The Sword

A village once house a thriving community.

A blacksmith and a knight,

Together, their bond secured prosperity for generations.

The blacksmith, forges the weapons,

The knight, protects the village.

An unbreakable symbiosis.

One day, the blacksmith forged a sword.

A sword so alluring, yet unthinkable,

A sword so powerful, yet f0rbidden.

The blacksmith wishes to immortalize it,

But the knight wants to slay evil with it.

ThUs the knight banishes the bl^cksmith and cl4iMs the sword.

With the sword in his grasp,

And noth1nG against his wish3s,

The kniGht s3ts oUT with the swxrd to sl4y evil.

SGltc2VsZi4=

"Do you happen to be a late riser, X4df8?"

Groggily I walk over to the laptop to meet the innocent gaze of the culprit who blasted the alarm at full volume fifteen minutes before seven in the morning.

"It's the weekends, Monika! Have mercy and let me sleep!"

Weekends are usually one of those days where you would spend your time to lounge around and unwind from the harsh mistress of life. Be it with family, friends, lovers, or even solitary, there's always an activity—or lack thereof—that helps the common man to relax and generally tune-out from the stresses of life. Some would opt to play some sports, run around for a little exercise, a peaceful stroll or a date at Ueno Park, or a more high-octane rush around Akiba and the associated frustration, knowing that you willingly allow arcade chains to legally pinch your pockets dry after the fiftieth time you attempt to win that prize from the UFO catcher—alternatively, you can achieve similar results playing in one of their machines, assuming the line isn't too severe.

Personally, I used to enjoy the 'high-octane rush around Akiba'-alternative with a side of early morning hibernation—the latter in particular. Weekends are special that way in that there is usually nothing of importance that holds you from sleeping in. But naturally, there's always someone who would oppose that life style that I've known as customary—if my mother was the one who do so back when I was in high school, then Monika would be the one taking the reins in my adult life. I can somehow see them getting along just fine and engage in some jolly cooperation if they ever encounter one another—whether that is a good thing or a recipe for disaster, I'm not too eager to find out.

"You'll be missing half of your day if you sleep in, 43Dx5==!"

"I'm missing half of my sleep, as far as I'm concerned," I rub the corners of my temple and groan. "You sound like my mother…"

Monika gently lowers her coffee down. "Maybe your mother is right."

"If it's about choosing your girlfriend wisely, then I'll toast to that."

Monika crosses her arms, her emeralds partially obscured by her irritated brows. "Is that a compliment, or an insult?"

"I'll let you decide."

I muster a cheeky grin after leaving with what I'd call a 'Schrödinger's jab' at the now-irked high school student on the other side of the screen. I may loathe on the idea of waking up at dawn, but I never reject on the premise of badgering Monika as compensation—call it 'equivalent exchange', if you will. Though to be completely candid, she does have a point; might as well prepare breakfast and coffee to start the day.

We are expecting that Yankee, after all.

With a simple 'good morning' smile to douse her fire (I'm not willing to risk another 'hostage' situation—especially when she has control), I made my way to the counter and simultaneously start the coffee machine while preparing the rice that is to last for a whole day—about four cups. Should be enough for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I may be a shut-in or a chronic otaku in weekends, but in order to survive while maintaining my current lifestyle and juggling with economic issues, one needs the know-how of culinary basics—lest you throw money at convenience store meals and more at your hobbies. I could start musing about methods of washing rice, ways to cook it, and means of consumption, but that would be tedious and unnecessary—I know this by heart, after all.

Over my shoulder I hear an audible voice of the presenter from 'MxZAMA$HI TV', an early morning news and entertainment program coming from the direction of Monika's humble abode—I assume at this point that Monika has tapped into online television broadcasting, as usual. It's not the first time she did so; it was my suggestion in the first place to supplement her linguistic capabilities and measure how much she can 'capture' the contents in Japanese with the aid of big media, after all.

And what better ways to do so than to utilize online services provided by such companies.

"—the development of synthetic limbs would be a step-up to aid the rehab—"

Ah, so it's the same topic as last Saturday; Monika shouldn't have any issue discussing this—assuming she understands everything, of course.

I continue to wash the rice as the program and the iconic voice of Yamanaka Ayako drowns the ambiance in the room. Taking quick glances over my shoulder, Monika seems to be watching intently at the continuation of last week's news and is doing her best to absorb what information there is available and as much as her proficiency in the language serves her. I switch the rice cooker on and set the timer to cook before making my way to serve me a cup of the early morning uppercut.

"Humanity sure has made significant progress," Monika comments with intrigue. "Soon, losing limbs due to accidents, war, and conflict is but an issue of the past."

"Does that disturb you?" I chime in, making my way back to the desk with a cup of the black elixir in hand.

She shakes her head. "Not really, but…remember when I said that people are kind of like computers?"

I nod, taking a sip of my coffee while keeping mental notes on her proficiency to both the language and the topic.

