19 The Daily Lives of Ainz Ooal Gown: Touch Me and Ulbert Alain Odle - The Dreamer and the Cynic

The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Formerly an endgame dungeon, it currently serves as the headquarters of Ainz Ooal Gown. Where it once held six inhospitable levels, they have been expanded upon since the guild's conquest. Now, the guild base holds within it ten floors reserved for its new masters.

The Ninth Floor was designed to house the various members of Ainz Ooal Gown. Tastefully decorated and stylized, it contained the personalized dorms for the members of the guild.

Marching urgently, Shirou paid no attention to the décor, his mind occupied by his circumstances. The source of his haste? A message from none other than his friend and the resident World Champion: Touch Me. The message was short and simple, unlike his usual boisterous self. It simply read: "Could you meet me in my quarters? I... need help."

Three words he never expected he would hear from Touch Me caused his pace to quicken the smallest bit. Whatever it was that rattled the normally stalwart Player, it had to be big.

With a final turn, Shirou's stride slowed till he arrived at a simple wooden door. On it was a golden nameplate that identified the room as Touch Me's. Standing at the door, Shirou braced himself for what was to come. With his mind set, he entered the room. It was well furnished and spacious, but a bit empty, with only a few decorations and accessories for the room. Accommodating was the best way to describe Touch Me's personal abode. There, the silver paladin sat and waited in complete silence.

On the surface, it appeared everything was alright, but Shirou knew that was far from the truth.

Despite lacking finer facial details, Touch Me's avatar told a story. The hunched shoulders of one who had failed. The tilted head of one who was lost in thoughts. The lack of response to his entrance. Everything was screaming something was seriously wrong.

How many times had he seen these signs on the faces of his comrades and victims, Shirou wondered. How many times had he worn the same expression, that of a failure, of a man who had lost despite his best efforts?

It was disconcerting to see it once again and on someone like Touch Me. A man who, no matter the situation, always managed to project a smile and unrestrained exuberance in his words. That begged the question. Why would that man, who held a family and was in great standing, economically and otherwise, dare wear such a defeatist attitude?

Finally taking note of his presence, Touch Me turned to him, his movements sluggish.

"Ah… Emiya-san, you came."

A sliver of worry wormed itself within his core, but he squashed it. The magus's mind was already racing, meditating on how to approach his friend. No more than a second passed before he came to a decision. If he was correct in his assumption, his friend would need a strong hand, instead of pointless pity.

"You failed, haven't you?" Shirou asked immediately, forgoing any real form of tact and instead tackling the problem directly.

"Am I so easy to read? Or is this another show of your incredible observations?" A speck of surprise colored his next words, however, he remained largely melancholic.

For all the apathy the World Champion probably felt at the moment, he couldn't hope to hide the trace amount of frustration, guilt, and self-hate that remained prevalent in his tone. Touch Me was still responsive to outside stimuli.

That was good, Shirou thought.

Now, he had to work on opening him up to conversation. If he wanted his future actions to help, he would need him to be flustered. And that meant riling the normally calm Player up a bit.

"Neither, I could sense your angst from the other side of the guild. I almost thought you were Ulbert-san for a moment. So, out with it. What happened?"

As juvenile as the insult was, it still seemed to make Touch Me more responsive, annoyance becoming more apparent.

"Have you come to mock me? Well, I suppose I deserve it. I must look pathetic... Life happened, Emiya-san. It came knocking at my door, and I wasn't ready for her message. She's a cruel mistress, no?" Touch Me asked Shirou, who remained silent at his rhetorical question.

His response was largely a diversion, trying to stall it out. Shirou knew this, and that wouldn't do. Touch Me had asked Shirou for help, and whether he liked it or not, he was going to get his help. Fixing his friend with a firm look, he leaned into the wall and let a tense silence fill the room, waiting for the details of his problem.

Touch Me did not answer immediately, content to remain there. Yet, as it became clear that Shirou was waiting for an explanation, he finally relented and spoke somberly.

"I killed someone…" Touch Me said after a moment. His voice was hollow in his confession.

"…I can only assume whoever it was wasn't a criminal, was it?" Shirou carefully inquired.

A string of scenarios played in his head for what could have possibly led his friend into such a slump. The tension in the room skyrocketed as silence returned to fill the air. Touch Me recounted what had happened to him here, explaining every detail in a monotone voice. There was no inflection in his voice, giving the impression that he was simply reciting lines from a report. At the end, Shirou was left to muse on what his friend experienced.

Shirou fought a sigh at his friend's words. It seemed that he was indeed correct. Well, at least Touch Me seemed to have become more open. Now that he had a clear picture of what happened, he knew what to do next. He just hoped Touch Me could forgive him for what he was about to say and do next. His actions might be cruel, but he only wished to help.

And wasn't that the story of his life?

Suppressing a spike of self-loathing for what was to come, Shirou projected every shred of annoyance he could muster. He projected a bit of Archer into himself, for who better to confront such a situation than the cynical hero himself? No matter how distasteful this would be, he needed to snap Touch Me out of his self-loathing thoughts. He would make sure to apologize later.

"Indeed, life is cruel. However, how is this news? Have you not seen the state of the world? Life is unfair, but I fail to see why that should be a reason to cry about it. People die every day, such is life. And life continues onward, and so should you."

For a moment, Touch Me seemed to freeze in shock. He had likely expected a comforting shoulder and an open ear from his friend. Not this… undue harshness.

Such words were more fitting for the likes of Ulbert and his usual cynicism than his normally considerate friend.

Growing incensed, Touch Me responded in kind.

"Move on? What kind of answer is that?!" He shouted back.

"The only answer available to you." Shirou calmly answered back, which only served to ruffle the silver swordsman up even further. "You can't change the past, not now, not ever. You must move on from this, Touch Me-san."

"Move on… as if that's easy! All my life, I've strived to be a hero! An ideal of justice—one to take down the villain and save the innocent! Yet… yet… I killed that man, Emiya-san! A man down on his luck, who I spoke to every day! A man who I could consider a good person and a friend! He didn't deserve it! And yet... and yet, I shot him. I didn't have a choice. He had a hostage, and I couldn't let him die. So, I killed the man. Are you telling me that I should just move on? Forget that man and my actions that led to him disappearing from the world?! Don't fuck with me!"

Touch Me rose from his seat, his fist slamming against the table he had previously rested his arms on. While a part of him wanted to cringe at his sheer tactfulness, his need to help his friend won out.

