Chapter 387: The Monster of the Fishbowl

Author's Preface
Pulling a 5-star off a single Summon Ticket... it wasn't a myth after all...

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"Dango, right? Or Daifuku?"

"Make it Youkan."

"Youkan it is, then."

I'm screwed, I'm completely screwed. I know Bakumatsu is a demon realm rivaling the End-of-the-Century Round Table, but... no, unlike the Round Table, which is the result of players seeking extreme efficiency due to punishingly low drop rates, this place is the result of common sense being completely corrupted. Strictly speaking, they're in different categories.
Anyway. Just because Bakumatsu is Bakumatsu, and furthermore, just because it's a death-game-style event, I have absolutely no intention of suddenly challenging the final boss out of nowhere.

The only reason I managed to handle a Raid (Surprise Attack) befitting that thoroughly unceremonious nickname was entirely because I had already experienced a similar pattern in ShanFro.

And that experience was the one and only lifeline keeping me alive while facing off against this player with a trash-tier difficulty level... Raid Boss "Yura."

"............!"

"............?"

"............!!"

The surrounding Wraiths are so noisy (quiet). The current 1st Place and the successive 1st Place Champion are sitting side-by-side at a tea house, casually enjoying a Japanese-style tea time; of course anyone would be curious.
But I don't have the free time to pay attention to them. I feel like I just saw the vengeful spirit that was haunting me a minute ago, but no matter how much I try to shake it off, I can't erase the anxiety that the moment I take my attention off the unexploded bomb right next to me, my head will go flying.

"Matcha..."

This is it. What does Matcha have to do with anything? But hesitation leads directly to death. In the "Raid Boss-san Strategy Pattern Guidebook" that circulated among players for a time, there were observations from the investigation team detailing Raid Boss-san's bizarre ecology.

In the first place, Raid Boss-san does not possess a simple thought process like attacking everything in sight indiscriminately. In fact, you could even say he's rather passive.
There are even testimonies from players who accidentally bumped into him at an intersection, exchanged normal greetings, and parted ways without issue.

"Green tea is fine, right? It's not like it's a fancy tea time anyway."

What's the verdict... alright, safe. The criteria are completely incomprehensible, but if my head is still attached, then it's safe.

However, according to the investigation team, talking to Raid Boss-san is like walking through a minefield of flags. The exact criteria are unknown, but if you trigger one of those flags, an attack is launched. If you hesitate or stutter for two seconds or more while answering, it's an attack. Also, if you bring up unrelated topics, there's a high probability you're out.

"Your score, it's amazing."

"Not really."

Even Raid Boss-san isn't invincible, but he absolutely does play Dynasty Warriors. As a general rule, after an event ends, a massive subjugation operation of Raid Boss-san vs Everyone Else occurs, and it's a given that the first-place reward ends up vanishing into obscurity. But the very fact that he can handle a massive number of players proves that Raid Boss-san is on a completely different level in various ways.
Also, in full-dive games where a discrepancy between appearance and the player inside is the norm, the baby-faced Raid Boss-san—whose voice and behavior perfectly match his appearance—boasts quite a bit of popularity.

Because of that, research on Raid Boss-san continues day and night. Let alone solo, if a group of maybe four people managed to successfully deliver Divine Punishment to Raid Boss-san, their names would be remembered in glory.

"Hmm... Are you aiming for first place?"

Crap, increase thought speed.

"...Well, I can always compromise after I see the results."

I wait for the verdict, grinding my teeth at myself for uttering words that hinted at a roundabout Giant Killing. Should I just launch an attack myself? No, this cramped space is within each other's attack range; as long as there's no guarantee of a confirmed kill, making a move is just a roundabout suicide.

"Heh."

The conversation halts. This is a terribly dangerous timeframe. According to one theory, it's believed that Raid Boss-san possesses a unique "rhythm."

Essentially, it's a musical score that is constantly updated on the fly. If you hit a wrong note or your tempo is off, you get Divine Punishment'd. Hey now, Raid Boss, requiring a sense of pitch makes the difficulty level way too high.

An Ishin haori dyed with a fluttering cherry blossom blizzard pattern, and a Shinsengumi haori dyed with a majestic "Makoto" character sit side-by-side munching on Japanese sweets. Yeah, they're just generically sweet. The fact that only the texture seems to have had any effort put into it actually makes it feel even emptier. I suppose texture is just a physical sensation, so it's probably relatively easy to replicate.

"Are you going to defeat me?"

Raid Boss-san's way of speaking—which could be called Raid Boss-ese—basically drops all nouns. That's why people get confused, and then get Divine Punishment'd.
I need to lock down the situation. If there is no one else here besides me and Raid Boss-san, then everything Raid Boss-san says is directed at me.

"I said there'd be no compromises, didn't I?"

Should I say he's highly responsive? Raid Boss-san forces a perfectly meshed dialogue onto you, the kind you'd have with a close friend in a family restaurant where you could talk until closing time.
Honestly, forcing a communication style where murderous intent and friendliness are perfectly intertwined as two sides of the same coin onto someone you're meeting for the first time would get you treated as a complete psycho and ostracized in any other game... but unfortunately, this is Bakumatsu, and he is Raid Boss-san.
He's not even recognized as a player anymore, is he? It's exactly because he's treated as a boss character spouting meaningful dialogue that he's accepted in this game.

