A fair distance from the alley, I made a small detour to stash the knife and crowbar somewhere I could retrieve them later. Bringing metal into a shopping mall was the kind of thing that ended with security and uncomfortable questions—neither of which I had time for today.
That done, I set off under a reddish-orange sunset, hands in my pockets.
Akihabara was roughly thirty minutes on foot from my apartment. Not bad.
Walking there, I found myself doing something I hadn't expected—just looking. People moving along the sidewalks, crossing at the lights, leaning out of car windows. The ordinary, unremarkable traffic of a city going about its evening. A sight I had quietly, somewhere in the back of my mind, accepted I would never see again.
I couldn't help smiling to myself.
Which made sense, I supposed. Nobody here knew.
Not a single person on this street was aware that in roughly six months, the world as they understood it would stop being the world as they understood it—that a game called Heaven's Path would tear through reality like a blade through paper, and that the casualties on the first day alone would be staggering.
Everyone just kept walking. Carefree.
"This still doesn't feel real... Coming back like this."
It was what I'd wished for, so I shouldn't be complaining. But standing here now, I couldn't help wondering if there'd been a smarter option. Something more calculated. Some way to go back that came with a plan already attached, rather than the desperate, half-conscious last words of a man bleeding out on a battlefield.
"...Then again, I was never the smart type."
I shrugged at nobody in particular and looked up.
I'd arrived.
Adobashi Games—one of the oldest and most well-stocked electronics shops in all of Akihabara, a towering fixture of the district that had outlasted trends and competition alike. I didn't hesitate at the entrance.
Inside, I headed straight for the elevator. Sixth floor. The VR hardware section had been there for years—I knew exactly where I was going.
"As expected of the top store in Akiba..."
Even on a Friday at year's end, the place was packed. The elevator filled almost immediately after I stepped in, and I noticed with mild interest that the sixth floor button was already pressed by the time I reached for it.
TING!
The doors opened—and everyone stepped out.
Every single person.
"..."
I stared at the small crowd now dispersing across the floor around me, all of them making the same beeline in the same direction.
So I wasn't the only last-minute buyer. Good to know I was in distinguished company.
The sixth floor was brightly lit despite the darkening sky visible through the windows, the overhead lighting casting everything in crisp white.
The hall was wide and thoughtfully arranged—consoles, PC hardware, and software packages lined up with the kind of care that said someone on staff genuinely cared about presentation. Under different circumstances, I might have taken a moment to appreciate it.
"Excuse me." I stepped ahead of the crowd converging on the VR section and caught the attention of the saleslady stationed nearby before anyone else could. "Do you still have VR Dive Rings in stock? I'd also like the Heaven's Path package alongside it."
"VR Dive Ring—yes, we still have units available." She smiled brightly, the practiced warmth of someone good at her job. "And there's a pre-launch bundle running right now: purchase two VR Dive Rings and you receive a twenty-five percent discount on both."
I ran the numbers quickly.
A $10,000 machine, down to $7,500. Not dramatic, but in a timeline where every dollar needed to be accounted for, a twenty-five percent reduction wasn't nothing.
"Two units..."
I glanced behind me. The crowd from the elevator had already sorted itself—pairs had formed almost immediately, a natural gravitational pull toward the discount. Everyone but me, as it turned out. I was the odd number.
But then a face surfaced in my memory.
A gamer—though she'd sooner eat her own apron than admit it publicly.
"I'll take the bundle." I turned back to the saleslady. "Does the discount apply to the game as well?"
Her smile widened noticeably. "The game is included at no additional cost with each VR Dive Ring purchase. If you'll follow me, I can process that for you right now~!"
I did the back-of-napkin math on her commission situation and felt a brief flicker of genuine goodwill toward her. Nine customers, $500 per unit at even a modest rate. Not a bad evening's work, all things considered.
I paid through digital transfer—using Mokuro's contribution to society—collected both packages, and left.
---
On the way back I retrieved the knife and crowbar from where I'd stashed them.
Both were exactly where I'd left them, undisturbed, which said something either encouraging or concerning about the neighborhood. I chose to take it as encouraging.
By now the sky had fully darkened, the streetlights taking over, casting long amber pools across the pavement. My footsteps were clear and unhurried. I already knew where I was going.
"Oh, you're here!"
The auntie spotted me before I'd even fully approached and immediately waved me in, beaming. "Come in, come in! I kept your table, just like I promised!"
"Thank you, Auntie." I followed her inside.
She led me past the customer area without explanation, and I noticed with mild confusion that every visible table was taken. She hadn't been exaggerating about it being a full house—there wasn't an empty seat anywhere I could see.
Then she pushed aside the curtain at the back.
"Pffft!"
On the other side of the curtain, seated at what was apparently the "reserved table," was Miyabi—midway through what looked like her dinner, completely unprepared for a visitor, and now choking violently on a mouthful of ramen as my sudden appearance startled it directly down the wrong pipe.
"M-Mother?!"
Once the coughing settled, she straightened up and spent approximately three seconds restoring her composure to something presentable.
It didn't really matter. Even flustered, red-faced, and mid-recovery from nearly inhaling noodles—she was, objectively, beautiful. The kind of face that would stop a room without trying.
Perfect black hair falling to mid-length, droopy brown eyes that managed to be simultaneously soft and sharp, and a figure that her work apron was doing absolutely nothing to hide. Ten out of ten men would turn their heads if she passed by, no deliberation required.
"Hey, Miyabi." I smiled and sat down.
Then I held out my left hand—the one carrying one of the two paper bags—and extended it toward her.
"This is yours."
"...H-Huh?"
She took it more by reflex than decision, the way you reach for something placed in your hand before your brain has caught up. Then she looked inside.
"T-This is—?!" Her head snapped up. "No way. Is this the VR Dive Ring?! The actual one?! Is this real?!"
"Obviously." I chuckled. "It's yours. You can inspect it properly later."
A beat of silence.
She looked back at me, something recalibrating behind her eyes as she returned fully to the present moment.
"...Wait. Hold on." Her brow furrowed. "This thing costs a fortune. How did you even—"
"Ah. That." I scratched the back of my head, deploying the story I'd assembled on the walk over. "I was selected as a playtester for Heaven's Path a while back, but there was some issue on their end and they never sent the hardware during the testing period. So they sent two units as an apology."
"...So it's free?"
"Completely free. I didn't spend a single yen on it."
Which was, technically, the truth. It hadn't been my money.
"Alright, enough of that—eat!"
Auntie reappeared from nowhere, the way she always did, and set a large bowl down in front of me with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing this for decades. My usual order. The steam rose and curled in the warm air of the back room.
I stared at it for a moment.
Thirty years. Thirty years of distances and disasters and surviving things that left no room for something as small as a bowl of ramen to matter.
The first mouthful hit like a memory.
A nostalgic taste.
One I had quietly, without ever choosing to, said goodbye to a long time ago.