Agil had said baijiu was nothing like vodka.
Its appeal lay in its aroma, not its purity, and for once, the man had put it well. A light swirl and a careful sniff were enough to let the fragrance of the distilled liquor fill the nose.
Of course, that fragrance was a matter of taste. To the uninitiated, it was harsh and almost unbearable. Those accustomed to it simply smiled.
Satoru drained the clear liquor in a single gulp. This time, he was using a normal glass, not one of the tiny shot glasses meant for vodka. The liquid felt cool as it went down, then burned like lamp oil the instant it reached his throat.
He clicked his tongue and breathed out a long, alcohol-heavy sigh.
The burn never lasted. After enough drinks, baijiu went down almost as easily as water, though by then, the drinker was probably too drunk to notice.
"Now that hits the spot."
Satoru smiled.
"I already knew about your smoking habit, but when did you start drinking like this?"
Agil studied him with a puzzled look. Some people turned red after a single sip, while others could empty bottle after bottle without showing it. Satoru was clearly the latter.
"Something bothering you lately?"
"My life is quiet, and my finances are stable. What would I have to complain about?"
Satoru shook his head, poured himself another glass of authentic Chinese Erguotou, and immediately knocked back half of it.
Outside the bar, a bitter winter wind swept through a city washed in steel gray. Late winter had left Tokyo bleak and cold, but the high-proof liquor was already spreading warmth through Satoru's body and dulling some of his discomfort.
In the end, alcohol was little more than an anesthetic.
His performance was impressive enough to put the student sitting to his right under pressure.
"So that's how adults drink..."
The smell alone was enough to make Kirito feel tipsy. He edged away and lowered his head to sip his ginger ale. Still, when he looked down at the half-full glass in his hands, he could not help feeling that he had somehow lost.
"Two bottles of Erguotou all by yourself," Agil said, raising an eyebrow at Satoru. "How lonely does a man have to be?"
"You're welcome to help."
"No thanks. I still have a bar to run."
"Then Kirito..."
Satoru glanced at him, then shook his head.
"Forget it. Ask me again in a few years."
That stung Kirito's pride a little. Like plenty of boys, he had grown up dreaming of swinging an enormous sword at monsters, tearing into great slabs of meat, and drinking by the bowlful. Most hot-blooded teenagers had probably imagined that kind of freedom at least once: wandering wherever the road led with a sword, a pair of battered boots, liquor for company, and friends made by chance.
That was certainly a more common life goal than becoming famous for looking good in women's clothes. If cross-dressing was not even your profession, what was the point of all the coy posing and manufactured shyness?
Several strange thoughts crossed Kirito's mind before he looked back at Satoru. The man raised and lowered his glass without the slightest hesitation, carrying himself with the unbending ease of someone who knew exactly who he was.
"Satoru, what does baijiu actually taste like?" Kirito asked, clutching his ginger ale. "Is it that different from beer?"
"Completely different. Comparing baijiu to beer is like comparing an old-fashioned full-strength cigarette to a menthol Marlboro. Different strength, different flavor, and a very different kind of kick."
Kirito glanced gravely at the empty bottle beside him.
"You must have a pretty high tolerance."
"More than pretty high," Agil cut in as he wiped down a glass. "Anyone who drinks like that is either a fearless idiot or a genuine heavyweight."
"I wouldn't go that far. When I was younger, I went drinking in Chinatown and got carried away. I ended up in the hospital and nearly didn't come back."
"You blacked out?"
"Worse. The last thing I remember was lying on a restaurant sofa. The next thing I knew, someone was helping me to the bathroom. I must have spent the time in between moving on instinct, even if my eyes were open. I was weak for the entire next day. Anything I ate made me sick, and I vomited so hard it felt as though my insides were coming up with it. At the worst point, it came out through my nose before I could even get it out of my mouth."
Satoru sighed.
"The doctor said it was alcohol poisoning. I was lucky they pulled me through."
Neither Kirito nor Agil found anything to say.
"That sounds awful," Kirito managed at last.
"No. The awful part was coming back from the hospital alone and collapsing on my bed. No one to talk to. No one to take care of me. Just the sound of my own breathing and the smell of stomach acid filling the room."
He took another drink.
"If you ever want to experience death without quite dying, down three bottles of strong baijiu before bed. The next day, you'll feel like a fish washed ashore and left to suffocate."
"Let's stop giving people ideas for new ways to hurt themselves."
Agil rubbed his bald head.
"Still, I suppose the stupid mistakes of a young adult make a useful warning for someone like Kirito."
"That's the idea."
The Erguotou was beginning to show in Satoru's loose movements and drawn-out voice. He was speaking far more than usual, and the tension had finally left his expression. Until then, his face had remained tight, as though he had been enduring something.
"What do people even get out of drinking?" Kirito asked.
"For some, it's a way to pass the time. Others are trying to numb something."
Satoru's voice grew quieter.
"There are only two things they want to put to sleep: the mind or the body."
"I understand the mind, but the body?" Agil said. "Nobody actually wrecks himself because he wants to know how a dying fish feels, right?"
"Alcohol is simply a more romantic, more convenient anesthetic for the body," Satoru murmured.
Agil let that sit for a moment before turning to Kirito.
"Putting him aside, how did you find the time to come here alone? Don't you normally bring that adorable Asuna of yours, at the very least? Did you two have a fight?"
"Of course not. We're doing fine," Kirito muttered. "They just haven't been playing much ALO lately, and diving alone is boring."
"Then what have they been doing?"
"The thing everyone's talking about lately. Augma."
