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Inside Tsukuyomi, Roka sat along the edge of the platform where the water shimmered like liquid glass. Schools of glowing fish drifted beneath the surface, brushing past coral that pulsed faintly with neon light. Her avatar had a fishing rod loosely balanced in her hands, the line disappearing into the water.
The float bobbed once.
Roka didn’t react.
She just watched the reflection of the towering virtual skyline ripple across the surface. The rod stayed where it was, untouched.
A small tug.
Still nothing.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered under her breath, eyes half-lidded. “Just take the bait. I’m not fighting you.”
The float dipped again, then vanished completely. Something had definitely taken it.
Roka only sighed and leaned forward on her knees.
“Congratulations,” she told the water flatly. “You win.
The line went slack. The fish escaped.
Above her, Tsukuyomi’s massive towers blinked with distant holographic ads and streaming screens. Normally the hub buzzed with chatter, avatars darting around, music spilling from every corner.
Tonight it felt… empty.
Roka tilted her head back, staring up at the lights.
“So quiet,” she murmured.
The quiet didn’t last.
A faint whisper slid behind her ear.
“Roka.”
She shrieked.
Not a dignified yelp either—an actual, full-volume scream that echoed across the water as she whipped around so fast she nearly lost the rod.
“WHAT—?!”
Behind her stood Mami.
Hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Shoulders shaking slightly.
She was trying—and failing—not to laugh.
Roka clutched her chest dramatically. “Are you crazy?!”
Mami finally let a snort slip. “You should’ve seen your face.”
“My heart stopped!”
“You’re still speaking.”
“That’s not the point!”
Mami stepped closer to the edge, glancing at the rod dangling uselessly in Roka’s grip. “You weren’t even watching your line.”
Roka followed her gaze.
The hook hung empty.
“…Oh.”
Mami lifted a brow. “Fishing, huh?”
“I am.”
“Looked more like you were staring into space.”
Roka scoffed and turned back toward the water, dangling the line again. “Maybe I fish differently.”
“By letting them steal the bait?”
“Minimal effort fishing.”
“That’s not fishing.”
Roka shot her a sideways look. “Then what do you call it?”
“Losing.”
She gasped. “Rude.”
Mami sat down beside her without asking, boots hovering just over the glowing water.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
A cluster of translucent fish drifted past beneath the platform.
Roka glanced sideways again. “Since when do you sneak up on people like a horror movie ghost?”
“I did not.”
“You whispered in my ear!”
“You were distracted.”
“That’s still sneaking.”
Mami shrugged. “You get surprised easily.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
Roka huffed, flicking the rod slightly. The line plopped back into the water.
“What are you even doing here?” she asked after a moment. “Thought you logged off hours ago.”
“I did.”
“And then you came back?”
Mami nodded toward her. “Saw someone online who usually isn’t.”
Roka blinked.
“…You checked?”
“Your status popped up.”
“That’s different.”
Mami tilted her head. “How?”
“Because—” Roka waved vaguely. “Because it just is.”
Mami let the silence stretch a little before speaking again.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Roka stared at the water.
“…Something like that.”
Mami hummed quietly.
“Middle of the night fishing usually means something’s on your mind.”
“Or maybe,” Roka said lightly, “I just felt like fishing.”
“You don’t even reel them in!”
“Shush.”
Another pause settled between them, softer this time.
Far across the hub, a holographic billboard flickered to life, briefly lighting the water with shifting colors.
Mami watched the glow ripple across Roka’s face.
“You’ve been weird lately,” she said.
Roka immediately groaned. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Just don't..”
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re diagnosing me now?”
“No, it's an observation!”
“There’s a difference?”
“Absolutely.”
Roka leaned back on her hands and stared up at the sky again.
“You’re imagining things.”
Mami didn’t argue.
She just watched Roka for a moment before asking calmly, “Then why are you online alone at two in the morning?”
Roka opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
“…Stop doing that,” she muttered.
“Do what?”
“Ask normal questions like they’re traps.”
“They’re not traps.”
“They feel like one.”
Mami’s lips twitched faintly.
