[PP-F8] Ink Blot

[Mishiro 0]

November 29, 2025

Quote

To: Pinball

I promised you before that if there's something troubling you, I would be there to listen. I haven't seen you in months and it's been difficult reaching out to you. But, if this sends, that would mean we're on the same floor. So where are you right now? Do you want to talk?

 

 

PM sent!

It had been four months since he disappeared from her Friend List without explanation. He was alive, that she was sure of after checking his name in the Monument. It wasn't an accident, that she had confirmed after she successfully sent him a PM a month earlier and didn't receive a response. The next day, when she went back to check, he had left the floor. What she wasn't sure of was why. They didn't have any particular disagreements the last time they met. In fact, they even parted with the promise to meet up again a month after.

 

Mishiro closed her menus and leaned back on the bench, looking up at the bright blue sky. That was the most she could do for now. She smiled to herself and straightened. Right. She should be more cheerful today. Because right now, she was--

 

Someone wrapped their arms around her shoulders from behind. A familiar, playful voice spoke next to her ear.  "Hmm? Who was that you were messaging? Come on, lemme see! Lemme see!" They leaned forward and Mishiro saw purple at the corner of her vision. "Shiro-chan... I know you're a busy, busy person but at least pay attention to me when we're on a date, okay?"

 

"If you hug me like that, people will think we're a couple," Mishiro stated matter-of-factly. She swiped down with a finger and toggled through her menus until she arrived at the PM she had sent. "Now stop hovering behind me like a stalker and sit. Then I'll show it to you."

 

The small girl obediently let go and circled around the bench to sit beside her. She leaned closer to get a better view of the PM, but Mishiro quickly turned around and the semi-transparent window followed the direction she was facing, obscuring it from the girl's view. "First. My drink."

 

The girl rolled her eyes and handed Mishiro her frappe. Caramel, with extra whipped cream as always. She stuck her straw into the drink and took a sip. Meanwhile, her companion was still staring at her eagerly. Mishiro decided to give her a taste of her own medicine and tease her back. Especially, given the girl's interest in the PM and her previous comment. "Now, say 'pleeease.'" she ordered with an innocent smile.

 

"P-ple... Shiro-chan, stop playing around and just show it already!" The girl huffed and crossed her arms cutely. "Really, though? Having a secret conversation with a boy while we're out having some girl time? Heartless! You're absolutely heartless! You're the worst best friend I've ever had!" 

 

"Same goes to you."

 

She turned around and inched closer to her friend. Now, the PM was visible to the both of them. The girl leaned close. "Blah blah blah. I'm so lonely without you. Please come back! Blah blah blah. Romeo, Romeo. Where art thou, o Romeo? Hehehe! I had no idea you were so romantic, Shiro-chan!" She fell quiet as she reread through it, then she looked up and saw the recipient. "Hey. I know this guy! He helped me with my profession quest once and then we went and beat up some low-leveled mobs in a cave sometime after that. And, and he looks cute in formal attire! But one thing you should never do is to ask him out on Valentine's, and, and..."

 

She suddenly stopped talking. Mishiro turned her head. The girl was looking at her with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

 

"I just remembered. My friends say he's turned orange."

Edited November 30, 2018 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

For a wanted man, Pinball wasn't too afraid to sleep out in the open. 
He woke up to the soft trickling of a stream beside him, and a soft breeze on his face. Slowly - sleepily - painfully, he pulled his arm away from his face, sitting up.
Pinball blinked, tired blue eyes scanning the momentarily unfamiliar scenery. 
Where had he fallen asleep this time? 
Floor 8. He recognized it immediately; the trees, the unearthed, mossy rocks, the small stream that cut through the woods... this had been home once. But Pinball couldn't bring himself to visit his shop. Out of fear? Guilt? Probably both, but knowing Hestia, it was probably under watch anyway. It was a monument now, built solely for the purpose of reminding him of the person he used to be - who he could have been. He looked to his left, and saw his sheathed, stolen sword, his shirt, leather pads, and boots haphazardly strewn about the clearing, and a blackened campfire without any spark of flame left lingering in its ashes. 

He felt a lurch in his stomach as the sharp ding! of a notification cut through the soft forest ambience. It was a message, he knew. 
He decided not to open it. 
With a soft grunt, Pinball pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit as he caught his balance. He stared at his equipment, thrown this way and that, and for a moment questioned how tired he must have been if he had pulled his clothes and armor off instead of just unequipping it through his menu. Surely it would have been easier to just-
The notification was itching at the back of his head already. 
But, for a moment, he managed to control himself. He stepped into the stream, cupping water in his hands and bringing it to his face, letting the water wash his face and trickle down his neck and chest. Then, again, but this time he drank the water. He went about his morning routine then, picking up and stowing his armor, and throwing on his long-sleeved black shirt. 
He retrieved Zomekko's jar from a log and strapped it to his belt via leather string. Then, he opened the message - and after his heart skipped a few beats and a moment's hesitation, he replied. 

Spoiler

 

To: @Mishiro

Directly South of Florenthia. Follow the stream. 

