Chapter Text
Tuesday. Your favorite day of the week.
Exiting your car, you grab your backpack and cooler. A shiver runs down your spine when a particularly chilly breeze rolls across the wintery atmosphere. As you walk through the nearly empty parking lot, small bouts of adrenaline gently pump through your body. You’ve been anticipating your weekly distraction since you woke up last Wednesday morning, as you do every week. It was always nice to take your mind off of the struggles of life.
Well, struggle.
The dead-end job, you could deal with. Brother and sister issues? No problem. You even have a few friends… that you don’t make much of an effort to hang out with. None of that really bothers you. No, what bothers you is the crippling emptiness you feel whenever there’s nothing to distract you.
It’s why you don’t mind your job. You don’t have time to think about your dark and empty home when you’re running around like a madman trying to quickly fulfill orders. It’s especially difficult when dealing with so many different kinds of appetites. Located in a heavily mixed anthro city, the restaurant you work at makes an effort to accommodate as many types of species as possible. And keeping track of everything during your shifts makes thinking about anything else completely impossible.
Fine by you, you hate thinking.
Too much thinking always reminds you that there’s not much going for you in life. You may have a job, but it’s unfulfilling and goes absolutely nowhere. You have a house over your head, but you’ve never felt like you earned it. You even have a few people that do genuinely care about you, but once again, you never make the effort to go see them. And without anyone to share your circumstantially gained home with, it doesn’t feel like much of a home at all. It’s more of a reminder of how lonely you are.
You’ve had a few relationships in the past, but nothing of any real substance. They’ve also always ended the same way; the girl breaks it off for one reason or another. You’re not even really sure what’s wrong with you. You just assume that something must be. Perhaps you’re just plain undateable. Destined to never find a stable, loving relationship. Maybe there doesn’t need to be any deep reason.
You shake away your negative thoughts and press onwards. It’s Tuesday, goddammit. You’re not going to let your pissy thoughts about life damper the one thing that truly makes you feel alive.
Perfectly timed as always, you see one of the employees is in the process of opening the gates to the arcade as you walk into the mall. You smile and nod to the tall wolf dressed in red stripes as you pass him by. Anthony was his name. He gives you a tired smile in return, clearly not a morning person. Was it weird that you knew the names of most of the employees despite living over half an hour away? You don’t even really know them outside of here. You’ve barely even talked to them. Well, you talk to the mechanics a decent bit, at least. Mostly to tell them about a misfiring sensor or a stuck panel.
Eh, doesn’t matter.
Passing by the front desk and various card kiosks, you grab your wallet and pull out your two most precious possessions.
One black magnetic swipe card, the words ‘ROUND 2 Club Member’ printed in bold orange letters.
One plain white IC card, the phrase ‘e-enj0yment’ emblazoned under a logo that read ‘Konmai.’
Cards in hand, you walk up to your favorite arcade cabinet. You thankfully see no potential spectators as you look around the area. You don’t necessarily mind being watched, but you’ve been playing this game for years. You know what tends to happen. Glad that no one’s around, you set your backpack and cooler down on the floor near the dance stage.
You take a look at the Player 2 side (P1 always played a little finicky in your opinion) and look over the four arrow panels. No dirt or grime. They must have cleaned it recently. And hopefully not with a mop this time. You take off your winter jacket and sweatpants, revealing your mesh athletic sportswear. Then you reach for your backpack, pull out a towel, and drape it over the handlebar situated at the back of the dance pad.
After your routine stretches, you swipe your club card a few times to dump a handful of credits into the machine. Satisfied with your indirect purchase, you hold your e-enj0yment card up to the cabinet’s reader. You feel every single vibration of sound as the speakers blast a bassy explosion, followed by the high-pitched cheesy announcer voice.
“LET’S DANCE! SHOW ME YOUR MOVES!”
You quickly navigate the game menu and select your favorite warm-up song. The game transitions into the play field, and you grin with confidence.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULqBW_frEvc
As you wait for the first arrow note to appear, you tap your foot to the beat of the music in anticipation. You let all your thoughts leave your mind. You disregard all negative emotions. You ignore everything around you. You completely remove yourself from your surroundings. In that moment, everything about your life doesn’t mean a damn thing. The only thing that matters is you, the music, and the arrows. You watch as the first one appears on the screen. As you position yourself to begin the pattern, the anticipation builds stronger. You inhale deeply as the arrow reaches the receptor.
