tsukkiyama month - day 6

Can you tell I’ve been watching a lot of Recovery of an MMO Junkie? For the record, I don’t think people who quit their jobs are losers. Tsukishima is what we in the fanfic biz like to call an “unreliable narrator.” ~720 words, G.

All previous fills on my tsukkiyamamonth tag.

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Tsukishima hid behind his shield, trying to keep it propped up against his back as he healed the guild Captain. Sawamura’s avatar popped back up immediately and slapped Tsukishima on the back, hard. If this were real life instead of a game, Tsukishima would have fallen over.

“Thought I was done for,” Sawamura said and dashed off after Azumane to complete the campaign, the rest of the team following close behind. Tsukishima was deciding if he should bother following them when a pop-up appeared announcing Yamaguchi’s arrival. He entered the game already in a fighting stance, a huge grin on his face, which slipped off as soon as he realized almost everyone had gone on ahead.

“Man!” Yamaguchi said, spear already in hand, propping it up on his shoulder. “I miss everything fun when I get caught at work!”

“Yeah, real life’s a drag,” Tsukishima said, waving his character’s hand to clear his items from the screen.

Yamaguchi spun around. “Tsukki!” he exclaimed happily, spamming Tsukishima’s whole chat window with super happy emoji. “What are you still doing here?”

“Sawamura-san took an orb to the face, and I drained most of my daily health healing him. Everyone ran ahead.” Tsukishima shrugged. “But they don’t really need me for this battle anyway.”

Almost everyone who came in contact with Tsukishima was surprised by the apathy he showed for a game he played voluntarily. But he wasn’t really that indifferent; he just wasn’t as hotheaded as the rest of his team. He played extra hard during events for limited items, upgraded his equipment and weaponry when his budget allowed for it, and strategized for the guild as much as possible.

Really, though, Tsukishima played for this every day, the moment Yamaguchi got home from work and signed on. They’d played together for almost a year now, and Yamaguchi was the only player he spoke privately with on a regular basis. A couple of times, Tsukishima almost asked if they could meet up for real, but his courage always failed him. For all Tsukishima knew, Yamaguchi lived hundreds of miles away or was married or was three ten-year-olds in a trenchcoat furiously Googling ‘what grown-ups do at work all day.’

Okay, so it probably wasn’t that last one. Still, the internet was full of people pretending to be things that they weren’t. Like, Yamaguchi was always telling Tsukishima how cool he was. He didn’t know that Tsukishima quit his job because he was so overworked and the only people he interacted with regularly were his immediate family and the cute, freckled cashier guy from the combini two blocks from his apartment. Yeah, better to keep his virtual life and his real life separate. Yamaguchi didn’t need to know Tsukishima was really a giant loser.

Yamaguchi’s avatar grinned at Tsukishima again. It was almost as nice as the cute combini guy’s smile, which was a terrible thing to think about a cartoon. “Since you’re drained and I’ve been sidelined,” Yamaguchi said, “why don’t we go loiter at the pub? I’ll buy you a fake drink.”

Tsukishima shrugged. “Sure.”

Their characters settled at a table and they spent most of the night talking, and not just about the game. When their conversation started veering toward more personal topics than Tsukishima was willing to talk about in a public chat, he switched to whispers. Yamaguchi transitioned without a beat, and by the time Tsukishima finally looked at his clock, it was two in the morning. Startled, he was about to ask Yamaguchi if he had to get up early for work, when Yamaguchi asked suddenly,  “Tsukishima, have you ever met anyone from the game for real?”

In his apartment, Tsukishima blinked at his screen and read what Yamaguchi wrote again.

“Tsukishima? Are you there?”

“No,” Tsukishima said. In real life, he swore out loud. “I mean, yes, I’m here. But no, I’ve never met anyone.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi said. He didn’t type anything else and Tsukishima realized he was holding his breath. “Well,” Yamaguchi said eventually. “Would you want to?”

Tsukishima let his breath out slowly. He could say no. He could say he had a strict no meetup policy. He could tell Yamaguchi he was three kids in a trenchcoat. Or.

“Yes,” Tsukishima typed.

Yamaguchi’s avatar smiled for the thousandth time that night.