 

Then, he hunched over, grabbing DawnBringer and pulling himself upwards. The blade fell free from the sheath, dragging across the grass before Pinball lifted it up and let it come to rest on his shoulder. He took a deep breath - and then exhaled. 

[Mishiro 0]

Mishiro walked down the streets of Florenthia. Her steps were purposeful and wide, and she looked forward, steely grey gaze locked in the general direction of her destination. Players along her path stepped out of the way before they realized what they were doing. She was headed straight for a certain shop in the settlement, and nothing was stopping her.

 

Save for one small, purple-haired girl. "Hey, wait!" Her friend stood in front of her, blocking the way. Mishiro stepped to the right and the girl followed suit. It was almost cute - would have been cute if the scenario was completely different. "Okay, so I told you his name was Tatsumi. Or something like that. And that he can track down players. But what are you gonna do about the whole trading thing? You know, he can track you down once you trade with him, right?" The small girl crossed her arms and smirked. "No, don't talk. I already know what you're going to say. 'It doesn't matter if I endanger myself, I'd do anything to find the one I--'"

 

"I'd do the same for you."

 

The girl's cheeks reddened, and she waved a gloved hand in front of her face, as if fanning herself, with a laugh. "My, my. I had no idea Shiro-chan--"

 

"And it doesn't matter if someone can track me. I don't have any enemies." Mishiro finished. She moved forward and patted the girl's shoulder. Then there was a sharp, resounding ding! 

 

Both girls looked at each other. They simultaneously pulled up their menus. The small girl came up with a blank. Mishiro opened a PM. Directly south of Florenthia. Follow the stream. Her heart skipped a beat. "Where's the stream?"

 

"The what?"

 

"He told me to go south of Florenthia and follow the stream," she explained quickly. "I don't know this town well, so where is it?"

 

"He must be talking about the river that extends past the safe zone. Just go back where you came from and make a left when you reach a smithy."

 

Mishiro turned to leave. Then she paused. 

 

"Arabelle, wasn't he your friend too? Maybe you should come along."

 

"Like. You. Said. I'm a terrible friend." The purple-haired girl made a dismissive gesture with her hands. "Don't worry about me, Shiro-chan! Let's go on a date tomorrow instead! Then you could give me updates. Like if you're still single..."

 

"I'll tell him you said ''hi.'"

 

...

 

She ran half the way and slowed down to a walk in the next. Mishiro came to a stop on the other side of the trickling stream. Sunlight glinted off her dark hair, swept to one side and arranged in a slightly messy French braid, and the interlocking plates of iron which made up her armor clinked as she shifted her position and tucked her hands into the pockets of Roman's white coat, draped over her shoulders. She was fully armed, not because she was expecting to fight him, but because it was customary for her to arm herself before leaving a safe zone. 

 

Then she stepped forward and skipped over the stream, landing directly in front of her old friend. "Good morning," she greeted casually, as if the present situation was no less different from the times they had met and talked before. Mishiro smiled warmly.  "It's been a few months. How are you?"

 

[Pinball 1]

Pinball waited in silence, letting the cool, morning forest air fill his lungs. He watched and listened to the whisper of the leaves as the branches swayed slightly in the breeze, and he waited for the full rise of the sun to warm up the clearing. He wasn't sure what he felt. For a while, his heart had beat hard and fast in his chest, but as he found himself waiting, that brief, adrenaline-filled moment had faded away, leaving something dull in his chest. As was usually the case, he didn't have the words to describe it. 

It was a pervasive nothingness. 

Then he heard her approach. He turned, barefoot and unarmored, the golden sword resting on his shoulder shining brightly as it was caught by the few rays of sunlight bursting through the forest canopy. "Good morning," came the casual greeting. "It's been a few months. How are you?" 
He had known Mishiro for a long time. They'd talk in random bursts, but it was usually - usually - always a pleasant change of pace. But for a moment, when he looked at her, all he could see was a stranger. She didn't belong here, in front of him. But who did? 

"I'm doing alright," came the terse reply. Pinball turned, and started walking towards the campfire. He shoved his sword into the dirt without breaking stride, and crouched by the burnt out pit. He was nervous and scared, but at the same time he covered it with a facade of tense formality. He swiped his inventory open, and after a few seconds cooking materials shimmered into existance next to him. Then, he went about replacing the logs. "Have you eaten yet?" 

[Mishiro 0]

Mishiro followed him to the campfire. She looked around and took in her surroundings. Open clearing, burnt-out campfire, the large indent in the grass... This must be where he spent the night. But out in the open and with an orange cursor no less? She stared at his back with a concerned frown.

 

The branches overhead rustled as a soft breeze sighed through the clearing, bringing with it the scent of morning dew. "Cold morning," she commented, pulling Roman's coat tighter over her form. It was the closest she would get to complaining. She took her seat across him and pulled her legs close to her chest. "Not yet."

 

She buttoned up the coat and shivered. She watched him prepare the pit for a campfire then summoned her menus with a flick of an armored finger. She scrolled through the many items in her shared inventory until she found what she was looking for. "I have a lighter," Mishiro offered, said item materializing in her palm. She stood and wandered about the clearing, busying herself with gathering dried branches and twigs.

