This cafe was trying too hard to be trendy.

  Exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs hanging from copper pipes, baristas with handlebar mustaches. The kind of place that charged eight hundred yen for coffee and called it "artisanal."

  "This is exactly where I pictured you'd take me," Suzume said, sliding into the booth across from Yumi.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You literally have a typewriter tattoo on your wrist."

  Yumi rolled up her sleeve to show it off.

  "It's ironic."

  "Is it though?"

  "Shut up and order something overpriced."

  The waitress approached. Pink hair in space buns, probably a university student working part-time. She gave them the customer service smile that didn't reach her eyes. The same smile Suzume had long since mastered.

  "What can I get you ladies?"

  "Irish coffee," Yumi said immediately.

  "It's three-thirty in the afternoon."

  "Time is a social construct."

  The waitress's smile twitched.

  "And for you?"

  "Just regular coffee. Black."

  "Living dangerously," Yumi teased after the waitress left. "No sugar, no milk. What's next, wearing white after Labor Day?"

  "That's an American thing."

  "Everything's an American thing eventually."

  Their drinks arrived. Yumi's had enough whipped cream to qualify as dessert. She took a long sip and sighed contentedly.

  "So," she said, leaning forward. "Who's the mystery person making you smile at your phone?"

  "I told you, it's no one."

  "Your face literally turned red."

  "The train was hot."

  "It's October."

  Suzume took a sip of her coffee. It tasted like burnt disappointment. Eight hundred yen for this.

  "Come on," Yumi pressed. "I shared my tragic backstory with you."

  "You told me you dated your editor for three months and he turned out to be married."

  "That's tragic!"

  "That's a Tuesday afternoon drama plot."

  "Fine." Yumi stirred her drink with unnecessary aggression. "Current love life then. I'm seeing this photographer. Met her at a press event last month."

  "And?"

  "And she's gorgeous. Legs for days. Has this whole mysterious artist vibe going on." Yumi pulled out her phone and showed Suzume a photo. The woman had silver hair and more leather than a motorcycle shop.

  "She looks like she'd murder you and not bat an eye."

  "Right?" Yumi grinned. "The sex is incredible."

  Suzume choked on her coffee.

  "What? We're both adults here. Plus, aren't you eighteen? Old enough to die in dungeons, old enough to hear about my girlfriend's wicked tongue game."

  "Please stop."

  "Her name's Rei. She does these amazing shots of abandoned buildings. Very post-apocalyptic chic." Yumi scrolled through more photos. "Last week she tied me up with—"

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "OKAY. Your turn's over."

  Yumi laughed.

  "You're so easy to fluster. Now spill. Who is it?"

  [No way I'm telling her about Kasumi.]

  "There's really no one."

  "Bullshit. You've never dated anyone?"

  "I was busy studying."

  "Not even in high school?"

  "Especially not in high school."

  "Middle school crushes?"

  "I was twelve."

  "So?" Yumi leaned back. "Let me guess. You're the type who falls for confident older women who could bench press you."

  Suzume's face betrayed her.

  "Oh my god, I'm right." Yumi clapped her hands. "Is it a Player? It's totally a Player."

  "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

  "Is she hot? Of course she's hot. You have massive disaster energy."

  "I have what?"

  "You know. Useless around pretty girls, probably practiced kissing on your pillow, wrote poetry in high school that you immediately burned."

  "I did not write poetry."

  "Ah but you did practice kissing on your pillow, then?"

  Suzume's silence was damning.

  "This is amazing." Yumi was practically vibrating with excitement. "My little baby gay is growing up."

  "I'm not your anything."

  "Do you need advice? I'm excellent at seducing women."

  "Your ex was married."

  "He was a man. Different skill set entirely." Yumi flagged down the waitress. "Another round. Make hers Irish too."

  "I can't drink!"

  "Virgin Irish coffee then."

  "That's just coffee with whipped cream."

  "Exactly. You need the sugar rush for this conversation."

  The drinks arrived. Suzume's had an embarrassing amount of whipped cream and what looked like chocolate sauce.

  "I hate you," she said, taking a sip. It was actually pretty good.

  "So what's she like?" Yumi asked. "This mystery woman who doesn't exist."

  "Drop it."

