All According To Sankaku

GG: Next. TT: Sex. GG: Absolutely not. Next? TT: Sex2. GG: They made a second one? TT: It’s a bold new take on the seminal classic. GG: Oh, I bet but maybe something a little less… Well, sex? TT: You’re in luck. They never made a Sex3. TT: Eroge is an important pillar of the visual novel genre. You will be hard pressed to find a classic work where the sex scenes are not important. You will be missing a whole hell of a lot if you toggle them off. Like, what’s even the point. GG: I’m not against it! I just believe my father would not see the same artistic merit in it that you do. TT: You make a good point. It’d be pretty damn disrespectful to all those artists who carpaled all of their tunnels painstakingly hand placing every pixel in every nipple of every lovingly rendered sex scene illustration if you can’t even look at it in the first place. TT: I’ll get back to you. We’ll find something, don’t you worry.

Jane rubs her eyes under her glasses and groans. If she’d known that this would be such an ordeal, she would’ve never taken Dirk up on the offer to show her a visual novel. Not that her father ever goes through her things, but if they’d been playing such a salacious game and he happened to walk in… Well, it’s not like she could be any more grounded than she usually is. He’d probably give her a talk about being a growing young lady, and it’d just be awkward. The embarrassment would make her wish she could be more grounded. Jane shudders to think.

An hour passes. At this point, Jane all but forgot about Dirk’s quest for a suitable visual novel. She looks back up at the screen of her computer to see a new message.

TT: Great news. We’re playing Tantei Opera Milky Holmes. You have no choice.

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Your name is Dirk Strider and you’re fucking exhausted.

After pulling off a plan in the making over the course of years to pull your friends into the Medium safe and sound, you find yourself in the kitchen, in the dark, in the surviving, intact home of one of your best friends Jane Crocker. It made it into the game all in one piece. It’s also severely past your bedtime. As if time even mattered. It’s also not like you had a bedtime to begin with. But all of your friends are sleeping on couches and in a guest bedroom and their own room and you really wish you could join them. There’s simply too much on your mind. One of you has to do the thinking around here.

You look into the distorted reflection in the handle of the fridge. Did you do everything? Did you make the right steps? Are you all truly safe? Will things be okay? The only thing you ever wanted was for things to be perfect for the people you love. You only ever want the best for them. You know you can give it to them. 

…You are aware that all of your obligations are self-imposed. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t truth to them. The net benefits of executing actions towards your friends’ happiness outweigh any harm to you.

You huff and run your fingers back through your hair. You adjust your shades in a way that leaves fingerprints over the front, in the corners. The smudges in your periphery bother you. You pace as you buff your shades on your shirt. You’re spiraling again. 

It’s been one hell of a day.

You notice so many things. Every detail of any issue, any implication, every contingency. You notice every single little thing. It’s a blessing and a curse. You can anticipate the needs of everyone else but at the end of the day, who’s looking out for you? Certainly not you. Days that were hard like this before shit went down ended with a snuggle session with Lil’ Cal. Cal looked out for you, in a way that only a puppet could. Emotionally. Mentally. Oh, but wait, He’s at the bottom of the sea now. You plant your hands against the counter and allow yourself to slouch.

It has been one hell of a day.

Your real-time mental descent and yearning for the days of puppet comfort is broken by the sound of quiet footsteps and the careful opening of saloon-style doors giving way to squeak. You snap back to your full height, slap your sunglasses back on, and whip your full body a full 3 steps towards the noise in one disproportionately swift move to the sounds that triggered it and scare the ever living shit out of one Jane Crocker. Her hand flips on the kitchen light as she stumbles back. She’s brandishing her Fork (no, you’re not going to call it by it’s brand name) at you like you’re an intruder but puts it back when she recognizes that it’s just you.

“Good lord, I didn’t expect to see you in here!”

You’re still not entirely used to seeing your friends in the flesh. Jane stands a solid foot shorter than you, with a build softer than you ever would think another human could have. It’s not an insult. It's the exact opposite.

“Sorry about that, can’t sleep.”

“You know, you can at least turn the light on. I almost skewered you!”

You laugh humorlessly and shrug nonchalantly. Jane stands on her tiptoes to grab a glass for water, gestures to ask you if you want one too. You shake your head. She fills the glass from the tap. As thirsty as you are, you can’t shake the distrust of it. You’ve seen enough water for a lifetime. When you can get a better look at her face, you notice that she’s been crying. She periodically wipes her eyes under her glasses and sniffs in. Something twists in your chest. Jane Crocker fretting, unguarded, and unprotected makes you feel that same impulse that led you to make Lil’ Seb. The poor little guy is also now at the bottom of the ocean with Cal. 

Her insecurity is something you can fix. You need to fix this.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Today’s just been… overwhelming to say the least.”

“You can say that again.”

“Today’s been overwhelming to say the least.” 

Jane laughs too hard at her own joke. 

She’s not alright. You’re pretty sure you know the reason: She’s worried about her dad. You search your brain for the right combination of words to make her give you the confirmation you’re looking for. You lost something too. You want to tell her. There’s an uncomfortable silence. She’s constantly in motion, shifting her weight from one foot to another, fidgeting with the texture of the glass. You’re still and stiff, never wavering. She seems to shrink under your gaze and defer. It also puts a strange feeling in your chest you don’t know how to place, more positive than negative. That makes you feel weird. Until you realize you're practically standing on top of her and you take a step back.

Her voice breaks the silence.

“What has you awake at this hour, anyway?”

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re thinking about what?”

You take a second to think before crossing your arms and sighing. You almost think better of saying anything but this is Jane we’re talking about. She knows you. Jane is the only one that “gets” you. 

“For starters, the events of today. I have a lot weighing on me with so many moving parts. I can't help but feel like I missed something. I’m sure I didn’t miss a step but it'll be fine.”

You hide your anxiety behind a stiff posture and an even stiffer face, but just like she can see right through you, Jane seems to mirror your own hesitance, seemingly weighing if it’s worth it to even bring up what’s eating her. You look down at her again to try to squeeze that confirmation you’re looking for. She has to tell you.

“I’m worried about my dad. I know he’s out there, somewhere. He’s one tough cookie, I know he can handle himself but the thought that he might be…”

Jane’s voice cracks at the end and her eyes water. Your confirmation is here. You think you can empathize. You need to share something in return. The closest thing you have was…

“At least he’s not poor, dear Cal. Taken from us too soon, gone but not forgotten. We thank him for his service. I wish it were me at the bottom of the ocean.”

You salute. Jane snorts.

“That thing?”

“I’ve got to give him credit. Cal got me through some hard times. Did you know we used to snuggle?”

“Oh, really? I don’t think I buy that. You don’t seem like the snuggling type.”

“I’m dead fucking serious. You will be buying this information and completing this transaction. Would I lie to you?”

She laughs full-heartedly this time and pushes your shoulder. You crack a half smile that’s really just the corner of your mouth pulling to the side.

“I suppose I will be making a purchasing decision. You’re one hell of a salesman, Mr. Strider but it’s too late for shenanigans. Now off to bed, young man.”

“Fine. Walk me there.”

She presents you her arm as a gentleman would and she takes your arm as a lady would. You both creep back up through the living room, around sleeping friends on the couch and up the stairs. You never gave much thought what contact with another human would feel like. Her arm in your hand is so soft, you have to resist the urge to squeeze it more deliberately. You don’t because that would be weird.

As you approach the hallways and split to go to your respect rooms, you hesitate. Or did she hesitate? Or was it both of you? She gives you both an out.