"You want to what?"

  Suzume's voice cracked like she was thirteen again, standing in front of the class trying to explain photosynthesis while her crush watched from the third row.

  "Join your guild." Kasumi's tone suggested this was obvious. Like she'd asked to borrow a pencil instead of upending Suzume's entire worldview. "Unless you're not accepting applications?"

  "I—no, we're accepting—I mean—" Suzume's brain was doing that thing where it played elevator music instead of producing thoughts. "Why?"

  "Why?"

  "You literally called me a vigilante like two days ago."

  "Well, first, I didn't know you were Rescue Girl. And second, that was before you told the Director to eat shit."

  "I didn't say—"

  Yumi, who'd been pretending not to eavesdrop while absolutely eavesdropping, stage-whispered:

  "Two million yen!"

  [Not now, Yumi.]

  "Besides," Kasumi continued, and Suzume could hear her walking somewhere, heels clicking on pavement. "My new guild dropped me."

  The elevator music in Suzume's brain switched to dial-up modem sounds.

  "They what?"

  "Look at my feed. on Zitter."

  Suzume went to do just that.

  Up at the top of Kasumi's feed was a post with hundreds of thousands of likes and tens of thousands of comments from Kasumi, talking about how she respected what Rescue Girl, Suzume, had done for Japan.

  "Turns out publicly defending you while being their newest prospect wasn't great for their image. Something about 'maintaining professional distance from controversial figures.'" She laughed, but it had edges. "Their loss. I was getting sick of their matching tracksuits anyway."

  "Kasumi, I can't—you shouldn't throw away your career for—"

  "Are you saying you don't want me?"

  "That's not—of course I want—on the team. Want you on the team."

  Yumi made a sound like a dying cat trying to suppress laughter.

  "Good. When's the first meeting?"

  "The what now?"

  "Guild meeting. You have a guild. Guilds have meetings. This is how organizations work."

  "I know how organizations work."

  "Okay. Meeting. When?"

  Suzume looked around her apartment. At the training equipment shoved in one corner. The wall of monster diagrams held up with konbini tape. The kitchen counter that currently held seventeen empty cup noodle containers because she'd been "too busy" to walk them to the trash chute ten feet away.

  "Tomorrow night? Seven?"

  "Your apartment?"

  "I—yes?"

  "Text me the address. Oh, and Suzu-chan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Maybe clean up first. Cup noodle graveyards don't exactly scream 'professional', hehe."

  She hung up.

  Suzume stared at her phone like it had personally betrayed her. Which, considering it had just facilitated the most emotionally devastating conversation of her week, it basically had.

  "Three million yen," Yumi announced. "Also, you should see your face right now."

  "I need to clean."

  "You need a hazmat team."

  "... I need to buy chairs."

  ---

  Twenty-four hours, four trips to Nitori, two trips to the konbini for cleaning supplies, and one minor breakdown in the bathroom later, Suzume's apartment looked...

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Well, it still looked like a studio apartment. But now it was a studio apartment with three folding chairs and a coffee table she'd assembled backward twice before Yumi took pity and fixed it.

  "Stop moving the cushions," Yumi said, not looking up from her laptop. "They're fine."

  "They're uneven."

  "They're pillows. Their natural state is uneven."

  "What if she thinks I'm a slob?"

  "So? Who cares?"

  The doorbell rang.

  [Oh god oh fuck oh shit.]

  Suzume opened the door to find Kasumi in ripped jeans and a tank top. Her hair was up in a messy bun. She looked effortlessly hot.

  "Hey."

  "Hi."

  "Nice place."

  "It's terrible."

  "... Yeah, but terrible with character." Kasumi stepped inside, looking around with the expression of someone entering a crime scene.

  Yumi waved from the couch.

  "I'm Yumi. I've heard absolutely nothing about you."

  "Liar," Suzume muttered.

  "Only good things?"

  "Worse. She goes silent and makes faces like she's having a stroke whenever your name comes up."

  [I'm going to murder Yumi. Slowly. With a spoon.]

  Kasumi grinned.

  "That's cute."

  Before Suzume could process that 'cute' comment—was that flirting? friendly teasing? just an observation?—she practically fled to the kitchen area.

  "Water? Tea? I have... instant coffee that expired last month?"

  "I'm good." Kasumi settled onto the couch next to Yumi, somehow making the saggy cushions look intentional. "So. What's the plan?"

  "Plan?" Suzume grabbed a glass of water just to have something to do with her hands.

  "For the guild. You just declared war on the entire Player establishment. I'm assuming you thought past the mic drop moment?"

  [I absolutely did not.]

  "We save people," Suzume said.