No matter how harsh it was, this method had been employed by others to snap him out of his pity parties, and he had used it in kind. Its effectiveness, however, could never overshadow his dislike for it.

Swallowing the apology that he wished to utter, he responded to the outrage in an uncharacteristic manner.

"Don't put words in my mouth! I never told you to forget about it, and I never would! What I said was that you have to move on. You took an innocent life. But, what else could you have done? You did your duty as an officer of the law, Touch Me-san. Was there a way you could have solved the issue peacefully? And don't disillusion yourself by thinking that you could have! Think about it, and tell me, was there truly any other way?" Shirou challenged.

The two stared angrily at one another, neither one backing down from their stance. For a moment, it looked like Touch Me wouldn't listen. But, a trace of consideration broke through his rage, letting him think about the presented question. Not that it was difficult to see the answer. After all, had he not thought about it for hours on end already? So he spoke as if his words were poison. Bitter and disgusting, admitting his failure hurt.

"No, I couldn't have." He admitted.

As if saying the words cemented them in reality, he fell back into his seat. The fire of his rage dimmed by the downpour of grief that swept throughout him.

In the calm that came from Touch Me's acceptance, Shirou took the initiative.

"Touch Me-san…" Shirou began, his voice softening. He slowly walked up to him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Despite it all, he understood exactly what his friend was thinking and going through. Shirou had once done the same as well.

"You did your best, and no one can blame you for that. You did kill him, but in doing so, you prevented him from taking another life. You saved your coworker from needlessly dying. You saved a life, isn't that what matters most? Sometimes… sometimes the correct decision doesn't always mean it's the right one. All you can do is accept it and move on."

Touch Me remained silent, his armored avatar revealing nothing of the inner turmoil and tempestuous thoughts raging in his head. After what seemed to be an eternity, Touch Me responded. With a huge, deep breath, the silver knight breathed a solemn sigh. He stood up suddenly, knocking Shirou's hand off his shoulder.

"If only it were truly that simple, my friend..." Touch Me intoned cryptically.

Without another word, he walked away from the table and Shirou. The magus kept quiet and watched as the Heteromorphic Player approached a hanging tapestry. It wasn't any ordinary piece of decoration, as it depicted the initial insignia of Nine's Own Goal. One, which served as the prototype and would be later modified as the symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole.

Touch Me gently ran his hand across the virtual fabric. Shirou kept his distance and waited for him.

"Touch Me-san…" Shirou softly called out to him, hoping that he would reciprocate. Which he did, but not in the manner the virtual magus expected.

"Ever since I could remember, I've always wanted to be a Hero of Justice. I grew up on hundreds of stories, both real and fictional. Everyone enjoys a good story of heroes and villains, of good and evil. But in a lot of ways, it was my family that inspired me the most." Touch Me began, surprising Shirou at the suddenness of the topic.

The faker kept back and quiet, waiting to see where this would go as the paladin began revealing his past.

"Everyone on my father's side of the family had served in one form or fashion. We have our roots dating back to the Second World War. Be it in the military, the JSDF, or even officers of the law. Everyone from my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather, and his father before him. You could say it's a time-honored tradition. Mother always joked by saying it's in our blood to serve and protect."

A faint chuckle came to Touch Me's lips.

"As a child, I was enamored with tales of all sorts, ranging from fantastical fables of brave warriors and wicked villains coming to the rescue of a helpless maiden and saving the day, to the inspiring accounts of my forefathers heroic exploits. However, it was the stories involving my father that truly captivated me. He was a police officer himself, and a damn good one at that.

My mother would tell me every night about the good my father was doing in his absence. He was my hero. Far from those of legend, he was a man who looked at the world and decided to change it. Make it better. Make it greater. I was starstruck, inspired even. My father was such a great man, and his blood flowed through me. It seemed only fitting that I follow in his footsteps.

So I did. I would wake up every day to help. Spending hours on end being the busybody in the neighborhood. Cats? Rescued. Bikes? Fixed. Lost items? Recovered. It was tiring, and yet I could never complain. The gratitude I received was a good enough reward, and the smiles on those I helped were all the fuel I needed to continue. It was only a matter of time before I decided to follow in my father's professions. I worked tirelessly until I was enrolled in the most prestigious police academy.

For as long as I've breathed and dreamed, I've always wanted to be a hero. Just like my father, eventually I finally reached my dream. I could still remember the day of my graduation. How happy they looked. I had finally become an officer of my own. A hero that would make the streets a better and safer place from the likes of rogues and scoundrels that would harm others and disturb the peace. And for a time, all was right in the world." Touch Me delivered, his voice filled with forlornness, with a melancholic smile and an unfocused gaze.

Shirou even detected a small hint of joy as he reminisced. A hint of Touch Me's usual self-shining through.

Touch Me still cherishes the memory of his parents' warm smiles as he received his certificate. Their tears of joy and congratulatory hugs made the occasion even more special. To mark the momentous event, Touch Me's father passed down to him his old officer cap, the very same one he wore during his years of service.

Gratitude couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of it all. Touch Me swore he would make them proud. And for a time, Touch Me/Ichirou felt truly content.

He took the next step to become someone who would help others, just like his father. He was closer to becoming a Hero.

"While I am touched that you shared this with me, that doesn't make it any clear what's wrong." Shirou politely cut in, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Right, right. Sorry about that, Emiya-san." Touch Me chuckled, his voice wistful.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't last as the mood turned grim for what came next.

"However, those happy times wouldn't last. The world was changing, I knew it, but I couldn't change with it. I tried to fight it, but I failed! For all my talk about being a paragon of virtue and a good person, I never learned to take my own damn advice! What are words without actions?! Lies, that's what they are, and a liar is what they make me! I tried, and God knows I tried.

When everything was going to hell and what I believed in was falling apart, I fought. I fought against the reforms and corruption. If not publicly, then privately, doing whatever good I can. But... it never ended. For every law I managed to uphold, a dozen were broken. Over and over, I tried. Yet, it never stopped. At the end of that road, all I found was a cubicle and a paycheck. I wasn't upholding justice for a dream, I did it just because I had to and for the money. There was no passion in my action, merely going through the motions. And I hated it." Touch Me finished.

There was a hint of an emotion in his voice, one emotion that Shirou, or anyone else for that fact, has never heard him speak in before or ever. One foreign to their normally spirited friend.

Self-loathing. One derived from anger and it was building up as Touch Me continued.

