at least six people like him across the country,” Tokuoka suddenly shouted. It startled me.
“And none of them has recovered yet. With one exception.”
“One exception?”
“Yes, but, let’s skip that for now. All they have in common is that they lost consciousness while playing a game.”
“The World?”
“Exactly.”
Mr. Tokuoka nodded.
“Something has happened in The World. I’m investigating it. Would you please tell me what you and Yasuhiko experienced there?”
I last talked about it ten days ago. I was strangely nervous to talk to a real adult that I never met in the game. As I repeated the story, I talked about what happened to Orca. And of course, the black-clad character I called the “Reaper”.
“Are you still playing The World?”
Mr. Tokuoka frowned when I told him I had logged in every day to save Yasuhiko.
I nodded.
“I think there’s a clue in the game, to get Yasuhiko back.”
“It’s too dangerous. I advise you to stop.”
“But…”
“What if you meet the Reaper again? Next time you could be rendered unconscious.”
“No, I defeated the Reaper.”
“Actually, I’ve come across him too, so I know you’re not lying or joking about it, and I know he’s a really dangerous guy. I understand your desire to help your friend, but…”
Mr. Tokuoka, who was trying to drink his coffee, had been one step behind and suddenly caught up.
“Huh, you defeated it?”
“Yes.”
“You defeated it? That thing? By yourself?”
“No, I had others help me,” I said, referring to the previous day’s events.
Mr. Tokuoka groaned with his arms folded.
“I see… and Yasuhiko never regained consciousness.”
It seemed like he was thinking about something for a while.
“I’ve heard your story and one thing is very clear,” Mr. Tokuoka finally said.
“Defeating a specific monster in the game will solve it. This is not a simple incident.”
This person knows stuff. He knows what’s happening in The World much more than I do.
“Would you tell me what you know, Mr. Tokuoka?” I said hurriedly.
“If you like, please make a character and log in to The World. I hope we can all talk directly.”
I thought it was a good idea.
“No way. I can’t.”
Mr. Tokuoka waved his hand exaggeratedly.
“CC is keeping an eye on me. If I register an account, make a PC, and log in, I’ll be immediately found out. It would be terrible.”
They’re keeping an eye on him? What on earth could this guy have done?
I thought about this, but soon thought again that there might not be his fault.
Helba’s email crossed my mind. “You are being watched by management,” it said.
“So, don’t ask me to join the game. My name is out there, too. I will be marked,” Mr. Tokuoka said.
“Okay…”
“Yeah, but I wonder.”
Mr. Tokuoka held out his hand.
“Hand me my business card.”
Mr. Tokuoka took out a pen from his pocket and wrote something on the back of his business card.
Looking at the other side, I could see an English word.
fragment
“Search the internet for this word. You’ll come to understand a lot.”
“Fragment? What is it? What does it mean?”
“Actually, I don’t know the details myself. I’m still looking into it,” said Mr. Tokuoka with a laugh.
“But it’s probably a keyword that leads to the truth of the matter.”
“The truth…”
“Of the time you encountered the Reaper,” Mr Tokuoka said.
“I could only run away. I couldn’t even imagine fighting it. On the contrary, if my companion could not help me, I might have become comatose too.”
Mr. Tokuoka looked at me.
“But you defeated it, using the power of the bracelet that was passed on to you by the girl. Nobody else, just you got the bracelet. I think it makes some sense.”
Even though he said it made sense, I didn’t really understand it myself.
“Well, don’t think too hard. Do some investigating in the game. I’ll do research outside the game. It’s all about the division of labor, the right person in the right place. It’s probably more efficient… we just need a way to exchange information.”
Mr. Tokuoka took the pen back from his pocket and wrote a phone number in the margin of the business card.
He picked it up the edges and flapped it to dry the ink before giving it to me again.
“My phone number. Please call me anytime!”
The business card provided had ‘Freelance writer Junichiro Tokuoka’ printed on it.
It was my first time receiving a business card, so I looked at it closely with both hands.
“Just in case, this should make getting in touch easier,” Mr. Tokuoka said as though making an excuse for some reason.
We came to a coffee shop near a hospital.
It was not a chain coffee shop that I would use occasionally after school.
It was instead a coffee shop with a retro appearance and an aura of the early Heisei or Showa eras. On the glass wall were the words ‘Internet Cafe Okhotsk’.
This is the first type of store that my generation will use as its top choice.
“Ha…”
I looked at Mr. Tokuoka in such a way so as not to be rude.
I didn’t think that Mr. Tokuoka’s suspicion would be reduced with just one business card.
He wore round sunglasses and a plain baseball cap. Top top it all off, a Hawaiian shirt with a purple tinge. Oh, I just remembered. It was the color of clay.
Was he about forty years old? I have a hard time telling people’s ages.