  Kasumi waited. When nothing else came, she raised an eyebrow.

  "That's it? That's your business model?"

  "It's not a business—"

  "It literally is," Yumi interrupted, spinning her laptop around. "Congratulations, you're now the CEO of a registered guild. Which means taxes, liability insurance, equipment procurement, member contracts—"

  "Stop, stop. You're giving me hives."

  "Four million yen," Yumi continued, ignoring her. "Four million in donations and climbing. That's not charity money anymore, that's operational funding. People expect results."

  Suzume slumped into the remaining chair, which creaked ominously.

  "I just wanted to save people."

  "And now you can. Legally. With backup." Yumi pulled up a spreadsheet that made Suzume's eyes water. "But first you'll need to establish response protocols, equipment standards, communication systems—"

  "Turn on Channel 7," Kasumi said suddenly, staring at her phone.

  Yumi flipped to the news. Takeshi Yagami's face filled the screen, his expression the perfect blend of condescending and constipated.

  "—regarding the newly formed Dungeon Rescue Guild," he was saying. "While we appreciate civilian enthusiasm for Player safety, there are standards that must be met for any guild to maintain official status."

  "Here we go," Kasumi muttered.

  "First, any guild must maintain a minimum of five registered, awakened members within thirty days of formation."

  Suzume counted on her fingers. Her. Kasumi. That was... two.

  "Second, the guild must demonstrate financial stability through either corporate sponsorship or a minimum treasury of ten million yen."

  [Ten million? We're not even halfway there.]

  "Third, all guild operations must be conducted from a registered headquarters that meets safety and zoning requirements. Private residences do not qualify."

  Suzume looked around her studio apartment with its suspicious ceiling stain and the closet door that only opened if you lifted it at exactly the right angle.

  "Fourth, the guild must complete at least three successful, documented missions within the probationary period."

  "Define successful," Yumi said to the TV.

  "And finally," Takeshi's smile could have curdled milk, "the guild leader must pass the Association's leadership certification exam, covering dungeon law, Player regulations, and ethical standards."

  The news cut to the anchors, who immediately started discussing whether these requirements were "reasonable" or "specifically designed to shut down Rescue Girl."

  "It's definitely the second one," the younger anchor said before the older one kicked him under the desk.

  Suzume stared at the TV. Five awakened members. Ten million yen. A headquarters. Three missions. And an exam she'd definitely fail because she'd probably tell them their ethical standards could fuck right off.

  "Well," Yumi said cheerfully. "We're kinda screwed."

  "We're not screwed." Kasumi stood up, and there was something in her posture that made Suzume's spine straighten automatically. For a moment, she was reminded: this was Kasumi the Player, the rising star who'd been courted by every major guild in Tokyo.

  "We need three more awakened members? I know at least six Players who are sick of their guilds' bullshit. The money?" She gestured at Yumi's laptop. "At this rate, we'll hit ten million by tomorrow. The headquarters is trickier, but there are abandoned dojos all over Tokyo. We make one barely functional, it counts."

  "And the missions?" Suzume asked.

  "You've already done a dozen rescues. We just do three more, but documented. With witnesses. Maybe livestreamed."

  "The exam—"

  "Is multiple choice. I took a lesser version when Phoenix was recruiting me. Half the questions are about tax codes."

  Yumi cleared her throat.

  "Four and a half million."

  "What?"

  "Someone just donated five hundred thousand yen." She turned the laptop around to show the message attached: "For the girl who told Takeshi to fuck off."

  Despite everything, Suzume laughed.

  "I didn't tell him to fuck off."

  "You absolutely did," Kasumi and Yumi said in unison.

  The news had moved on to weather, promising rain tomorrow and sunshine by the weekend. Normal Tokyo programming, as if they hadn't just outlined the systematic destruction of everything Suzume had just built.

  "So," Kasumi said, pulling out her phone. "Let me make some calls. Yumi, can you scout locations for a headquarters? Something cheap and technically functional."

  "Define technically."

  "Has walls, a roof, and probably won't collapse."

  "I can work with probably."

  They both looked at Suzume expectantly.

  "What do I do?" she asked.

  Kasumi smiled, and it was sharp enough to cut.

  "You're going to study for that exam. And tomorrow, we're going to make Takeshi Yagami eat every single one of those requirements."

  She stood up, already dialing someone.

  "Hey, Ryota? Yeah, it's Kasumi. Can you, uh..."

  Yumi was typing furiously, pulling up real estate listings and Building Safety Code violations simultaneously.

  Suzume sat in her cheap folding chair, in her disaster of an apartment, watching two women she barely knew plan her revolution.

  [This is insane... But at least I'm not doing it alone.]