Roka kicked her foot lightly against the platform edge.
“…Everyone else is asleep,” she said after a while. “I tried. Didn’t work.”
“So you logged in?”
“Yeah.”
“And picked fishing, huh.”
“It was the first thing in my inventory.”
Mami looked at the rod again.
“You’re terrible at it.”
“Thank you for the support.”
“Anytime.”
Roka nudged her shoulder.
“Seriously though,” she added more quietly, eyes returning to the water. “Why are you here?”
Mami leaned back on her palms, gaze drifting across the glowing sea life.
“Felt like checking in. Had a feeling someone was online.”
Roka blinked at her.
“Me?”
“Obviously.”
She stared for a second before letting out a soft laugh.
“You’re unexpected.”
Mami shrugged.
“Takes one to know one.”
Roka shook her head, the corners of her mouth finally lifting.
The float bobbed again in the water.
Neither of them moved.
Then, quiet again.
Only the soft ripple of water moved beneath them. The float bobbed lazily, drifting with the current while the glowing fish circled beneath the platform.
Roka hadn’t said a word.
Her gaze stayed on the water, but it was clear she wasn’t really looking at it anymore.
Mami noticed.
She puffed her cheeks slightly, then reached over and poked Roka’s shoulder.
Once.
No reaction.
She poked again.
And again.
Roka finally turned her head, brows knitting together. “What.”
Mami didn’t stop poking.
“What.”
Another poke.
Roka grabbed Mami’s hand and pushed it away. “Stop.”
“Then answer.”
“Answer what?”
Mami tilted her head a little, watching her carefully.
“What’s bothering you?”
Roka immediately looked away again. “Nothing.”
“Not buying that.”
“It’s true.”
“You’ve been sitting here staring at a fish like they owe you money.”
“That’s a normal activity.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Time is a social construct.”
Mami gave her a flat look.
“Roka.”
“What.”
“No dodging.”
“I’m not dodging.”
“You are.”
“I’m fishing.”
“You lost the fish already!” Mami whined.
“That’s not the point.”
Mami exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Fine,” she said, voice casual. “Is it about Iroha?”
Roka froze.
Her fingers came up to pinch the bridge of her nose, rubbing it slowly like she suddenly had a headache.
She hunched forward, shoulders curling in on themselves.
The fishing rod vanished from her hands in a faint shimmer as she dismissed the item.
That was answer enough.
Mami glanced at the empty space where the rod had been, then back at Roka.
So it was.
She’d figured as much, but seeing the reaction still made something tug faintly at her chest.
Roka stayed quiet.
Mami studied her for a moment before speaking again, more gently this time.
“You’ve liked her for a while, Roka.”
Roka groaned into her hands. “Please don’t say it out loud.”
“Why not?”
“Because it sounds worse when someone else says it.”
“It’s the truth though!”
“Yeah, well.” Roka dragged her hands down her face. “Truth can stay quiet.”
Mami tapped her finger against the platform, thinking.
She wanted to lighten the mood somehow. Get Roka out of that miserable headspace.
Her brain scrambled for something helpful.
Encouraging.
Supportive.
Instead, the first thing that came out of her mouth was—
“Why don’t you just confess?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Mami immediately blinked.
…Oh.
Internally, she slapped herself.
Hard.
Roka slowly turned her head toward her.
“Confess.”
Mami coughed lightly, suddenly fascinated with the glowing water. “Hypothetically.”
Roka stared at her like she’d suggested jumping off a cliff.
“Hypothetically,” Roka repeated flatly.
“Yes.”
“You want me to walk up to Iroha and go, ‘Hey, by the way, I’ve been in love with you while you’re busy falling for someone else’?”
Mami winced slightly. “Uhh... When you put it like that.”
“That is what it sounds like.”
“Okay, ..fair.”
Roka dropped her forehead onto her knees.
“God, that would be humiliating.”
“It might not be.”
“It absolutely would.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Iroha.”
Roka lifted her head just enough to glance sideways at Mami.
“She’d panic,” she said. “Like, full system reboot.”
“That’s possible.”
“Then she’d apologize.”
