"Well. So much for my dreams."
Sorata couldn't help but let his shoulders sag slightly at the sight of the game in front of him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, especially for one made by a single person. While he would usually be frothing at the mouth to be asking questions about such a game, he hoped that he wouldn't be able to meet its creator. What kind of person would he be like? Was he an otaku type like Ryuunosuke? Or was he an all round, average guy like he was? He pleaded to the Gods that it was a group of people who worked on it.
Because it made his game, clutched tight in his fist as a USB stick, look like a flaming, piece of trash (it really wasn't, it was actually pretty decent, especially for someone who had never made a game before).
He suddenly learned to fear what was ahead of him. Only ten steps into the convention centre and he quickly felt weak at the knees, realizing that he was a small fish in a big pond. There were young adults with lanyards around their necks guiding actual adults in suits towards the games that they felt were worth their money. A large, projected screen blasted action shots of this year's most ambitious games. Rainbow keyboards shined forth their gamer aesthetic and blinded both Sorata and Mashiro. It was the weirdest fashion show that Sorata has ever been to.
Nevertheless, as a participating member of the Independent Developer Showcase, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and follow the group in front of him. He was thankful that Mashiro was in front of him, gently guiding him forward with two fingers pinching his hoodie.
She looked behind her and analyzed Sorata's face and body posture. She was confused. Whenever she had walked through art galleries with her collections of art, not once in her life did she feel scared. On the contrary, she would be somewhat annoyed at the loud crowds and the bright flashes of their DSLRs.
"Are you scared?," Mashiro asked, looking behind her whilst walking forward. Sorata snapped out of his thoughts and looked straight ahead into her eyes.
"Y-Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Don't worry. I'm here. I'm just as scared as you."
"Liar."
Sorata smiled, a sense of gratitude rushing over him that he had someone by his side, or in front of him rather. Although he knew that Mashiro wasn't too good at 'reading the room' and understanding other people's feelings, he appreciated that she had also skipped school and is risking the wrath of Sensei for this. She wore a small smile on her face, as if there was no one else at the convention other than them. It was extremely comforting to her that there would be someone she knew and loved to look at. Unlike all those other times at the art museums.
They followed the group of fellow game developers in front of them, passing rows and rows of computer monitors with unique games playing on them, and their respective creators standing by its side, trying to advertise how great their games were. It was like an anime convention Sorata had been to once. Some tables had a horde of hungry people in front of it, desparate to play the new game, while others barely had any. Some were deep into conversations with interested investors, their respective creators with multi-coloured hair giving a speech while making gestures with their hands. Some tables even went so far as to cosplay the characters of their game, an idea Sorata regretted he didn't think of.
All he had was a flash-drive, and his words. Not much, he thought, in the sea of endless creativity which he found himself in.
They were eventually assigned to their table. Sorata gently put his bag on the floor and began setting everything up, while Mashiro sat down and watched. The sights, sounds and smells were somewhat overwhelming for her so she found herself placing most of her attention on Sorata. She noticed that he was very rigid in his movements, struggling to stick the flash drive into his laptop to boot up the game.
Sorata looked around after he booted up the game, a bit embarrassed that his table was extremely lacking in comparison to some of the others. While he only had a laptop and a stack of game survey papers, the table next to him was lit up like a rainbow. It was the human equivalent of a male peacock showing off its feathers. If those feathers were hundreds of dollars worth of gaming gear and peripherals.
There were about a hundred tables in the convention, each with their indie game developers showcasing their game. It was so that they could get some feedback on their game in real time as people played it, as well as also being able to gather inspiration from what other developers have been working on. From what Sorata saw, they seemed to enjoy chatting with one another, laughing about problems that they encountered working with a specific game engine or fixing a stubborn bug in their code. He could only assume what they were talking about from behind his table, where he awkwardly fiddled with his fingers watching people walk past left and right. It would be a miracle if someone would look at his screen for even a minute, let alone if someone would actually play it.
The laptop would remain there, keys completely untouched until the end of the of afternoon, when most people had left and everyone was packing up their belongings. A girl walked past but stopped dead in her tracks, the trailer for the game catching her eyes. She didn't even bother to look at Sorata, instead walking up to the table and looking down at the laptop with an unknown expression on her face. Little did she know, Sorata was internally screaming that a person had finally looked at their game. Both him and Mashiro had spent all day bored out of their minds.
The first thing Sorata noticed was her opal eyes, bluer than the clearest ocean when she looked up and sipped at her cup of coffee. She also had blue shoulder-length hair, although it was slightly darker and the tips of it were coloured purple. He panicked and began to sputter words from his mouth to cover up the awkward silence. Well, it was only awkward for him. He felt as if he was a zoo exhibit being watched behind glass.
"U-Uh-I...this...this is our game!," he stammered, making wobbly gestures towards the laptop. "Umm...feel free to play?"