  "Is she taller than you? She's definitely taller."

  "Everyone's taller than me."

  "Does she know you like her?"

  "There's no one to know anything."

  "Right." Yumi smirked. "That's why you're death-gripping your phone."

  Suzume looked down. She was indeed holding her phone like it might escape. A text from Kasumi sat unread on the screen.

  "Can I at least see what she looks like?"

  "No."

  "One photo."

  "Absolutely not."

  "I'll stop asking about your sex life."

  "I don't have a sex life!"

  The entire cafe turned to stare. The pink-haired waitress tried not to laugh.

  [Kill me.]

  "That was loud," Yumi observed helpfully.

  "I'm leaving."

  "Fine, fine! I'll stop pushing."

  Suzume sat back down.

  "Thank you."

  "But seriously, when you're ready to talk about it—"

  "Yumi."

  "I'm just saying, I give excellent relationship advice."

  "Your relationship advice led to you dating a married man."

  "That was bad luck."

  "And before him?"

  "A woman who turned out to be yakuza."

  "Jesus."

  "She was very upfront about it, actually. I just thought she was joking." Yumi finished her second Irish coffee. "The point is, I have experience."

  "Experience in what? Bad decisions?"

  "Exactly. I can tell you what not to do."

  Suzume's phone buzzed. She glanced at it.

  Kasumi: training tomorrow?

  Her face did something complicated.

  "Oh my god, she just texted you." Yumi tried to lean over the table. "What did she say?"

  "Nothing."

  "Your ears are red."

  "It's warm in here."

  "It's October."

  "Global warming."

  Yumi was about to respond when her own phone buzzed. Her expression shifted from playful to serious in an instant.

  "What is it?" Suzume asked.

  "Portal destabilization. Koto ward."

  Suzume was already standing.

  "How bad is it?"

  "C-rank dungeon. Three Players inside, rookies doing their qualification run." Yumi pulled up more information. "Portal went red twenty minutes ago."

  "Why didn't we get an alert sooner?"

  "The bureau's probably trying to keep it quiet. Bad for publicity if even day 1 Players can get stuck." Yumi looked up. "I take it you're going?"

  "I have to."

  "The bureau's saying they'll wait for it to stabilize—"

  "They always say that." Suzume pulled out cash for her coffee. "Twenty minutes means they could still be alive."

  "Could be. Or it could be another Shibuya."

  [Not if I can help it.]

  "Send me the location."

  Yumi was already typing.

  "It's an office building. Seventh floor. Building's been evacuated but security might still be around."

  "I'll figure it out."

  Outside, Suzume checked her phone. The location was fifteen minutes by train. Twenty by foot if she ran. The voice modulator was in her apartment, along with the rest of her gear.

  [There's no time.]

  She pocketed her phone and started running. Her sneakers slapped against wet pavement. October rain was starting early this year.

  [Three rookies. C-rank dungeon. They're probably already dead.]

  But probably wasn't certainly.

  And certainly wasn't acceptable.

  Her apartment building came into view. She took the stairs three at a time. Her neighbor, Mrs. Tanaka, barely had time to register her presence before she was inside, door slamming behind her.

  The gear was laid out on her desk. Organized, catalogued, ready. The voice modulator sat in its case, fully charged.

  She stripped out of her civilian clothes and pulled on the tactical pants and long-sleeved compression shirt she'd bought last week. The boots were already broken in from training. The gloves had reinforced knuckles and grip padding.

  Rope. Check. First aid kit. Check. Flares. Check. Knife. Check. Modulator. Check.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror. With her hair pulled back and the tactical gear, she looked like someone else entirely. Someone competent. Someone who knew what they were doing.

  [Fake it till you make it.]

  Her phone buzzed. Yumi had sent more information.

  Yumi: Security footage shows they entered at 2:47 PM

  Yumi: Portal went red at 3:51 PM

  Yumi: That's over an hour inside

  An hour was survivable. Akane had lasted ten days.

  [Don't think about that right now.]

  She pulled on a baseball cap and headed back out. Mrs. Tamaki was in the hallway, watering her plants.

  "Working late again, Suzume-chan?"

  "Something like that."

  "You young people work too hard."

  [If only you knew.]