As the game ends, the results screen displays a list of the top sixteen players.
There I am... a blinking blue frame
"Congratulations on 14th place."
Betty congratulates me. It was quite close. If Musca hadn't flown in at the end, I might not have made the cut.
Well, since I'll get another chance, the actual ranking doesn't really matter to me. But 13th would have been a bit more fitting for a dark hero vibe.
"Good work."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow."
The Xcalibur's durability didn't drain as much as I feared - it should fully regenerate by tomorrow's match. Its 4% self-repair per hour is quite exceptional even among rare weapons. I've never had it drop below half durability because if left alone, it's back to full strength the next day - perfect for my playstyle. Repair is possible using score points, but there's a chance of failure for weapon items, reducing the max durability if failed. I can't risk that with the one-of-a-kind Xcalibur.
Unit max durability never decreases from repairs, but still consumes score points. I tend to just let my unit self-repair by default to save money. But there's also a sense of the game continuing while I'm away that I enjoy.
"As expected from the nation's gathered ace pilots, it was a battle full of highlights. The net is already buzzing, tonight will be a lively celebration."
Colonel Alisa is as spirited as ever, though her voice is sounding a bit hoarse.
The Triskies must have watched online. I don't think I did anything too embarrassing. Come to think of it, I never got Sagittarius' pilot name - some St-something in Roman letters I can't pronounce. I'll check the logs later, or just listen to their voice if they haven't messed with the voice comm settings.
"Now then, fear not eliminated pilots, I won't say anything as cheap as sending you home with just buttered potatoes. The military will cover your accommodation until the finals, so feel free to relax. We've planned a 'Drowned in Osaka Delicacies' consolation party at this hotel's food street later. But don't overindulge just because it's free grub."
I see, even the losers get to have fun. The organizers are surprisingly generous - this must be quite the lucrative event.
"For the sixteen of you who made it through, we've prepared a luxurious dinner at the top-floor panorama restaurant. I'll be joining as well, so look forward to it."
I certainly am looking forward to it. The rowdy Alisa not so much, but the feast definitely piques my interest. Will we get delicacies like caviar or foie gras? I've never tried them, so I'm curious what such dishes will be like.
I had intended to return to my room and change into a suit, but it seems we're heading straight to the restaurant.
Well, there are others in tracksuits too, so it's fine I suppose. Some are in suits while others wear biker jackets. There's even an odd girl dressed like an idol from the Showa era with a frilly, fluffy dress.
With so many eccentric characters around, the staff in military cosplay still look relatively normal. At least I don't have to fuss over my own appearance.
We take a large panoramic elevator that can fit up to twenty people directly to the top floor. The night view through the glass tube is breathtaking, though I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy. If I had returned to my room, I might have just dozed off instead.
The entire top floor is a restaurant with panoramic views, though technically not the absolute top as there seems to be an owner's penthouse garden on the rooftop.
It appears to be exclusively reserved for us tonight, with only staff besides our group present. Aside from the nice view, it looks like a fairly ordinary restaurant - the salad bar has mounds of macaroni salad among the vegetables, and while the drink bar offers premium liquors, it's not too different from a family restaurant. Apparently the American owner is a fan of Japanese family restaurants.
I thought it would be a standing self-service affair, but it seems a course menu is also prepared. Since we can freely choose our seats, I take a small window-side table for myself. The others clearly know each other, merrily chatting in groups, making it a bit awkward for me to join. Not that I'm a loner or anything - I'm a man who cherishes solitude.
"Sorry to keep you all waiting, here comes the boss!"
The next elevator brings not only Colonel Alisa but a scruffy middle-aged white man in an outlandish military cosplay getup. He's decked out in rows of shiny toy medals that surprisingly have an extremely realistic gold sheen. Those trinkets are probably worth more than real medals.
"Hello everyone in Japan, I'm Billy!"
His scruffy voice matches his scruffy appearance, but... Billy? Surely not billionaire mogul Billy Reis who made headlines for buying an entire small country as petty cash?
Now that you mention it, I do recall seeing a video of a former prime minister groveling delightedly before this man. Despite his shabby old man appearance, the sheer contrast creates an overwhelmingly strong personality.
Billionaire Reis is surrounded by a bevy of breathtaking beauties, but his overpowering presence reduces them all to mere extras.
"Uh, well, everyone try your best to aim for the championship. I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of battles unfold."
After woodenly delivering that line, Reis promptly boards the elevator alone and leaves. He must be extremely busy - even for a ultra-rich man, it's a rather pitiful existence in a way.
A parade of self-importantly looking figures arrive to take his place, but after witnessing Reis, they come across as mere mid-bosses at best. These folks probably have enough clout to blow away our company president like dust, yet to someone like Reis they're insignificant.
If the puppet master is indeed Billy Reis, the abundant funding makes sense. It's well known he's an avid Japan and gaming otaku. "Guardian Troopers" could just be an indulgent hobby for him, or possibly part of some innovative business venture.
