Dragon X Shared Worries

“...It's been a long time since we've done this.”

The silence between us had been deafening – but getting the words out was even harder, as Ayame – or rather, Iris – stared inscrutably back at me from the opposite side of the campfire.

A gentle breeze rustled the branches over our heads, parting them to reveal a brilliant night sky. The waxing moon hung suspended like a crystal ball amidst the colorful hues of an artificial galaxy, foreign constellations painting brilliant tapestries all across the sweep of the stars. Tucked between a sparse copse of trees, overlooking the banks of the tiny rivulet that had formed the ravine we now occupied, the campsite was a familiar flavor of cozy.

But if Iris was sharing in my reminiscence, she didn't show it. She just gave a noncommittal nod in response to my words, her pointy elven ears flicking back slightly like those of a restless cat. What was that supposed to mean, I wondered? Was she nervous? Happy? Angry? As always, her face was completely unreadable.

“I guess it was a lot louder back in the day, though, what with all of us finding new ways to get ourselves into trouble.” I forced myself to laugh – and to keep talking. What else was I supposed to do? Just sit here in silence? Sure, maybe then I wouldn't annoy her, but she'd probably think I hated her or something. At least with these surroundings, we had something to talk about.

“Let's see... I think the last time we went camping with everyone, Yuuto ended up falling into the river trying to get his fishing rod back, and Gramps had to drag him back out. He really gave us an earful for that, huh?”

“I don't want to talk about him.”

“Oh. Uh... sorry...?”

Suddenly, silence didn't seem so bad. Mind you, I had never expected her to just jump right on board and join me for a trip down memory lane – honestly, I didn't even know if Ayame could do nostalgia.

But I hadn't expected her to be quite this frigid either.

...The weirdest thing was that didn't seem like it was me she was mad at, though. But why? Hadn't she and Yuuto always been closer than anyone?

Not that I could ask that. But I had to ask something – the longer I left the conversation hanging like this, the more unbearable that blank stare of hers became.

“...So, uh... When did you realize it?”

“...Hm?” Right. Too vague.

“Who I was, I mean. Don't tell me you knew the whole time?”

“...I suspected it when you traded with me. I saw your username in the menu,” She said, suddenly breaking off her stare to poke at the embers of the fire, sparking it back to life. “That, and the person you met with called you 'Kei,' so...”

...Not that she had done the same. To me, she had always been “Ayame,” but, judging by the rather formal way she had greeted me when I finally recognized her, I guess I really was being too familiar. We might have been friends when we were kids, but... I guess we weren't, anymore.

I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face, and forced another laugh. “That long, huh? Man, I had no idea...”

She had known all along, and hadn't chosen to say anything until I had recognized her. Was she trying to hide it from me? But if so, why had she let me see her username now? Did she think I had forgotten – that I wouldn't remember her? Or did she just not care one way or the other?

“Well,” I continued – less because I had anything worthwhile to say, and more just to try to justify her actions to myself any way I could without admitting to the newfound scale of the distance between us. “I guess it would have been pretty awkward to call out my real name with so many people around.”

...No answer again. She was totally absorbed by stoking the fire, her face obscured by its glow. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of expression she was making – but at the same time, I was afraid of finding out.

“To be honest, I'm relieved it was you, though.” The words came out before I even realized how corny they sounded, far faster than they could be taken back.

“...You are?”

...But they got an instant answer. Her slightly-drooping elven ears perked right up, and those bright green eyes of hers transfixed me – all the more so now that I could easily trace the resemblance to the gaze of the real person behind them.

“I mean, of course I am.” I struggled to find some way to explain myself. How could I make this not weird or uncomfortable for her? It was so hard to think of anything when she was staring me down like that. A joke. There had to be some kind of – Aha!

“Can you imagine how scared I was, thinking there were two of you?”

...Somewhere, a cricket chirped.

God, I'm an idiot.

Just like that, all her excitement was gone. Her brows furrowed themselves, ears folded right back to her head, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed into... was that a pout?

“...That was a joke. You can laugh.” ...At least, I was pretty sure she could. She was being unusually expressive all of a sudden...

“I can, but I won't,” She grumbled, turning back to the fire.

Humor hadn't worked. Maybe sincerity was the way to go, then. Something told me that I wouldn't get this chance again, even if it felt like the moment to be honest had already passed.

“It really has been too long since we've hung out like this, though,” I tried.

“What do you mean? We've had plenty of chances to talk in class.” There was something almost accusatory in her voice. As expected, she was having none of it. Plenty of chances, maybe, but had either of us ever taken them? The most interaction we'd had in the past year amounted to her just passing on assignments to my hospital room through Hiroshi and Jun.

But whose fault was that, exactly? Was she really the one pushing me away? After all, she had been expecting something just now, and I had disappointed her. Or maybe “expecting” was the wrong word. Rather... it was almost like she was surprised I was still treating her like we were friends. But why would she be worried about that unless... I had also been treating her differently?

I had thought I was the only one worrying about these sorts of things, but maybe...

“No, I mean –” A feeling I couldn't quite identify formed itself to words on the tip of my tongue, but before I could give a name to it, Iris cut me off.

“Forget I said anything. We shouldn't talk about real life when we're ingame anyway.”

“Oh, uh... yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.”

The conversation ended there, and shortly thereafter, Iris retired into the tent to get some rest. It was a weird thing to think about, sleeping ingame while we were already sleeping in real life – but I guess it would have been weirder to stay virtually awake for 24 hours straight. I think my old man had explained it to me once, too – something about REM sleep cycles and the need to take some downtime to process and store the memories you formed while gaming – but I couldn't really remember the details, nor did I really care.

I had far more pressing things to think about. As silence blanketed our camp, and the crackling of the fire gave way to the silent smoldering of ashes and embers, I stared up at the sky, and wondered at all that had happened.

I still didn't know how to speak to Ayame, but it looked like I was going to have to work something out – and fast. After all, when tomorrow came – both virtually, and in real life – she was going to be right there. It was a daunting prospect – but at the same time, I found a strange sort of comfort in it. Because even though I didn't know how she'd ended up here, or what had happened between her and Yuuto, or why she was even playing this game...

Ayame was here, and she remembered me. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the only one who wanted to be friends again.