Discovering that I shared an unexpected connection with Kusunoki-san made the conversation flow much more vibrantly than I’d anticipated. I felt as though we’d truly managed to bridge the gap between us. Of course, Yuzuki-san had been unable to keep up with our talk about online games and spent much of the time pouting...
To my surprise, it turned out that Kusunoki-san had been playing that specific MMO since she was in elementary school. In terms of total years active, her tenure was actually longer than mine, as I had retired the moment I entered university.
However, true to her serious nature, she had been a "light user" who only logged on for about an hour a day. My character’s level was significantly higher than hers, which made me feel a sudden twinge of guilt regarding how I’d spent my own youth.
The idea of her playing an online game as an elementary schooler was surprising, but I’d encountered players like that before. I’d even been close with one back in the day... The memory brought a wave of nostalgia.
I’d happened across a beginner once, and while I was teaching them the ropes, they took a real liking to me. We became quite close. They always used incredibly polite, formal language in chat and were quick to learn. Because they seemed so intelligent and mature, I’d assumed they were around my age or older. I remember being genuinely shocked when I found out they were only eleven.
Even when I retired, they cheered me on while making no secret of how much they’d miss our time together. I wonder how they’re doing now? Are they still playing that game, or did they move on just like I did? Even though we were close, it was ultimately just an online friendship. I have no way of checking anymore, but I hope they’re doing well.
As I sat lost in thought, the clock began creeping toward midnight. Since we were scheduled to visit the temple tomorrow, I decided to push the past aside and finally crawl into bed.
A wealthy family and a privileged environment—I imagine that is how the world evaluates my life.
As the only daughter of the family that ran the Kusunoki Group, a fairly large corporation, I suppose I was blessed with many things from a young age. Yet, for me, home was never a sanctuary.
For as long as I could remember, I had more extracurricular lessons than I could count on one hand. While other children my age were playing together outside, I spent every day cooped up at home studying. It was incredibly stifling.
Above all, I hated the way the people around me looked at me, and the shallow, sycophantic smiles they wore.
None of them were looking at me. They saw me only as "the daughter of the Kusunoki family." I hated it with a passion I couldn't describe.
A birdcage filled with treasures but devoid of freedom—that was how I saw my world.
Starting an online game was my small rebellion, a way to breathe. In the brief window between finishing my lessons, eating dinner, bathing, and going to sleep, I had perhaps thirty minutes to an hour. The reason I chose an MMO for that precious sliver of freedom was simple: I was captivated by the slogan, "A place where you can become your ideal self."
Fixated on the idea of being someone other than myself, I created a male avatar and set out to play. However, since I had never played this kind of game before—let alone an online one—I honestly had no idea what I was doing. I couldn't even tell if I was having fun.
The help section on the official website was confusing, the game was full of jargon, and the in-game chat was a whirlwind of conversations I couldn't follow. Naturally, I didn't have any friends to ask, so I found myself stranded and overwhelmed in the starting town.
That was when I met him.
He wore equipment that looked powerful even to my untrained eyes. He called out to me as I stood there, lost, and he stayed by my side to help me navigate a world where even chatting was a new experience.
He taught me everything—not just about the game itself, but about internet slang and the unwritten rules of the community. He was patient and kind, even though I was a painfully slow typist. Thanks to him, I eventually learned how to play properly and truly began to enjoy the game.
Once I got the hang of it, the game was wonderful. In that world, no one looked at me through the lens of the Kusunoki family. They saw me for who I was. For the young girl I had been, that was an indescribable joy. Those thirty to sixty minutes of escape became the highlight of my life.
I had told him that I didn't want him to simply power-level my character, so he went out of his way to create a new low-level character just to play with me. He matched his level to mine so we could form a party and explore together.
He was always there to greet me when I logged in. He never complained about my lack of skill or knowledge; instead, he took me to all sorts of beautiful hunting grounds and listened to my trivial stories, my complaints, and my idle chatter.
The time I spent with him was the happiest I’d ever been. He was kind, dependable, and possessed a certain easygoing air that made me feel safe. Having no siblings of my own, I often wondered if this was what having an older brother would feel like.
Looking back on it now, I realize that he was my first love.
If I’m being honest, it would be more accurate to say that I wasn't logging in to play the game; I was logging in to see him.
Of course, back then, I didn't understand romance. I just knew I wanted to be with my kind "big brother."
It might sound strange to say I fell in love with someone whose real name and face I didn't even know. But even now, my ideal partner is a kind, dependable older man... essentially, someone exactly like him. So, I’m certain my feelings were real.