"Think of it like this: If a computer is in need of repairs, all it requires are spare parts to return it back in order again. The motherboard, keyboard, and even the central processing unit are all replaceable."

"But…" she pauses, solemnly pondering her next word. "But if the same thing can be applied to a person, what makes humanity different from machines?"

"What makes me different from any other program or intelligence?"

Indeed, this is a question that is almost as old as humanity with many bright philosophers approaching the subject from numerous different angles. With the recent pace and development of technology, it comes to no surprise to anyone that the discussion pertaining the aspects of humanity—whether it is even feasible to replace lost limbs or even augment it—has come into discussion for the past two years. Augmented reality, synthetic limbs, AIs that develop its own language—all of these were created in order to assist humanity in some form of another, yet we did not stop to question how far we are willing to throw our identity to achieve it. Monika outlines a critical point in the topic, in particular how we as a society are inching closer into becoming machine itself—as if that isn't disturbing enough, our work habit and patterns are already reflective as such. Oh boy, Yxk0 T^ro will have a field day about this.

But, there's still one question that may ease Monika's concern.

"Your heart," I reply in earnest, which is met with a look of both surprise and intrigue from her. "Not in the 'physical heart' I mean, but in the 'heart-heart'-side of things."

I clear my throat, "What I mean is the sense, the consciousness one pertains of its surroundings. Your desire to feel, the need to see, to touch, to feed, the reason to think, to love…all of those combined is what makes you different, Monika."

"That's sweet of you to say that," she smiles softly. "But what makes it different from me being programmed to believe as such?"

~PI—PI—

Oh good, the rice is done.

"For starters," I start calmly. "Do you ever feel hungry? Or thirsty?"

She nods silently in affirmation.

"Then if you're a 'program', can you remove that code from your programming? The desire to eat, drink, or sleep?"

Monika hesitates briefly, but an affirming nod tells me that it is something worth a try. It is a question that has been loitering around between us; is she really alive when her entire existence is still tied to strings of codes that can easily be modified? Or even deleted? What makes a program or AI just a tool is the ease it can be accessed to or altered; things like the desires to sleep, eat, or drink—basic human functions—are considered a liability in the long run. That is what she—no, what we conclude as much as it pains me to admit. The possibility of her being just a program or an AI that resulted from Yuuya and my tampering is still very real to both of us.

And that is why she is determined to prove it wrong—and so do I.

With an inherent resolve, she shuts her eyes to work her usual 'magic' and leaves me to explore the result of my concoction, sitting right at the counter. Opening the lid, the puff of steam that escapes from the cooker fogs my frame—the smell of success overwhelms my senses. Delicious. Now all that's left is to get an egg, a packet of natto from the fridge, and breakfast is served.

I glance at Monika and immediately, panic sets in.

A glitch 'cracks', distorting the screen in an array of red, green, and blue hue accompanied with a screeching noise like nails on chalkboard. I rush to her frantically, moving as fast as I can to do…something, anything! Should I turn off the power? No, that's unwise. Unwise! How about ctrl, alt—no, no damn it she's still in there! Think of something, anything!

"Monika!" I call her name in distraught, the last and only other solution that came to me. "Come on, say something! Monika!"

Not like this…Not like this…

The screen flickers and the shrieking howl stops as abruptly as it started. My chest thumps erratically, my head throbs, and my mind shaken by the sudden error akin to the scares that haunted DDLC. Before me, Monika remains in her desk with her eyes wide in horror, palpitation in her breathing and gasping for air—a scene of utmost terror and fear. I reach out to touch her but realize the barrier that separates us, prompting me instead to call out to her and pray that she's alright…

"Monika!"

"I-I'm fine…" she quickly replies as she clutches her arms in an embrace. "I'll…I'll be fine."

"Monika…your cup…"

The pristine coffee cup on her desk was shattered, cracked in two and its contents spilled. Either it was the stress, the glitches, or something beyond her control, whatever happened affected her strongly to influence the object close to her—the cup. Hastily, she deletes the cup and the spill, quickly reconstructing a new one to replace the old before taking a sip; her delicate hands quivers when she raises to consume before caffeine kicks in and the crisis subsides. I pull the chair and calmly take my seat, relieved at her safety.

"What happened?"

Monika bites her lower lip and starts, "You asked that if I am a just a 'program', I could easily remove the desire to eat, drink, or sleep—I tried it."

"I tried…" her voice trails and her emeralds falls into a solemn reflection. "But…I can't."

"I can see it—the lines of codes, the prompts that dictates it all—everything. But the moment I tried to simply reach for it, it all feels like—it feels…"

She pauses. I listen with bated breath. "It feels like I'll stop existing and disappear—it's like dying."