She looked at her watch, nodded and started playing, all without a single word. Sorata walked around the table so that he could see how she would play the game, and he was surprised at how quickly she was playing it. The tutorial section was breezed through like it was a minor inconvience, and she flew through the story, skimming through the text boxes of dialogue. It was like she was speedrunning the game.
After ten minutes, she had beaten the game. The credits rolled by as she stood up and downed the rest of her coffee.
"That was a really boring game," she stated bluntly to Sorata's face. There was no sign that she was joking whatsoever. "I can't believe I managed to finish that."
"Wait!," Sorata yelped right as she was about to leave. "Could you fill out this form? It's a feedback thing, it would really help us out!"
"Feedback?," she repeated. "Yes. Start again."
"W-What?"
Sorata had never felt more defeated in his life. He had waited all this time for one complete stranger to play his game, and she spat on it without any sense of guilt. No, it was more like she ignored it. As if it wasn't even worth critiquing.
As the beginner game developer stood there contemplating his existence, the blue haired girl turned on her heel and left in a hurry. In the opposite direction came Mashiro with a bag of fast food and some trinkets she bought.
"Sorata? You're...crying."
A tight knot appeared in Mashiro's chest after watching Sorata collapse down in the chair and sob with his face pointed at his feet. She suddenly dropped everything in her hands and wrapped her arms around Sorata without even thinking. It seemed as if tears and sadness were the emotions that she understood the most. From personal experience, she learned that a hug did wonders to relieve the emotional distress. For some reason, she couldn't help but tear up as well.
Wrapped around the blonde's arms, he stopped crying after a minute or so, and he managed to get some words out.
"...let's go home Mashiro," he breathed, hands now on her shoulders. "We've had a long day."
Mashiro was about to say the usual 'okay' out of habit, but shook her head. Instead, she would try to encourage him.
"You're crying."
Her voice got quieter but it was stern and there was a hint of anger in her delivery.
"You're crying."
"So what?!," he yelled, ignoring the looks from passerbys. He couldn't meet his red eyes with Mashiro's.
"SO STOP! YOU IDIOT!," Mashiro roared.
Her voice hit Sorata like a bullet. It was louder than anything in the convention hall. The developers at the table next to them flinched and dropped the keyboard they were packing away, the keycaps breaking off and scattering all over the floor. There was a moment of silence before voices began to speak, although much quieter out of fear or nervousness. They had their eyes on the blonde haired girl, who was looking down at the ground with clenched teeth.
"...so...stop. There's always next time. We can do better next time. Just...stop doing that. Please."
The all too quiet voice sat heavy in Sorata's chest, like a forcefully planted seed. It took him a moment to settle his breathing and he stood up to pack away the laptop in his bag. He opened his mouth to let loose a barrage of self-affacing comments, but chose to hold his tongue out of fear that Mashiro would yell again. He followed her out of the doors, all the while feeling more and more wasted with his life than ever before.
"Sorata. What now?," Mashiro asked. She removed the pickle from her cheeseburger and threw it in front of her, disappearing into the trees below.
The two teenagers had decided to scale a small forest trail they discovered as they were walking back to Sakurasou. It was quiet, in the sense that the typical sounds of the city were missing there. Car horns, distant chatter and music from advertisements were replaced with cicadas and night time owls, which relaxed them both like they were free from danger.
Well, not really. Without a light source, Sorata had tripped five times on the way up, all from the roots of trees that were exposed above the dirt. His palm was bleeding and his legs ached with exhaustion, but it was worth it. The view from where they were sitting was incredible. They could see the whole city in the distance from here, lit up and shiny as if it could never sleep.
Sorata sucked at the straw until the ice shook around freely in his cup. "I guess...I'll start again," he replied. "Maybe I'll make this next game for myself. No investors or promises."
Mashiro looked at him curiously. He held a neutral emotion but she could tell he was one step away from breaking down. She knew how long he had been working on that game after all.
"I can throw away the game. But I'll have more experience than before. More skills. I'll learn even more this time," he added, and he took a big bite out of his Big Mac. "What about you? Any new manga series I should be expecting?"
She shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Still chapter 56. I like it so far."
"Same here. Anzai's such a nutjob. I just can't understand why he does some of the things he does."
"Love."
"Love?"
"Love."
Mashiro stood up from the tree stump and stretched. Her face was illuminated by the full moon, making her look like some sort of actress doing a scene. Although the studio probably wouldn't let an actress shoot with ketchup on her lips.
"Sorata. I'll be there to help. I want to help. I want to see what you can make," Mashiro said. Her voice was as kuudere as ever, but Sorata could sense cheer behind it.
"Thank you Mashiro. It'll take a while, but I know we'll get there some day. We just have to work. Fight deep in the belly of the beast."
"Work is boring."
"Is it? I've seen you draw. You look like you're having fun every time!"
"Draw isn't work. Work is work."
"...what does that even mean?," Sorata sighed, standing up and hugging the girl. "I really don't get you sometimes."