Mami nodded slowly.
“That’s also possible.”
“And then I’d feel like the worst person alive for making her uncomfortable.”
“Also possible.”
Roka pointed at her.
“See?!”
“I’m agreeing with you.”
“Stop agreeing!”
“You’re the one listing scenarios!”
Roka groaned again and dropped her head back down.
“Why did you even say that,” she muttered.
Mami scratched the back of her neck.
“Thought it might help.....?”
“Well it didn’t.”
“Sorry.”
Another pause settled in.
Roka sighed heavily.
“It’s obvious anyway.”
Mami glanced over. “What is?”
“Iroha.”
Roka lifted her head again, looking out at the shimmering sea.
“The way she looks at Kaguya.”
Mami didn’t interrupt.
Roka continued quietly.
“Her face changes,” she said. “Did you notice that?”
“Mm-mm.”
“She smiles differently.”
“…Yeah.”
Roka leaned back, bracing her arms behind her.
“It's like watching someone slowly drift away,” she murmured.
Mami watched her for a second.
Then she spoke, voice calm.
“You’re still her friend.”
“I know.”
“You’re important to her.”
“I know that too.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Roka let out a small laugh.
“You make it sound simple.”
“It kind of is.”
“It is not.”
Mami tilted her head. “Why not?”
Roka gestured vaguely in front of her.
“Because feelings don’t just… turn off.”
“True.”
“And every time she talks about Kaguya, my brain goes—” she snapped her fingers, “—there it is again.”
Mami was quiet for a moment.
Then she reached over and flicked Roka’s forehead.
“OW—!”
“Stop spiraling.”
“I wasn’t spiraling!”
“You were absolutely spiraling.”
Roka rubbed her forehead, glaring.
“You’re the worst.”
“Nuh-uh, you're stuck with me.”
“…Unfortunately.”
Mami’s lips twitched faintly.
And for the first time since she arrived, Roka didn’t look quite as weighed down.
Mami stared out at the glowing water for a moment longer, tapping her fingers against the platform.
Then her eyes lit up.
“Oh.”
Roka glanced sideways. “What.”
“I’ve got it.”
“That tone worries me.”
Mami suddenly pushed herself to her feet.
“Let’s play KASSEN.”
Before Roka could react, Mami grabbed her wrist and hauled her upright.
Roka stumbled forward with a groan. “Whoa—hey—!”
“Come on.”
“Why are you so energetic all of a sudden?”
“Because sitting here is depressing.”
Roka rubbed her eyes, still half slouched. “I’m tired.”
Mami planted her hands on her hips. “Then why are you still online?”
Roka opened her mouth.
“…Well.”
She paused.
“…That’s not the point.”
Mami gave her a smug little smile.
“Thought so.”
Roka rolled her eyes but didn’t sit back down.
“KASSEN at this hour though?” she muttered. “Ugh..”
“It’s just one game.”
“One game turns into five.”
“It won’t.”
“You say that every time.”
Mami shrugged. “And sometimes I’m right.”
Roka dragged a hand through her hair, sighing. “I can’t believe you dragged me into competitive mode when I’m half asleep.”
“You’ll do fine.”
Mami yawned mid-sentence, stretching her arms above her head.
Roka noticed immediately.
She paused.
“Hm.. Mami?”
Mami blinked at her.
“You’re yawning.”
“So?”
“You’re tired.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally just yawned.”
Mami waved a hand dismissively. “Reflex.”
Roka frowned slightly, the earlier gloom shifting into mild guilt.
“You don’t have to stay up,” Roka said. “I didn’t ask you to log back in.”
Mami blinked once.
Then she reached forward and gently booped Roka’s nose.
Roka jerked back. “Huh—!”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“The guilty face.”
“I don’t have a guilty face.”
“You're doing one.”
Roka crossed her arms. “You should sleep.”
Mami shook her head.
“Not sleepy.”
“You just—”
“Reflex,” Mami repeated.
Roka squinted at her suspiciously.
Mami shrugged again.
“I wanted to play anyway.”
“You came back online just to drag me into a match?”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh god..”
