We Still Exist
When I was a little girl, my father told me that the world would end. He said it like he’d just remembered something important and had to tell someone about it right away or else there wouldn’t be anyone left alive in time for him to say anything at all before everything went dark forever.
It wasn’t until after he died—when we were already living on borrowed time as far as I’m concerned—that I realized what an understatement his words really are.
The thing is: We still exist because of you. You’re our last hope; if not for people like us, humanity will have no future. That’s why this is so important! The fate of mankind depends upon your decision here today. If you vote yes, then everyone who lives can continue to live their life with dignity and purpose. But if you vote no… well, let’s leave that up to the imagination, shall we?
I know how hard it must be for you to make such a choice when nothing has changed since the war began except for one single fact: now the enemy knows exactly where you stand.
And yet, even though they know everything about us from A-Z, including every secret and vulnerability known only by those of us fighting them day in and day out, they haven’t been able to defeat us once in more than two years.
Because despite knowing exactly what we want most dearly, they don’t seem capable of doing much beyond simply trying to kill us off. They’ve made mistakes along the way but never enough to stop us from winning each battle. There isn’t any reason to think things will change anytime soon. So please consider these facts carefully before casting your vote today.
If you decide to join us, you’ll finally get to see firsthand what it means to fight alongside other members of your own species instead of being forced into some kind of twisted game designed solely to pit humans against inhuman.
Not only do you receive training and support from us, but you also gain access to weapons that aren’t available anywhere outside of special military units like ours. Your fellow humans won’t hesitate to help you win battles, which makes you feel strong, useful, and needed.
In return for working together toward a common goal, you’ll earn respect and status among your peers. All that matters to us is that you become stronger both physically and mentally so you can contribute to protecting humankind. Our job is simple: To keep ourselves safe while helping others do the same.
And if you choose not to take part in this new era of peace and prosperity… well, then that will be the end of it. Once the aliens realize nobody wants to play anymore, they might start getting careless again.
Then it could all go back to the way it used to be—only worse, because they may try to attack us directly rather than through proxies like terrorists or insurgents. Or maybe they’ll turn their attention elsewhere entirely. Who knows?
Whatever happens next, rest assured that we will be ready for it. For as long as we live, we will remain vigilant in defending our people and keeping them safe.
My name is Lieutenant Colonel Lillian Mathers. Thank you very much for listening.”
***
“What does she mean, ‘as long as we live? Is she saying they plan to stay around indefinitely?” asked Kiyoko. “That sounds pretty extreme!”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Shiroe. “…They probably didn’t intend to talk about themselves like that.”
Kiyo looked bewildered, too. She shook her head slightly. “But they did say this war would end someday, right? Why should they care whether it ends sooner or later?”
Shiroe nodded. “There’s a difference between thinking something will happen sometime and actually having plans to carry it out.”
He felt a bit sorry for Kiyoko, whose expression seemed to indicate that she couldn’t quite grasp the point.
Afterward, the meeting continued without interruption. The discussion moved quickly through various topics related to the proposed treaty, including the specifics of the terms.
As the conversation proceeded, Shiroe found himself wondering how many people in the audience understood what was going on. He wondered how they could possibly understand what the leaders of the alliance were talking about, given that they weren’t privy to all sorts of classified information.
It occurred to him that although the attendees included representatives from countries and guilds, there were plenty of people present who weren’t involved with either side. Some of them were ordinary citizens. What would their impression of the proceedings be? Would they believe the government officials’ assurances that everything was under control?
In spite of the gravity of the situation, the conference room remained filled with laughter and chatter. People chatted casually with one another as they waited for their turns to speak, and Shiroe watched them curiously.
When he’d first arrived at this place, he hadn’t thought anyone would ever laugh in his presence again.
Now, however, the atmosphere reminded him uncomfortably of high school. When he remembered how different things had been back then, he suddenly felt sad.
He supposed it wasn’t surprising that he’d ended up in an environment like this. It was a familiar setting after all—a world full of young adults who talked freely and joked with one another.
Still, it bothered him that he kept seeing the faces of dead friends everywhere he went. Even now, when everyone around him appeared normal, their expressions made him think of death.
At times like these, I wish my memories wouldn’t come flooding back…
The image of his friend Takuro surfaced unbidden before his eyes. His face was pale; the skin beneath his eyelids had turned purple-black. There was no blood left in his body.