This hotel being one of his playthings is undoubtable. Perhaps even the entire Osaka casino district was his brainchild.
Whether it's just an otaku passion project or some death business, the hangers-on swarming Reis probably don't care either way. Where there's big money circulating, some will trickle down to those around it, attracting more people and generating even more money.
It's ultimately a world I have no connection to. As long as the "Guardian Troopers" service continues, that's all that matters to me. Though I am curious why Reis chose to reveal himself tonight without issuing any gag orders - it will probably become a huge scoop by tomorrow, no?
"Excuse me, may I join you?"
A young woman suddenly addresses me. Lost in thought, I completely failed to notice her approach. To avoid seeming flustered at being spoken to by a girl, I maintain a poker face.
She's neither a player nor a companion staff member. Likely one of the VIP guests who arrived later with the bigwigs - dressed in a suit giving her a rather plain impression. Japanese, right? Not a breathtaking beauty, but still an eighteen-petaled fresh blossom, as they say. Well, maybe not quite eighteen, she's probably over twenty.
There are plenty of vacant seats, but I have no particular reason to refuse. The prospect of sharing a table with a young lady doesn't bother me, so I give a slight nod of acceptance.
"As expected, you leave no openings. I thought I had your back, but you were aware of my presence from the start."
What is this girl going on about? Did she think I'd strike her if she got behind me or something?
"Would you prefer beef or fish, sir/ma'am?"
As the woman takes her seat, an approaching waiter politely inquires - seems he's an android too.
"I'll have the fish."
I'm in the mood for fish tonight. High-quality fish has become more expensive than even premium beef these days - not something you can eat very often.
"I'll take the beef."
The young lady prefers meat. Good, I'm curious what kind of dishes will be served for the beef course.
"As expected, you identified him as an android at a glance."
"Well, he's decently made, but all the androids at this hotel have the same face, you see."
"Is that so?"
"They vary the makeup, but the facial components seem to be shared between males and females."
The androids employed at this hotel appear to be high-end service models built for durability, safety and cost-performance rather than individual character like consumer products.
In particular, facial components designed for realistic expressions are delicate and prone to damage - even minor soiling or wear becomes glaringly obvious. The pristine condition of the androids here suggests their facial parts are regularly replaced during maintenance.
Sharing common facial components increases maintenance efficiency by simplifying inventory management and using the same expression control software.
Generic beautiful faces lack individuality, so having them all share the same face doesn't seem too jarring. Just by mixing wigs, makeup and outfits, they can create all the character variations needed for service staff.
You make a fair point. While they seem to vary the heights between male and female models, the body parts are likely mostly shared components, simply adjusting the length of the interior pipe frames. That bunny girl we saw downstairs with the revealing outfit probably has a more intricately sculpted body, but for waiters like him, they probably just cover the basic frame with padding.
Sensors beyond the hands may even be omitted - if linked to the comprehensive surveillance cameras installed throughout with no blind spots, even the camera eyes could be dummies...
"Now that you mention it, they do all have the same face. What sharp observational skills, as expected of a Ninja Master, no?"
Ninja Master? What is she on about? Is this girl one of those eccentric types?
"There's no use hiding it, Mr. Gengoro Kakinashi. I've already uncovered that you hail from the Ninja Master lineage."
Is she some kind of detective? I don't know where she dug up my embarrassing real name, but she's mistaken - my family has absolutely no ninja roots. There may have been some rural samurai ancestors way back, but ever since the Meiji Restoration, we've just been farmers.
I try to keep my first name secret out of embarrassment, but did she check the passenger manifest or something? If an amateur civilian could peek at pilot registration data, that's a major security lapse for the organizers.
"To make one's heart a clear mirror, reflecting the heart of the other - even bullets can be avoided with such clarity, is that not so?"
She's suddenly spouting these weird lines, like quotes from a period drama. Yet there's something that slightly resonates, it does feel that way when expertly evading in my Lynx.
But I'm at a loss as to why this strange girl is bringing it up so abruptly, leaving me dumbstruck. If she's purposefully acting the quirky girl routine, it's kind of working, but if she's being genuine, she's just unsettling.
"The silent treatment, huh? The secret inner techniques of ninjutsu, I take it? No need to worry, I too have received the inner teachings from my master. Your secrets are safe with me."
Seems I've caught the interest of an eccentric. The appetizers conveniently arrive, so I decide to ignore this weirdo and focus on my meal. I received a carpaccio roll, while she got some kind of gelatin consommé concoction. Ah, she's already downed it in one gulp - doesn't seem as refined as her appearance suggests.
"I wasn't really interested in the game, you know? But I was amazed to see a real person dodging bullets right before my eyes."
So she witnessed that stunt of mine, huh. It was just supposed to be a staged attraction.
I get it now, this ninja fangirl maiden witnessed that and became convinced I'm some actual "Ninja Master." Only grade schoolers are supposed to get carried away believing that kind of superhero show is real. Her brain hasn't quite matured to match her womanly figure, it seems.