When I had been called, it would have been a reasonable response for a junior high school student like me to immediately escape from the place and rush to a children’s shelter or something like that.
In fact, I tried to do just that.
It was Mr. Tokuoka’s words that stopped me.
“Want to know why your friend fell into a coma?”
Does he know anything about what is happening in The World?
“I’m Junichiro Tokuoka, thirty-four years old, unemployed for a reason. Single. Please excuse me if I don’t care to tell you anything more private than that.”
After taking a sip of the coffee he brought in, Mr. Tokuoka introduced himself.
I was indifferent. I tried to drink the cocoa served in front of me. Huh, wait a minute, I thought.
“You’re unemployed?”
I was a little surprised and spoke again.
“But your business card says you’re a freelance writer.”
“Oh, I can’t just say I’m unemployed there. Being a freelance writer is similar anyway. No need to worry about the little details,” he said as though getting angry.
“Let’s get into the topic at hand. Your friend… uh, what did you say his name was?”
I answered his question.
“That’s right, Yasuhiko. There are at least six people like him across the country,” Tokuoka suddenly shouted. It startled me.
“And none of them has recovered yet. With one exception.”
“One exception?”
“Yes, but, let’s skip that for now. All they have in common is that they lost consciousness while playing a game.”
“The World?”
“Exactly.”
Mr. Tokuoka nodded.
“Something has happened in The World. I’m investigating it. Would you please tell me what you and Yasuhiko experienced there?”
I last talked about it ten days ago. I was strangely nervous to talk to a real adult that I never met in the game. As I repeated the story, I talked about what happened to Orca. And of course, the black-clad character I called the “Reaper”.
“Are you still playing The World?”
Mr. Tokuoka frowned when I told him I had logged in every day to save Yasuhiko.
I nodded.
“I think there’s a clue in the game, to get Yasuhiko back.”
“It’s too dangerous. I advise you to stop.”
“But…”
“What if you meet the Reaper again? Next time you could be rendered unconscious.”
“No, I defeated the Reaper.”
“Actually, I’ve come across him too, so I know you’re not lying or joking about it, and I know he’s a really dangerous guy. I understand your desire to help your friend, but…”
Mr. Tokuoka, who was trying to drink his coffee, had been one step behind and suddenly caught up.
“Huh, you defeated it?”
“Yes.”
“You defeated it? That thing? By yourself?”
“No, I had others help me,” I said, referring to the previous day’s events.
Mr. Tokuoka groaned with his arms folded.
“I see… and Yasuhiko never regained consciousness.”
It seemed like he was thinking about something for a while.
“I’ve heard your story and one thing is very clear,” Mr. Tokuoka finally said.
“Defeating a specific monster in the game will solve it. This is not a simple incident.”
This person knows stuff. He knows what’s happening in The World much more than I do.
“Would you tell me what you know, Mr. Tokuoka?” I said hurriedly.
“If you like, please make a character and log in to The World. I hope we can all talk directly.”
I thought it was a good idea.
“No way. I can’t.”
Mr. Tokuoka waved his hand exaggeratedly.
“CC is keeping an eye on me. If I register an account, make a PC, and log in, I’ll be immediately found out. It would be terrible.”
They’re keeping an eye on him? What on earth could this guy have done?
I thought about this, but soon thought again that there might not be his fault.
Helba’s email crossed my mind. “You are being watched by management,” it said.
“So, don’t ask me to join the game. My name is out there, too. I will be marked,” Mr. Tokuoka said.
“Okay…”
“Yeah, but I wonder.”
Mr. Tokuoka held out his hand.
“Hand me my business card.”
Mr. Tokuoka took out a pen from his pocket and wrote something on the back of his business card.
Looking at the other side, I could see an English word.
fragment
“Search the internet for this word. You’ll come to understand a lot.”
“Fragment? What is it? What does it mean?”
“Actually, I don’t know the details myself. I’m still looking into it,” said Mr. Tokuoka with a laugh.
“But it’s probably a keyword that leads to the truth of the matter.”
“The truth…”
“Of the time you encountered the Reaper,” Mr Tokuoka said.
“I could only run away. I couldn’t even imagine fighting it. On the contrary, if my companion could not help me, I might have become comatose too.”
Mr. Tokuoka looked at me.
“But you defeated it, using the power of the bracelet that was passed on to you by the girl. Nobody else, just you got the bracelet. I think it makes some sense.”
Even though he said it made sense, I didn’t really understand it myself.
“Well, don’t think too hard. Do some investigating in the game. I’ll do research outside the game. It’s all about the division of labor, the right person in the right place. It’s probably more efficient… we just need a way to exchange information.”
Mr. Tokuoka took the pen back from his pocket and wrote a phone number in the margin of the business card.
He picked it up the edges and flapped it to dry the ink before giving it to me again.
“My phone number. Please call me anytime!”