 

It was too quiet.

 

She returned to the pit and arranged half of the branches and twigs she had gathered underneath the logs. Then she held the lighter at arm's length and lit a fire. She fanned the flames and withdrew her hand, carefully adding the rest of the branches. The fire she had lit up was small. But at least it hadn't died yet. Not bad for a first try. Mishiro inched closer to the fire's warmth then looked at Pinball expectantly. "I do have some food with me, but I don't want to waste the buffs. So, what are we making?"

[Pinball 1]

He almost went to grab the lighter, but silently withdrew his hand as Mishiro stood. He watched, sitting back patiently as Mishiro busied herself with preparing the fire. He propped himself up on his knees and opened his inventory, waiting for that first flicker of golden flame to take the dry wood. He stood, then, washing his hands in the stream before returning to the now lit campfire. Pinball worked surprisingly quickly, with a deftness that came only with practice. He pulled a really large skillet from the bundle of pots and pans lying on the grass, and gave it a twirl. "Eggs," he replied, flicking through his inventory with his free hand. A campfire grill burst into being with a brief flash of blue light. He laid it carefully over the top of the campfire. 
After that was set up, and he placed the skillet down, Pinball got to work. Eggs: one, two, three, popped into his open palm, his other flipping through his inventory as if it had eyes of its own. 

The eggs scrambled quickly, and Pinball pushed them to the side of the pan while they cooked fully. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added a couple of other things. Strips of meat that could only be bacon, misshapen and malformed as they were, and a few chunky slabs of meat that were probably some kind of sausage patty. He bit his lip, pausing again, and then materialized a small shaker that he sprinkled over the meat. He let that sizzle, then quickly flipped the pan to its side, letting a good amount of the excess grease drain into the fire, the flames flaring up and then dying down just as quickly. He set the skillet down to let everything cook, and found he had nothing to do with his hands.
So he pulled a bowl from the pile of cooking utensils, and a few other choice items from his inventory. Eggs, a glass jug of milk, flour... things you make pancakes with. And he mixed all those things and added them to the bowl, and quickly stirred - it was a race now, a race to make sure everything was done at the same time. He yanked another, smaller pan from the pile, slapped that down on the grill, and let the lumpy mix pour into it. 

Now he was cooking eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes. Pinball pulled from his seemingly never-ending pile of cooking utensils a long tray, and set the eggs and sausage and bacon on it. He then slapped down one of his cooked pancakes, and began cooking another - the mix had enough for about three more after that. 
Strangely enough, what once looked repulsive had transformed under the expertise of the cook, into something amazingly appetizing. Pinball materialized syrup and butter for the pancake, then a couple of two smaller plates, which he set aside before going back to the rest of his pancake mix. "Help yourself," he said simply. 

[Mishiro 0]

Eggs? Oh, a traditional Western breakfast. Mishiro pulled up her inventory, scrambling to find materials she could cook - only to look up and find that he had already cracked open three eggs and was scrambling them in a skillet placed over the campfire. With one hand still holding her inventory tab open, she watched as he tilted the pan and moved the eggs to the side, adding a few strips of bacon and meat. He sprinkled a few seasonings on top, then there was a slight pause as he waited for it to cook, then manifested more materials from his inventory.  Egg, milk, and flour... a cake? No, she thought as she watched him stir all the ingredients together. A pancake. 

 

Now he was cooking four different things, at the same time. Like a chef from one of those cooking shows. He was surely coordinated. Far from the lost, nervous kid she met that day. They were the same profession and Mishiro had attained the skill much earlier than he did, yet the difference in their skills was still glaringly obvious. Mishiro couldn't even craft without a recipe book. She dismissed her menus and resigned herself to watching. 

 

But it was still too quiet. She had come over to watch him doing his daily crafts once, and he at least engaged her in some conversation while he was cooking.

 

"Help yourself."

 

"Thank you." She took one of the plates and a set of utensils for herself and carefully lifted on of the pancakes with a fork and set it down on her plate. Then she reached for the bottle of syrup, and drizzled a generous amount of it onto her pancake. With her knife, she sliced off a small portion and took her first bite. It was light, fluffy, and the syrup added to its sweetness. Mishiro looked up and somehow felt herself obligated to comment. "It's good."

 

It didn't take her long to finish the first pancake, and she resisted the temptation of taking the other one immediately in favor of trying out the rest of the meal. Mishiro heaped a serving onto her plate, then paused to pull up her inventory. "I found some vanity crafts earlier. Do you still like drinking coffee?" A mug of brown coffee materialized in her hands and she handed it over to him. Subsequently, she scrolled down and pulled out a mug of black coffee for herself. She looked at him and her voice took on a slightly more playful tone. "Straight from Cafe Myosotis and its famous 100% friend discount. Careful, though. It's still hot."

 

They were halfway finished with their meal when Mishiro spoke up again, directly addressing the problem in front of her. It wasn't Pinball. It was the orange cursor floating on top of his head, like a brand. "So? Tell me what happened to you. Tell me everything, from the start. I'll listen." 