She hugged back and buried her nose into Sorata's shoulder, taking a deep breath of his hoodie. "...mmm...Sorata..."
"No sleeping here," he instructed. "Come on, finish your burger and let's go home."
"Can we do something?," Mashiro timidly asked, looking up at Sorata. Their faces were inches apart.
"What?"
"Can we...can we dance?"
The idea stewed in Sorata's mind for a minute. Dancing? Out of all the people in the world, Sorata thought that Mashiro Shiina would be the last to ever give an interest in dancing.
"D-Dance? For what? What's the occassion? We should be doing the opposite of dancing right now, we should be...erm..."
He trailed off there, Mashiro already having put in an earbud into Sorata's ear and one in hers. A slow, melanchonic but hopeful song slowly increased in volume through the earphones. But the two remained as still as a statue, simply looking at each other awkwardly.
"I...don't know. This was a bad idea," Mashiro muttered, twiddling her fingers together like she was making it clear she had no idea where to start. Although she had seen hundreds of people- no, lovers dancing as reference material for chapter 56, it was like it was scrubbed from her mind at the moment. All that was racing through her head was how close she was to Sorata, and how much she felt like they were a couple. Even though neither of them had admitted it just yet.
"Bad idea? Well ya' started the song already...!," Sorata blurted out. "H-Here, put this hand on my shoulder. I'll...put my hand on your back. And then we hold hands here."
They adopted a pose which Sorata had seen in the movies, the girl has one hand on the boy's shoulder, the boy on the girl's back, and they were holding hands, however their footwork was all over the place. Sorata was swaying back and forth, trying to keep with the tempo of the song, while Mashiro stood completely still, blushing redder than a tomato.
"H-Hey, this was your idea. At least try to move your feet...," Sorata stammered. He swallowed in nervousness. He didn't know if that was his hand that was getting clammy or Mashiro's.
Mashiro nodded and simply followed the movements of the feet below her. The song was nice, but this was getting awkward real fast. It was like they were at primary school all over again, and their teacher had paired the two up to practice dancing for the graduation party. Sorata was at the very least relieved that no one would know that this happened except for Mashiro. If Aoyama was watching, she would never let him forget it.
"Mashiro. Thanks for coming with me today," Sorata thanked, too depressed to mention it to her before. "It really meant a lot to me."
She let out a small noise in response. She felt the urge to close the distance between them and rest her chin on Sorata's shoulder so that she didn't have to make eye contact, but ignored it. She didn't want to seem like she was brushing Sorata off by not looking him in the eyes. Even though it made her heart throb when she did so.
"You're welcome," she responded. "I...had nothing to do."
That was a lie.
"That was a lie," he chuckled. "I know you're swamped with re-drawing work from your editor. And you're failing your exams! Well...I guess you'll ace it on the make-up exams anyway..."
"No no! I had lots to do, but it wasn't much doing? I'd rather just...be side by side with you," she said shyly.
Sorata couldn't help but look away after the very romantic and cute remark. He didn't know where he heard that before, but he could tell that Mashiro had been watched too many romance movies lately.
This is perfect! This is the perfect moment! It's late at night, there's no one here! Your favorite love song's playing! Go! Tell him how you feel!
"W-Well...I appreciated it. Sorry you had to see me cry like that. It was just...when you left to get food, someone showed up and completely shit on my game! W-W-Was it really that bad?"
Mashiro giggled, her knees shaking and her stomach filling with butterflies. "...it wasn't that bad."
"Only because we made it. Sort of like how a parent sees their kid. We're partial to it."
Yes! A kid would be nice! Oh, the things I could draw...! And-And Sorata could wear that pink fluffy apron, and feed us both while we draw! Wait...w-what the hell? Do it! Tell him that you love him!
"Sorata," Mashiro said, her voice luckily disconnected from how nervous she sounded in her head. "You're an interesting character."
He tilted his head in confusion, his internal Mashiro-translator coming up empty.
"That is all."
"Thanks? Wait, in what way?," he clarified quietly.
"...why do we do this?," Mashiro asked as if she was talking to herself. She closed the distance between them and rested her chin on his shoulder, her breath tickling his earlobe. "Why do we try so hard?"
He let the question marinate before responding. "I don't know about you Mashiro. You don't look like you're trying hard at all. But for me?"
The memories of the countless hours spent with his face engulfed in blue light flashed through his mind. Even more countless hours of scrolling, searching and asking questions on online forums for the sake of fixing just one bug. He never thoroughly made it clear to himself why he would sacrifice his desire to procrastinate and be a regular teenage boy for this game thing.
"...I guess...I just wanted to do something with my life," he muttered with bitter resentment towards himself. "I'm tired of watching myself get older as the same. Damn. Person each year."
She stayed quiet. She didn't understand what he was saying, but she understood the way he was saying it. Angry. Angry at the world, but more so angry at himself for his idleness.
"Sorata."
"Come on Mashiro. Let's go home. You've got re-draws to do and I've got a game to work on."