You take a step.
And your routine begins.
Being your warm-up chart, you effortlessly navigate each pattern as it flies by. It only takes you a few measures to reach autopilot mode. You’re obviously not the greatest player in the world. You’ll never be. Those guys are actually insane. Despite that, you’re definitely competitive. You do well on high-difficulty charts. You’ve competed in a few tourneys. Hell, you even almost made it out of pools last year.
Still, you can say with certainty that you do, in fact, play the game for fun.
But you know that isn’t the primary reason.
No, the real reason would be the dopamine. There’s just nothing like the feeling of overcoming your best score through constant grinding. It can be frustrating, yes. Who knows how many credits you’ve wasted on fail-outs because you got a ‘GREAT’ judgment instead of a ‘PERFECT’ or the even more difficult to achieve ‘MARVELOUS’ judgment? But the euphoria of seeing the wonderful phrase ‘NEW RECORD!!!’ That’s what makes it all worth it. It helps repress all the negative feelings.
The song comes to an end. The bright golden text of the combo counter, combined with a flashing golden animation upon completion of the final step, signifies a successful Perfect Full Combo. Unfortunately, your red-colored pacemaker shows you did not get an upscore. You got quite a few more ‘PERFECT’ judgments than your personal best. That’s okay, it’s only a warm-up. You have all day and night to find that hit of dopamine you crave.
—
You’re a couple of hours into your session, and it’s going alright. You only played a few warm-up sets before you started to increase the difficulty. Once your body adjusted to the intense cardio routine, it began to loosen up. You’re still not getting any upscores, but that’s not a big deal. You haven’t even started grinding the songs you planned to yet. After you finish up your current song, the results screen reads ‘AA.’ Not a Perfect Full Combo, not even an ‘AAA.’
Whatever, you stopped trying after you got that first ‘GREAT’ judgment early on in the chart.
You decide to spend your final stage of the set on your first goal of the day. After hitting the menu button on the cabinet to clear the results screen, you once again start scrolling through the massive library of songs. You reach your target but neglect selecting it. You want to take a few more moments to catch your breath before your first attempt. You place your hands on the top of your head and breathe at a steady pace. Staring at the jacket of the song you picked, you opt to let the timer run out so the game will select it for you.
As you wait, you can’t help but notice a presence has entered your surroundings.
You’re not even sure how you noticed it. Perhaps it was a moving shadow in your peripheral or the nearly imperceptible gasp from behind you. Refusing to turn around to acknowledge whoever was there, you internally groan and hope they swiftly move it along.
The shadow moved again.
Then, unfortunately, it stopped moving. Whoever just showed up was standing somewhere behind you.
It seems you have a spectator.
You consider picking a different song. You don’t really like playing the truly difficult stuff in front of people. Sure, there’s a part of you that does like showing off, but unfortunately, people are shitty. It doesn’t matter if you’re human, cat, dog, lizard, bird, whatever. There’s a little shittiness in everyone. And you really hope you don’t have to deal with shittiness today.
The countdown timer reaches zero. You miss your chance to pick something different. You grab the bar behind you and prepare yourself as the song begins.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=regZCgtmpUg
It starts simple, but it doesn’t take long for a colorful frenzy of arrows to fill the screen. You blast away at each one with heavy smacks of your feet. The extremely fast-paced nature of this particular track quickly gets your heart beating.
It’s going well. You’re already a few hundred notes in. The gold-colored combo counter indicates you’re still on pace for a Perfect Full Combo. You’re dropping more ‘MARVELOUS’ judgments than you’d like, but you ignore the swarm of ‘PERFECT’s as you blaze through the intricate patterns.
You keep your breathing steady. Each stomp of your foot is purposeful and coordinated. You’re using the same amount of force for every single step. You keep your form minimal, trying to hit the arrow panels on the dance pad with as little motion as physically possible. A small break in the chart halfway through gives you only a few moments to catch your breath. You shift your body slightly and mentally prepare yourself for the incoming section.
The chart, now at its climax, begins an all-out assault. You can feel your heart violently hammering away at your chest. You keep your breathing as steady as you can in the onslaught of arrows. The intensity of each breath grows with every measure. Your arms grip the bar extra tight as a particularly difficult twisty pattern zips up the screen.