"Just…disturbing the codes alone," she continues. "It feels like I'm cutting myself; like slicing my chest open with a sharp knife. It's horrible…"

Monika reaches for her coffee as I watches on silently. In a single chug, she finishes the beverage to set her cup and saucer down and quickly refills it with another serving. It must have been a terrible experience—a world that she only knows. My instincts as a man kicks in naturally to find a solution to comfort her, to ease her stress and the shock with a hug or sweet whispers of affection. I'm not well-versed in the latter as much as Kitamura-senpai is, nor is it even possible to hug her with the walls that divides our reality.

But I have my ways; sometimes I even surprise myself.

"So long as you don't find that entire experience 'exhilarating' and turn it into something sexual, I guess you're fine."

'Yuri jokes' might not be the most appropriate at this time, but at least I have to lower the tension.

"4xc2d…did you really have to say that now?"

"Sorry, it's the first thing that comes to my mind!"

"I would have slap you," she quickly retorts. "But I know you did it out of good will—as distasteful as it is."

"Thank you for loving me like so, 8cHD32k."

The entire experience did settled both of our curiosity on the question, however. Is Monika really just a program? A bot? Or even strings of codes or anomaly that made up some form of artificial intelligence? It may be difficult to answer concisely, but it did brought up another question: does a program, bot, or an AI heavily rely on the need to sustain itself either by consumption or rest? Monika's little experiment nearly costed her own life; just by reaching for it alone and tampering with it gave her a 'dying sensation'—a sensation that I may never come to understand; I just hope it doesn't leave her scarred with PTSD. Without a shadow of a doubt, she is dependent on the basic needs of survival that applies to everyone from my reality—and that makes her stand above any contemporary programming or AI.

Like a ghost within a shell; a shell that is my laptop.

"Well, now that it's over," I start to break the silence. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh! I forgot about breakfast—yes, yes I am."

A wicked grin creeps on me. "I have a new menu for you; have you had traditional Japanese breakfast? Something like, say…"

"Natto?"

"I trusted you, Hx84D=…"

"Come on, it's not that bad…!" I reply before downing another chopstick full of rice with a mixture of raw eggs, soy sauce, and the 'special'. "I mean, it is vegetarian."

"Yes, but now my face feels sticky and slimy!"

Sticky and slimy? Oh my~. Please, do tell me Monika.

"That's natto for you!"

"I am NOT touching that ever again!"

"Oh trust me," I reply with a mischievous chuckle. "You will."

I'll say it upfront; I like natto, but now I have new reasons on why I love it.

"Seriously though, what do you think of Japanese-style breakfast?"

Hastily she downs another glass of water, using its excess to wipe off her cheeks and dainty lips with a (hastily 'summoned') napkin as she struggles to remove the gooey and sticky sensation. Keep going, young lady; it's almost clean.

"I like the tofu and the miso soup—the pickled side dish and the mixture of raw egg and soy sauce is surprisingly good too."

"And the natto?"

She sighs with fret, "Please don't remind me of that..."

We finish breakfast at around eight-thirty, about the same time the early morning program ends. It has been a pleasure for me to watch her sample the more traditional taste of the things I grew up with and enjoy four out of five flavors out of it—the amusement I get in return from one of the five items is a good bonus. With time still left to spare, I let the sink run and bathe the utensils in a mixture of soap and water all the while stealing glances at Monika—she seems to notice as well judging by her smile and a playful wink. I should be able to finish this in five minutes or so; a time away from Monika is a time wasted. I could use some of Monika's ability right now, though; would be practical to just delete everything in a snap.

Speaking of which, I did promised her something two days ago didn't I?

Setting up the utensils to dry, I hastily prepare another cup of coffee and made my way to her. I know just the thing to do before Yuuya's here.

"That Yankee isn't here yet, so," I said to her, picking up a copy of RE: Zxro. "You want to read together to kill time?"

Monika beams in excitement. "You remembered!"

"Of course I do," I snicker. "Now, how far are you in the story?"

It has indeed been a while since I read together with someone—at least as far as I can recall. The only other person I've read together with was my parents; that was, wow, fifteen or so years ago? I wasn't even much of a reader back in middle school—even less so in high school; didn't pick up any other books aside from what was necessary until I hit university when the world started to open for me. Coincidentally, my involvement in Monika's little nightmare actually brought forth the unintended effect of doubling the amount of things I read just so one day I could discuss it with her.

I never thought the day would arrive so soon.

Although it comes as much of a surprise to me, Monika's interest in light novels may have stemmed from my own lack of reach towards other contemporary fiction. Sure I've read some of the collections of Murakami Haruki, Natsume Souseki, Oogai Mori, and even Sumino Yoru's works, but those are just the tip of the iceberg of my library which are predominantly dominated with light novels and manga; with my taste in music put in consideration, it probably resembles closely to something out of Natsuki's collection. Monika must have been trying hard to match my taste…

I need to do redouble my efforts and do the same. Else, what kind of boyfriend am I?

PIN-PON

"Must be Yuuya; I'll go get the door."

