Dear Columbia community: Staff Writer Caylie and their Asuka keychain are sorry for not being familiar with your game.

Oh… no. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!

Panic cut through my veins like a hot knife, and I wasted no time turning my bag inside out in the middle of my lecture. I’m sure a couple of eyes turned towards me out of curiosity, but I paid no attention to them—because she was gone. She was gone! My priceless, beloved, sourced-from-Japan, bought-in-Germany Asuka keychain was gone! 

In an attempt to ground myself, I recounted my current situation in my head: Asuka always sat at the top of my backpack, placed there lovingly with my own two hands. She should’ve been there. I’d carefully cultivated my little collection of keychains, which featured characters such as Basil from Omori and Sunday from Honkai: Star Rail, like a garden of the most magnificent flowers. Asuka, the passionate and fiery redhead from Neon Genesis Evangelion, was akin to the pièce de résistance in that assemblage. She should’ve been there. I’d gotten her during a summer trip to Germany; she was the most precious 15 euros I’d ever spent. She should’ve been there. It was a travesty that she was gone! A travesty!

And that was that for the attempt to ground myself. Had I been standing, I’m sure my legs would’ve given out from the sheer devastation that plowed through my body. I can’t even remember the rest of my Art Hum class that day, and I remember even less of the conversation I had with a friend on my way home, outside of one rather indignant statement that someone had stolen my Asuka keychain as a response to “How was your day?”

One way or another, I found myself back in my dorm room, devastated but not ready to give up. What I needed was a plan—a plan to catch her kidnapper! 

First, I had to figure out when and where she went missing. Unfortunately for me, she was snatched on my busiest day of the week, the much-dreaded, jam-packed Tuesday. That meant that she could be in any one of three classes—a PE class at Dodge, an English class in Philosophy, and Art Hum in Schermerhorn. I remembered that I had also gone to Ferris to eat lunch and dinner that day, so I woefully added two extra stops to the list.

I had opened my bag for every class, so I decided to rely on good old-fashioned memory to try to track down when I’d lost my keychain. I hadn’t noticed it missing when I went to PE. I crossed that off the list. I was almost sure I’d seen it when I’d gone to my English class. It couldn’t be that. I had noticed it missing by the time I came to my last class of the day. 

Good—that meant it could only be in Schermerhorn or Lerner, since I had gone to dinner right before Art Hum.

Bad—that also meant that I potentially lost her in Schermerhorn. If she were stuck in that labyrinth, she might as well have been good as gone.

I decided that I would pick up my investigation on Thursday, when I would have the same classes again. Time was of the essence, of course, but I had no real leads, and perhaps physically retracing my footsteps would give me a better idea of Asuka’s whereabouts. Better yet, maybe I’d run into the Asuka-toting thief themselves!

Thursday morning, I suited up for PE, filled up my water bottle, and, finally, grabbed my backpack. Vengeance would be mine—and by that, I mean I’d get my keychain back, or I’d die trying.

Dear reader, there are no real words to describe the scene that stood before me when I arrived at the Functional Fitness Studio, but I will do my best. When I stepped into the long, foreboding hallway leading to the studio, I immediately noticed a red speck on one of the white benches, like a singular rose blooming in a garden full of daisies. My heart jumped into my throat, and I picked up my pace. There was no way!

But, in fact, there was indeed a way. There she—my missing Asuka keychain—lay, a little battered and scuffed, but safe and sound otherwise. Relief flooded throughout my bones, and I collapsed onto the bench next to her, two days of worry finally put behind me.

That, however, is not where this story ends, dear reader. Memory is a faulty, tricky thing, and I am clearly no exception. I hadn’t realized that I had lost her so early in the day, and I hadn’t realized that I had so carelessly left her behind. Most egregious of all, though, is the fact that I blamed some poor, unsuspecting, unnamed “other”—a Columbia student, really, who was just like me—for her disappearance. For that, Columbia community, I deeply apologize. I assumed the worst of the worst, that someone had attacked Asuka and me maliciously, and I embarrassed myself in the process. At the same time, the best of the best here at Columbia made sure that her owner would find her again by leaving her where she was sure to be found. Though I’m sure temptation grasped at each of their hearts, they wrestled against that desire, holding the code of honor among anime fans even dearer.

The lesson I leave you with, dear reader, is a simple one: trust your community. Have faith that they will do the right thing in the end. And most importantly, make sure you buy protective measures for your keychains if you plan on taking them out of your dorm.

Asuka keychain images via author