30 - Double Trouble (3)

Kaya giggles. "No, our powers don't work outside our own story."

"Oh. Are … all elves telepathic in your setting?"

She shrugs. "To some extent. But to operate on the level Saya and I do—relaying all the battle information, communicating visual information between the HNK and HQ, not to mention beaming it into the heads of the operations crew—that requires a high level of telepathic ability."

I rub my chin. "So the HNK requires two elves—or telepaths, at least—for proper operation: one in the robot, and another back at HQ. And given Saya's clothing choices, I assume she's—"

"Yes. She's the Resonance Pilot. She sits in the HNK, behind the Action Pilot—the one who actually controls the mech. And I sit in HQ, relaying all the battle information to and from Saya, as well as the mech's status and mana levels."

"That's a lot of information to keep track of."

"Yes!" she says, beaming. "It is!"

(You know what, Reader? Kaya's, uh … Kaya's kinda cute when she smiles.)

"Th-The Action Pilot," I say, trying to hide the redness creeping into my face, "… Don't tell me she's a stoic, emotionless, short-haired girl?"

Kaya tilts her head, surprised. "Yes, actually. How did you guess?"

I click my tongue. "(You know … it's absolutely insane that a work from 1995 can have this much of an ongoing influence on pretty much every single creator going forward. A-And have you been in a pachinko parlor? That franchise is still by far the most popular themed machine. I can't think of another work with this much constant, undying critical, commercial, and artistic success. It's quite baffling. An anomaly unlike any other work in any medium. It's something to be admired, and quite frankly, feared.)"

"What was that, Odd-kun? You're muttering to yourself."

"N-Nothing. It's just my severe mental illness acting up again. Don't mind me." I shake my head. "So your sister, then—why is Saya building a classroom here, of all things?"

Kaya fidgets nervously with her braid. "She's gonna kill me for telling you this, but—" She blushes. "I think Onee-chan secretly wants to experience, you know … A normal school life."

I have to actively suppress a laugh, at the mental image of Saya as a schoolgirl. "She—she what now?"

Kaya flails her arms, at a low frame rate, single sweat tear on her forehead. "It-it's not like that! It's only because Onee-chan and I never got to experience anything like that in our backstory! We were raised from an early age solely to fulfill our military roles. So … I mean, I don't know this for sure, I'm just guessing."

"Why do you do everything she tells you? Like breaking down our wall?"

Kaya shrugs. "Because she's Onee-chan."

"But what do you want?"

"I want … to be a good sister."

We don't say anything for a bit.

"So—wait," I say, "I still don't get why she needs to extend her classroom into our club room, though."

Kaya looks at me blankly, as if the answer were obvious. "That's simple. She wants to sit in the anime MC's spot. You know—back row, next to the window?"

"Uh … huh. So why does she need our club room to do that?"

"Well—our room's not big enough for a regular-sized classroom."

"… Seriously? That's the reason you guys busted down our wall?"

Kaya buries her face in her hands. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll do anything to apologize! Anything!"

"ん? … 今、何でもする—"

And then, suddenly: "KAYA!"

Both of us jump, at the voice behind us.

We turn our heads.

It's Saya, hands on her hips, frowning.

She marches up to Kaya, grabs her younger sister by the hand. "Come on," she says.

"O-Onee-chan, I was j-just—"

But Saya is already dragging Kaya away, back toward the L.I.M.B.O. building.

Kaya looks back, embarrassed.

Sorry, she mouths.

Ah—and there goes the first fictional character I've ever really sat down and talked to, in Point Parallax.

Wait.

I, uh—

My head starts hurting.

… Kaya and Saya are the first fictional characters I've ever interacted with here in Point Parallax.

… Right?

*

Another week passes.

(Or a month. I dunno. Whatever. Point Parallax time weirdness, you oughta know the deal by now.)

Jessica completely refuses to get involved in our little territorial dispute, saying things like U-fu-fu this, and Hu-fu-fu that, and Odd-kun, that's very expensive, please put it down, or Ara, Odd-kun, your bones are particularly brittle today, u-fu-fu.

The IWC can't even focus on our extremely important club activities of doing absolutely nothing, thanks to Saya's constant harassment.

"Elves," says Sunny, frowning for once. "What'd I tell you?"

"Sunny, please … Not right now."

Eventually, the IWC decides we've all had enough of Saya's bullying.

There's only one real, logical, reasonable way to resolve all this.

Yes, you read my mind, Reader.

I'm talking about …

… Trial by combat.

Saya accepts the victory conditions—that the victor be granted the entirety of the combined area. (Even though we were here first …)

Anyway, the champion we've all decided to elect is, naturally—

"Well, it's gotta be Odd-kun," says Alex.

"Yes, I agree," says Valerie. "Odd-kun is the only viable option. Or, at least, the funniest one."

"Moeka votes for Odd-oji-san!" (Oh, so now I'm -oji-san all of a sudden, huh? …)

"It only makes sense for our Supreme Leader by Divine Right to defend the club room," says Sunny. (Oh, so now he uses my proper title all of a sudden, huh? …)

I run my hands through what's left of my hair. "Guys … Is this really a good idea? I'm pretty sure Valerie has more upper body strength than I do."

"It's true," says Alex, nodding. "… You can't drink, you can't fight—there's no discernible talent here."

"(What does drinking have to do with anything?) … A-and, anyway, this is so stupid. I mean, fighting to save the club? Violence never solved anything!"

"… You suggested the trial by combat."

"Yeah, but I didn't think I would have to do it."

"Who, then?"

I turn my head, mutter softly, "… J-Jessica, maybe? … Perchance?"

The others just look at me, disgustedly.

(A: "You can't just fucking say that word, Odd-kun …")

"A-and besides," I protest, "Clubs aren't—the club isn't even a real thing! There are NO CLUBS IN POINT PARALLAX!"

Moeka tugs at my shirt sleeve, tears in her eyes, sniffling. "… Is that true, Mr Odd-kun-senpai-oji-sir?"

I look down at the kid. "Yes, it's true, Moeka. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. The IWC has been one big lie all this time. Also, Santa Claus isn't real. Your parents were the ones who ate the milk and cookies."

"But Moeka was an orphan …"

Me, annoyed: "(Freakin' tragic backstories …)"

Valerie sighs, as she shoves a boxing helmet onto my head. "You're stalling, Odd-kun. Come on, I got money on this fight."

"On who's gonna win!?"

"No, on how many seconds before your first brain hemorrhage. And first tooth loss. And first bone fracture." She straps boxing gloves onto my fists.

I look doubtfully at my so-called protection. "These are just wadded up balls of plastic cling wrap, painted red …"

Alex laughs. "Yeah, this is gonna be great." He slaps me hard on the back, and forces me into the boxing ring, which has materialized in the club room.

Saya stands at the other corner of the ring in her pilot suit, arms crossed, no other equipment. She spits sideways, thumbs her nose.

A bell rings somewhere.

"Round one—fight!" announces Sunny, clad in a referee's uniform.

Well, here goes nothing.

Saya charges at me, winds up for an uppercut—and before I even have time to react, she nails me square in the jaw, launching me above the ring.

And as I crest the upper bound of the parabola she's sent me on, my vision going white, I can't help but think to myself—