In any case, those moments spent talking with him were the happiest times of my life.
But that happiness came to an abrupt end. When he told me he had to retire from the game due to circumstances in the real world, the shock was so great my mind went blank.
I didn't want to be selfish or a burden, so I gave him a polite farewell and words of encouragement. In truth, I didn't want him to go. I wanted him to stay with me forever.
I couldn't bring myself to say it. Time marched on, and three years ago, in the spring, he vanished from the digital world.
On his final night, I stayed up late for the first time in my life. I just wanted to talk to him for as long as possible.
He seemed just as sad to say goodbye as I was. He gave me his expensive equipment and a mountain of items—things so rare they were a pipe dream for someone like me. I wasn't happy to receive them. I was only heartbroken.
As I stared at the screen where he was no longer present, tears began to fall. Only then did I realize how much he had meant to me. I was filled with regret; I had spent all our time talking about myself and knew almost nothing about him.
Since then, I’ve become a high school student. Perhaps because I’ve demonstrated that I can maintain top grades and understand what is required for my future, the number of my lessons has decreased. My parents no longer restrict me so heavily, and I have enough freedom to enjoy my club activities.
I have Hina-chan and many other people I can call friends. My life is fulfilling.
And yet, I still log into that game for thirty minutes to an hour every single day. I know I’m just clinging to the past, but I can't help but hold onto a faint, flickering hope that he might suddenly return...
I turned off the light and climbed into bed, watching the faint moonlight filter through the window.
A lot happened today. The party at the palace was one thing, but I’m glad I finally got the chance to speak properly with Miyama-san.
To be honest, I hadn't quite known how to act around him until now.
He was summoned to this world alongside Hina-chan, Mitsunaga-kun, and me, and he’s the eldest of our group. If I had to describe my initial impression, I would have said he was a man whose thoughts were impossible to read.
He seemed calm, to put it kindly—or detached, to put it harshly. Despite our sudden, bizarre situation, he appeared composed. While he took the lead in asking Lilia-san questions, he never spoke about himself. It felt as though he had built a wall not just between himself and Lilia-san or Lunamaria-san, but between himself and us as well. He seemed so cold and distant that, frankly, he frightened me a little.
But that impression was overturned today. He shared the information he’d gathered with us, and he clearly worried about Mitsunaga-kun’s silence. His face, which had been so stoic, showed a variety of emotions today. I felt like I was finally seeing the real Miyama-san.
One moment in particular stood out: the way he looked when he handed tea to Hina-chan while she was gushing over the rice. He wore a gentle, serene smile, as if he were looking at a younger sister. It made me realize that he is a kind person at heart.
And when he offered a wry, troubled smile while patiently explaining things to a sulking Hina-chan, he reminded me so much of "him."
Maybe what I thought was coldness was actually Miyama-san’s own way of dealing with his confusion. Maybe he was forcing himself to stay calm so that we wouldn't see his anxiety and become even more afraid. After seeing him today, that felt like the truth.
Today, Miyama-san seemed like a dependable older figure. I felt ashamed for being afraid of him based on nothing but my own assumptions.
It's a bad habit of mine to over-analyze people and keep my guard up. When we talked about games, the conversation was more lively than I ever imagined it could be. He was so easy to talk to. I suppose you really can't know someone until you sit down and speak with them.
I might be a bit fickle, or perhaps just simple. For some reason I can't quite name, my opinion of Miyama-san has shifted entirely after just one long conversation.
As I felt sleep beginning to pull at my eyelids, the memory of that person surfaced again.
"...Shell-san."
A first love whose real name and face remained a mystery. The time I spent with him is a treasure I still carry in my heart. I’ve never touched the equipment and items he left me; they’re still tucked away in the game's storage, waiting for the day he might come back.
Three years have passed, and lately, the memories had begun to fade. So why have I thought of him so many times today?
Was it just because we talked about the game? No, that’s not it.
Ah... it's because they were similar. The way Miyama-san looked while teaching Hina-chan about the game overlapped perfectly with my memories of him.
Come to think of it, Shell-san was about four or five years older than me, just like Miyama-san. And didn't he say his handle came from his real name?
Kaito Miyama... Kaito... Kai... Shell?
"Hehehe."
I’m probably just being delusional. It’s too convenient. But somehow, I feel like I’ll have a wonderful dream tonight.
A self-deprecating smile touched my lips. Wrapped in a strange, newfound warmth, I allowed my consciousness to drift into the dark.