"I clung to my ideals, refusing to believe they were truly gone. I told myself that I would keep on fighting because it was the right thing to do. To keep them alive. That they weren't false, but in reality, it was because I was selfish. I didn't want to accept that my dreams, my ideals, had become nothing more than a fool's errand. I couldn't accept such a cruel reality. Try as I might to circumvent the truth, it eventually caught up to me.

When I finally accepted the truth, I was lost. I—I didn't know what to do. In the end, I ran away. Like a coward, I ran away from both the truth and reality.

It was my cowardice that led me to discover YGGDRASIL in the first place. It became my escape from it all. I saw that there was unchecked injustice in the virtual world, just like in the real world. I wanted to do something about it all—fight back and help others. And the thing was, I could, and I did! For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was actually making a difference.

Unlike in the real world, I was truly free to make my own decisions! YGGDRASIL gave me hope again—hope that I could help others! Saving Players from those that would attack others for personal gain or enjoyment! Defend those who couldn't defend themselves. I could finally do some actual good in the world, even if it was a virtual one. I could finally continue being a true Hero of Justice!

I spent a lot of time playing the game and focused on improving myself to become stronger, faster, and better. My goal was to help and protect those who were unable to protect themselves. I worked hard and eventually achieved the rank and strength of a World Champion. It was all so I could continue on my path as a Hero of Justice in this world. It was all so that I could tell myself that my ideals still mattered!"

Touch Me raved with righteous indignation. Shirou could feel the vehemence in his voice.

The anger that consumed him was not akin to a wild inferno that burns everything in its path, but rather a cold fury. It had a singular focus, narrowed and directed at the cruel reality, the corrupt government, the circumstances that allowed it to happen, but above all else - himself.

However, his anger and self-loathing would soon dissipate, giving way to what was to follow.

"Touch Me was the ideal image of me, but it was just that. An image. But... what good has that done me? No matter how beautiful the illusion may be, it could never be real. All this time, I was just playing pretend. No matter how much I try to distract myself or run away from it, not a day goes by where I'm not reminded of the reality I live in. In all my time spent dreaming, lives were lost. And I couldn't stop it. I'm a hypocrite who gave up and ran away when the going got tough. I'm no Hero. I'm a Fake."

Touch Me ended it there. There was a level of quiet acceptance in his words as Touch Me revealed his innermost thoughts to Shirou.

Several moments of silence passed between the two. Touch Me was slowly regaining his breath and bearing after his long and impromptu confession. A part of him debated whether it was right for him to share with Shirou. While they were friends, it was his burden to bear, not anyone else's. He had always been a bit stubborn in that regard. But he wouldn't deny the small sense of relief that came with it. At the very least, it lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, leaving him in a cathartic state afterward.

"A hypocrite..." Shirou repeated it quietly to himself.

It seemed that it wasn't just Touch Me that was lost in thought, and finally, it was Shirou's turn.

"Well, that's certainly one way to look at things. And to a certain extent, you are right. If we look at things objectively, then yes, your actions and beliefs can be seen as hypocritical. But I have a better word in mind than a hypocrite."

Touch Me said nothing, but simply turned his head towards him, showing that he was still listening and curious.

"You are human, Touch Me-san." Shirou stated simply and resolutely.

"Human…?" Touch Me repeated, a mixture of curiosity and confusion in his voice.

"Let me ask you this. What do you think a Hero really is? A paragon of virtue? No, if that were the case, then the Greeks wouldn't have so many. A powerful individual? No, if that were the case, then no mortal would qualify. A wise man, perhaps? No, if that were the case, then Nordic tales wouldn't exist." Shirou listed off, drawing Touch Me further in.

"If none of these things make a hero, then what does? The answer is nothing. Nothing makes a hero. A man could lift a mountain, trick a god, and donate his wealth to the less fortunate. Yet, does that make him a hero? No, it does not. It makes him an oddity. A human with traits that few carry, but ultimately still a mortal. Then, what elevates children, men, and women? Themselves, that is the answer."

Shirou's hand closed into a fist as he lightly pressed it over his chest, right where his heart was. Touch Me mimicked him idly, a hand pressing against his silver armor over his heart.

The hardest lesson Shirou learned on his journey to becoming a Hero of Justice was learning how to choose. After the Fifth Holy Grail War, he knew he could not save everyone, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save as many people as possible. It was this that began his journey into Hell.

The lives of the many or the lives of the few. Such a simple prospect, but one with near-infinite ramifications. If one had to choose between saving either a few lives or saving many lives, logic dictates that the lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. But then, what happens upon further scrutiny?

Do the lives of a dozen or so children, no older than ten, outweigh the lives of a hundred adults? Or vice versa.

What about the lives of a few talented doctors, who have the capability of helping hundreds, versus the lives of prisoners of war?

Which was more important, choosing to defend hundreds of refugees made up of countless torn families or protecting several VIPs?

Countless 'what ifs' mire the once simplistic question into a morally ambivalent one. In the end, there was no definitive right or wrong answer. There was no true way to justify picking one over the other. Ultimately, it falls to the decision-maker to bear the responsibility of making the difficult decision. Only they alone can truly determine if their choices were the correct ones or not.

For the world only made sense if they made it so.

The hardest lesson of all for Shirou was learning not to choose but to accept the choices he made. To accept the finality of it. His ideal was to save as many people as he could, but he also had to accept that sometimes, he wouldn't be able to save everyone. For that was all he could do—make the decision to the best of his ability and believe it was the right decision to make. Or else he would go mad with guilt and break, just like Archer did.

In that moment, Shirou's mind couldn't help but wander back to Archer, his alternate future self. His words, especially. Choosing to save one would mean damning another. It doesn't matter which one was saved because saving everyone was impossible. How many times had Archer been forced to make the same decision Shirou had until it finally broke him? Until he grew jaded and spiteful at it all.

That was the fatal flaw in Archer's ideal, and Shirou could see a glimpse of it in Touch Me's.

The world was flawed, and there was no such thing as a true Hero of Justice or a Paragon of Virtue. Archer's failure was that he couldn't accept that fact until it was all too late. He was tormented and broke, striving for an impossible dream.

Shirou accepted the flaws in his long-time ideals and the truth that he couldn't save the world, thanks in part to the Counter Guardian interference, but that was no reason to give up on them. Even if his ideals were flawed, they were still beautiful and worth striving for. While he may never reach his goal, he would never regret the path he chose. Shirou never forgot why he began his journey in the first place.