[Pinball 1]

He flipped another pancake onto the tray... and after a moment, another, and then he was out of mix. Pinball took the last two he had made for himself, leaving the last one in case Mishiro decided to have a second, and then filled his plate up with a little less than half of the remaining food put out. He had cooked for her, and he felt it was common courtesy to wait and see if she was going to eat some more before reaching for his own seconds... 
And then he was offered coffee. "Ah, yes, please," he replied, politely stifling the urge to smile. He almost flinched at the "friend discount" comment, though, and said nothing. Nodding to acknowledge her warning, Pinball took a small, careful sip of the coffee before placing it to the side to wait for it to cool off.  He kept eating, falling silent again. 
 "So? Tell me what happened to you. Tell me everything, from the start. I'll listen." 
He froze. He laid his plate in the grass next to him, and glanced over at DawnBringer - the golden blade stuck out of the dirt, the tip buried forcefully deep into the ground. Here and there there was a small crackle of electricity. He looked over to Mishiro, and then back at the ground in front of him, and then he leaned back, using his hands as support. 

She had a right to know. Besides Mars, he had known Mishiro the longest - she had come into his life even before the whole level grinding phase. He fidgeted. What could he tell her? What did he want to tell her? There were a lot of things he hadn't even told Mars, to be honest. But who really cared? He was just another blip, and would be dead as quick as the next guy. He frowned. But that wasn't fair. And then he spoke, and even though he hadn't expected it to, his voice broke in an almost choked sob. 
"I've... I've done bad things." 

Edited December 8, 2018 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

She leisurely sipped from her black coffee, until she realized he wasn't about to say anymore. She gave an unsatisfied frown. It was vague. Really vague. He hadn't answered her question at all. Had the situation been different, she would have given him a lecture on proper verbal communication or pointed it out at least. But, seeing him look at her with that expression and speak in that voice, she couldn't bring herself to. Mishiro placed her mug down on the grass beside her and pulled her legs close to her chest. What would she do if it was Roman in front of her? First of all, she would give him a hug. But that didn't seem very appropriate when it came to Pinball. She looked at him, then at the sword he had directed his glance to earlier. He wasn't a spear-wielder, most probably spent the night alone, but had a sword with him out in the open like he wielded it... Too many questions. Too many things had happened in the span of a few months. Where was she supposed to start?

 

One thing at a time.

 

The best way to solve a problem was to face it head on and admit that it exists. He already knew that what he did was wrong. That was a good first step. But Mishiro wasn't sure if he wanted to solve it or go down the same road he did last time. She'd experienced it firsthand, and... it was best not to repeat it. The image of a red-haired girl with freckles and a bright smile briefly flashed in her mind. She glanced at the sword. So all he had to do was to say it out loud. "What exactly did you do?" She rested her chin on her legs and steadily looked back at him. "I'm here, Pin. It's me. I'll listen to anything you have to say."

[Pinball 1]

Why the hell did she care? Why did she need to know? He had literally just told himself she had a right to know. But did she? Did anyone? Nobody should know about the things he did. 
He always ended up hurting the people who cared. 
And he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Pinball stared at the ground with an almost blank expression, but that stoic facade quickly broke. He wiped his eyes angrily. "Ah, what the hell," he grumbled weakly, covering his face with his hands. He sat back, leaning back and lying down in the grass for a moment. For a few moments he didn't move or speak or make any real attempt at explanation. Then, he sat up. He took a long, shaky breath, and then looked at Mishiro. "Everything..? From the start?" He couldn't hold her gaze for long. "Al-alright."

It was hard. And he spoke painfully slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, as if he didn't want to mess up and say the wrong thing and have to repeat himself. "Uhh, you remember Lucy, right..? And how she... you know." He took another breath. "She left me a crystal when she did. She told me she about a lot of things, and - uh -about, uhh, feelings for me?" And the painful irony of it was that Pinball had had feelings for her too. For the longest time, really. "She had gotten with Sugutsuya because she didn't think I would, I guess." He shrugged dismissively, but it was a painful memory to recall. If he had just told her how he really felt - maybe she wouldn't be gone. Maybe she'd still be with him, laughing and messing around and causing havoc. "I still don't know why she did that to herself. Why couldn't she just-" He cut himself off, and grabbed handfuls of his hair. "If she had just told me about what was bothering her, I - if I had told her, I would have... I--" And he was cut off again, but this time it was by his own sobs. "I could have done something." 

[Mishiro 0]

Was he... crying? For a few moments, Mishiro lingered between two choices: stopping this conversation where it was to comfort him or sitting back, waiting if he had something to say. Due to her indecisiveness, she ended up doing the latter. He fell back onto the ground with his hands covering his face. From where she was seated, she could see the tears running down his face. Her heart dropped. "Pin?" Perhaps this wasn't the best thing to do after all. She'd opted to do it with her usual approach, systematic and straight to the point. Identify the problem. Find a solution. But. Maybe it didn't apply so well when it comes to emotions. It was time to improvise. She moved forward, then hesitated and glanced back at her untouched food and drink. Ugh. As good as his cooking was, she didn't feel like finishing it now. Still, she took the plate and the mug along with her and seated herself by his side, setting it down on the grass in front of her. "I'm sorry." She'd made that mistake again. Her habit of pushing too hard. It was the same thing that almost ended their friendship two years ago. "If you don't want to say anything..."