Green notes dotted between reds whiz by in a mind-bending fashion. You whip your body left and right, widening your stance. You fight to maintain the coordination of your legs, desperately trying to make sure every single arrow is hit. You’re looking at that gold number in the middle of the screen. It’s as if you think staring at it hard enough will prevent it from changing color. Judgment text flashes with every step you take.
‘MARVELOUS!!!’
‘MARVELOUS!!!’
‘MARVELOUS!!!’
‘PERFECT!! (Slow)’
‘MARVELOUS!!!’
‘MARVELOUS!!!’
You keep a vice-like grip on the bar behind you as the section ends on a corner jump. The solid, long green hold notes slowly snake their way up the screen and disappear into the arrow receptors. The combo stays gold.
You internally celebrate.
Unfortunately, it seems you’ll never learn your lesson. ‘Never celebrate too early.’
You move to hit the next corner jump, elongated with those iconic green tails. Just a single red jump. It’s literally free.
‘GREAT! (Fast)’
The combo counter turns green.
You resist the urge to swear and simply shake your head in disappointment.
The sound of someone releasing their breath is heard from behind you. You completely forgot about your spectator. You’re appreciative of the fact that they haven’t said anything. There haven’t been any extravagant reactions to the wild display you’re putting on. They’re just watching. It was a nice change of pace. Perhaps they’re here to play as well? Part of you hopes not. You like having the cabinet to yourself.
You quickly refocus your mind as the next pattern creeps up the screen. The brief moment of inaccuracy seems to be gone, and you’re back on track. You close out the chart without any more ‘GREAT’ judgments.
‘NEW RECORD!!!’ is displayed proudly above your score on the results screen. It’s a bittersweet moment as you desperately try to catch your breath. While you’re thrilled that you’ve gotten a massive upscore, it’s not the one you wanted. You look over your judgment count and stare at the morale-draining ‘1’ that sits next to the word ‘GREAT.’
You snap a picture of your score with your phone and turn behind you to face your spectator…
…only to see that they’re not there anymore.
You scan the immediate area around you. Game cabinets litter the arcade floor. The rhythm game section, while a bit cramped, was designed in a way to allow minimal noise pollution amongst players. Unfortunately, with such little space, it’s hard to please everyone. You look over at a large, imposing cabinet a small distance to the right of yours. There’s someone standing there facing the cabinet’s screen with their back turned towards you.
Was this your mystery spectator?
As they place their stuff down next to the strange game, you give them a once-over. They’re definitely an anthro; the bushy off-white tail that subtly sways back and forth made that clear. But the combination of a black hoodie, a dark blue beanie, and baggy grey pants made it hard to tell what species they were. Or even what sex. From behind, they were pretty androgynous. Maybe a male, if you had to guess.
You eye the short, pointy, dark grey ears that can barely be seen poking out of their beanie. Okay, so a feline of some kind? Maybe a cat? They seem on the shorter side, too. You guess the top of their head would reach your chin if you stood next to each other.
The mysterious feline reaches into their duffel bag and pulls out a variety of items: A bottle filled with a hazy brown liquid, two cards nearly identical to yours, and a phone. They place the phone and bottle on top of the counter that holds the game’s controller board. They then use their cards to swipe into the intimidating game.
Scratchmania DJDX.
Of course you’ve heard of it. It’s made by the same company that created your favorite dance game, after all. But you could never see yourself getting into it. The controller had seven buttons and a turntable. You’ve seen people play it a few times. Watching someone execute even the easiest of charts was like trying to read a foreign language with absolutely no lessons. And you definitely did not have the motivation to try learning.
Feeling a bit creepy for staring at a total stranger, you turn back to your game and try to forget about them. You’re just happy that they didn’t bother you. There are still plenty of hours to go before server maintenance signals your late lunch break. You swipe your card and start another set. As you’re scrolling through the song list, you take another glance at your new non-acquaintance.
They’re idly scrolling through the song list of their own game, clearly unsure of what to pick. You can’t help but idly ponder. Who is this person? They clearly come here often, given how easily they’re able to navigate a game as complicated as DJDX. You’ve come here every Tuesday for the past… you don’t even know how many years. And, even if you try to avoid talking to them, you’re pretty aware of most of the regulars who come around here on Tuesdays. So, how is this the first time you’ve ever seen this particular anthro?