So how can I be that person? Would it be possible to take her outside, show her what this world has to offer? Impossible; with her still stuck in her realm, my reach can only grace on the boundaries of our world, the upper layer of a frozen lake—that being video games and any other forms of interactive media. How about asking her on the things she likes? What she would have preferred to read or have? Knowing what she likes is one thing and I can easily cover that with my knack in Paint Studio if it concerns wearable apparel—lingerie included (though I'm not surprised why she's not asking me for those). However implementing the more complicated features to the likes of a functioning grand piano, a new table set, bookshelf, and any other endeavors requires a skill and knowledge in programming and coding far higher than what I am a familiar; that is where this Yankee comes in play.

I still need to figure out how I can be someone deserving of her.

"Hey, Kame-yan! How's it hanging?"

Really, Yuuya? Not that I don't find it funny…

"Is that a Sayori joke?"

Yuuya grins with glee, revealing his rows of—shockingly—well-cared teeth. "Take it what you wish, buddy!"

"Anyway," he continues. "You received my email, right?"

"You mean that self-invitation?"

"Atta' boy!"

I do wonder why I'm friends with him in the first place sometimes. "Then I sure did. What brings you in today?"

The Yankee smirks, "Happy thoughts!"

With the grace of a bull in a china shop, Yuuya imparts with his cigarette and kills it by the door before inviting himself into the apartment—along with a fuckton of paraphernalia packed in his rucksack and his suitcase. From where I'm standing, a whiff of what I deduce to be a mix of tobacco and cologne flicks one of my senses repulsively—yet strangely, nostalgic. What is Yuuya without the smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes? I'm just glad Monika doesn't have the ability to smell what's coming from this end of the screen or she may have commented on Yuuya's hygiene—possibly even questioning me why I didn't advise him about it. Believe me, I did; Yuuya just shove a finger in return.

"What are those?"

"Magical circles and things that will make an explosive loli wet."

I can feel my soul leaving me as I lay one of the longest stare at this comedian. "No, really…why do you need so much?"

"It's to enhance your waifu, of course!" He replies. "I have everything here—three-sixty camera, shoulder cam—things you may want to have juuust in case you want to take her outside!"

Take her outside!? Is that even possible…?

"And how do you suppose you do that? Wait, hold on—who's paying for all this?"

"You, of course."

I don't like the sound of that already. With my economic situation already in jeopardy, affording whatever it is he's offering may further blunt my already sorry-excuse of a diet. And now he's offering all these for Monika's sake like a door-to-door salesman. "And how am I supposed to pay for all that?"

"Tell you what," he said. "If you agree to this, we'll cut it from your revenue in this winter's comiket—and the summer one as well; take this as an 'advanced pay', my friend. So, you're in?"

Well, I guess I can do that. Not like money grows on bonsai trees, but if it's for Monika then I'll slay a god if I have to. "I'm in."

"Lovely!" Yuuya quickly takes my hand and eagerly seals the contract. Behind those pair of sunglasses that obscures his eyes, a glint of excitement beams through. This is Yuuya, after all; so long as he doesn't install something strange, I'm all for it.

"One more thing," he adds. "Are you familiar with 'G#tebox V2'?"

…

In early 2016, an announcement of massive undertaking—a concept—shook the otaku culture and the world that surrounds it with the introduction of 'G#tebox', the first attempt to breach the borders of reality and fiction. The idea is simple: 'live with your favorite character'. The 'box', measuring about fifty-one centimeter in height and twenty-one in width, is a holographic projector that houses the character and allows it to interact directly with the user and its environment through the use of in-built cameras, microphone, and network access which allows the AI within to simulate a 'real' experience. From switching lights, maintaining schedule, to sending messages to your phone, it was far more advanced than what other competitors provided and promised to be the holy grail of the otaku culture. In late 2018, delivered it they did.

I was never part of the hype train, however; my meeting with Monika left me disinterested with the project as a whole (despite how similar the character is to her)—that, and I was more concerned with job hunting at the time.

'G^tebox V2' is the successor that was recently released in late 2020 and has proven to be a massive success both financially and utility-wise, despite its cost. The improvement on its robotic AI alone and the ability to detect scent and generate a proper response was indeed a welcomed addition by the community—the feature to 'transfer' your character from V1 to V2 as well is a much welcomed feature. At the end of the day, no matter how smart or intelligent the AI is, it still is 'just an AI'—it doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink, as it does so with command as part of a generated response. That is both its limitation and its strength; that is why Monika is still a cut above the rest.

"Yeah, I am."

"Good!"

As quickly as Yuuya reached for the handshake, he quickly disperses into the living room and made a home to himself by dumping the suitcase to the side and his bag just beside Monika's laptop. Doing so, he greets her nonchalantly and is returned with her cute giggle as I busy myself in preparing tea for the guest. Yuuya's laidback character and Monika's general interest and amusement towards him sometimes cause my blood to boil with jealousy, with how smooth their interactions go. Or I may just be overly cautious.