 

Then he sat up and started to talk. She was surprised at the mention of the name Lucy, and the new information he gave her. Right from the start? So it extended this far back? She didn't understand how this had been going on without her noticing it. "Feelings...?" She wasn't aware of that either. Another familiar name. Sugutsuya, Lucy's then-boyfriend and a shady information broker. But why, she thought as she listened to his story, was she only hearing about this now? They had been friends for months. Didn't friends confide in each other? 

 

"I could have done something." He curled into himself as he admitted that. She didn't speak. The only sounds that could be heard in the clearing were his sobs.

 

She reverted back to logic. A survivor's guilt of sorts. When you lose someone precious, you would often think about how you could have saved them. Mishiro didn't have any firsthand experiences, other than the slight bout of guilt over Lucy's death and her separation from Pinball - she'd known the lovely red-haired girl, too - but she knew the signs well. She'd observed it in her mother, the proceeding months after the accident. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Right. This was only the beginning. If he chose to do so, there was still much more to tell. To keep up the focus of the conversation, her advice should be reserved for later.

 

Eventually, he would calm down and let his hands fall back to his sides. Mishiro reached out her hand to lightly rest it on top of his. The cold iron of her gloves offered no warmth, but the intent behind her gesture surely did. She averted her gaze from his and stared into the campfire. Her armored hand remained where it was. Her next few words weren't intended to be an order, but a request."Sorry. Please continue."

Edited December 9, 2018 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

He didn't flinch when her cold, armored hand came to rest on his. Didn't react at all, really. He sat there, bringing his knees up to his chest, and wrapping an arm around his legs, cried. 
And then his face twisted angrily, and he rubbed his arm against his eyes aggressively. He continued. 
"Yeah, well," he mumbled, his voice still shaky, "I didn't take that very well. You know how I acted." Pinball referenced his year of isolation. Tears still trickled down his cheeks slowly, though they weren't the same heavy sobs as when he started. "But then," and his voice came out in a drawn out croak, "I thought things were... getting better." 
He had moved on, now. To being recruited by Atzo; adopted into the Emerald Harbingers. It was where he had met Stryder, and Eatos, and Hei. "I got invited into a guild, and uhh, yeah. Met Stryder. Started training, met Mars... umm... yeah. Before the Guardians, we had the Emerald Harbingers." He almost smiled, albeit weakly. It was where it had all started.
The beginning of his adventure. At least, that's what he had romanticized it as: a grand adventure, and Pinball was going to be the hero - or at least a supporting character. 
But life wasn't like that. "Things were good. I, uhh," he hesitated for a second, and then snorted, looking away. "I still wasn't in a good place." 
He took a breath. "I was obsessed with getting stronger. Do as much damage as possible - you know... for Lucy... but I still, uh... I didn't..." He couldn't make himself say it. Instead, he looked at Mishiro, hoping to see some glimmer or spark of understanding in her face. "Do- do you know why I don't wear armor that protects me? Th- there's a reason for that." 

[Mishiro 0]

"...and you know that I forgive you for that," she responded automatically. They had that conversation a few months ago and whatever resentment she'd felt towards him was gone. "Well, maybe Aniki acts like he doesn't. But he can't keep disapproving of one of my friends forever." Mishiro continued with a lighthearted tone and a glimmer in her eyes that only appeared when she was talking about a certain person.

 

He continued his story. Stryder, Mars, the Emerald Harbingers, and the Guardians. Names he had dropped in his stories before, yet she never got the chance to meet them. To have taken her friend in and gained his trust even after what happened with Lucy... they must be nice people. They did something she couldn't have done back then and she was grateful for it. Mishiro had to meet them sometime. Either Stryder or Mars. Then she could give them a proper thanks.

 

"Do you know why I don't wear armor that protects me? Th-there's a reason for that."

 

The first answer she could think of was mobility. Less heavy armor, more speed in battle. It was practically a requirement for pure DPS builds, and from what she knew of his stats, Pinball seemed to be aiming for some sort of glass cannon build. Less protection, more damage. It was a build reliant on others to support it. But, that couldn't be the answer. Not when she felt him look at her with a gaze holding some expectation. What else was it supposed to mean? Light armor made you move faster. That was all there is to it. Mishiro frowned. His pure-DPS build. Something he didn't - couldn't - say out loud. Numbers and emotions. Was there a connection? She didn't have an answer. 

 

The campfire was reflected in her grey eyes. But they were blank. He didn't find what he was looking for.

 

"No. But tell me about it."

[Pinball 1]

Pinball grit his teeth. He had killed somebody - why was it so difficult that he didn't want to be alive himself? It still applied, and Pinball had promised he would tell her everything. Everything. 

He shook his head and looked away, a bit disappointed. "No," he finally said, then quietly added, "don't worry about it." 

