Teaming up with Izumi in 'Aethelgard Ascendant' is like stepping into an alternate dimension where things actually make sense. Unlike the tense, high-stakes collaborations I am forced into in real life (which usually involve deciphering Rina's cryptic instructions or navigating Haruka's condescending suggestions), this is easy. Effortless. Genuinely fun.
Izumi, despite her earlier (alleged) struggles against Grognak the Gut-Ripper (which she vehemently denies ever happened, claiming temporary controller malfunction due to cosmic rays), is a fantastic player. Her Warrior build is aggressive, bordering on suicidally reckless, but her reflexes are lightning fast, and she knows how to hold aggro like a boss. She charges into packs of monsters with gleeful abandon, her giant axe a blur of crimson particle effects. As a Paladin, my role is mostly support, healing, and occasionally pulling her back from the brink of digital death. We quickly fall into a comfortable, effective rhythm. She tanks, I spank (the monsters, mostly with holy magic), and we both complain about the terrible drop rates.
"Incoming!" she yells as a swarm of 'Gloomfang Bats' descends upon us in the damp, depressing Gorge. "Focus the alpha bat! The one with the slightly more pretentious glow effect! I hate bats! Die, flying rats, die!" She wades into the fray, her axe swinging wildly, somehow managing to hit everything except me.
"Watch your six!" I call out, throwing a protective shield onto her just as a particularly nasty bat attempts a sneak attack from behind. "Heal incoming! Do not stand in the green goo!"
"Thanks, Rui! You are the best pocket healer a reckless warrior could ask for!" she pants, dispatching the last bat with a satisfying squish. "See? We make a good team. Unstoppable. Like peanut butter and… slightly less effective, but still essential, jelly!"
"Mostly just trying to keep you from face-planting into acid puddles or attracting the attention of that optional raid boss over there," I tease, pointing towards a horrifyingly large, multi-headed slime creature lurking in a nearby cavern.
"Details, details," she scoffs good-naturedly. "Where is your sense of adventure, Sir Rui? That slime probably drops amazing boots!"
"It also drops instant death and a hefty repair bill," I counter. "Let's stick to the weeping wyvern, shall we?"
As we navigate the treacherous, tear-themed dungeon (seriously, the environmental design budget must have gone entirely towards making things look miserable), we talk. Not just game strategy, but… actual stuff. Real stuff. College life for her (apparently postmodern feminist critiques of French poetry are even more painful than they sound), high school drudgery for me (mostly involving avoiding emotional landmines). Annoying professors, weird classmates (I have so much material there, though I keep it vague), favorite foods, terrible B-movies we both secretly love ('Sharktopus vs. Pteracuda' is apparently a shared guilty pleasure). It is the easiest, most normal conversation I have had in months, possibly years.
Izumi is funny. Genuinely, effortlessly funny. Her humor is dry, sarcastic, and refreshingly direct. She makes sharp, witty observations about the game's nonsensical lore, about the questionable fashion choices of certain NPCs ("Why does the Elf King wear sparkly spandex? It undermines his regal authority!"), about the sheer absurdity of spending hours upon hours chasing virtual dragon tears for a slightly better axe. She does not play mind games. She does not engage in passive aggression. She just says what she thinks, often with a self-deprecating laugh that is surprisingly charming.
"Seriously," she groans after we wipe on the Weeping Wyvern boss for the third time due to a poorly timed lag spike that sends her charging directly off a cliff. "I spend hours meticulously crafting the perfect virtual armor set, agonizing over every stat point, but I cannot even manage to assemble IKEA furniture in real life without having a complete existential meltdown and possibly throwing a wrench across the room. My priorities are clearly, fundamentally warped."
"Tell me about it," I agree fervently. "I am currently involved in high-level strategic planning for multiple international cosplay campaigns, complete with risk assessments and contingency protocols, but I forgot to buy milk this morning and now my breakfast cereal is tragically dry."
"Cosplay, huh?" she asks again, her tone casual, but I sense that flicker of increased interest, the same one from last time. "You mentioned that before. Your sister's thing, right? You get dragged into it?"
My internal alarms go off again, klaxons blaring. Abort! Abort! Danger zone approaching! Maintain cover story! "Uh, yeah, tangentially," I say vaguely, trying to sound bored. "My sister is really into it. Like, really into it. I just get dragged along sometimes. As… unpaid technical support and baggage handler."
"Ah," she says, and again, I cannot tell if she believes me or if she is just humouring my terrible attempt at deception. "Must be interesting. I hear it is a pretty intense world. Lots of drama, big personalities."
"You," I mutter under my breath, thinking of Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa, "have absolutely no idea."
