Tanaka Masao abandoned the idea of getting another figurine. Its packaging was too sleek, its surface offering no grip for the clumsy claw.
He turned his attention to the battalion of plush toys instead.
As he guided the joystick, he glanced at Eriri.
"Aren't most girls supposed to be into these fluffy things?"
Hearing him, Eriri sniffed disdainfully.
"Those superficial girls, cooing 'kawaii' at everything. How can the fluff compare to the sculpted perfection of a figurine?"
The plush toys, with their forgiving, fuzzy textures, were far easier targets. On only his third attempt, the claw descended and triumphantly lifted a small white bear.
Before Masao could even retrieve his prize, a familiar, swift hand intercepted it.
"Aww, it's so cuuute!"
Eriri was now clutching the white bear, pressing her cheek against its soft fur with an expression of rapture.
Masao: "..."
He let a full two and a half seconds of dead air pass before he spoke.
"Eriri-san. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe someone here just said that only shallow, superficial girls like plush toys."
"Who? Who said that? I didn't hear anything."
She met his skeptical stare with a wall of feigned ignorance and issued a new command.
"Stop dawdling. I want more of these fluffy, adorable creatures."
Faced with her relentless demands, Masao drew a line. He would stand his ground.
"I refu—"
His declaration was cut short as Eriri interjected,
"I'll fund the entire operation. And you get half the spoils."
Instantly, Masao's resolve executed a perfect one-eighty.
"My mission is clear: I will liberate every last plushie from these machines!"
Someone was bankrolling his arcade habit and giving him half the rewards?
This wasn't a refusal; it was a dream commission. Masao embraced the truth: it was a sweet, sweet deal.
—
Clearing out, the machines was, of course, a tactical exaggeration.
Operating at a respectable success rate of one plushie for every three to five tries, Masao secured a haul of over a dozen stuffed animals before logistical concerns called for a retreat. The limitation wasn't funds but carrying capacity.
With the plushies bagged and their arms full, they headed home, triumphant.
Eriri, buzzing with a rare, unbridled joy, and became uncharacteristically chatty.
She talked amiably with Masao the whole way back, the shared victory easing the usual barriers between them.
Soon, they entered the quiet, upscale streets of her neighborhood.
"I wasn't prepared to carry so much today," she announced, strategically reviewing the successful campaign. "Next time, we'll have the driver take us. Then we can grab even more."
"The driver?" Masao balked. "Just how many are you planning to win? And I never agreed to a 'next time.'"
"Your agreement is a formality," Eriri chirped, a sly glint in her eye. "Let me be clear, Masao. You wouldn't want any... complications with your doujinshi payment, would you?"
"Ah, that's low, Eriri! Resorting to financial blackmail!"
"Hehe, I'm blackmailing you. What are you going to do about it?"
Their banter was interrupted by a figure on a bicycle approaching from the opposite direction.
A boy with black hair and black-framed glasses—a style similar to Masao's own. Yet, this boy was slimmer, his features more refined, as if he were the premium, high-definition version of Masao.
The moment she saw him, the light in Eriri's eyes dimmed. Her cheerful chatter died mid-sentence.
Her expression grew complicated with a storm of unreadable emotions. Her hands tightened around the bag she carried.
The boy—Aki Tomoya—had seen her too. His gaze flickered from Eriri to the unknown man walking beside her, their arms full of shared plunder.
The air grew heavy and still. Masao glanced between the silent boy and Eriri's tense posture and understood immediately.
This was him.
Aki Tomoya. The childhood friend.
The one who had shared her secret otaku passions in elementary school, only for that very passion to become the reason she was ostracized.
The one she had subsequently distanced herself from until they became strangers who just shared a past.
The one she couldn't even bring herself to speak to normally now.
The two of them just stared, a chasm of unsaid words stretching between them.
The silence was suffocating. Masao felt like an intruder on a private battlefield.
He cleared his throat, shattering the quiet.
"Eriri, a friend of yours?"
Eriri felt a hot spike of anger.
'It's been years. You won't even say hello? You see me with a guy you've never met, and you have nothing to say? No questions?'
If Tomoya had shown a flicker of jealousy, a hint of possessiveness, she might have felt a twisted sense of victory.
But this… this indifferent silence felt like the ultimate dismissal. Was he waiting for her to break? To nervously explain herself as if she'd done something wrong?
She refused.
So, when Masao spoke, she let out a sharp, dismissive "Hmph!" and shifted her gaze away from Tomoya.
"Nobody important," she said. "Let's go."
She strode forward without a backward glance.
Masao offered a slight, awkward nod in Aki Tomoya's direction before falling into step beside her. He had a feeling that his presence had just driven the wedge between them even deeper.
And he found the thought to be…
perfect.
—
—
Meanwhile…
Aki Tomoya watched them go, his knuckles white on the handlebars. His face tightened, a maelstrom of emotion churning within him.
'You were the one who turned your back on our world. You were the one who betrayed me. And now you're walking around, sharing that part of yourself with some random guy? What is this, Eriri? Is this another betrayal?'
He finally looked away, a single, venomous word escaping his lips, a borrowed insult from the online trenches.
"Bitch."
He pushed off, pedaling away, the distance between him and Eriri stretching with every rotation of the wheels, another unbridgeable gap added to the one already between them.
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[email protected]/Raven_scroll (30+ Advance Chapters)