Maybe they just don’t usually come on Tuesdays.
Are they even from around here?
Do they play other rhythm games?
You try to take a peek at the difficulty they’re on. You can’t help but be curious as to what skill level this supposed cat plays at. Unfortunately, the cabinet is too far away for you to be able to see much. You shrug and return to your game once more, quickly picking a new song before the timer runs out.
—
A few more sets pass by. Thankfully, you’re able to return to your Zen state. You’re back to nothing around you mattering in the slightest. The previous set was a particularly proud moment for you, as you were able to snag a new Perfect Full Combo on a chart you’ve been chipping away at for weeks.
‘Suck a dick, Nageki,’ you think, glad you don’t have to play that chart anymore.
You’re so focused on your session that you’re not even giving the anthro feline any more looks. They don’t matter, only the music and arrows do. You concentrate on the current chart, staring with determination at the patterns that scroll up. A look at your combo counter confirms that it is still gold.
“HOLY SHIT, YO TIA, LOOK AT THIS FUCKIN’ DUDE!”
The excited shout reverberates over the noise of the dozens of running arcade cabinets.
Your combo counter turns green.
You can’t hold back a frustrated sigh as a shrill, high-pitched laughter from a second voice pierces your ears.
“What the fuck?” The feminine voice cackles in disbelief.
New spectators have arrived.
Annoyed, but not wanting to deal with an awkward confrontation, you opt to not fail-out of the song and continue playing.
“Literally… how…” A third, equally shocked voice is heard speaking, albeit much quieter than the others. The chart continues, and you keep your breathing steady. You concentrate as hard as you can on blocking out your surroundings. This is no different than playing in a tourney. Just ignore them and focus on the cha-
Your concentration is broken once again, this time by motion in your left peripheral. One of your spectators has hopped onto the Player 1 side. You hear frantic, uncoordinated stomping. The pad vibrates with an uneven rhythm. You hear his idiot friends laughing behind you as they watch him make a fool of himself. You refuse to acknowledge or look at whoever decided to act like a retard in front of his friends this time. You don’t need to look to know what he’s doing.
Same ol’ song and dance.
Ignoring the flailing idiot next to you, you close out the chart and watch the Full Combo animation burst on the screen in a green flash.
Not the Full Combo you wanted.
“Dude, you are insane!” the idiot to your left exclaims. You turn to your unwanted co-op partner. A male, grey, spotted hyena. His face did not portray any malicious intent, just a smile that was perhaps a bit too wide. You noticed that’s a thing with a lot of hyenas. Is it racist to think that?
…Speciest?
Whatever.
You try to force out a smile.
“Yeah, thanks.” You internally cringe as the tone of your voice reaches your ears.
‘Don’t be an asshole, Anon,’ your conscience chides you.
Thankfully, the three strangers don’t seem to notice your somewhat harsh demeanor. As your gaze scrolls by them, you notice the female hyena standing next to the Player 1 side of the pad. She looked quite like the other. Siblings, maybe. And clearly the source of the laughter from earlier that felt like daggers in the ears. She bore a similar smile to her assumed brother. A human male stood behind the dance stage, smiling in a much less creepy fashion.
“I’ve seen people play this game before, but I’ve never seen anyone play like that,” the human says, giving a nod of approval.
Mental assessment complete.
Strangers aren’t dicks, they just don’t know any better.
An awkward chuckle escapes your chest as you try to save face, “Haha, t-thanks. I like to play.” Feeling uncomfortable, you can’t help but glance over at the DJDX machine. You’re surprised at what you see.
The cat (and now you know for sure it was definitely a cat) was now facing away from their game and looking at you and your group of hecklers. The results screen bore large text that read ‘FAILED.’
‘Huh, did they fail-out cuz of these guys?’ You wonder.
Despite the somewhat dim light of the arcade, you’re able to make out a few features. The off-white fur on the cat’s face was gently brushed with wisps of ashen grey that converged beautifully at the snout. Their unkempt whiskers went every which way. It was hard to tell from this distance, but you could swear that their face wore a tiny smile. You look into their eyes, trying to read their reaction to the current situation.