This was the lesson Touch Me needed to come to grips with and accept.

"Touch Me-san, I want you to answer this question, and I want you to think very carefully on the answer."

Touch Me nodded, showing he heard and understood.

"For what purpose was it that made you wish to become a police officer in the first place?" Shirou asked of him.

"Purpose…? Well… I guess, it was because I saw many people that would try to use and exploit others for their own gain that I wished to put a stop to them. To make the street a safer place for everyone." Touch Me answered.

"A good answer, but ultimately not the answer I was looking for."

Touch Me blinks at Shirou's response. The insectoid warrior reviewed what he said in his head, wondering what mistake, if any, he made for Shirou to reject his answer.

"Again, what drives you to help others? For what reason would you call yourself a Hero?" Shirou rephrased the question.

Touch Me felt his brows furrowing in confusion. Despite the rewording, the question essentially stayed the same for him. He answered again, this time throwing in the added reason of honoring his parents and wishing to honor the work the police once did and stood for. Only to be met with the same answer from Shirou. Hints of frustration bubbled from the World Champion, but he kept it under control.

Touch Me was missing something, but the question was, what was it?

"I do not understand, what is wrong with my answers. What are you trying to get me to say, Emiya-san?" Touch Me voiced up.

"I'm afraid that's something you must find out for yourself, Touch Me-san. They're good answers, but they are all motives, not reasons." Shirou explained.

"Aren't those the same things?" The silver paladin pointed out. To him, there was no difference, but to Shirou, it made a world of difference.

"Then, let me help clarify. You see people in trouble, and you wish to help them. That is a motive, an incentive to act. Every motive requires a reason, the why. The basis, that which fuels a person with the desire to see the motive through. You must strip away everything until you are left with only the core essence. It is something intrinsic, that which drives us into action. For all of our actions, whether logical or illogical, have a purpose behind them. Why do we do what we do?

Anyone can say they wish to be a hero, an astronaut, or even something like a celebrity. But the reason behind that is truly telling. For an astronaut, they would wish to go to space—to reach past the endless sky. But it's because of a sense of curiosity and wonder that drove them to reach the stars. A celebrity would wish to be famous and rich, to have his name known and his future financially secured. Validation, a sense of accomplishment, or even because of their greed. For all reasons, good or bad, are, by their very nature, straightforward. For that is what I'm asking you, Touch Me-san. Why?!" Shirou asked of him.

In the face of such questions, Touch Me found himself stumbling for a moment. A ringing sensation reverberated in his head, small and slow at first, it persisted. He desperately tried finding the answer, but every time the insectoid warrior believed he had found it, the sensation would spike.

"What motivates you to help others, and what drives you to go above and beyond? Is it simply because it's your job or duty? Is it the sense of satisfaction that comes from doing good? Or do you seek validation for your actions? Perhaps it's the desire to alleviate boredom or to secure a stable financial future for yourself and your loved ones? Why did you offer aid to that man when you could have easily ignored him? Why do you go out of your way to help others in YGGDRASIL? Why do you feel the need to defend Players from PKers? For what drove you to strive to become a Hero in the first place, Touch Me-san?" Shirou challenged.

The faker pressed forward unrelentingly in his questioning, giving Touch Me no reprieve as his mind slowly spiraled out of control trying to find the elusive answer.

Touch Me clutched his head, trying to quell the sudden head-splitting feeling from taking over. A sense of vertigo overtook him, as his mind was a maelstrom of wild thoughts. The room spiraled around him, rumbling into a storm. Shirou's questions rang in his mind as he struggled to find the truth both Shirou and himself were looking for. Only to come up short time and time again, each one frustrating him even further.

He searched and searched, but every answer he found wasn't good enough. He was overlooking something. Something extremely fundamental, that one crucial fact.

Because of his family? His environment? How he was taught and raised? There were so many questions and possibilities, yet they weren't anywhere close to the truth.

'Why…?!' Touch Me screamed in his mind, his eyes snapped shut, and his teeth clenched. The headache only grew worse.

Why?

Why did he strive to become a Hero of Justice?

Why?

To help people, and make things better.

Why?

But why? What purpose did it serve?

WHY—

Crying.

He could hear crying.

A boy turned to see a girl his age crying on the ground, her knees scraping and bleeding. He approached her and kneeled before her without hesitation.

'Hop on.' He said to her, presenting his back to her.

The next moment, the two children were walking away, with the boy carrying the girl on her back. The girl managed to stop crying, sniffing as she peeked at the boy who was carrying her. Eventually, she spoke up.

'Why did you help me?'

The boy looked back at her and hummed before looking up at the sky. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.

'I don't really know. You were crying, and I wanted to help so you wouldn't cry anymore. So, I did.' He answered, flashing her a simple grin.

The girl blushed, hiding her face behind his back so that he wouldn't get to see her face at the moment.

'Thank you.' She muttered out.

'You're welcome!' The boy returned with a wide smile.

A small, meek smile formed as she relaxed against his back, feeling safe and content. The two continued on their way, forging onward.

—Touch Me froze. Not only in body but also in mind. His mind was completely clear, like an undisturbed pond. The cacophony of doubt and insecurity had subsided, replaced by a serene zen.

He finally understood what Shirou was truly looking for.

Touch Me had come to realize—no, that was incorrect. He did not stumble upon this, nor did he come to realize what was wrong. Rather, he remembered. Touch Me remembered why.

Why did he help people? Why he strove to become a Hero?

It was so simple. It had always been simple. Touch Me helped others because...

"…I want to help others. There is no other reason than because I can." Touch Me whispered both to reaffirm it with himself and also for Shirou.

"And what's wrong with that?" Shirou smiled at his friend's answer. He had finally realized what he was overlooking.

Touch Me ideals were very similar to Shirou's own, but they weren't the same.

For there lies one crucial distinction.

Touch Me wasn't Archer or Shirou.

Shirou, a man with a heart full of ideals, inherited them from his father, Kiritsugu. His father had saved him from a catastrophic event, and ever since then, Shirou had been enamored with the raw, yet beautiful smile on Kiritsugu's face as he held his broken body. That smile was etched into his memory, and it inspired Shirou to become a hero himself. His ultimate goal was to save people while wearing a smile on his face, just like Kiritsugu did when he rescued him from that burning hell so many years ago. Thus began Shirou's journey towards becoming a Hero.