The clock points at eleven when Yuuya finishes unpacking all the tools he needs for this occasion—the rotatable camera, about three-four USB of unknown content, the most recent laptop available in the market, and the 'box' itself. I offer him the tea, then with a crack of his hand and neck, Yuuya glances at both Monika and I before grinning with excitement.

"Let's get started."

To this day, I still can't understand Yuuya's true reach and extent in the world of IT—let alone if he's employed or not. His laptop, almost twice the size of Monika's, is deployed beside hers with a connecting cable that links both machine and allows him to modify and update what he has planned without needing to interact with Monika's personal data directly. I can only watch in awe as his hand dances over the keyboards as tabs after tabs, with lines that I can barely comprehend, flashes and closes at a pace akin to that of a rhythm game—whatever it is he's inputting or changing, it even left Monika baffled at how proficient he is with his field. After a few minutes or so, a 'choice' tab opens before us with two options: 'Yes or No'.

"First up," Yuuya starts. "Monika has been using wallpaper engine for a while now, correct?"

Monika and I nods in unison; a chuckle escapes Yuuya's cheeky grin.

"Time to retire that thing; now, I've acquired license for LIVE2D EUCLID and—"

"Wait," I interrupt. "And who's paying for this?"

"You, of course."

Perfect…why am I not surprised?

"Now, as I was saying," he continues. "I acquired the license for LIVE2D EUCLID and took some…'liberty' to reassemble the entire code."

He turns to Monika. A smile of confidence graces his features. "Monika darling, would you like a step to a 'greater' new dimension?"

Monika timidly nods, a surprising response from the usually vocal club leader. Oh, how I wish to kick him out of the house right about now. 'I detest NTR', he said. 'Flirting with someone else's girlfriend is wrong', he said. Just keep your cool, it's Yuuya after all; he does that to every one of the opposite sex. God forbid, I do not appreciate the look he garnered from Monika; that flustered reflection is reserved for me and me alone!

"Atta' girl!"

With a press of a button, whatever data or code Yuuya installed smoothly transitions to Monika and immediately her eyes perks up in excitement; like a child receiving otoshidama during New Year. It isn't obvious to me at first what he implements as the little messages and hints Yuuya left in the code are only readable to her alone—much to my chagrin. But then, everything starts to take shape as the pieces all falls into place.

What seemed to be 'normal' to the naked eye, is all disproven the moment she twirls and spins in her black summer dress. The smoothness of each movement, the transition when she turns, the flow of her long, auburn hair, the gloss of her hypnotizing green eyes, and the wave her dress creates that corresponds to her waltz—all the while retaining a consistent blend of colors, shadows, and shading reminiscent to some of the best virtual reality tech demo made available in recent years or her portrayal in some of the games she has visited. Her room, just like her, receives a similar make-over along with all its items and the things she collected.

"Say goodbye to Ren'Py and wallpaper engine," Yuuya states proudly. "Welcome to the 3D realm!"

Monika smiles splendidly—a smile that radiates far brighter than any I've seen before. Even when bounded by the limitations of the wallpaper and Ren'Py engine, she was very much real to me; this is taking it up to another scale, one that caught me off guard and flushes my cheeks with warmth and fill my insides with butterflies. Aaah…is this how Monika felt when she saw me for the first time? To notice all the little details and contours of a person, the creases at the edge of her smile and the glossiness of her inviting lips…it's more than what I could ever hope for. Even her chest are—

…

Oh, god…I'm getting nervous around her; this is a bit much to take! Watch your thoughts, Oogame! Dontthinkoflewddontthinkoflewddontthinkoflewd…

"How do you feel?" Yuuya asks Monika.

"I feel…lighter! It's much easier to move around…!"

"That's because now you have proper rigging!" he chuckles with satisfaction as he removes one of the mysterious USB from its port. "Skeleton, muscles, fibers, and all!"

"What do you think, Kame-yan?"

"I-I uh…wha…?"

Words are tangled, the moon rabbit ran away to Eientei, and Amaterasu became a little puppy—I'm just flushing whatever incoherent thoughts are running in my head! Nothing to worry, I'm not thinking of anything indecent of Monika! Nope, hahaha! You tried to catch me off-guard did you, you sneaky Yankee! Too bad, but I think you've failed! Wahahaha

…

…Yuuya, stop looking at me like that.

"Kame-yan~," he nudges. "What do you think~? I think she would like to know~!"

I roll my eyeballs to glimpse at Monika who looks on expectantly with a smile. She looks extraordinary. If her eyes wasn't hypnotizing then, it surely multiplies by a hundred now as I can catch the glimmer and the gloss of her piercing green emeralds. Just gazing at it for another zero-point-three second longer and I may have reach nirvana earlier than anticipated.

"C-cute. Very cute."

"Hmm…?"

"I-I say she's cute…ok?" I reply with but a whisper.

"I don't think she can hear you~."

