The gymnasium refused to quiet down.
Karl stood beside his open pod with the helmet under one arm, and everywhere he looked, someone was looking back. Phones raised. Strangers pointing. A kid near the front row had already made a sign out of a pizza box, KAZU written on it in marker that was still wet.
’All this for a school match. These people need hobbies.’
He said that to himself, and yet his heart would not stop doing whatever it was doing.
The Shark Riders filed past for the handshake line, and calling it a handshake line was generous. Most of them touched palms like the Borors were contagious. The blonde stopped in front of Karl last, jaw working on something.
"You’re not a student here," he said. "No way. Nobody plays like that on their first dive."
"It was my first dive."
"That’s not what I asked."
Karl shook his hand once and let go. "Good game."
The blonde stared at him for a second longer, then walked off with his team, and Karl exhaled through his nose. He knew that type. The loss would sting for a week, then become a story he told about the night he almost beat some masked guy.
The truth was, Karl felt almost nothing. Not the way he thought he would. These were school players, kids who queued ranked on weekends between homework. Beating them with six years of ladder experience was not something he would want to brag about.
’Sigh, i dont have to deal with this, just get the money and get out of here.’
"Hey! Masked man!"
Elsa crashed into his space before he could plan an exit, still glowing from the win, hair a mess from the pod. The ponytail girl trailed behind her at a more reasonable distance, arms crossed, but her eyes kept flicking to Karl’s direction.
"Okay, so," Elsa said, holding up one finger. "Question one. What was that?"
"What was what?"
"The triple kill, oh my days, and that lord steal! kiYAAAA! No fucking way you did that! The part where you told our shot caller to shut up and then predicted the future. Pick any of them, lol."
"I...got lucky i guess. "
"Three times?"
"Lucky streak."
Elsa narrowed her eyes at him, and then a slow grin crept up her face. "You know what’s funny? Your name. Kazu. There’s a Kazu on the global ladder. Rank one. Nobody’s ever seen his face." She leaned in, close enough that Karl leaned back on instinct. "And here you are. A Kazu. With no face."
"It’s a common name."
"It is not a common name."
"It’s... somewhat common."
"He said somewhat lol." She turned to the ponytail girl. "Sana, back me up. Tell him he plays like a rank one."
Sana looked at Karl for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than Elsa’s, more careful. "Your positioning was strange. Every fight, you were already where the fight was going to be. I’ve watched pro VODs that don’t look like that." She paused. "It was kind of scary, honestly."
"Uh." Karl scratched the back of his neck through the hood. "Thanks?"
"That wasn’t fully a compliment."
"Oh."
Elsa burst out laughing, and across the room, the tall one watched all of it from beside his pod, jacket half zipped, jaw tight.
He had scored two kills tonight. He had also died nine times, and the crowd had chanted somebody else’s name, and now Elsa was standing closer to the somebody else than she had ever stood to him in two years of playing together.
"We should celebrate," Elsa announced. "Team dinner. Coach is paying, he doesn’t know it yet."
"Uh, i cant...do team dinner." Karl said.
"You can’t?"
"I have somewhere to be."
"It’s eleven at night."
"It’s an important somewhere."
Elsa put both hands on her hips, studying him like he was a puzzle.
Then, to his surprise, she just smiled. "Fine. Keep your secrets, masked man. But you owe me a dinner. I fed you my mid wave, that’s basically a marriage proposal where I’m from."
"That’s... I. What?"
"See you around, Kazu." She said the name slowly, tasting it, eyes glittering with a charming smile on her face.
Unless he was mistaken, Karl could have sworn she was swining her boobs right before him.
With a sigh, he turned around, and slowly walked away, ignoring any other gazes shooting towards his direction.
...
The coach was waiting in the hallway that smelled like floor polish, hands behind his back, looking extremely pleased with himself for a man who had done nothing all night but exist near a stage.
"Haha. There he is. The man of the hour, sneaking out the side door. You know most people enjoy this part."
"You said the winner’s side takes five thousand."
"Straight to business. I do like that about you." The coach produced a plain white envelope from his jacket, thick and unsealed, and held it out. "One thousand. Your split, as promised. Count it if you like."
Karl counted it. The coach watched him do it with something like approval.
"You didn’t ask my real name back there," Karl said, tucking the envelope away. "When the team introduced themselves i assumed you would ask me of mine."
"Oh you need not worry about that. Names find their way to me eventually." The coach clasped his hands again, a creepy smile on his face. "Now. A more interesting topic. There are more of these events coming. Bigger ones. The technology is a month old, Karl. Every scene, every league, every roster on the planet is starting from zero as we speak. A player who shows out now, in these early days, doesn’t join the new era." He smiled. "He gets to be one of the people it’s named after."
"You’re saying go pro."
"Well, if you want to put it like that, sure. But what I’m saying is the door is open for a very short time, and you happen to be standing in front of it."
Karl looked down at the envelope’s weight in his pocket. A month of groceries. His mom working one less weekend, maybe two.
"I’ll think about it," he said. "I did this for the money. Not for the rest of it."
"Haha. Of course you did." The coach was already turning away, unbothered, like Karl had confirmed something instead of refusing it. "Take your time. I’ll be in touch either way."
"That’s not comforting, you know."
But the man was already gone down the hallway, footsteps fading, and Karl once again found himself talking to empty air.
...
The next afternoon, Karl went shopping like a man possessed.
Rice, the good kind. Actual meat, not the discount tray with the suspicious date. Fruit his mom always looked at and put back. Tea, the brand she liked before she switched to the cheap one and pretended she preferred it. His basket got heavy fast, and he did not care even slightly.
’She’s going to ask where the money came from. If i tell her it was from a tournament, i doubt she would let that slide. So I’ll just say i won something in school.’
[Query: The Administrator does not resemble a tutor.]
Karl nearly dropped a bag of apples.
’You’re still here? I’m not even wearing the helmet.’
He looked around nervously, as if to check if anyone else could hear the voice in his head.
[Affirmative. The bond persists outside the dive. This unit has completed post-match processing and has updates to report.]
’Can the updates wait until I’m not in a grocery store?’
[Negative. Notice: Hero bond registered. Charlotte has been designated as your first bonded hero.]
’Bonded. Meaning what, exactly?’
[Meaning is currently restricted. Accumulate EXP to unlock the interaction feature. Current progress: seven percent.]
’Interaction. You’re telling me the hero talks.’
[That information is restricted.]
’You just told me half of it!’
[Correct. This unit is told it is called motivation.]
Karl stood in the aisle with his mouth slightly open, holding apples, being taunted by a voice in his head. A passing old woman gave him a wide berth.
[Charlotte is pleased to be of use to her master.]
[Charlotte was impressed by your performance.]
’...You’re just going to keep doing that, aren’t you.’
[Affirmative.]
He paid, loaded up both arms with bags, and walked home in the early evening light with something dangerously close to a good mood settling over him. The bags were heavy. The envelope was heavier. For once in his life, both of those things were his problem to carry, and nobody else’s.
He turned the last corner onto his street, already rehearsing the tutoring lie.
Then he stopped walking.
He saw something.
They were outside his building. Eight of them, maybe nine, hoods and slouched shoulders, the neighborhood faces everyone knew to cross the street for. Two sat on the front steps like they owned them. The rest stood loose around the entrance, and every single one of them turned to look at him at the same time.
[Notice: Multiple hostile signatures detected.]
’Yeah,’ Karl thought, grip tightening on the grocery bags. ’I can see that.’