Mami giggled.
Roka studied her for another second.
“…You’re weird.”
“Still talking to me though.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mami smirked and spun on her heel.
“Come on.”
She started walking toward the glowing pathway leading deeper into the hub.
Both Mami and Roka's avatar teleported into the arena in a blink of an eye as soon as they initiated the transition.
Roka stayed still for a second before following with a reluctant shuffle.
“If we lose,” she warned, “I’m blaming you.”
“You always blame me!”
“Because it’s usually your fault.”
“Skill issue.”
Roka gasped. “Did you just say skill issue to me?”
“Yep.”
“How unbelievable.”
Mami glanced back over her shoulder, that small smug grin still there.
“Better keep up then.”
Roka huffed but quickened her pace.
“…If we run into tryhards I’m logging out.”
“Nah, we won’t.”
“How are you sure?”
“Because you hate losing more than you hate staying up.”
Roka went quiet.
“…Okay that’s actually true.”
Mami chuckled softly as the KASSEN arena came into view ahead, glowing bright against the night-lit skyline of Tsukuyomi.
Soon enough, they loaded into the lobby. The bright holographic panels blinked around them, displaying team stats, arena layouts, and the little countdown before the match started. Roka and Mami found themselves partnered with a third player, since one slot had been left open.
A guy with a casual but confident avatar approached, a slight grin on his face. “Hey, I’m Yuma,” he said, giving a small bow. “Looking forward to teaming up with you two.”
Roka tilted her head slightly but returned the bow just as politely. “Roka,” she said smoothly, a faint trace of curiosity in her tone.
Mami, meanwhile, mirrored the gesture with a more energetic bounce. “Mami,” she added, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Let’s make this fun—and win, obviously!”
Yuma chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”
The lobby flickered briefly as the system searched for opponents. Holographic lights rippled across the floor and walls while they waited. Soon, the signal confirmed: match found.
The screen shifted, and the arena loaded. Across from them, a full team of avatars appeared, clearly coordinated. From the looks of them, they weren’t just casual players.
Mami’s usual confident grin faltered just a little, and she let out a low groan. “Great… this is going to be a tough one.”
Roka glanced at her side, eyebrows raising. “Already intimidated?”
Mami gave her a side-eye, brushing off the worry with a hand flick. “Not intimidated. Just… they're definitely serious.”
Roka smirked faintly, tapping her fingers against her rod—which had reappeared in her hands as a default loadout item. “And we’re just the underdogs, huh?”
“Apparently,” Mami muttered, rolling her shoulders. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make them sweat a little.”
Roka’s grin widened. “That’s more like it. Let’s show them some style, then.”
Mami’s eyes glinted with competitive fire. “Exactly. Keep your head cool, Roka. Don’t let the tryhards scare you.”
Roka tilted her head, gaze flicking to the opposing team. “Tryhards? Yeah, let’s see how scared they get.”
The countdown began—three, two, one—and the arena doors shimmered open. The match was officially underway.
———
A few rounds passed, their avatars darting and clashing across the arena. Sparks flew, abilities flared, and holographic projectiles zipped past, but the scoreboard didn’t favor them.
DEFEAT.
Mami collapsed dramatically onto the virtual grass, rolling from side to side as if the ground itself had betrayed her. “No! That’s so unfair!” she wailed, arms flailing, her weapon discarded somewhere in the neon-green turf. “I just wanted one win! One! Why?!”
Roka groaned and sank down next to her, brushing her hair from her face. “Mami… can you stop whining so loud? People can hear you… if people existed here that is,” she muttered, but her tone carried more amusement than reprimand.
Yuma, standing a few paces away, chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, you two certainly know how to make a match entertaining,” he said, bowing slightly before waving. “See you next time.” And with that, his avatar shimmered out of existence, leaving the two girls alone.
Mami sat up halfway, glaring at the scoreboard that still floated above them. Her brow furrowed, and her fists clenched. “Four scores behind… four?! How is that even possible?!” She kicked at the grass, sending a ripple through the glowing virtual terrain. “Damn them!”