DAMN YOU, YUUYA—!

Burying my face in the cup of tea, I muster my courage to speak—with vigor. "Cute…very cute."

I'm sorry, my heart is too unstable right now!

"He said you're veeery cute, Monika! Your big turtle's too shy to say it out loud, alright!"

GODDAMN YOU, YOU INSENSITIVE YANKEE—!

As I open my mouth to speak, my words and thoughts are frozen by the giggle of the young girl—now more alive than ever. I'm guessing she's having her own fun (out of my expense), but seeing her smile and laugh like this, it's—how should I describe it? 'Like finding a reason to fall in love for the first time', again; I have little else to say except echoing the cue every time I start DDLC.

"We're not done yet," Yuuya continues with an amused grin. "There is more to come."

We let Yuuya loose to run his proficiency in the code as he conjure another spell that is to be casted at Monika—and me, if I'm catching his hints correctly. Apparently, he has been experimenting extensively with Monika's 'colors-poem'—the BSOD-poem—and the remnants of its code out of curiosity just to see what else he can conjure out of it. If I even understand half of his explanation (which I didn't), I might follow what he's implying all along. But I didn't—that is, until he gave me a shoulder camera.

"This next upgrade will be for both of you," he starts in his best mimicry of a presenter. "First, the rotatable camera for you, my darling."

There he goes again, flirting with her.

Yuuya attaches a small wireless plug to one of the available ports in Monika's laptop and, suddenly, she squeals with a mix of excitement and surprise. The three-sixty webcam positioned just to the side of the laptop, moves and corresponds exactly to where she wishes to see. The hall that leads to the door, the balcony, the bookshelf, and even the walls behind the desk that is caked with maps from 'Ph%ntasy St#r Onl1ne 2' is now visible for her to peruse; even the laundry I desperately try to obscure from her.

"I get the hint that you're quite into anime and manga, but I didn't think you'll be as immersed as Natsuki," she comments with excitement and glee of her discovery. "And you really need to tidy your room!"

"I'll do that later."

"Promise me, or I'm taking one of your files 'hostage' again!"

But it doesn't end there! Yuuya, the magnificent bastard, still has one more thing up his sleeve.

"Now, click on the 'travel'-program, my dear; Kame-yan, put that shoulder camera on—don't forget the ear and mouthpiece."

The shoulder camera Yuuya gave me, though small, is connected to portable wifi that is designed to draw the same meter from my phone plan and doubles as its power bank—whether this modification is legal or not, I don't bother to ask (too much of a hassle and I rather not be in the know—else my sense of order kicks in). The device also has a wireless mouth and earpiece attached to it. Though relatively small, light, and useless as contemporary device of live recording utilized by big media, the purpose of this is one thing and one thing only: to maintain a direct 'link' to Monika's laptop.

In other words, the means to allow her to see the world outside. A proper date.

"Um, can you hear me?"

The voice that comes from the earpiece—her voice—rings loud and clear as the camera rotates at her bidding.

"Clearly, Monika," I reply with a chuckle. "Clearly."

"If I may interrupt you two lovebirds," Yuuya cuts. "Although this means that Monika can enjoy the world outside, she still basically remain at the comfort of her own room—you're a walking camera, Kame-yan."

He pulls another one of his mysterious USB off of its port before continuing. "On the other hand, this just means that Kame-yan is in full control of where to go—I'll let both of you sort that problem!"

"But before both of you do so, hold on to your butts," he continues. "We still have a few more hurdle to climb."

It is at around this point of time that I notice what the two remaining USBs and its purpose are for. Every time Yuuya finishes implementing something, he detaches one of the four that is plugged into his laptop. With the last two remaining, all Monika and I can do is wonder what other surprises Yuuya came up with—not to mention, the 'box' that is now visibly connected to wall socket. Despite being visibly 'on', no sign of the character is at use—I'm starting to get the hint of what he's trying to do next.

"This next one will be a two-step process," Yuuya hastily explains before biting on a toothpick to gnaw on. "I'll start with the 'easier' one."

Again, we watch with great interest as Yuuya's finger mashes what available button and transforms them into lines of commands, prompts, and god-knows what else. One second a tab flashes open and it closes the next before another flashes up and new lines are added into it—he works nothing short like a machine in its own regards. After a few more button presses and enters, the final tab opens and the 'box' lights up—yet aside from the lights, nothing seems out of the ordinary—there's no AI nor sound.

"I took some liberty in tinkering with the 'box'," he explains. "Monika my dear, would you kindly—"

"Flip that light over there?"

With a puzzled look from both Monika and I, Yuuya points towards the direction of the toilet situated in the hallway, just across the shower and laundry room. It is an odd request—an inquiry that is as confusing as his sense of fashion, and yet there is something that always keeps you coming back for more. Monika looks at me with her inquisitive pair of emeralds, vying for clarification or answers to which I can only nod before she does the same to Yuuya. The Yankee's grin that is brimming with confidence, along with a simple 'go on' as push prompts her to concentrate.