Takuro had died because someone wanted to steal the data stored in his brain. The person responsible had killed Takuro by injecting poison into his veins. After his death, several people took responsibility for killing him. They claimed they’d done it in order to protect the safety of the country. But none of those people knew anything about the truth behind Takuro’s murder. No evidence existed suggesting that any of them had even heard rumors of the incident until afterward.
I don’t want to remember…
Shiroe closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the painful memory of a past event that had never happened.
His efforts failed completely, though. In fact, they only served to make his feelings more intense.
A few days ago, he’d learned that a man named Atsushi had committed suicide. That meant there were two other people who’d lost their lives while carrying out orders from members of the organization known as the White Whale.
Just hearing the names brought back images of faces Shiroe wished he could forget forever: the men who’d taken part in the assassination attempts on both Kizuna and Shiroe. Those memories were so fresh that they still hurt.
And yet, despite the pain and sadness, Shiroe couldn’t help but smile bitterly.
Why am I smiling…?
He opened his mouth and spoke quietly. “Is this really where I belong?”
“…Yes, I suppose it is,” said Kiyoko softly. Her voice sounded distant, far away. “This is your home.”
“Yeah…”
Even if I go somewhere else, the same thing will keep happening over and over again. And besides, I’m not sure I can leave here.
If you’re going to kill me anyway, why do I have to run away? Or maybe I just need to find a way to survive…
Maybe that’s what I’ll try next time. Maybe I won’t die.
He smiled faintly and nodded. Then he looked down at the table in front of him and picked up a piece of paper. He examined its contents carefully before speaking again. “Anyway, let’s get back to business.”
He folded the sheet of paper and put it into his pocket.
***
On the fifth day since Shiroe had returned to the capital, the delegates from the United Kingdom Guild gathered together in their own private conference room to discuss the results of their negotiations with the Alliance.
Kazuto sat in the chair opposite Shiroe’s desk and stared vacantly ahead. He gazed silently at nothing in particular as he listened to the report delivered by Kazuya. At some point during this process, he’d started leaning backward and resting his head against the wall behind him. It seemed he was sleeping soundly.
Shiroe glanced sidelong toward him, then sighed deeply. “…Are you listening?”
There was no response.
“…What are you doing?” asked Shiroe irritably.
For a moment, Kazuto didn’t move. Eventually, however, he lifted his head slightly and blinked sleepily. “Huh? Oh, sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“You mean you haven’t been paying attention for five whole minutes?”
“Sorry, sir,” replied Kazuto apologetically.
“No matter how much we talk, they aren’t going to give us access to the information they stole from the royal palace,” continued Shiroe. “They’re asking for too many concessions. We should be able to refuse without giving up anything important. If we take them seriously, they might agree to share the data stolen from the Royal Palace.”
“But—” began Kazuto hesitantly.
“We already know everything they want to tell us,” interrupted Shiroe firmly. “All they want to negotiate over is whether or not they can use our guilds as an intermediary.”
“That sounds like a good deal to me. You say that the Alliance has something they want to ask us, right? What exactly does it involve?”
“It seems they have a lot of questions about the world outside the game—about things such as history, geography, and culture. Apparently, most people in the Alliance don’t understand what life is like in Japan. They’d also like to learn about modern technology, which means they probably want to hear stories of the Internet Age.
On top of that, they seem interested in learning about Japanese cuisine, and they’d love to taste karaage fried chicken!”
Shiroe shook his head vigorously and laughed ruefully. “Honestly, these guys are all idiots! Why would anyone want to eat food made with meat that doesn’t come from chickens?!”
The room fell silent once more. Finally, Kazuto spoke tentatively. “Um…couldn’t the Alliance simply read books written specifically for them instead of talking to us directly?”
“I doubt they’d be satisfied with that kind of answer,” answered Shiroe. “Their goal is to meet real human beings face-to-face. The question isn’t whether or not they want to see us; the problem is how to arrange the meeting.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” said Kazuto slowly. He tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully. “So, what do we actually want to negotiate? Do you think this is worth fighting over?”
“Of course it’s not!” Shiroe shouted, flaring up angrily. “Don’t make me repeat myself!”