Whatever, she's just a random stranger I happened to be seated with. Outright ignoring her would be too rude... I'll just politely acknowlege her when addressed and focus on my own meal.
A coffee cup filled with soup is served before the girl. The cup is topped with a dome of pie crust - a potpie soup, huh?
For me it's a miniature claypot filled with codfish soup - I know the premium codfish itself as "kue," but this is my first time tasting it.
The girl is noisily breaking apart the pie crust with her spoon. The contents seem to be a consommé, but there are floating red bits - tomato sauce or chili perhaps?
"Care to share a taste?"
Not a bad suggestion - swapping a few bites would let us sample both the beef and fish courses. But I'd rather not indulge this weirdo any further.
"Nah...it'd be disrespectful to the chef."
I decline with a lame excuse. The courses are designed as a cohesive progression, so it's not entirely invalid.
"Stuff like this is probably just mass-produced automated factory fare, isn't it?"
Good point, I certainly hope hotel course menus are still prepared by human hands, but who knows these days. Savoring the codfish-like white meat, I couldn't detect any particular difference.
"Kobe beef tempura and a sprout salad."
The next course arrives before I've even finished the codfish stew, which is still too hot to easily drain.
"An assorted sashimi platter."
The sashimi looks exquisite, with a nice variety despite modest portions. The real wasabi has a distinctly different aroma from the tubed kind.
The girl has the waiter bring an expensive-looking red wine bottle and starts drinking at a decent pace. Damn, I could go for a beer myself, but I'd rather not deal with a hangover for tomorrow's match.
The main course was grilled monkfish for me, while the girl had a thick steak. The slightly dry white fish didn't quite live up to my expectations, but the steak looked delicious. I may have lost out on the main dish.
As I kept sneaking glances, the girl, claiming to be a bit tipsy, actually started loosening her blouse. Was that meant as a honey trap? Perhaps it's just a guy's nature to have one's gaze drawn there despite knowing better. I'm of the view that if I'm going to sneak peeks, I might as well look openly. This girl is quite well-endowed, I must say.
"Well, well, if it ain't Rin-Rin settin' up a honey trap even in a place like this. Dedicated to the trade, ain'tcha?"
The sudden intruder with the suspicious Kansai accent was a blonde Caucasian girl cradling a plate piled high with food.
Despite having the looks of a fantasy movie heroine when silent, her speech patterns reminded one of an unscrupulous merchant from a period drama. She plucked what seemed to be a caviar canapé from her plate and popped it into her mouth.
Colorful finger foods had been arranged on the central large table at some point, suggesting a stand-up party was underway. Were we in the minority sitting down for the full course? My stomach was still three-quarters full, so I could probably join that side once I finished eating.
"You, this one, don't get in my way."
The man called Rin-Rin glared at the blonde with a startlingly harsh tone that could render a meek person immobile with its murderous aura.
"My, how scary. Your true colors are showing."
The blonde didn't seem fazed by the murderous vibe either - she must have a strong spirit. While they were likely organizers or their guests, this being a casino district, Mafia infiltration wouldn't be surprising.
"Well then, see ya."
After a momentary showdown of glares, the blonde sauntered over to the other player groups, which seemed quite lively surrounded by newly-arrived beauties.
"Ugh, I can't stand being called Rin-Rin, you know? It's just a nickname. My real name is Rin Suzuki - a full-blooded Japanese."
The man who drove off the blonde spoke with a meek, almost cloying tone, a stark contrast to her earlier brashness. Nationality, huh...Come to think of it, this district is supposed to have many Chinese Mafia types too.
"Honey trap, I see."
The classic spy movie tactic of entrapping the enemy through seduction. Not that ensnaring players would accomplish much, but if it involved the Mafia, there could be match-fixing schemes afoot.
"Ah, never mind, never mind. Playing the cute cat is too stifling for me. It's not a honey trap or anything. Though I guess you could call it the 'beautiful man' strategy - a valid tactic in its own right. I'm just not really cut out for that kind of thing."
With an abrupt change in demeanor, the girl stabbed her fork into the steak main course and took a hearty bite, wolfing it down. A carnivorous girl type? There was no doubt she was the one with the true colors now, her previously reserved expression now vibrant and lively.
"You're the one those bastards who attacked the ship are after, aren't you? Little old me just happens to be a fairly well-known bounty hunter around these parts."
A bounty hunter - a mercenary gunslinger, basically. I've heard the Japanese police can't be relied on in the districts, so Mafia private militias form their own security forces. Apparently they're even allowed to possess firearms to counter terrorists who have been toting AKs and grenade launchers recently.
This little girl doesn't look the part of a bounty hunter, but that murderous aura was no joke. And for just pulling a trigger, physical strength hardly matters.
"I saw enough to know you've got some serious skills. But if you're not interested in hunting, mind giving up your bounty?"
So the attack on the ship was real after all? The shooter in the audience wasn't this girl, but could they have been another bounty hunter?