…

And switches it on, she did.

DOKAN

…before blowing the bulb out in a ceremonious 'bang'.

"Woops, guess that's a bug in the code," Yuuya states before flashing a tab. "I'll get this fixed right up; that's a bit too much. Next, you can try with the living room lights!"

He surely spares no expense, does he—my expense that is.

"There's just one more thing to do," Yuuya sighs and—for the first time today—raises his sunglasses to reveal his eyes. Only one USB remains in the port. "This one's a bit special—but it's worth the shot!"

"You see," he continues. "So far I've eased Monika into the 3D realm and, judging by how things progress and how smooth things are going, I can safely push for the next step."

"What I'm planning to do now is to bump her into the 4D realm using this,"

He taps on the machine to his left. "The 'box'."

The 'box', as what we've come to call at the spur of the moment, is the product that stemmed from 'G#tebox V2' that has been heavily modified by Yuuya—mainly, its enhancement on memory capacity, computational speed, and logic processing. From what Monika and I could gather, the first three 'upgrades' Yuuya gave to her is meant as a fallback point and to ease her transition into the 4D-realm or—in this case—contained holographic projection. Though the day she can be a part of this reality is still years—if not decades—away, these little upgrades and innovations Yuuya conjured are small steps towards realizing her dream.

Judging from how Monika's eyes lit up, I'm guessing she is just as excited as I am towards this premise.

"This process may take a while," Yuuya starts. "Are you ready?"

I gaze at the young woman at the other side who now barely is able to contain her excitement; she gazes back, her emerald eyes filled with hope and expectations. To finally be able to have taste of just a bit of my reality; it really is too good to be true. The confirmation tab flashes, leaving us with two choices: 'yes or no'. Monika nods to tell me of her wishes, prompting me to tap Yuuya's shoulder and give him the 'go ahead'.

"Hold on to your butts!"

The option is selected and in exchange, a progress bar and a countdown appears and we wait with anticipation; the 'box' boots up and its lights blinks.

Then, silence…

…

*COUGH*

*COUGH-COUGH*

*COUGH-HHAGHK—!*

And reality crumbles into a grinding halt.

All my senses are ground to the brink of termination and my heart to palpitate in sheer dread and terror. Time slows to a crawl. The hum of the laptop convulses into screeches, the tipper-tapper of water droplets that leaks from the sink splashes into millions, the echo of my heartbeat grows louder but meaningless, the deafening silence that engulfs my existence—an endless cacophony of noises, all demanding yet none coherent. The colors, grey and depressive. Yuuya's concentration, glued to the screen as the numbers—the bar, the progress—plods towards the end. Why…

"Just hang on," he speaks. His voice echoes in my head; my ears, they ring. "Tough it up, Monika…"

Monika…?

…

…Moni—

…!

Monika's struggling, her hand claws at her throat, eyes shot open, and mouth agape for air. She reaches forward—for me, stumbling, writhing, squirming, and calling in muted suffocation and agony. Her hand collides with the wall that divides our reality, desperately banging to reach for my absent consciousness; to end it all, one way or another, begging for me to release her from the torment. I…I thought we're trying to—no, wait this isn't right…why is she—i-it isn't supposed to—what is going on I…!

I need to move. I need to move. I have to do something. I have to—

'It feels like I'm cutting myself; like slicing my chest open with a sharp knife. It's…'

'—it's like dying.'

No…no…NONONO THIS ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN LIKE THIS! I NEED TO—

Then, she becomes fractures of many colors; a scene that brought me back to four years ago, memories of my first play through, one that I know all too well—a time I wish to forget.

"Shut it down," I call out. "Shut everything down, Yuuya!"

He looks at me quizzically, "We're halfway there, it won't—"

"SHUT IT DOWN, NOW!"

"Relax Kame-yan, she may look like she's in pain but we're just converting some code and data to—"

—YUUYA…!

I feel the weight in my right arm as it swings down like a pendulum, impacting on the surface of flesh and bone that sends Yuuya tumbling back across the room. The bone and the muscles on my hand screams in pain, unaccustomed to the exerted force—but I don't mind; the pain will subside. I have other things to worry in this small window of opportunity. Before everything goes wrong, before the point of no return…

Before she dies.

Reeling back to reality, I reach for the mouse and quickly guide the cursor to the 'x' and undo the entire procedure, returning everything back before this 4D madness started. Quickly I turn to Monika as the echo of footsteps grows ever closer, furious and violent. Within her room, Monika lies weakly on the wooden floor, her eyes are barely open—the once beautiful emerald color is slightly faded from the tears, and her lips—slightly ajar—oozes with her saliva that drips into a small puddle.

But she's breathing. She's alive.

Relief quickly overtakes me. I turn and is quickly greeted by a soaring pain that disperses across my cheek and sends my glasses flying, stumbling me off from my chair and onto the cold, hard, floor.

"WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU MANIAC!?" he cries as he frantically checks his laptop. "I'M TRYING TO HELP BOTH OF YOU AND THIS IS WHAT I GET?"

"Help us?" I retort while struggling to stand. I find my balance from the counter and pick myself to face him. "You tried to KILL her!"

"I'm only CONVERTING the files and data for—"

I reach for his collar and violently pulls him for a head-butt, knocking him off of his balance. I'm not taking any of this anymore…

"Fuck your 'box'!" I spat, consumed by rage over Monika's very own safety. "She is NOT some 'files' or 'data' for your amusement! She—"

I pause, observing—anticipating—Yuuya's next move as he pick himself up. "Monika…"

"Monika is ALIVE!"

We stand face to face in silence, bruised and fists throbbing in pain. Both of us recognize the position we stand for and the implication it has brought upon us; the rift that emerge between us. No words are exchanged in the passing minute—doing so would do no good but brought upon us more grief, anger, and conflict. Cautiously, we straighten ourselves in silence and let the tension settles before any further action is made.

"Yuuya," I start. "Thank you for your help today, but I believe…"

I swallow a mix of blood and saliva down my throat. I guess this really is it. "…I believe it's time for you to go."

Yuuya grimaces and clicks his tongue, "So this really is it, huh?"

I nod in silence.

He leaves a beaten sigh and glances at both me and the setup behind me—to Monika. "This cannot continue,"

"You don't know what you're messing with, Oogame. You need me."

"We'll see about that."

"Fine," he spat. "I'm out—keep the 'box', I have no use for it."

With nothing left to say, Yuuya starts to pack all his belongings—his laptop, suitcase, and bag—before walking dejectedly towards the door. I keep my eyes on his movement and silently escort him to the door, ignoring the throbbing pain that still pricks at my cheek and forehead. My thoughts are torn in two; on one end, I am proud of my actions and volition concerning Monika's well-being. On the other hand, I have just ended a friendship that had lasted for more than twelve years—and it pains me to see it reach this conclusion.

To see that this may very well be the last time I'll see Chousuke Yuuya.

After Yuuya's departure, I quickly return to the living room to check on Monika and find myself relieved that she is—though unconscious—is alive and well. Before she comes to, I start to clean the mess that both Yuuya and I caused before tending to my wounds. Tomorrow, I may have to apologize to the landlord and my neighbors for the ruckus caused, but it's little compared to what had happened here. There is no turning back now; I will have to take Yuuya's reins if there's any new additions that comes to mind. But for now, I'm just glad that Monika—though she may never become a holographic projection—has reached the 3D realm and is that much closer to my reality.

"Hhhm…"

A faint moan beckons me to investigate the source of the voice—to Monika. To my relief, I find Monika sitting on her desk massaging her temples to which she greets me in return with a smile—frail, but nonetheless it's enough to assure me. My cheeks starts to burn up once more upon noticing the differences and details that has graced the young woman, but decide to keep my composure. I take my usual seat to face her.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, slightly concerned.

"My head throbs," she replies timidly. "My entire body and my insides is aching all over."

"Take it easy, you just went through quite a horrible…experience."

I couldn't dare myself to ask her how it all went for her. One of the perks of being on this side of our reality is how we are more or less spared from the horrific experience that she had endured—and I believe it is something that we may never know nor understood. My chest starts to ache as I remember the scene that is now engraved in my memory; the pain, the agony, the torment…its unbearable even just by looking at it. I pray that she may never have to deal with that horror in the future—and I will see to it that she doesn't.

"You're…bruised, 7HdTs," she points, cutting my train of thoughts. "What happ—oh my god, did you and Chousuke—where is he?"

"He…" I pause to find the right word. "He went home."

"Oh…I see…"

Monika doesn't seem to buy that reasoning and possibly suspect of what actually happened, judging by her concerned expression that seems to adamantly pry for more information from me. I start to move my hand and use the cursor to open Kitamura-senpai's email the day before as means of distraction and to bury myself in work—it is after all, one of the most effective methods of consigning the image to oblivion. Sure enough, what Kitamura-senpai sent me was his share of load that he wished to discard; well, perfect I guess…just what I need to keep me busy.

"Say, H4D1d==?" she starts abruptly. "If…there is something I can be of help, or if there is anything you want to talk about,"

"Please share it with me, ok? I don't want you to hurt yourself by bottling pent up stress and frustration."

…

Sometimes I convince myself that it is best if I am to take the hit rather than having someone else suffer in my place. Sometimes I believe that Monika may know more than what I am led to believe—maybe even notice the frustration and pain that seeps through the cracks of my mask that I wear as a façade, obscuring the little demon inside that wishes to tear me apart from limb to limb. Or maybe—just maybe—I may be overthinking things again.

I glance at Monika briefly and smile. She really is captivatingly beautiful—even more so now.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

…

I am perfectly alright.