Chapter 11: Aiko in the Real World

I am ten minutes early. I have spent an hour deciding what to wear, finally settling on a simple pair of jeans and a dark sweater, wanting to look as normal and non-threatening as possible. What if she does not like what she sees? What if the real-life Juiro is a disappointment compared to the stoic, reliable golem she knows online?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A message from Aiko.

Aiko_Ace: Running 5 mins late! The train was packed. Get a table near the window. I am wearing a green coat!

Her message, full of her usual bubbly energy, does little to calm my nerves. A green coat. At least I know what to look for. I go inside, the hostess leading me to a booth by the window as requested. I slide onto the vinyl seat and stare out at the bustling street, my palms sweating.

A few minutes later, a girl in a bright green coat hurries past the window, her head swiveling as she scans the restaurant. She has warm, brown hair, tied up in a messy but stylish bun, with a few stray strands framing her face. She is shorter than I have imagined, with a compact, energetic build. She spots me, her eyes widen in recognition, and a huge, brilliant smile spreads across her face.

She bursts through the door and practically bounces over to my table, shrugging off her coat and tossing it onto the seat beside her.

"Juiro?" she asks, her voice the same cheerful, bright tone from my headset, but richer, more real.

"Aiko?" I reply, my own voice barely a croak.

It is her. The face behind the voice. And she is... cute. In a completely different way from Minaki's ethereal beauty. Aiko is vibrant, earthy, her hazel eyes sparkling with life and a hint of mischief. She is exactly as I should have pictured her.

"Wow," she says, sliding into the booth opposite me. "You are taller than I thought. And you look so serious! You need to smile more, old man."

I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. "Sorry. I am a little nervous."

"Me too!" she admits, laughing. "This is so weird, right? Seeing your face after only knowing your voice for a year. It is like my brain is trying to reboot."

Her easygoing honesty immediately puts me at ease. The tension in my shoulders loosens a notch.

A waitress comes to take our order. We both order the hamburger steak set and a drink bar, a classic family restaurant choice. The simple, domestic act of ordering a meal together feels strangely intimate.

"So," Aiko says, leaning forward on her elbows after the waitress left. "You survived the awkward first five minutes. Now, spill. What is this 'complicated' business that has turned you into a zombie?"

I take a deep breath. Where do I even begin? I decide to start with the truth, or at least, a version of it.

"I met a girl," I say, my gaze dropping to the tabletop.

"Okay, we established that," she says, her tone playful but her eyes sharp and observant. "And...?"

"And she... she told me she knew me. From before my accident. From when I was a kid."

Aiko's playful expression vanishes, replaced by one of wide-eyed shock. "Whoa. Seriously? You mean, from before you... lost your memory?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Juiro, that is... that is huge!" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of awe and concern. "Is that a good thing? Do you remember her?"

"No. Not really," I admit. "Just... flashes. Like a dream. And then... she disappeared."

"She just left?" Aiko asks, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would she do that? After telling you something so important?"

"I do not know," I say, the frustration and pain evident in my voice. "That is the problem. I do not know anything. I feel like I am going crazy. My whole life has been turned upside down, and I have no idea what is real anymore."

I have not intended to unload so much, but sitting there, with her looking at me with such genuine, uncomplicated concern, the words just come pouring out. I tell her about my grandparents, about the story of my childhood in Osaka, about the two girls, the fire at the shrine. I leave out the part about the bridge and my own suicidal intentions, and I am vague about Minaki's more... ethereal qualities. But I tell her the core of it, the mystery that is tormenting me.

Aiko listens intently, her chin resting in her hand, her hazel eyes never leaving my face. She does not interrupt, does not judge. She just listens. When I finally finish, my voice raw with emotion, she is silent for a long moment.

"Wow," she says softly. "That is... a lot. No wonder you have been playing like you have got controller lag." She offers a small, reassuring smile. "Juiro, I... I am so sorry. That is an insane amount to deal with."

"I just do not know what to do," I confess, feeling a profound sense of relief at having finally said the words out loud. "I feel like I am chasing ghosts."

"Well," she says, her expression turning determined. "You are not chasing them alone anymore."

Our food arrives, breaking the intensity of the moment. We eat in a comfortable silence for a while, the familiar act of sharing a meal grounding me. Aiko, true to her online persona, attacks her hamburger steak with gusto.

"So this girl, the one you met," Aiko says between bites. "The one with the white hair. You think she is one of the girls from your childhood."

I nod.

"And there was another one," she continues, thinking out loud. "Her sister. The energetic one."

"Yeah," I say, watching her face carefully.

"And they supposedly died in a fire, but clearly one of them did not," she muses. "So maybe the other one did not either." She looks up at me, her eyes bright with an idea. "We have to find them! It is like a real-life RPG quest! 'The Quest for the Lost Childhood Friends'!"

Her enthusiasm is both absurd and incredibly comforting. She is not treating my problem as a tragic, insurmountable burden. She is treating it as a puzzle to be solved, a challenge to be overcome. An adventure.

"How?" I ask, a flicker of her hope igniting my own. "I have no idea where to even start looking."

"We start with what we know," she says, tapping her fork on the table for emphasis. "You lived in rural Osaka. Your dad was a potter. There were two sisters at a shrine on a hill. There was a fire ten years ago. These are all clues! We can search online, look for old news articles about the fire. Maybe we can find the name of the town."

Her mind works with the same quick, decisive energy she uses in our games. She sees a problem and immediately starts strategizing, looking for openings, for a path to victory. For the first time in weeks, I feel a sliver of control. I am not just a passive victim of my circumstances. I can be an active participant. I can fight back.

We spend the rest of the evening talking, not just about my problems, but about everything. About games, university, our dreams for the future. I learn that she is studying graphic design, that she lives with two roommates, and that her dream is to be a character designer for a video game company. I tell her about my own faded ambitions to design beautiful, enduring structures.

Meeting Aiko in the real world does not break the magic of our online friendship. It enhances it. It makes it real. She is exactly the person I thought she was: loyal, energetic, and fiercely optimistic. She is a grounding force in the swirling chaos of my life.

As we leave the restaurant and say our goodbyes at the station, I feel lighter than I have in years.

"Hey, Juiro," she says, just before she disappears into the ticket gate.

"Yeah?"

"Do not give up," she says, her expression serious for a moment. "We will figure this out. I promise."

She gives me a quick, brilliant smile, and then she is gone, swallowed by the crowd.

I walk home under the city lights, my mind buzzing. The confusion and pain are still there, but they are no longer all-consuming. They are now mixed with a new, powerful feeling: hope. And the strange, impossible thought I had the night before returns, stronger this time.

Aiko. Her energy. Her spirit. The way she has turned my despair into a quest. It is so uncannily like the description of the second girl, the whirlwind of energy from my past.

Was it possible? Could the universe really be so small, so strange? Could my only friend in my current life also be a ghost from my forgotten one? It is a crazy, unbelievable long shot.

But in a world where mysterious, white-haired girls appear on bridges and vanish from hotels, maybe "crazy" is the new normal.

I go back to my apartment, and for the first time since Kyoto, I sleep.