Pinball pushed himself upright, and then sat straight with his legs crossed. He took a deep breath, rising as he sucked in generous amounts of air, and then deflated as he exhaled, to the point where he was sitting slouched. He gripped his knees tightly, then righted himself again. "Froppy was... strange," he began. "I met her when I went out to go gathering. Uhh..." He snorted, his expression morphing into one that resembled vague confusion. He remembered it like it was yesterday, when it was really months and months and months ago. 
"She told me she liked me the day she met me," he almost laughed. Pinball recalled the memory with a faint smile. He had only just met her, and he expressed that concern. She had started crying, but stopped when Pinball offered her a flower he had picked from one of the nearby bushes. "I- I let her down easy," Pinball explained. "But I got to know her, and, uh."

Memories came to him in waves now: mornings at her shop eating pancakes, their adventure to find the Heart of Ice - a jewel with no real identifiable value that was hidden away on one of the lesser known mountaintops of the Fourth Floor. He remembered Sugutsuya had told them to look for it, and how he had swept in to steal it, after secretly following them the entire time. 
Pinball had spent a lot of time trying to recover that necklace. It was buried in the snow, now, in front of the pedastal that once held it. He took another shaky breath now, lowering his head, hair covering his eyes. "I, umm... I didn't want to hurt her, but I- I did." 
The Boar's Tusks. He remembered that night vividly. He had lashed out at Froppy and went to a bar to hide out until morning - or at least until he had been kicked out. Two people were there. "Paglikha and Embers were at a bar," he continued, wiping away the hints of tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes. "I said some... things. Bad things." He remembered Paglikha's reaction to this day. Dazed, and dizzy, like Pinball had struck him across the face. Embers had been furious, and had threatened to beat the living hell out of him. Pinball remembered fighting a smile as she held him up by his shirt.

 "One looked like I had punched him, one looked like they wanted to punch me," he mumbled. "And then Froppy found the bar and I hurt her again, too. Worse than I had before that." 
She hated him now, and with good reason. Pinball had gotten what he wanted. He was isolated after that, with nobody to bother him anymore. Nobody he could hurt that would talk to him. And then he remembered, and his eyes went wide. "Paglikha," he repeated, almost growling. He grabbed his face angrily, a low rumble in his throat. "That bastard, that bastard." He shook his head. "That guy- he- recently. He... killed himself." And Pinball broke again. "I... I know it was because of me. It had to- it had to be." Pinball was crying again, but he controlled himself now, to a certain degree. He wasn't sobbing yet. "I didn't even know him... but If I had, maybe- I... I shouldn't have. I killed him. I killed him. There... I should have tried to make things-" And now his voice came out in a faint, strained whisper. 

"I should have tried to make things better." 

[Mishiro 0]

Mishiro turned to face him, searching for something, anything, that offered a hint in his deep blue eyes. It was important - it had to be if he was reacting this way - but right now all she could see was sadness and a bit of disappointment. Was it supposed to be something she could figure out easily given the context? "Pin, it's fine, you can..." she cut herself off. Something that he didn't want to talk about. The reason why he didn't want to say it out loud lied in the secret itself... 

 

"Why can't you understand that I don't want to talk about it?! I don't want you to know!"

 

"..."

 

"Shiromi? Oh god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Shiromi, I didn't mean it - wait, don't leave--" 

 

Standing under the rain on a dark, stormy night. 

 

Suddenly, Mishiro didn't want to push any further. She'd figure it out herself if she had to. Her grip on his hand loosened. He was already telling her the rest. More unfamiliar names. Froppy. Embers. Paglikha: Filipino word for 'the act of creating'. One loved him. The other two may have been his friends. He hurt all of them. Suddenly, it didn't seem as if he was simply telling her his side of things anymore. Their conversation resembled that which occurred in a confessional. Tell the priest your sins, he grants you absolution, gives you penance, and you leave unburdened. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. 

 

She idly turned his hand over and intertwined her fingers with his. In front of them, the fire burned and he continued telling his story.

[Pinball 1]

Her grip on his hand loosened, and then their fingers were entwined. His hand loose in hers, he continued. 
"After, that, I- I distanced myself from the guild a bit. Just a-" He gestured with his fingers "-just a little bit." He smiled halfheartedly. Pinball stared off into the green forest ahead of them. 
"There wasn't much that happened next. I kind of just... carried on. I didn't like it, but. That's what I did.
The Boss Fight came around. Man, was that a [censored] show." 
He paused, glancing over to Mishiro. "Actually, first..." 
"I never thought I would enjoy fighting. There's like... a thrill to it, even if it's only digital code or whatever. The fights are real. The feelings are real." 
He shook his head. "And sometime during my grind for strength, I started to love it." He waved his hand dismissively. 
"But the Boss Fight came around, and some weird stuff happened. This one girl in a cloak attacked another player.
That... made me feel gross. So I- I attacked her. Charged into her back and put her on the ground, like she did with the other guy. But the other guy, Hirru, was on death's door as it was, and she-" Pinball grit his teeth. "She attacked him with everything she had. She didn't hold back. So I didn't either." Pinball shook his head, over and over again. "So gross," he grumbled. 