That was his raison d'être - his reason for being.

In contrast to the grandiose nature of the aforementioned case, Touch Me's journey towards becoming a hero was relatively humble in comparison. His actions ranged from seemingly insignificant gestures, such as providing spare change to the destitute, to life-saving deeds of great magnitude. Unlike those who are motivated by personal tragedy, Touch Me's decision to pursue the path of heroism was driven purely by his inherent goodness and desire to assist others. He was, in essence, an ordinary individual who chose to dedicate his life to the betterment of those around him solely because he possessed the ability to do so.

One wanted to save lives, anyone and everyone he could, and the other wanted to help anyone and everyone possible.

On the surface, the connotation was nearly identical, and to a certain extent, they were. However, where they differed was in their ideals. Being a hero was merely a modus for Touch Me to accomplish this. Take that away, and nothing changes. For he still could do good even if he wasn't a 'Hero'.

Touch Me wasn't just a hero.

No.

For all his actions, his motives. At the end of the day, Touch Me was human.

He was an ordinary man. A good man, in fact. A good man with good intentions.

Touch Me was a good man who wanted nothing more but to do good and help others whenever and wherever he could. There was neither complexity to his motives nor any sense of ambition or hidden purpose. No different from how Shirou was back in the day as the 'Homurahara's Brownie.'

There was an almost inexplicable simplicity to his ideals. Like the innocent and sincere logic of a child. And yet, there was something inherently beautiful about it.

Touch Me did good, for goodness sake. Nothing more and nothing less.

For as he once proclaimed and vowed to all, "Saving someone who is in trouble is common sense!"

Touch Me remained silent for a few moments, reeling from the revelation he was reminded of. While it brought with it hope, there was still the lingering doubt and shame that plagued his mind.

"B-but… What I've done... How could I possibly justify it…?" He asked aloud.

"They don't." Shirou rebuked instantly, his voice for the first time becoming firm in his approach.

It helped to snap Touch Me out of it just before the tendrils of guilt hooked back onto him.

"Maybe you are right, you're not as heroic as you believed, or the ideal cop you once were and wish to be. But, so what? A hypocrite you may be, but you are still human. A man with good intentions, and no one can fault you for that Touch Me-san. You cannot forever blame yourself for something that was completely out of your control. What about the good you've done before the change? Are they invalidated? What about all those you helped within YGGDRASIL? Are you saying they don't matter as well? Were those you helped and protected worth nothing in the end?" Shirou challenged.

"No…" Touch Me muttered, a hint of resoluteness in his statement.

"Exactly. The past is the past, and there's not a thing we can truly do to change what has already happened. It is the future that we must look forward to. Life is far too fleeting to chain yourself down to misgiving and forces out of your control.

We've all made mistakes, that's simply a part of life. I've made a lot of mistakes of my own, far too many to count, and yet, I can remember them as clearly as day. I once dreamed and believed in saving everyone, good or bad. I believed that all lives were equal, and the hardest lesson I had to learn was that sometimes, to save lives, I must take them as well. I struggled to accept my new beliefs, but I continued to move forward and help others. I did what I could to save and protect people, even if it meant taking down those who would harm others.

Do you know why?

Because I accept everything for what it is and still believe in my ideals - the good in it. Even when I doubt it all, I remind myself of why I acted in the first place. I never forgot why I chose the path I took and all the good I have done and can still do.

You aren't a hero of legend. You, Touch Me-san, are a good person. A good man who wished to do more than he could realistically have done. And, in the process of chasing the impossible, you fell short. But that doesn't mean you can't get right back up. Even now, you're still striving for your ideals despite it all. No one will think any less of you for trying."

Shirou calmly walked towards Touch Me as he spoke, who remained rooted in place in deep thought at his words. Reaching him, he gently reached out and clasped him on the shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Ichirou-san." Shirou said with a gentle voice, calling the World Champion by his true name.

"It's ok." Two simple words, and yet the meaning behind them was innumerable.

It was okay to fall short. It was okay to fail sometimes. It was okay to be conflicted. It was okay that he couldn't be a true Hero of Justice. It was okay, so long as he remembered why he chose to begin this journey of his in the first place.

Shirou said no more, for there was no more that needed to be said.

A stillness permeated the room, unbroken for several tense minutes. Shirou couldn't help but wonder if something had befallen Touch Me, as the avatar stood motionless like a statue. The virtual magus strained to listen for any sign of life, but even the sound of breathing eluded him for a moment. Then, a noise emerged - a mix of wheezing and labored breathing, as if Touch Me was struggling to contain some inner turmoil. It was a moment of eerie silence, punctuated only by the avatar's labored efforts to keep his emotions in check.

Shirou knew immediately what it was.

"It's ok." He repeated in a tender voice, urging him forward.

A trembling hand rose and grabbed onto Shirou's shoulder as Touch Me leaned forward, resting his body against Shirou's. His other hand reached for his chest, his finger clinging fruitlessly against the smooth, impeccable armor as if trying to find some measure of grip. His entire body trembled as the sounds he was making earlier grew louder and louder.

And then, Touch Me cried.

In that moment, Touch Me; The World Champion of Álfheimr and one regarded by friends and enemies alike as an indomitable individual, allowed himself to weep. At that moment, he wasn't Touch Me of YGGDRASIL.

Merely a man, Ichirou Yukanna.

He let out a piercing, strangled cry. One that emanated from the very bottom of his heart. All those years of carrying a responsibility he had no place carrying. All those years of enduring ridicule for his actions. All those years of bottling his grief and putting a strong font. The weight and pressure of chasing an impossible dream and the extensional feeling of failure. A self-imposed curse.

As Shirou said, it was okay. His dream, his ideals—they weren't worthless.

All the anger, sorrow, regret, and loneliness poured forth from Touch Me. Every emotion he tried repressing over the years came flooding out as he allowed him to cry to his heart's content. He no longer needed to feel ashamed. His cry echoed throughout the room like an amphitheater and was almost deafening, fortunately, it was only the two of them to bear witness to Touch Me's moment of weakness.

He cried and cried and cried some more, until his voice grew slowly hoarse and his leg trembled and looked ready to give way, had Shirou not helped and kept him from collapsing. There the two stood, Shirou remaining respectfully quiet and offering his support and shoulder for Touch Me to cry on. The gentle pats on the paladin's back helped to soothe his emotions. Touch Me let himself soak in the comfort of a kindred soul as his cries turned to sobs.

