Chapter 10: The Anchor in the Static

I cannot sleep. Every time I close my eyes, the dream comes, more vivid and detailed than ever before. The sprawling green hill, the ancient tree, and the two little girls. I can see them clearly now. One with hair like spun moonlight, her violet eyes sparkling with a quiet, gentle wisdom. Minaki. The other, a bundle of kinetic energy, her warm brown hair tied in messy pigtails that bounce as she runs, her eyes a bright, mischievous hazel. She is always laughing, always pulling the other two into some new adventure.

I can feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, the scratchy grass under my small hands, the solid, reassuring presence of my two friends. It is not just a dream anymore. It is a memory, fighting its way to the surface through ten years of fog. I can almost hear their names, whispered on the edge of my consciousness, just beyond my grasp.

The next day, I try to go back to my life. I go to the university, sit in a lecture on soil mechanics, and stare blankly at the professor. The complex formulas and diagrams that fill the whiteboard seem like childish scribbles compared to the intricate, painful equation of my own past. My life has been a simple, linear problem: survive. Now, it is a multi-variable calculus equation with too many unknowns.

Who is the second girl? Is she alive? If Minaki has survived the fire, is it possible her sister has too? Why has Minaki left without a word? Is she trying to protect me from something? Or is she afraid of what I will remember?

The questions circle in my head, a relentless, exhausting carousel. I feel a desperate urge to do something, to find some answers. I think about going to Osaka, to the rural town where I had lived. Maybe seeing the place, the ruins of the shrine, will jog my memory further. But I do not even know the name of the town. My grandparents were vague, their memories clouded by the trauma of the past.

Defeated and more lost than ever, I retreat to the only place where I have any semblance of control, the only world where the rules are clear and the objectives defined: the online world of League of Hero.

I log on, the familiar music and interface a small comfort in the chaos of my mind. A message pops up almost immediately. It is from Aiko.

Aiko_Ace: Juiro! Where have you been, old man? I thought you had fallen off the face of the earth! Up for a game?

Her cheerful, energetic text is a stark contrast to my own dark mood. I hesitate for a moment. The idea of focusing on a game feels impossible. But the idea of being alone with my thoughts is even worse.

Juiro_M: Sorry. Had some stuff to deal with. Yeah, I can play.

We party up, and her voice, bright and familiar, fills my headset. "Stuff? What kind of stuff? Do not tell me you finally got a girlfriend and ditched your loyal gaming partner."

Her teasing is lighthearted, but it hits a little too close to home. "Something like that," I mumble, my voice rough.

"Whoa, for real?" she exclaims, her voice full of genuine surprise and excitement. "You have to tell me everything! Is she cute? What is she like?"

"It is... complicated," I say, the understatement of the century.

"Uh oh. 'Complicated' is never good," she says, her tone shifting to one of concern. "You okay, Juiro? You sound... off."

"I am fine," I lie. "Let us just play."

We jump into a match. I pick my usual tank character, a lumbering golem of a creature designed to absorb damage and protect his teammates. It is a role that has always suited my passive nature. But today, I cannot focus. My timing is off. I miss crucial abilities. I am constantly out of position.

Aiko, on the other hand, is on fire. She plays an agile, high-damage assassin, a character that requires lightning-fast reflexes and aggressive decision-making. She darts across the battlefield, a whirlwind of blades and energy, picking off enemy after enemy. She is playing with a fierce, joyful abandon that I cannot help but admire. It reminds me of something... of someone.

"Juiro, snap out of it!" she yells as I stand frozen, allowing an enemy to kill me without a fight. "What is going on with you today? Your head is totally in the clouds."

"Sorry," I mumble, staring at the gray respawn screen.

We lose the game, spectacularly. It is mostly my fault.

"Okay, that is it," Aiko says in the post-game lobby. "Something is seriously wrong. Spill. What is going on?"

I sigh, the weight of it all pressing down on me. I cannot tell her everything. It is too insane. A mysterious girl, a forgotten past, a fire, a ghost from a dream. She will think I am losing my mind. But I have to tell someone something. The pressure is too much.

Juiro_M: Can we... can we meet up? In person?

The request hangs in the chat box for a moment. We have been playing together for over a year, talking for hours almost every night. We are, in a strange, modern way, best friends. But we have never met. It is an unspoken rule, a boundary that has kept our friendship simple and safe.

Aiko_Ace: ...For real?

Juiro_M: Yeah. I need to talk to someone. And you are... you are the only person I have got.

The honesty of that last sentence surprises even me. But it is true. My grandparents are too fragile. Minaki is gone. Aiko is my only anchor in this storm.

There is a long pause. I think maybe I have scared her off, that I have crossed a line.

Aiko_Ace: Okay. Yeah. Let us do it. There is a family restaurant near my station. How about tomorrow? 7 pm?

She sends me the address. It is not far from my university.

Juiro_M: Okay. I will be there.

Aiko_Ace: Do not stand me up, old man. And try to get some sleep. You sound like a zombie.

We log off. I stare at the address on my screen, a mixture of terror and relief washing over me. I am going to meet Aiko. My gaming sister, my only friend. I am going to see the face behind the cheerful voice.

A strange thought strikes me as I sit there in the dark. Aiko. Her energy, her fierce loyalty, her playful, whirlwind personality. It is so familiar. It reminds me of the second girl under the tree. The girl with the warm, brown hair and the mischievous eyes.

No. It is impossible. A crazy, desperate coincidence my mind has concocted. It has to be.

But as I try to push the thought away, it lingers, a tiny, persistent seed of doubt. Or maybe, just maybe, it is a seed of hope.