Kirito pointed at Satoru, who was wearing the ring-shaped device against the side of his head. Neither Kirito nor Agil had followed the trend.
"Oh, that. It certainly is popular, and it looks convenient enough," Agil said. "I just don't need one. Most days, I'm standing right here, and a radio is enough to keep me company. I don't need a device filling the room with flashy AR effects. But you're young, Kirito. Why haven't you tried it?"
"Because it's AR."
Kirito scratched his head.
"Running and jumping around in the real world is exhausting. Combat feels heavy too. It just doesn't feel right."
"That happens to be your real body," Agil reminded him. "You could use the exercise."
"I know. Asuna keeps telling me the same thing."
Kirito sighed into his ginger ale.
"We made it back from that place. Of course we should take better care of the bodies we came back to."
Agil smiled, then looked at Satoru.
"Didn't we talk about Ordinal Scale last time? As the flagship game for the first real generation of AR hardware, isn't it basically what Sword Art Online was to VRMMORPGs? How is it?"
"In terms of impact, you're probably right. Moving and fighting with your real body feels slow and clumsy, but this is reality. FullDive aptitude means nothing here. In a virtual game, you can raise your stats by spending points. Training the account you were born with takes considerably more effort."
Satoru took another sip.
"Ordinal Scale is balanced well enough that an ordinary person can still defeat monsters by moving properly. It doubles as exercise, too."
"I see. Then even someone as strong as you are in VR can't reproduce that same speed in the real world. Honestly, imagining you performing one of those high-speed sword dances out here is a little hard to believe."
Agil rubbed his chin.
"Wouldn't someone with proper kendo training have an enormous advantage?"
"Anyone in good physical condition has an advantage."
"Wait."
Agil looked from Satoru to Kirito, then grinned.
"Does that mean an old hammer user who handled support for the clearing group could wipe the floor with the Sword Saint and the Black Swordsman on this new battlefield?"
He flexed his broad frame for emphasis, making the muscles of his chest stand out beneath his shirt.
"Please. If we're fighting in reality, why would I play fair and duel you with sword skills?"
Satoru gave a cold snort and drank again.
"I'd have better odds picking up a brick and charging you than following Ordinal Scale's rules."
"Fair point..."
Agil considered it.
"Wouldn't PvP in AR have a pretty good chance of turning an argument over the match into an actual fight? That would be terrible publicity."
"Anyone with common sense will avoid trouble, but some people remain eager to fight even after you take away their keyboards and mice. An offline brawl is never impossible. That's why Ordinal Scale doesn't have a dedicated PvP mode. Players can still hurt one another, but unless someone does it deliberately, the occasional collision isn't much different from bumping into someone on the street."
Satoru exhaled a breath thick with alcohol.
"It's like running into somebody while you're both catching Pokémon in Pokémon GO. You don't put away your phones and start taking turns punching each other."
"But haven't some Ordinal Scale players been getting hurt lately?" Kirito frowned. "Hurt might not be the right word. From what I heard, they suddenly passed out."
"Probably people who never exercise getting excited and pushing themselves too hard," Satoru said. "Augma is backed by more than a dozen established companies. A project that large attracts scrutiny, and the device has already passed its safety inspections."
He set down his glass and rose slowly.
"It's about time. I should get going. You two enjoy yourselves."
"Watch your step out there," Agil called. "Don't stumble into something because you're drunk. It'd be pretty embarrassing if you passed out halfway through an Ordinal Scale battle after that lecture."
"I'm not that drunk."
Satoru picked up an unopened bottle of Erguotou.
"I'll take this with me. A few sips outside should keep me warm."
"Be careful."
"I will."
Satoru waved to them and stepped outside. The sudden winter wind struck his cheeks, stripping away some of their warmth along with the edge of his buzz. He hunched his shoulders and pulled up his zipper until the raised collar of his coat covered his neck.
He had avoided smoking inside with Kirito there, so he immediately put a cigarette between his lips. A moment later, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
Satoru checked the caller, then answered.
"Yes?"
"Just as I expected. Fast, efficient, and precise."
A middle-aged man's low voice came through the phone.
"I knew you were capable in the virtual world, but I had my doubts about how useful those abilities would be in reality. It seems you're an excellent criminal after all."
"Your device did the work. Nothing more."
"Making proper use of one's tools is also a skill. Still, there is one other matter. Eiji has already secured a high rank. You're working together, yet your own ranking remains well outside the top thousand."
"So what?"
"In Ordinal Scale, rank is absolute."
"Does mine interfere with the assignment?"
"No. Consider it a warning."
"If I need a higher rank, I'll climb."
"How reassuring."
The man gave a few cold chuckles and ended the call.
Satoru silently returned the phone to his pocket and took a long drag from his cigarette. A stab of pain tore through his lower back, stopping him midway through a stretch. He drew a slow, careful breath and tested his body again, like someone checking the joints of a damaged puppet.
Only after a moment did he resume walking.
Rank...?
The call returned to his mind, and contempt crept across his face. The other executioner seemed desperate to prove something.
Idiot.
This was a game played in reality.
What could a petty obsession like that possibly decide?
Satoru twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long drink. The burning liquor washed through his body and nerves, bringing warmth and a comfortable numbness.
In the virtual world, his body had needed only HP. As long as a single point remained, he could still fight.
Reality offered no such mercy.
Every injury accumulated, and every scar eventually got in the way.
He released a silent breath and looked at the bottle in his hand.
Alcohol had its uses after all.
A cheap anesthetic.
Satoru shook his head and disappeared into the busy streets beneath the darkening sky.