His sudden outburst startled both Kazuto and Sango. Both of them were taken aback, and their faces paled slightly. After a while, though, they recovered enough composure to look straight at Shiroe and nod calmly.
After that, silence reigned again. For a long time, nobody moved. When finally someone did speak, it was Shiroe who broke the ice.
“Okay, so what do we need to consider when making decisions on behalf of the entire guild?”
This prompted another pause. This one lasted even longer than the first. Eventually, everyone present began exchanging glances, looking around nervously. In the end, only two people raised their hands: Shiroe himself and Kazuto.
Sango and Hakuya remained quiet. As far as the other members of the delegation could tell, neither of them knew precisely where Shiroe stood on any given issue, although they appeared to have formed a vague understanding between themselves.
Hakuya and Shiroe exchanged looks, but they quickly averted their eyes from each other after realizing that the others had noticed.
Meanwhile, Kazuto looked troubled. His brow furrowed as if he were thinking hard, and his lips pursed into a tight line. Then he opened his mouth to begin speaking, and he took the initiative to explain the situation to the rest of the group.
“First off, let’s start by considering whether or not there’s really anything we can do to help the Alliance. To put it bluntly, I’m pretty sure that won’t happen.”
He paused briefly before continuing his explanation. “In terms of numbers alone, the Alliance is clearly superior. Even assuming they don’t have any special abilities beyond those granted to them through the game itself, the fact remains that they outnumber us three to one. And we’re dealing with the Alliance here. Their level is likely higher than ours. That being the case…”
Kazuto went on to list several factors that might influence the outcome of negotiations. It wasn’t very clear why he bothered to do this, since none of the others understood what it meant anyway. Nevertheless, he explained carefully, as if trying to persuade someone who didn’t know squat about negotiation techniques.
At last, Shiroe cut him short. “If they’ve got nothing else to offer us besides a way to get back to Earth, then maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Everyone turned toward Shiroe in surprise.
For some reason, Shiroe seemed to be avoiding the eyes of the others. Instead, he stared intently at the tabletop before him and muttered quietly under his breath, as if counting on his fingers: “…three hundred thousand yen per month plus travel expenses…no matter how many days or hours we spend negotiating…and no guarantee that our demands will be met…that’s all I can manage to figure out right now.”
When he finished speaking, his voice was hoarse and strained. At the same time, however, he sounded resigned. He hadn’t been able to find a solution. No one else in the room responded.
Finally, Shiroe sighed deeply and closed his eyes. “All right. So what should we do? We’ll probably just have to accept whatever happens next.”
No sooner had Shiroe spoken than the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the hall. A moment later, a young man entered the room. He wore an elegant suit—it was the sort of outfit worn by a businessman who belonged to a big company.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he approached Shiroe’s seat at the table and bowed respectfully. “Good evening. My name is Takuro Ushiyama. May I ask your permission for a few moments’ conversations with my boss?”
Shiroe nodded silently. There was something strangely familiar about this person’s appearance, but Shiroe couldn’t place exactly what it was. However, he did recognize the name Ushiyama, which was written on the man’s business card. According to the information provided by the Guild Master, he was part owner of a large trading firm based in Tokyo.
The man smiled pleasantly. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Shiroe. I hope we can talk sometime soon.”
Then he left the room without waiting for a response. The instant he vanished down the corridor, the atmosphere changed dramatically.
There wasn’t much time until midnight, so everyone returned to their rooms early. Shiroe headed to his own bedroom and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
He’d been unable to come up with any kind of plan whatsoever regarding the current situation facing them; he felt like he would never understand what was going on. For some reason, he thought again about the boy who had accompanied Kazuto to the meeting earlier that day.
What happened to him…? What are those things?
Those questions floated through his mind. They weren’t important enough to warrant further consideration, though. All he wanted to do was sleep.
After ten minutes, he finally managed to fall asleep. When morning arrived, he woke up feeling refreshed and ready to go. After breakfast, he went straight home via taxi.
Once inside his house, he sat down at his desk and opened the laptop he kept there. He checked the status of the network connection, then logged onto the Internet using the wireless LAN function built into the computer. As long as he could access the Web, he was always connected to the world outside.
His mother appeared in the doorway. “You’re still online already, aren’t you?!”