Perhaps that's why. A goldfish cannot survive in the ocean. A goldfish lacking hardiness is only permitted to survive within a fishbowl.
No matter how sharp his fangs are, no matter what kind of player skill he possesses that allows him to cut down anything and anyone, this person likely finds solace only within this specific game.

Alright, my thoughts are getting way too poetic. Are you watching, Raid Boss-san Investigation Team? I hear the guidebook is currently on version 3.1, but I'm going to give it a massive update right here, right now.

"Yura-san, I'm going to defeat you."

Zawa, a wave of unrest runs through the Wraiths. The act of initiating a conversation with Raid Boss-san yourself is a reckless gamble akin to Russian Roulette.
But gentlemen, we've already arrived at the answer. Yes, it's all about the rhythm, gentlemen.

"My Heavens are telling me to do it. That's why───!?"

Bloodlust! It's not Raid Boss-san, this is... from above!!

"Gotchaaaaaa!!"

"Grene───"

That guy is an AoE user. Did he make his move seeing me act as a wedge keeping the Raid Boss in the tea house? A heavily-built Ishin Shishi skillfully manipulates a hoe, launching a massive, lit firework shell from the rooftop straight toward us.

As expected of a ranker, the ignition timing is flawless. It's adjusted to detonate the exact moment it hits the ground. Can I dodge it? No, impossible... but, he made a fatal mistake.
Letting your presence leak right before a once-in-a-lifetime chance means your luck has run out. If even I noticed it, then naturally───

"Too bad, huh? Too bad, too bad."

A flash. The shabby, completely rusted-through sword gripped by Raid Boss-san is swung.
On the tip of that blade rests the perfectly sliced-off burning tip of the firework shell's fuse. Having lost its ignition source, the massive firework shell drops uselessly to the ground.

"Sabimitsu (Rusted Blade)... You landed a critical hit on a fuse that's barely a centimeter wide?"

That completely rusted sword—which anyone could obtain if they tried—constantly demands an extreme binary choice from its user: cut through everything or self-destruct. And Raid Boss-san can consistently choose the exact same answer... against him, armor parameters practically don't exist.
What a monster. Even accounting for him being completely adapted to Bakumatsu's physics engine, he's absolutely insane.

By the time I noticed, Raid Boss-san's left hand—which had already started moving—blurred. A short sword, thrown with the shortest possible movement and the fastest possible input, embedded itself into the wall of the tenement house. Using it as a foothold, the delicate boy's body leaped onto the roof.

What mesmerizing window manipulation. With movements so smooth it looked as if a path had existed from the very beginning in an impossible location like the empty air against a wall, Grenade and Raid Boss-san faced each other.
But it was already too late. Before the audience could even grasp the situation, it was over.

"Divine Punishment."

"Gu, ko...!?"

The rusted trajectory swung side-to-side, from top to bottom, in four distinct flashes. Without even being granted the time for a death poem, Grenade's body collapsed and fell apart like a clumsily stacked Daruma Otoshi.

Waaaah, the Wraiths erupted in cheers. Well, normally this would naturally transition into slaughtering the audience, so calmly spectating one of Raid Boss-san's fights is basically impossible.

The problem is that because that explosion-obsessed idiot poked the bear, the switch has been flipped, meaning Raid Boss-san's next target automatically defaults to me.

"───"

Too fast. He leaps from the roof, pulls a spear from his inventory while mid-air, and stabs it perfectly perpendicular into the ground. He steps on the butt of the shaft to leap again, spins three times in the air, and comes down with a massive overhead strike to cleave me in half...

"...? You slipped through?"

"I was ready to die from the very beginning of this tea time. Being prepared means no worries, right?"

A master of mimicry, a flash that cuts even the wind, the number one meteor in the US, the fastest hunter... I may lack combat experience against you, but I definitely haven't lacked experience dealing with absurdities rivaling you.

Optimization by a paper-thin margin is the true essence of Ryuguin Fugaku. That core lies specifically in mental shortcuts and footwork.
It might not have the exact same performance as the original, but if I know exactly what kind of attack is coming beforehand, it's entirely possible to bridge the gap between a role-playing imitation and the real deal.

"I'll be going full throttle until I die."

The corners of Raid Boss-san's mouth lifted.

Author's Afterword
Raid Boss-san is someone akin to having Savant Syndrome. He possesses genius-level talent in a Specific Field (Full-Dive VR), but his personality—or rather, his humanity—of "feeling intense discomfort when the internal rhythm of a conversation is broken" easily makes him enemies. Because of that, despite having talent equal to or even greater than Sylvia's, he was quite bad at games.
By the way, what Sunraku tried to do was seize the initiative in the conversation—in other words, he tried to become the one creating the rhythm.

But it's Bakumatsu, so it's totally fine! Everyone cheerfully beats each other to death, and refreshing revenge-retaliation-punishments run rampant, after all!!