It took nearly fifteen minutes before Touch Me regained his bearings and composed himself. Even then, he was still emotional. The two separated, facing one another once more.

"I—I'm s-sorry you h-had to s-see t-tha…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about Touch Me-san. If anything, it just proves my point. Crying only proves you are indeed human." Shirou gently but firmly interrupted.

"R-right… s-sorry." Touch Me chuckled lightly at the end, realizing what he had done.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Y-yes… I'll be fine." Touch Me answered back, his voice hitching a little as he was still recovering from what had happened. "I am feeling much better now than I was before. Truly. So, thank you, Emiya-san. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Of course, what are friends for? Also, if I may make a suggestion. You're married, right?"

The silver knight blinked at the sudden question.

"Indeed, I am."

"Then maybe allow me to trouble you with a small request."

Confused, but nevertheless curious, Touch Me nodded.

"Try talking to your wife about it. I'm sure she would also understand your plight if you talked to her about it. I may be your friend, but they are your family. They'll be there for you with the support that I could not."

Hearing Shirou's suggestion, Touch Me felt a bit stumped at the suggestion. Not at the idea itself, but rather how simple it was. He never told his wife, for he believed it was his burden to bear alone, which fed into the cycle of him turning to YGGDRASIL to alleviate himself and help cope. While far from neglectful, he could be doing a better job at being a husband and father to his wife and daughter. As he thought more about it, the idea had some merit.

"I'll try." Touch Me answered.

Shirou nodded, satisfied. "If you also want, you could also take some time off and spend it with your family and to relax. This is a delicate process, so take as much time as you need before you're back and ready. I can easily talk with Momonga-san and the others and cover for you if need be."

"I appreciate your concern, my friend, but I'm not made out of glass. You're not going to get rid of me that easily. Besides, if I disappear, then that means I'll be leaving my sidekick with all the work." Touch Me responded with a tinge of playfulness in his words.

"Sidekick?!" Shirou asked back with a certain level of incredulousness in his voice at what he just heard.

"Well, of course. Considering I was going around helping and protecting Heteromorphic Players way before you, that means I hold seniority."

"Seniority? Please." Shirou snorted.

A second later, the two broke out in laughter, the jest between the two offering levity to the somber situation and lifting the spirits of the two self-proclaimed heroes. As the laughter died down, they were left silent once more.

"Shirou…" The voice of the World Champion called out.

"Touch Me-san? What is—" When the magus turned around to face his friend, Touch Me had closed the gap between them and took him into a warm embrace, leaving the magus feeling cut off from his previous thoughts.

"Thank you." The World Champion whispered.

Shirou stiffened before he relaxed, and he returned his friend's hug.

"Any time."

"Anything else?" Shirou asked, and the two separated.

"Not that I can think of at the moment. I think that's it, so I'll probably log off now and take your suggestion."

Touch Me operated his menu, and with his finger just hovering on top of the logoff button, Shirou called out to him one last time. He turned to him as the magus imparted on him one last regard.

"Take it from one hero to another, it is never wrong to help people, but never let it cloud your view of those who matter the most. Your loved ones are the ones who bring meaning to your life and who you cannot imagine living without. Take it from an old man who lived through it: a life without family is a terrible fate that no one should have to endure."

With his piece said, Shirou disappeared in a flash of light, using the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown to teleport away. Alone, Touch Me recounted all that Shirou had spoken about and nodded to himself. Hitting the button, he logged off and pondered the course his life was now set on.

Returning to the present moment, a faint smile graced his lips. The lessons imparted to him on that day remained, and from them, he grew. Youta said that he was a naïve fool, perhaps, but that didn't mean he was going to let his words slide that easily.

With determined steps, he quickened his pace.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

Back in the room, Youta was left all to his lonesome after delivering his speech, trying to call himself down. Only the sound of his wheezing subsiding as he regained his breath kept him company. He was left with no choice but to wait, and as he did, several scenarios played out in his head. He wondered if his speech had offended Ichirou so much that he had decided to abandon him there, or if he was going to be handed over to other officers. Youta's thoughts also turned to the possibility of something even worse happening.

Safe to say, he didn't exactly have the best opinions of his guildmate at the moment. Not with emotions running hot as they were. Youta had imagined several things, but Ichirou walking in a few minutes later, with a bottle of water and a cup in his free hand wasn't one of them.

"Here. You look like you need this." Handing over the bottle of water to Youta, Ichirou sat back down in the chair across from him. He took a sip out of his cup, coffee, if the salaryman had to guess by the rising steam from the cup and distinctive smell.

Youta said nothing but graciously took the water and drank it all in one go. The refreshing, cooled drink satisfied his parched throat.

"Thanks…" Youta begrudgingly whispered his gratitude.

"You're welcome, Youta-san." The corners of Ichirou's lips twitched upwards, hearing his comrade's thanks. Something quite rare to hear, especially from one another.

The room fell silent once more, the mood of the room was stilted and unsure after such an impassioned speech. Youta glanced at Ichirou, who was staring down at his coffee cup, seemingly searching for answers in the swirling brown liquid.

"Youta-san…" Ichirou said. Youta had his moment, now it was his turn. "I acknowledge and accept your arguments and anger." The police officer bowed his head in admission, surprising the salaryman.

Ichirou reached for his badge and unpinned it. He held it up for both of them to see.

"You are right. The justice that police officers once fought to uphold is gone. We're nothing more than a husk of our former selves. Almost as bad as those that run the corporation that ruined your life and the ones that perverted this once noble occupation. Even I am guilty of that which I once proclaimed I would never do, as well as condemning others for their less-than-scrupulous ways. Aye, I will not deny that you are right, Youta-san. My dream, my ideal as a cop and a Hero of Justice who would bring peace and justice to all, is nothing more than a childish dream." Ichirou grimly admitted.

Hearing this, the salaryman couldn't hold back the surprise and curiosity that showed on his face. Youta honestly never believed that there would come a day where he expected the proud, self-proclaimed Hero of Justice to admit his faults and defy his proud ideals.

"But…" Ichirou continued, showing that he wasn't done just yet.

"Even so, this still means something. If not to you, then to me. This badge still represents something—all the good that was once done in the name of justice and what it can still do. Call me a fool or an idiot, I will bear any insult you throw at me. But I will not stand for you disrespecting what this once stood for. And so long as I still draw breath, I will still try and follow my ideals until my final days on this earth."

