He’s wearing a pair of black Chuck Taylors, slim-fitting black jeans, a black button-up, and rectangular-frame glasses, black. His laptop is on a shelf in front of him, sitting next to the bleach cleaner and the new mop-heads.

I see a glint in Azuma’s eye when he recognizes me. He regards Iida, who speaks to him in Japanese.

Their conversation is casual, Azuma in the maintenance closet and Iida leaning against the doorframe.

After about a minute, there’s a pause and Azuma looks over at me staring at him from the hall. 

“So,” he says. “You are the world record holder.” 

“I am.”  

Azuma smirks and says something to Iida I don’t understand. 

“It’s about time we make our way to the conference room for our meeting with Furi.” Iida says to both of us. 

The conference room is on the other side of the studio, a long walk from the bathrooms and the maintenance closet. 

I take a seat in one of the black office chairs next to Iida. Azuma sits across from me, slouching. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Iida has his fingers interlaced on the table, thumbs pressed together. I’m sitting with my back to the hall, not noticing their shadows pass over us, cut into ribbons by the venetian blinds. Iida stands up. 

“Stand up.” Iida tells me as three older people dressed business-casual enter the conference room.

I stand, almost tripping on the legs of my chair below me. Azuma remains in his seat. 

“O suwari kudasai,” One of the gentlemen says to us with a smile on his face. 

Iida sits down, and I follow suit, acutely aware of every moving part within me. 

I try to get a read on Azuma, but can’t. 

“Naomi Sugiyama, company president, Akari Nakashima, president of sales and marketing, and Michelle Sanderson, public relations.” 

I shake each of their hands.

“Thanks for being here, I know your flight only landed a few hours ago.” Michelle’s voice is light and easy. 

“I know I speak for Naomi and Akari and our partners at the ISA when I say we’re honored to host you and your competitors this week. Watching this community grow around our game, in no small part thanks to you, has been incredible. It’s my job to let you know that Furi stands behind you one hundred percent and we disavow all hate speech and cyber-bullying in this community. We have no intention of caving-in to external pressure.” 

I nod my head, knowing precisely what pressures they are referring to.

“You’ll see all three of us at the event this week. We’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.” 

Naomi and Akari both bow toward me and make their exit, followed by Sarah, who smiles and waves goodbye on her way out. 

And just like that, our meeting with Furi, one of the five biggest game publishers in the world, is over. 

“Tabako wa suimasu ka.” Azuma removes a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket.

“Do you smoke?” Iida’s voice takes me by surprise. I was so transfixed by Furi that I almost forgot there were other people in the room.

“No,” I say to Iida, whose eyes dart over to Azuma across from me. 

“No,” I repeat, directed at Azuma himself this time. 

Azuma gives me a small shrug as he flicks a cigarette from the pack with his thumb. With the cigarette in his mouth, he sparks the lighter. 

I watch Azuma light his cigarette in a sort of stupefied trance. One of my few idols, puffing out smoke right there across from me.

After a while, Azuma continues. I passed three levels of Japanese in high school, but right now, I can’t remember a single useful thing, not fast enough to keep up with Azuma anyway, even as he pauses to smoke.

Iida doesn’t translate right away, either. He’s looking at Azuma, who is keeping his eyes trained only on me. 

When Azuma finishes, Iida finally speaks up, but not to me. He says something to Azuma in Japanese, and Azuma cuts him off. 

Azuma looks away from me for the first time. Iida and Azuma argue with each other, ignoring me. Azuma’s demeanor doesn’t flinch during the exchange. He isn’t emotionless, just calm and matter of fact. Iida’s irritation escalates until Azuma says something which deflates him like a balloon. 

Iida turns his attention back to me. He hesitates a little before saying, “Azuma wishes to be honest with you. He says that if he had the choice, there would be no competition. He also says-” 

Iida looks back at Azuma, who gestures with the cigarette for him to continue.

Sighing, Iida finishes translating what Azuma had said. “He also believes that your community dishonors his game.” 

My face gets hot, and I wonder which community he’s referring to.

Azuma takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales. He opens his mouth to say something but trails off and looks down at his cigarette.

Iida reacts fast, standing up from his seat and moving a small wastebasket underneath Azuma’s right hand.

“Arigatō, arigatō.” Azuma flicks ash from the end of his cigarette into the wastebasket and continues. Iida translates, listening to Azuma and speaking to me in English all at once. 

“‘When I was a child, I didn’t have toys or games to play with. My father thought they were a waste of time. We also lived in a very rural area of Shizouka. It’s not very rural anymore, but back then, it was. There was no arcade, no place to meet up with friends. The closest place to have fun was a movie-house near Matsuzaki. I would hitchhike there on the weekends when I could. However, most days, I had to make my own fun. After school, instead of going home, I would explore. We lived in a river valley under a mountain which was surrounded on all sides by forest. In the summers, I would catch bugs and explore the caves around my house for days at a time. I ran away enough that my parents no longer reported it when I would go missing; they would just wait for me to come back home. After years of this, I knew every tree, every cave system, every river in my hometown. In the last summer before I left to attend college, I discovered an inlet. It was not a special place, but I went back to that beach on the last day of summer and made a sandcastle there close to the water. I watched as the tide came in and eroded what I made… I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the happiest moment of my life.’” 

Iida continues to translate. “‘I made a game about exploration leading to self-reflection, about secrets lost to time, discovered by those who go beyond what is right in front of them.’” 

Azuma leans forward slightly as he finishes speaking. As he does, all I can do is listen to Iida, terrified.

“‘I’ve been robbed of my life’s work, months before it was meant to be complete. I built a castle, and it’s been kicked. I worked for my entire adult life, I gave Furi everything I have in me, and my name has been removed from my most precious creation. I do not care if you have the world record. I do not care if you can finish the game in under one hour. I have nothing left. This means nothing to me.’” 

Azuma finishes his cigarette and flicks it into the otherwise empty wastebasket, ending our conversation.

The rest of the afternoon goes by like an overexposed slideshow, an out-of-focus blur. I’m reeling, floating from station to station, until the hotel room door closes behind me and I’m alone, facing away from the future.