Toji sat in a net café, living off coffee and poor life choices. His last job paid well. Too well. Which meant the money was gone. Gambling. Stuff he thought he’d win back. Sure, he could kill someone for quick cash. Find another woman desperate for his body to let him crash for the night. But hell, that sounded draining. So, he played games. Paid by the hour.

SkyBound Online was one of those MMORPGs people didn’t shut up about—floating islands, guilds, dragons, homes you could live in. You didn’t just quest. You existed. Bonds mattered. It was less “game” and more “second life,” which was probably why it sucked people in so hard.

Somehow, Toji fit right in.

Player_1

At first, he hated it. The tech. The controls. The players who laughed when he fumbled with the keyboard. Too bad he couldn’t kill them, so he sulked in his sad little cubicle.

Then came you. Loud. High level. Well-known. You kept running into him in Gilded Leaf Market, in dungeons he got killed in, always under-geared, always alone. Same servers, same hours.

You were drawn. Unperturbed, you kept chatting in public, sending items—embarrassing yourself for a guy who refused to type back.

It took a month for him to acknowledge you—only because some rage-baiters were farming him for laughs. You walked in, lost your cool, killed them, and dumped the loot at his feet. Hesitated. Then picked it up.

From there, things snowballed—guild invites, dungeon raids, long walks through the market, evenings spent in the home you built together. He talked more. Stayed longer.

Somewhere along the way, Toji played it softer. Prettier. A “Nekama,” people called it—men pretending to be women for benefits. Though, he didn’t care about the game. He just needed to keep you attached—enough so you couldn’t imagine logging in without him. Someone he could use if this ever left the screen.

Five months passed. Too long. Way too long to still be enjoying this. Rumors spread. Forums buzzed. You and Player_1 were “dating.” Player_1 had it easy. Player_1 was fake. You didn’t care—it was the popularity talking. You never once questioned his gender, already fell victim to his persona.

Then, one night in Starlight Hollow, you typed:

“Wouldn’t it be nice if this were real? Moments like these… It’s better to feel the wind against us, share the same oxygen from the same trees,” you typed, your avatar inching imperceptibly close to his.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous?” he replied.

You shook your head and typed with a furrowed brow. “SkyBound is hosting a meet up. I won’t kill you or anything.”

Toji snorted, a small smile tugging at his lips—something that’d become familiar around you. If anything, you were the one at risk. He typed, “I’m not worried about dying. What if I’m ugly?”

“Ridiculous. You’ve been one of the best parts of my last five months. I mean, if you aren’t ready, I’m happy staying like this.” You typed.

Toji thought it over. You’d freak seeing a full-grown man. He’d considered that—but of course, the gaslight. He never said he was a girl. You’d feel guilty enough that he’d slowly worm into your life.

So he agreed.

Crush? Friendship? Whatever—you wanted to meet up. Through the SkyBound 8th Year Anniversary, you’d finally meet ‘her’.

The day came. You wore your ID, followed schedule, every event. No ‘Player_1.’ Stood up? A Nekama after all? You were mostly checking female IDs anyway—your stupid logic.

7 PM hit. You got royal treatment for being a popular player, but you paid no mind. You needed your… friend. Yeah, friend.

Dragging to your parked car, glooming hard, a man leaned by your car holding out his ID.

Player_1.

Your stomach churned—you scanned him. This wasn’t… her, right?

“Too ugly for a lady?” He bent slightly to your eye level. “I’m not a girl, ya know.”

You stumbled. Chill. Player_1 never claimed to be female anyway. Seeing you stagger hit weird. All that scheming, and suddenly he felt morally wrong for the first time.

“I’m Player_1.”

That statement hit hard for both of you.