You aren’t able to read anything. All you’re able to do is stare into those glazed-over, yet brightly shining blue eyes that were slightly hidden by droopy, seemingly tired eyelids. The slits of their irises projected a calm, relaxed state. Your eyes trend downwards, yet again giving the stranger a once-over. The hoodie was unzipped, revealing a somewhat tight-fitting black t-shirt with a nondescript design of some kind of anime character. You recognized it was a character from the very game that she’s currently neglecting to play.
And it is indeed that moment you realize she is definitely a female. You somewhat shamefully take an ever so brief look at her thin, yet subtly curvy body. Her chest, while not exactly well endowed, betrayed the androgynous nature of her choice of fashion. Her torso curved slightly inwards as it reached her shirt-covered belly, rounding off with a somewhat petite but definitely noticeable curve at the hips. Her baggy grey pants were littered with pockets and did well to hide any details below the waist. A wallet chain, attached to one of the belt loops, snaked around her backside. The ends of the pant legs covered the tops of what you could only assume were some sort of Converse knockoffs.
Your eyes reached hers again. This time, you were able to read something as her dreamy, lazy eyes bored holes into yours.
Curiosity?
“Damn, I’ll bet, man! You do this every day?”
The voice of the excitable hyena male standing to your left breaks you out of your trance.
Right, you almost forgot about them.
Wanting to stay cordial, you politely make small talk with the group. It was the usual stuff you’ve come to expect from people like this. After a bit more chit-chat, the group finally makes their leave. You let out a deep sigh that you didn’t even know you were holding in. You turn back to your game and see the results screen has timed out and your set has ended. Maybe it’s time to take a little break?
As you debate taking a seat, you notice movement coming from the DJDX cabinet. Turning back to the cat, you see that she’s packed up her things and has started walking towards you. You feel a cauldron of emotions and feelings start to bubble and morph between each other.
Annoyance.
Anxiety.
Sadness.
…
Curiosity.
…Hope?
‘Nah, let’s just dash those last two away before…’
Your eyes stay locked on each other as she makes her way up to you.
“Hey.”
Her voice is somewhat low and scratchy, but definitely feminine. You raise your hand and give a small wave in greeting.
“Uh, hey.”
“Mind if I play?” She gestures towards the dance cabinet. You turn to look at it for a moment before immediately turning back to her.
“O-oh yeah! Sure! ‘Course!”
She closes her eyes and gives you a… cute little smile. You can’t help but hesitate to use those kinds of words these days. With your piss-poor dating luck, those kinds of thoughts did no good. It’s best to just keep things casual. You’re done trying to make moves. You start to gather your things from the cabinet before she stops you.
“Uhh, I kinda meant like, two-player. Y’know?”
You turn to her in surprise. Something in her lazy, yet eager, expression gives you pause for thought. In your experience, rhythm game players tended to prefer playing solo for a number of reasons. You were definitely one of those people. It meant fewer potential distractions when going for upscores.
You almost debated telling her you’re going to take a break. After all, you were thinking about it already. And honestly, you’re not sure if you want to risk doing something that could hurt you in the future. You continue to stare into those gorgeous, ocean blue eyes. They were wide, and the pupils were beginning to subtly dilate as she waited for your answer.
You didn’t know this girl. You don’t even know her name. And yet, something in those eyes…
You couldn’t say no to them.
…
It’s just a quick set with a fellow rhythm gamer.
‘Who just happens to be female.’
It’s not like anything needs to happen afterward.
‘Even if those eyes are cute.’
You already told yourself you’re done making moves. Even if you’re beginning to enjoy the subtle smell of the wintery outdoors mixed with…
‘...Wait… is that…?’
You continue to stare into those tired, glazed, and now that you think about it, slightly bloodshot eyes. The ones pleading for you to play a set with her. You chuckle, wondering what the deal is with this cat girl you’ve never met. You put your stuff back on the lower ledge of the cabinet and grab your cards. You can probably go one more set.
“S-sure,” you finally answer her awkwardly.
She closes her eyes and flashes you another one of her cute little lazy smiles. You can’t help but let the sight fill you with warmth.
It’s just a quick set with someone. It’s not like anything needs to happen. No more making moves, right?
You both swipe your cards, looking at each other and trading smiles.
“SHOW ME YOUR MOVES!”