Roka exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re ridiculous.”
Mami flopped back onto the ground, arms spread wide, staring up at the floating lights. “I’m not ridiculous! That was a travesty. A tragedy! A—”
“—catastrophe?” Roka suggested dryly.
“Exactly! You get it!” Mami shot her a triumphant glare. “This is why fate hates us!”
Roka shook her head again, letting out a quiet laugh. “You’re really something else, Mami”
Mami didn’t answer immediately, still glaring at the scoreboard as if it personally owed her an apology. Her lips twitched in frustration. “I… I can’t… four scores behind…”
Roka leaned back, arms behind her head, watching Mami flail theatrically. “Come on, let it go for a minute. It’s just one game.”
“One game?! That one game was everything!” Mami groaned.
Roka smirked faintly, glancing at the glowing horizon of Tsukuyomi’s plaza. “Guess I’m stuck here with the world’s most dramatic gamer.”
Mami paused for a second, then shot her a side-eye. “Better than losing quietly, at least.”
Roka laughed softly, shaking her head. “Touché.”
The two stayed there for a moment, the only sound the faint lapping of the virtual water beneath them, as Mami finally began to calm down—though the fire in her eyes suggested she wouldn’t forget this defeat anytime soon.
After a while, Mami finally relaxed, letting out a soft exhale as she leaned back on her hands. The glowing arena still hummed around them, but neither of them seemed to care.
Roka, sitting cross-legged on the virtual grass, had just finished yawning, her avatar stretching lightly. She looked genuinely exhausted.
Mami’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. “You… want to head back to sleep now?” she asked gently.
Roka hummed, eyes half-closed, muttering, “Sure… I’m pretty sleepy.”
Mami’s grin widened. “Perfect. My plan worked—I made you sleepy enough to actually consider sleep!” She stood, brushing off her jacket in a mock flourish.
Roka gave her a small, amused smile, the corners of her lips twitching.
But Mami wasn’t done. She leaned slightly closer, tilting her head. “But! Just to triple sure nothing else is bothering you, right?”
Roka lifted her hand, nodding once. “Yeah. Nothing.”
Mami nodded firmly, satisfied. “Good. You’ve got way more important things to focus on anyway.”
Roka’s lips curled into a soft laugh, playful and teasing. “Oh? Like what?”
Mami’s chest tightened just a little at the tone, and she kept her face neutral. “…Your studies. And… fashion,” she said smoothly, keeping her words casual.
Roka tilted her head, a faint smirk on her lips. “Fashion? Fair enough,” she replied with a shrug, clearly agreeing.
Mami watched her for a moment, internally hoping that maybe Roka would at least keep her in her thoughts instead of Iroha—even if it was selfish. She didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she simply smiled, letting the small victory linger in the glow of the Tsukuyomi lobby.
Roka, leaning back slightly, let out a soft, content sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah… fashion… and studies,” she murmured, almost to herself.
Mami chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “Close enough,” she whispered.
Roka was the first to speak, her voice soft as she waved. “See you later, Mami.”
Her avatar shimmered, pixels scattering like stardust, and then she was gone.
Mami stayed where she was a moment, watching the empty space, a small warmth settling in her chest. She waved back, her smile lingering even as the lobby faded to black.
When she finally logged out herself, darkness enveloped her vision. She blinked a few times, slowly letting her eyes adjust. The blur faded. She yawned again, a long, deep stretch that seemed to pull from every tired muscle.
Carefully, she removed her contact lenses, placing them in their case, then tugged off her earbuds. Even the simplest motions felt heavy tonight, like gravity had doubled.
Another yawn escaped her lips before she flopped onto her bed, limbs splaying out. The weight of sleep pressed down immediately, her eyes shutting without resistance.
But even as exhaustion claimed her body, her mind refused to quiet. It drifted back to Roka—the quiet glances, the small smiles, the way she’d leaned back against the glowing water.
Ugh.
Mami groaned softly into her pillow, one hand curling near her face. Why was she thinking about Roka now? She was supposed to be asleep. Supposed to let it go, right?
Hahaha..haha. Like she could.