"I was in hot water after that, actually. I pissed off Hidden and Aereth, whoever the hell they were. They threatened to kill me, I think? Or at least threatened to do something. I don't know." Pinball laughed. "I remember thinking that I'd like to see them try it. I was stupid. I'm an idiot. I get the feeling now that they're probably more dangerous than I thought." He shrugged. "Whatever, though," he mumbled. "It's whatever." 
"After that I lived alone in the woods. For like a week or two. Lived off of fish. The quiet... was nice. But I came back." 
He stopped talking. He knew what was coming next. He couldn't bring himself to continue. 

[Mishiro 0]

Pinball was a terrible storyteller. They'd come up to the happenings in the last boss battle, and still there was no explanation from him regarding his sudden disappearance from her friend list and those months without contact. But if Mishiro had to guess, it had to have occurred around the time period when he said he'd distanced himself from the guild. "I've heard of that fight," she commented quietly. She needed to talk more - just to assure him she was still listening. "From a friend, who's known for exaggerating things. Is it really true that one of the frontliners protected the boss?"

 

He mentioned that he enjoyed fighting. There was nothing wrong with that. Many players still enjoyed fighting. The game's main feature was its combat system and Mishiro herself was drawn in for that very reason. However, she wasn't sure if she still related to him. Did she enjoy fighting? Definitely not as much as she did on the first day. For the past three years, she'd stayed true to her role as a crafter and hardly engaged in combat aside from that one instance with the silver-haired shielder and the Laughing Coffin. She saved a girl named Jinx. But she still remembered how it felt. That fear. That feeling of helplessness as her teammates' - Roman, he wasn't even meant to be there - HP trickled down to the yellow zones. That feeling of disgust when he explained to her what the Laughing Coffin recruits were doing. She'd saved a life. But she didn't want to go through that experience ever again.

 

"Don't disregard it," she warned, referring to Hidden and Aereth's threats. Threatening someone just for defending another player... why would they even...? People couldn't be that shallow. There had to be another reason. "I mean, if they go after you... there's two of them, both at frontline-level, and only one of you." Well, it was obvious. He would have thought about it already. "Really, when you're talking about your life, try to sound less dismissive," Mishiro sighed, turning in his direction but not quite looking directly at him.

 

He stopped talking.

 

Was he going to continue? Should she push further? If she did, what was the probability that their conversation would... take a turn for the worse? What was the best option for these types of situations? For some reason, she couldn't decide.

 

"That can't be all, Pin," was all she said.

[Pinball 1]

 "Really, when you're talking about your life, try to sound less dismissive."
He didn't really respond to that statement, but his lip kind of curled and he stared into the fire, eyebrows furrowed. But he didn't speak.
There were just things you shouldn't say. 
"No," he said softly, "it's not." He kept talking. 
"Things almost seemed normal after I came back. But I was scared. Fighting... I- I didn't like it. But I did." He turned to Mishiro with wide eyes, and slowly turned back away. "That's- that's the problem," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 
"I met Dustin after the fight. It was weird." He didn't know he could feel about another guy like that. "He was weird. In a good way, you know? He was a nice guy, and had this thing for carrying tons of food on him. But he loved to fight. Thought it was the best thing was in the world. And it was like he would adapt to other people's personalities. I didn't like either of those things. 
But I did, actually... get a little bit attached." 
He felt his heart start to pick up pace. This was it. "I hit a really low point. I went to that mountain - a mountain. There was a mountain I had visited with Froppy, once, see," he explained, "we were hunting this item? It was hanging from a pedestal on one of those nameless mountains. It was worthless, but Sugutsuya had followed us and swiped it before we could grab it.And, um, I.. I visited it there. I-" He paused, his voice starting to shake a little bit, but he was visibly sucking it up. He swallowed the lump in his throat. 
"I think I knew what I was doing. He was there." 

Pinball pulled his hand from Mishiro's. 

"Everything came up at once." He felt like he wanted to puke. "I, uhh.." He couldn't make himself go into detail. 
He turned his head back to Mishiro then, his face tilted at an angle. His eyes were wide. Scared, horrified, disgusted. He snapped his fingers. "Three hits." 
Pinball felt something rising in his chest. A feeling, the name of which he couldn't really put a finger on. The overwhelming urge to scream came with it. . He wanted to cry, but he had run out of tears. He stared off blankly into the distance. His voice was almost a whisper. "Three hits and it was over. It... it shouldn't be that easy." 
He threw himself to his feet, and now, he did scream. "It shouldn't be that easy! I had a choice! I could have stopped myself!" 
He screamed wordlessly, then continued his rant. "But I didn't! Because I asked myself what would happen?! Because," and he jabbed a thumb into his chest, and his voice got quieter, forcing each word out slowly, "because I enjoyed it. I enjoyed every god... damn... second of it." He sobbed, cupping his face in his hands as he sunk low to the ground. 

And then he pushed himself to his feet. He started pacing, back and forth, tears rushing down his face in painful waves. "And then I tried to stay away! I tried to mind my own business." He shook his head, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. "I tried, I tried, I tried." 
"Dustin found me. We get into a fight. Of course we do. Of course we do. Because everybody is obsessed with being the strongest in this [censored] sh*t hole of a game." Pinball whirled around. "What do I do? What do I do? Do I run away?" He kicked up a cloud of dirt, grass and rock, absolutely furious. 
"No! I cut the [censored] [censored] HAND OFF!" He pointed an angry finger at DawnBringer. "Guess whose sword that is!" 

