Zhou stared, wide-eyed, at all the books in front of him. "Wow," he breathed in, as he edged closer to them, fingers tracing the letterings etched into their spines.
"Most of them are pretty old," Toshiro explained. Anything published in the last five years or so was barely ever printed in paper; there were no significant markets or buyers for them anymore. "But you can pull them out, take a look, if you want," he prompted.
Zhou obliged, pinching the spine of a hardcover and gently drawing it out. It was an old science fiction novel, one of those written about space travel before there had been space travel. Toshiro watched as he turned it over to skim the back summary, then began fingering through the pages, evidently intrigued.
This kid seemed almost more reverent of these books than the Oasis headset he'd perused earlier, even with how excited he had been then. Odd, Toshiro thought, for what most kids his age would've been like, but not unpleasant. And then again, who was he to speak, with a small library in his own house?
Zhou was still reading the first book he'd picked up when the virtual assistant dinged to announce the time. Toshiro had set it up to do so at designated intervals, so he wouldn't lose track in the Oasis and entirely mess up his schedule.
Startled, Zhou glanced up. "I'm sorry, I should be getting back now. I shouldn't have intruded for so long."
"Are you sure? It's really no problem on my part."
"Yes... I should go back now."
To where? Toshiro wondered. But he didn't vocalize it. "Alright, then. But do you want to take the book with you? You could keep it, you seem pretty interested."
Zhou looked taken aback. "No, I really couldn't. But... um... but could I loan it for a few days? I'll give it back."
Toshiro smiled. "Sure, whenever you finish."
"No, no, I'll return it in two days," Zhou decided. "Should I come back here? Or somewhere else... I really don't belong somewhere so affluent."
"It's really just fine," Toshiro said. "But anywhere you want. We could meet at the gaming cafe, if you'd like."
Zhou nodded, and they decided on a time, after which he murmured a thanks and then he hurried out.
Zhou walked alone along the icy path. Oddly, the only other place where he'd ever seen so many books before at once was in the Oasis, in an antique library setting, where they were real but not real. He could thumb through the pages, feel them, but they weren't there, not really.
Now, he carefully gripped the book. It was satisfyingly solid, the constant weight in his hands. But at the same time, it prompted more uncertainty: who exactly was Toshiro?
Daito, he'd learned was one of the answers. He wasn't sure if that was a comforting thought or not, that the two people he thought he kind of knew were actually the same. But the fact at least explained how well-off Toshiro was: as a top player, he would be getting quite a lot. Zhou could've had that, too, if he signed on with one of the contracts to be a salaried player. But that would require more identification papers he didn't have and wasn't willing to give, which made it out of the question.
Toshiro — and Daito — hadn't been anything but kind, but Zhou remained skeptical despite the fact, maybe even more so because of it. If it was anything like last time... But no, he shouldn't think about that. The orphanage, everything else, that was behind him now. He didn't need to remember.
If only he could figure out Toshiro's motives. People normally didn't go around being nice to strangers, did they, unless they had a reason? He'd heard stories of altruism before, but he wasn't sure he believed it.
And was trust really worth the risk?