“I guess I am,” said Shiroe, smiling wryly. “How are things over there?”
“Well enough!” She gave him a warm smile. Her face glowed pink when she spoke. “We made a lot of money today! You remember that friend of yours from school, don’t you? Well, his dad works in the finance department at a bank, and he has a great job now. His salary’s really high, too. He says he wants to give me a nice present someday.”
Shiroe laughed softly. “That sounds wonderful. But let him wait awhile longer. Your father doesn’t earn nearly as much.”
“Oh, well…you’re working hard, so I think it’s only fair that you get more attention than anyone else. Do you know where your brother is?”
Her question surprised Shiroe slightly. It had been four years since he’d moved out of the family home, but he didn’t recall ever having heard her mention his younger sibling.
In fact, Shiroe knew very little about his older sister. Even after moving out of the house, they rarely exchanged words. In the end, Shiroe decided not to answer his mother’s question.
Instead, he typed in a search term into the address bar of his browser window and brought up a page containing information about the town he lived in. Then he switched back to his personal e-mail account and sent off a message to his guild members.
Please send all communication directly to my inbox. This will reduce the risk of messages getting lost or delayed, and will make it easier to keep track of everything. I’m sorry for asking this, but please take care not to share anything confidential with anybody besides me.
This request caused considerable confusion among the people who received it. Some were irritated because nobody seemed to be paying attention to their requests, while others worried about whether they might receive special treatment if they did comply with the new rules. Most simply ignored it altogether.
However, one person took the matter seriously: Kirima Rui. That night, Shiroe received an email from him saying, “Thank you for thinking of us.”
Rui had joined the party just before Christmas, so he hadn’t known Shiroe for long. Still, Shiroe found himself impressed by how quickly he grasped the importance of keeping communications within the group secure.
A week passed quietly, during which Shiroe continued to exchange emails with his friends around the world. On March 8th—the day after the New Year holidays ended—he received another message from Rui.
“Hey, Shiroe. How are you doing?”
Since receiving his first message from Rui, Shiroe had started calling him by his nickname, Rui. Although Shiroe had no particular reason for choosing such a name, it suited him.
Rui wrote in reply, “I’ve been busy recently, but I’m fine.” He attached several documents to his message.
The files contained the contents of two letters written by Rui’s parents. Both were short missives that expressed gratitude toward the people who had helped save the lives of their children. There was also a single photograph of Rui and his parents together.
They looked happy in the photo. Their smiles were gentle, and they wore casual clothing instead of business suits. A bright light shone behind them, illuminating the scene.
When he saw it, Shiroe recalled something Kazuto had told him once. “My parents never look like this on TV,” he’d said. He wasn’t sure why he remembered that now; perhaps it was because Rui resembled his father rather strongly.
He read the letter twice. The second time, he felt tears rising in his eyes.
It was true what Kazuto had said: these days, most news broadcasts showed only images of people crying, shouting, or fighting. Rarely did they show scenes that conveyed happiness or contentment.
These photographs reminded Shiroe of the warmth he’d experienced at home growing up, even though he couldn’t remember any specific memories related to them. They stirred feelings of nostalgia, and he thought, Maybe I ought to go visit my parents sometime soon.
But then he shook his head to clear away those thoughts. After all, he would have to bring some sort of excuse along with him, wouldn’t he? And he didn’t want to do that. If he went to see his parents without warning them beforehand, he could imagine the kind of trouble he’d cause.
So he opened the next document Rui had attached to his message. It contained a detailed description of the events surrounding the accident involving Rui’s family.
His mother had taken ill suddenly and collapsed outside their apartment building, and she died en route to the hospital. His father suffered severe injuries when the car in which they were traveling overturned, and although he survived, he remained unconscious.
Although he’d seen the photos, reading the text made Shiroe feel sick to his stomach. He tried to ignore the image of blood seeping through his mother’s clothes and skin and forced himself to continue reading.
Afterward, as if trying to distract himself, he searched for information about the incident online. Eventually, he learned that there were still many unknown facts regarding the case. However, the police had arrested three men on suspicion of causing the crash. One of them was Rui’s former classmate.
Shiroe closed his laptop and sat down cross-legged beneath his desk lamp. When he looked at the clock, it was already past midnight.
For a moment, his mind wandered far away from reality again.
The End