"I saw some coverage of that Winter Comicon," she continues, still sounding completely casual, like she is just making idle chat while waiting for the respawn timer. "That LUNA girl was pretty impressive, right? The tech was insane. And Ectiqa and Hime-Hime… they always put on a good show. Fierce rivalry there, apparently." She sounds like a casual observer, someone who just reads the online headlines and gossip forums.
Is she fishing again? Testing my reaction? Or just making conversation about a topic she knows I have peripheral knowledge of? My paranoia, honed by weeks of living under the constant surveillance of Team Rui, screams 'IT IS A TRAP! SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING! SHE IS ICHIGO IN DISGUISE!' But her tone is so perfectly nonchalant. And maybe… maybe she really is just a normal, cool gamer girl who happens to be vaguely aware of the cosplay scene. The Izumi/Ichigo name thing is probably just a massive, statistically improbable coincidence, right? Right?!
"Yeah," I say carefully, trying to match her casual tone. "They are all… very talented. Very… passionate." (About cosplay, and driving me insane).
"You sound like you know them," she probes lightly, her character idly kicking a virtual pebble.
"Just through my sister," I lie quickly, sticking to the established cover. "She runs in those circles. You know how it is. You hear stories." Okay, technically true. Rina runs those circles, usually while chasing me or plotting world domination. And I definitely hear stories, mostly shouted during arguments.
Izumi just hums thoughtfully, a noncommittal sound, and then smoothly changes the subject back to the game. "Okay, strategy for this stupid weeping emo dragon. Forget tanking him near the puddles of despair. Let's try kiting him towards those suspiciously unstable-looking stalactites on the ceiling. Maybe we can cause a strategic cave-in? Environmental damage for the win!"
Her sudden shift back to game talk throws me off balance again. Was she probing for information? Or was it just idle chat between dungeon runs? With Izumi, it is impossible to tell. Her cool, easygoing demeanor is a perfect mask, whether she intends it to be or not. It is almost… LUNA-like in its effectiveness. (No! Stop thinking that!)
We spend the rest of my allotted time battling our way through the Gorge of Eternal Weeping (and Sadness, and Mildew). We finally defeat the Weeping Wyvern (no cave-in required, just some clever kiting by Izumi and frantic, panic-fueled healing by me). And, miraculously, against all odds and statistical probability, the ultra-rare 'Tears of the Sorrowful Wyvern' crafting material actually drops. Two of them!
Izumi lets out a genuine, unrestrained whoop of joy that probably deafens me slightly through the headset. "YES! YES! YES! Finally! Legendary Axe, here I come! Take that, random number generator gods!" She sounds so genuinely thrilled, so endearingly nerdy and triumphant, that I cannot help but laugh along with her.
"Congrats," I say sincerely. "Glad I could be your good luck charm."
"Could not have done it without you, partner," she says, her voice warm and full of genuine gratitude. "Seriously. Thanks, Rui. You are officially my favorite Paladin."
My time runs out. The screen flashes an insistent red warning. My three hours of blissful escape are over.
"Ah, crap," I say, a wave of disappointment washing over me. "Gotta log. Reality, and possibly an interrogation, beckons."
"Already?" Izumi sounds genuinely disappointed, which does strange things to my internal organs. "Time flies when you are slaying emo dragons. Shame. Well," she adds, her voice regaining its playful edge, "same time next week, maybe? If you can escape your top-secret handler duties? We can tackle the 'Volcano of Infinite Rage and Questionable Lava Graphics'?"
"Sounds… hot," I joke weakly, the thought of navigating my schedule to allow for another secret cybercafe rendezvous already giving me a headache. "Yeah, maybe. I will let you know. See ya, Izumi."
"See ya, Rui. Do not let reality bite too hard."
I log off, taking off the headset, the sudden silence of the cybercafe feeling jarring after hours of battle cries and Izumi's witty banter. I feel a strange mix of satisfaction from our gaming victory and a profound sense of… normalcy? Spending time with Izumi feels easy. Uncomplicated. Like breathing fresh air after being trapped in a stuffy, overly perfumed, emotionally volatile room filled with simmering resentments, complex social dynamics, and probably hidden microphones.
As I walk out of the cybercafe and back towards the chaotic, demanding reality of my life, I cannot shake the feeling of profound irony. My best, most normal, most uncomplicated friendship right now is with a girl I barely know, who I only interact with through a computer screen, whose real identity remains a complete mystery (despite my nagging suspicions about the name Izumi), and who might just be the virtual alter ego of my sister's greatest rival's greatest rival. Compared to the tangled, exhausting mess of my relationships with Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa, my digital adventures with the Crimson Blade feel refreshingly, dangerously simple. And I already cannot wait for next week.