Youta's countenance contorted with a mixture of disbelief and fury as he beheld the content expression adorning his rival's face.

"You still cling to an outdated and impossible ideal in such a corrupted world. Even when you just admitted how hypocritical they are? You really are the biggest fool in the world!" He ridiculed.

"Maybe." He nonchalantly agreed, which only infuriated Youta even further.

Ichirou shifted his focus back to the badge, gently tracing the symbol with his thumb. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind, a time of innocence when he first dreamed of becoming a hero. Over the years, that dream grew and became a burning desire. He also recalled the heartfelt conversation he had with Shirou, who guided him towards a better path.

"Aye, I will admit that you are right, Youta-san. Humans are selfish people, and so am I. My ideals are flawed, but so what? All ideals have a fatal flaw when you look at them critically enough. After all, no one wants to hear that their life's ideals and values are wrong." Ichirou rhetorically put out.

"I know I am selfish, but I cannot help it. I cannot find the heart, or the strength to throw it away. You may be right about how my ideal is impossible, but that doesn't mean they are worthless!"

Looking at his longtime guildmate, Youta couldn't help but be taken aback by the resoluteness shining in Ichirou's eyes.

"Just because something is impossible doesn't mean it's not worth chasing after. Just as I said before, this badge still represents something. The good it once held so long ago, the inspiration it passed onto others, and the good that can still be done. I know my dream of being a true Hero of Justice is impossible to reach, and I have finally come to accept that fact. But that is no excuse for me to stop now. In the end, I made my choice a long time ago to still follow after it despite all the setbacks. I can at least stay true to that and remain content knowing that I've helped people in one form or another. Because it's not wrong to help someone, anyone, in need!" Ichirou proclaimed with all his heart.

Youta was stunned upon hearing Ichirou's confession. A myriad of conflicting emotions overwhelmed him. He tried to muster up something, to call upon the familial burning rage that swelled within him, anything, and yet, he couldn't. Despite acknowledging and admitting that his ideal was little more than a farce, the naïve fool still clung to it. He only rationalized it in another form. The salaryman wanted to call him out, scream that he was a moron, a fool, and that his belief was nothing short of in vain.

And yet…

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

For the briefest of moments, another individual came to mind. The image of someone else appeared, superimposing over Ichirou.

A pair of heterochromatic eyes burned brightly, and Youta was reminded of something.

Whether it was because of some modicum of respect for his Heteromorphic guildmate for all they've been through or something else entirely, a small part of Youta couldn't help but acknowledge his resolve in the face of an adversary.

To chase after the impossible, knowing full well the lengths for it will drive a person to go. But, Ichirou would not allow it to rule him or dictate his life as it had before. A fool he may be, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what was right. In that respect, it was admirable, striving in pursuit of something out of reach yet worthy.

A viewpoint that stood in contrast to Youta's ideals, which were built on bitterness for the status quo and fickleness beyond belief.

Ultimately, he remained quiet. The atmosphere in the room grew still, and both individuals were satisfied to luxuriate in the present moment. They were left with only their thoughts and reflections, unsure of what their next steps should be.

It would be Youta who would bring up another topic of discussion.

"I gotta ask, since when the hell did you change your tune?" He inquired aloud. "You had a revelation or some shit?"

"I had some help. It was thanks to Shirou's stern words that finally drew back towards the right path." Ichirou revealed, calling their mutual friend by his real name.

"Emiya-san?" Youta muttered under his breath.

Hearing this, Ichirou quietly took notice of how Youta addressed the name of their mutual comrade and filed away that little piece of information for later.

"Indeed. He and I once sat down and had a long, heart-to-heart chat about what it means to be a Hero." Ichirou continued.

"Emiya-san was the first to point out the flaws in my ideals. At the time, I was heavily disheartened, trying to justify them at any cost and for every point I made, and he would counter them and shut my argument down entirely. But he did not condemn me, as I had originally thought. Emiya-san helped me realize that while something may be impossible to reach, it doesn't mean one shouldn't strive for it. My ideals may be selfish, but there is nothing wrong with perusing them. I can still be a Hero of Justice, I can still help others, whether it be in YGGDRASIL or real life. At the same time, however, I should not be blind to their faults. Move forward, but never forget why you are striving for your dreams."

Hearing how Ichirou spoke of Shirou and the gratitude and respect in his voice as he spoke, Youta couldn't help but think of him as well. The salaryman could tell that his words weren't vapid, and he truly meant them. On the surface, it may appear as if Ichirou never truly learned his lesson, as the belief he holds now has barely changed from before. To an extent, that was true, but he had changed; however small it was, it still greatly affirmed his new perspective on both his life and his ideals.

Youta found himself chuckling. Ichirou paused mid-sip of his coffee, a single eyebrow raised at the sudden and odd reaction of his guildmate.

"It always comes back to him. The sword-spamming idiot. You, Momonga-san, the bird brain and his sister, hell, just about everyone by this point..." Youta commented.

"Indeed. He does have a way with people, doesn't he? And I see that I wasn't the only one that he changed for the better."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before Youta wrestled it under control, slapping back on his apathetic gaze.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He countered, which only further amused Ichirou in his denial.

"Try and hide as you might, Youta-san, but we both know the truth. It's not all that surprising, considering how long Emiya-san has been with us since near the beginning of Nines' Own Goal. I would say it was only a matter of time before he got to you."

"You're talking crazy. What makes you think that my opinion has changed in any way about him?"

"Well, for starters, you called him by his name."

"Huh?"

Ichirou couldn't stop the small, knowing smile he made.

"Earlier, when I mentioned his name, you addressed him with full honorifics by saying 'Emiya-san'. I noticed this, as you hardly use such formal language with someone you don't get along with. This is the first time that I've heard you refer to him with the proper honorifics. In the past, you would either leave it out or use something else to insult him, no different from how you typically speak to me or the likes of Peroroncino-san." Ichirou explained, gaining a wide-eyed response from the salaryman from his deduction.

Among the guild members, Ulbert/Youta was known for his straightforward and detached manner of speaking to everyone, except for the likes of Momonga and his close friend, Arcadia, whom Ichirou knew little about, even before his induction into Ainz Ooal Gown. He was capable of showing mutual respect to the likes of Tabula, Yamaiko, and others. However, with certain individuals like Touch Me, Peroroncino, and even Shirou in the past, he wouldn't bother with formality and always informally speak to them.