Edited December 16, 2018 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

And now the pieces were coming together. The second mention of the name Sugutsuya. Sugutsuya was dating Lucy. Pinball liked Lucy, and back when she was alive, it turned out that she liked him back. But Pinball only found that out after Lucy had died. He never told her about the rest of her recording, but she suspected that he came to the conclusion: "Sugutsuya was one of the reasons why Lucy killed herself." Yet it wasn't simply a murder out of spite. Before he disappeared from her friend list, Pinball warned her to stay away from Sugutsuya. The reason ran along the lines of, "He's a shady broker who deals with secrets, personal information, and other things that shouldn't be brought to light." And then, the item. It was puzzling. If it was truly a worthless item, why would Pinball and Froppy go through all the trouble of searching for it in the mountains and why would Sugutsuya steal it from them?

 

Put all the pieces of information together, and you get the motive. It was not out of a blind, emotional outburst. No, it seemed directed at one person in particular, and that person had frequently been a source of distress in the past. But it was not purely out of justice, nor revenge. 

 

She sensed him struggling to speak. She already knew everything, or at least enough to grasp the context of the situation, perhaps now was the time to ask him to stop? Mishiro gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Pin, that's--"

 

He pulled away from her. He turned his head and she saw his eyes. The next words, he spoke in a whisper. "Three hits."

 

"It's..." She almost recoiled. She could imagine it. Swinging a spear thrice. Their body dissolving into shards. They couldn't even fight back. Given that, what was she supposed to say? "It's fine?" No. Killing someone was never "fine." But here was a killer right in front of her and he also happened to be one of her closest friends. He was starting to repeat himself now and she figured it was the time to stop. "It's alright. You don't need to say--"

 

"I could have stopped myself!" He jumped to his feet and she followed. She thought she heard something shatter behind her. Oh, the part of her mind that was still functioning properly noted. She'd knocked the mug over and now the coffee had spilled over the grass. 

 

This wasn't good. This wasn't helping him anymore. If anything, this was just bringing back bad memories.

 

"--But I didn't! Because, because, I..."

 

Why had she thought this was a good idea? 

 

"--I enjoyed it. I enjoyed every god... damn... second of it..."

 

Why couldn't she bring herself to say something?! Her legs felt frozen to the ground - all she could think was that she'd somehow f*cked this up so badly that the normally soft, quiet Pinball was now screaming at her - and it took all of her strength to force herself to take a step forward. But what was she going to do? What was the right thing to do? She reached out to him. If her words couldn't work, then--

 

--and then, he sank to the ground. Mishiro drew her hand back. She thought he'd finished, but then he pushed himself up again and started pacing. Wait. That... wasn't all?

 

"We got into a fight. [...] What do I do? What do I do? Do I run away?"

 

She didn't like this. She didn't like conflict. She didn't like it when people yelled at her. She didn't like it when... when she looked into his eyes, all she could see was anger and pain. He was hurting himself by bringing up those memories, and she was also at fault for bringing it up in the first place. 

 

"Pin." 

 

Her hands went to her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

 

"I cut the c*nt's [censored] HAND OFF! Guess who's sword that is!" 

 

"I didn't mean for this to happen! Please, stop!"

 

And then it was quiet. 

 

Mishiro took her hands off her ears.

 

"I-it's Dustin's, obviously..." Her voice trembled and so did her hands, as she brought them to her chest. Not quite a fighting stance, but she looked defensive all the same. "A-and, hands and other body parts can regenerate, so..." She didn't finish that. Instead, with much effort, she lifted her gaze from where she had been staring down at the grass beneath her feet. Her vision was blurry. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she hastily brought an armored hand up to wipe them away. "I-I didn't... I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She took a few steps back, repeating her apologies like a broken record. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just--I just wanted to..."

 

Wanted to, what? 

 

Mishiro stopped talking entirely and took another step back.

 

What now?

[Pinball 1]

What did that make this? The fourth time? The seventh? The seventh time he saw somebody he cared about crying in front of him? 
Just like that, all the anger drained from his body, replaced with an overwhelming sense of guilt. This happened everytime. Because of him. Pinball knew that. 
His first instinct was to reach out to her. Pull her close - tell her he was sorry. He'd never do anything like that again. He didn't want to. He just didn't want her to leave him. He didn't want to be alone again. 

But what comfort was the touch of a killer? 

He's done this before. The same philosophy, the same decision. To push her away. But this would be the last time. They'd never speak like this again. 
Pinball turned, trudging over to the still lit campfire. He pulled DawnBringer from the earth, sparks of electricity swirling around the golden blade. He sat, back turned to Mishiro, laying the weapon in his lap. He didn't speak for a moment - he stared into the fire. 
And then he turned his head, not quite looking at her directly. His voice rang out in the clearing, uncertain and unsteady. 
"You should go."