Árātō stilled as he heard something break through the brush, waiting for the noise to subside before he started moving again. He wasn't much like how his mother described his aunt's side of the family- He had no desire to spend his entire life outdoors, sleeping in trees and eating food he'd caught himself.

But... that didn't mean he didn't try to be respectful of the creatures that lived outside. It was their home, after all, not his own. Here, he was the trespasser.

Árātō moved through the house with a quiet, steady gait. He didn’t rush, or debase himself. It wasn’t out of concern for keeping up appearances for the npc, or the other player- Árātō didn’t consider them much at all. It was habit, decades of decorum, and the irritation of the thought of a further mess.

The house was, impossibly, maze-like. In hindsight, this made sense- Rooms for all her “children,” all the hundreds of million of players. In reality, though, it was something he wondered at. MyHouse style hallways folded in on themselves, rooms opening into the floorspace of other rooms.

He paused before one, a shiny nameplate reading “Ruby.” The other rooms seemed largely untouched- beds made, things put away- but this one was messy. Not enough to concern- but enough to be lived in. Someone… lived here.

He kept walking- finally finding the room with his name. Árātō expected his room to be like how it was in the Old Country, or perhaps how it was now, in the States. But this room was neither- It was peacefully laid out, with only a few touches in red and gold. Árātō walked forward almost cautiously, eyes narrowed as he skimmed over the room. He brushed his fingers over the silken blanket, one he knew instinctively has hand-woven.

It was the pattern and style of his home, his family. The game had pulled it out of him- How much of this world was simply amalgams of other players?

Árātō turned slightly at the sound of claws against the floor, turning to look at the little charmander. “What is it?” He asked, imperious but not with malice. “If you’re looking for something interesting, there’s certainly plenty around… I don’t know how helpful any of it is…”

Árātō paused, frowning- surely this was a real house he could go into? But his thoughts were inturrupted by a squawk behind him, Árātō looking down to see a child. He was holding one of the starters- a charmander, the same one he had.

He'd done a modicum of research before jumping in.

Árātō frowned, eyes narrowing. This was an open world game, with a million-thousand places to go, and... some upstart claimed he was in the way. Josh Devlin- He didn't understand why people felt the need to use surnames in a video game. It wasn't real, and it was clunky besides. He huffed, a bit. "The door's locked," He said, a bit brusque. "So if you'll excuse the trouble."

Maybe- and it burned to think it- maybe his mom was right, for once. Kids these days.

There was a muffled sound from inside, and the click of the lock- and the door swung open, a woman looking at them both. "Oh- Árātō! Josh Devlin- Come in, both of you! I'll get lunch started. Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you!"

Árātō stilled as Mom reached out, clasping one of his hands in her own, before she bustled off to the kitchen. He blinked, looking at his hand a momen, before almost warily heading into the house.

Akimitsu wasn't used to games. He wasn't raised under a rock- he knew what was popular, he had accesss to internet, it just- his mother was never a fan, and there was always something more important: namely, his schooling.

This meant Árātō walked around a bit awkwardly, like walking in a swimming pool. But he did so with wonder, looking at the dusty roads, the wooden sided buildings. The saloon, the black fountain- all of it was studied, not scrutinized- simply regarded as if it was his first time stepping outside.

Árātō followed a path, trail worn, until his feet shifted from dry dust and the litter of tumbleweeds to soft grasses. He was in front of a house, small and charming in a Western sort of way.

Something flickered, in the corner of his sight- say goodbye to your mother!

Oh, was that- what he was meant to do? Was he given tasks and chores, here?

A building blinked, on the small map in another corner, and- it was the house he was standing before. Was he just to- to go in? That seemed rude...

So, instead, Árātō walked to the front door, and knocked. "Hello?" He called, pausing a moment for a response. Nothing. "...mom?"