It was something Ichirou picked up on instantly regarding the World Disaster, as it just stood out compared to his previous actions. Upon reflecting on the matter, Ichirou realized that his behavior and general demeanor towards his fellow hero in arms had shifted some time after they had triumphed over The Tomb of Nazarick.

Ulbert remained as abrasive as every, but there was a subtlety to his behavior that wasn't there before. Where previous he would make an active attempt to antagonize them, he appeared to have mellow out in a manner of speaking.

Ichirou keen ears picked up the barely audible sound of Youta's tongue clicking in frustration. The salaryman held a irritable but sullen expression on his face. It seemed that he hadn't expected the police officer to be that perceptive, or at the very least, draw such an accurate conclusion just from one piece of information.

"How the hell did you…"

"In the academy, they taught us to look at everything with a critical eye. You'll be surprised at how something you think might be inconsequential may be the key to the situation." Ichirou replied with pride.

"Well, that's a surprise. So, they don't just teach you to arrest the poor, as well as take bribes during work?" Youta took a jab, earning a deadpan glare from Ichirou.

"No." He flatly returned.

"You could have fooled me." Youta gave a cheeky smirk.

Ichirou's eyes narrowed, it was clear that he was trying to shift the subject away, but it wouldn't work.

"You can try and deny it all you want, but it's clear as day to me that you've talked with Emiya-san. No matter how much you deny it. You have changed Youta-san, however small it might be. I can see it!" Ichirou proclaimed with absolute certainty, drawing ire from Youta.

"Emiya-san has a unique ability to connect with people. He can always find a way to relate to them, whether it's Momonga-san, Peroroncino-san, or Tabula-san. It's no wonder that he was able to connect with you too."

Youta felt his eyebrows twitch, his annoyance at Ichirou's cocksure attitude rising by the second as the policeman continued.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious as to how Emiya-san got you of all people to sit down and talk it out. I can only imagine what transpired." Ichirou said casually.

At this stage, Youta had become extremely frustrated with Ichirou. It wasn't necessarily anger, but more of an irritation. If there was one thing he couldn't stand in this world, it would be the feeling of "I told you so." Especially from his friend-slash-enemy.

'If you want to know so badly, then fine! Let's see if you're still so smug after this!' Youta reasoned, knowing full well that the topic for which he was to speak would shock Ichirou to his core.

If the officer wanted to know so badly, then he'd oblige as a cheeky way to get back at him.

"How do I relate to that heroic wannabe cheater? Well, that's simple! We are bonded by the sacred bond of two fuckups, acknowledging how suicidal or mentally unstable we both are. Me with my misanthropy and self-destructiveness, and him with his distortion and similar behavior to my own." Youta answered.

It took a moment before Youta's words finally sank in for Ichirou. The effect on him was instantaneous, as a look of shock and horror dawned on Ichirou's face. However, the satisfaction the raven-haired man derived from the reaction was short-lived and fleeting as he opened up a new and complicated issue. His formerly smug grin faded away, replaced by a tight-lipped and serious expression.

Ichirou beheld a look of extreme concern over the new knowledge that his friend admitted to thinking about ending his life.

"I—I'm… I—didn't know… Youta-san... I'm…sorry…" He stuttered, trying to apologize, but was unable to find the proper words to properly convey his intentions.

The misanthropic salaryman rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Knock it off. I'm fine, really." He said.

Youta's words were hardly convincing, if the concerned and cautious look on the white-haired man's face was anything to go by. He let out a groan of annoyance at his guildmate's misplaced care.

"If I really was suicidal, I would have offed myself a long time ago. Trust me, anything is better than hanging around with you." He said, empathizing his point by dragging his thumb across his neck.

While Youta's assurance didn't entirely convince Ichirou, he did back off. At the very least, the policeman did not look at him as if he was a danger to himself.

"What happened?" The elderly officer had to ask.

"Hell, if I know." Youta fully admit, leaning back in his chair. "You are right about something. The bastard got some kind of sixth sense or something! He saw through me some fucking way and managed to get me to admit that I thought of offing myself several times in the past."

Ichirou winced and fidgeted in his seat at hearing how casually his companion was speaking on the matter of suicide. He took another sip of his coffee to soothe his anxiety.

A part of Youta couldn't help but wonder why he was still talking to Ichirou. Why was he disclosing so much information so freely? Not too long ago, he "hated" the man before him.

Perhaps the reason for this newfound openness was the sense of begrudging camaraderie that had developed between the two during their brief stint of an interrogation. Alternatively, it could be that Youta was simply feeling more susceptible than usual and found himself rambling on. Or maybe, deep down, he simply wanted someone, anyone, to hear his story.

Whatever the case, the reasoning was lost on him as he and Ichirou continued their conversation. One thing was for certain, however - he was finding it increasingly easy to open up to the man he had once hated so vehemently.

"But you'll never guess what he said to me. Come on, guess!" Youta prompted him with a mysterious grin on his face.

"W-well… At the very least, I imagined Emiya-san managed to talk you out of it and give you a good, stern lecture on the matter." Ichirou guessed. His cup rose to his mouth for another sip.

Youta's grin only widened.

"That's what I thought as well. I thought he would give the same cliché bullshit answer and tripe on how suicide is wrong, or I can be helped. Instead, the son of a bitch said, why haven't I done it yet?!"

Ichirou immediately began choking on his coffee. He pounded his chest, all the while choking up a storm from his coffee going down the wrong gullet. Youta had the opposite reaction, finding it amusing. He cackled wildly as Ichirou tried to regain his breath.

"Oh god! You should have seen your face!" He laughed.

"I—Him… how…!" It was safe to say that Ichirou was flabbergasted. Out of everything he thought his colleague would say, it wouldn't be encouraging such an act.

"I was almost the same. Well, besides the near choking on the coffee." Youta snickered, his laughter dying down.

"…What happened?" Ichirou couldn't help but ask again. He was beyond confused at this point and wasn't too sure how to react.

"What happened…?" Youta repeated. "I wonder that question myself."

As Youta's eyes glazed over, he felt the memory of that day resurface from the dark recesses of his mind. It was a day that he would never forget, one that was burnt into his memory with searing clarity. He could remember every detail with perfect accuracy—the events that had transpired and the words that they had exchanged.

Ichirou had called out to him when he saw Youta suddenly shut down. But try as he might, Youta was unresponsive to his comrade's calls. Lost in the memory that played out before him once more, the salaryman could not shake himself free from the emotions and thoughts that consumed him.