#roots-game

“COME ON!”, you yell as you helplessly watch your health bar being drained again. You‘ve been at this for at least an hour, maybe more. A frustrated sigh finds its way out of your lips as you press pause and lean back into the slightly dusty couch you’re sitting on. You ponder the state of your apartment for a moment – you‘ve been trying your best to make it look more presentable since your group stopped here three days ago, but there‘s only so much you can do. Your eyes drift from a neatly ordered bookshelf, over a less than ideally placed wardrobe and finally onto a desk in complete disarray. I really should sort those papers out, you think as your gaze settles. You had started with that an hour ago. Or you had wanted to, at least. A job application for a position that was filled two months ago. A bill you hadn’t paid three months ago. A letter to your grandma, still unfinished. A life left on pause. Your eyes turn back to your TV and the game actually left on pause there. You had bought it on a whim, a few days before the pearl. A stupid idea, really, considering how tight money had been. But you liked Sonic as a child, and sometimes even poor adults feel nostalgic. Your last save was right before the boss battle, now halted just before the inevitable GAME OVER screen. This game was not hard before. The thought crosses your mind as a frown falls over your face. “Didn’t you claim that this was a form of entertainment?”, Misao asks as he steps out of your kitchen to join you in the living room, noting your sour expression, “You do not look entertained.” Your gaze passes over the kitsune and the two steaming cups he’s holding. “You’ve never lost at a game before? Repeatedly?”, your eyebrows twitch but you can’t help but smile as he delicately places one of the cups on the coffee table in front of you. The calming scent of chamomile tea waves towards you. “I can’t say that I’ve ever lost a game I was playing by myself, no.” The fox doesn’t sit down, but you know him well enough by now to recognize that him even just staying is a show of concern. You are fairly certain that Misao is the only member of your merry band of supernatural misfits to have noticed your hesitation when you re-entered this apartment for the first time in months. Anela, while usually sweet and attentive, had been too preoccupied with the creature that was the actual reason for your stay in town. She’d been planning your search before you even stepped foot into Waipahu. Louis on the other hand had been far more excited to see your place and hopefully find some opportunities for future teasing. He’d forced a grin out of you with his incessant jokes, be they about your sense of cleanliness or the teddy bear that still lies on your bed. But he didn’t seem to have noticed the expression you’d worn before that short simmer of fun. Both of them were out right now, looking for the being that supposedly knew something about the rifts that no one else did. And just so happened to hide out in your home town. You’d stayed behind to take care of the place. And to avoid anybody I might know asking questions. Misao had volunteered to stay with you and, while they had offered a plausible explanation – a combination of you having to stay safe, them being less experienced with modern people than Anela and less adept at “talking to rats” than Louis – you were convinced that you’d seen a sliver of guilt pass their face when you winced at the dust that had amounted in your home. You hope that he doesn’t really blame himself for the things in your life that you had to leave behind, but you’re not certain. “It’s kind of like playing with the people who made the game,” you claim and scoot over to the side, offering Misao a seat, “not as lonely as it seems.” Misao pulls up an eyebrow to throw a doubtful glance at the screen before graciously sitting down next to you. He also whisks away the tiny amount of dust that had settled on the sofa, in a swift move he probably hoped would escape your notice. “Playing against the ones making the rules? That sounds like a futile endeavour.” “Not against, with”, you correct, unpausing the game and allowing your health bar to be emptied completely. “Though I can see how you got to that conclusion”, you groan as you pull up your save files again. He takes a sip of his tea and you don’t miss the glance towards the papers on your desk, followed by eyes momentarily halting on you. Of course he saw that. And of course he put two and two together. “So that blue… creature has to defeat that … person, for you to be the victor of this game?” You did not expect Misao to show interest. But you’re smart enough to put two and two together as well – he’s picked up on you distracting yourself, and he’s trying to help. You suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as soon as the thought crosses your mind. “This isn’t the final boss – I mean enemy”, you explain, “I just have to get past him so I can continue with the rest of the game.” You lay the controller onto the coffee table, exchanging it for your own cup. “I just don’t know why I’m stuck”, you mumble before enjoying your first sip of tea, “it wasn’t that hard before I left, but now I’m not getting anywhere.” “You have been attempting this for the better part of two hours”, Misao concedes. “Two? You sure?”, your shoulders go slack as you let yourself fall into the pillows again. “Fairly”, his eyes follow your form as you put the tea away and slump together on the couch, “Most tedious tasks tend to become easier if one takes a break every once in a while.” “It’s not tedious!”, you exclaim, bolting upright once more, “Sometimes the challenge is part of the fun!” Brows furrow at the sudden show of conviction despite your obvious frustration. “Wanna try?”, the idea lights up your face, a smile spreading across it. “I don’t think this game is the kind of entertainment I enjoy”, the answer is as restrained as you’ve become used to, but the small surprise in his voice does not get past you. You know that you’ve got an opening there, as small as it may be. And you’re not giving up any ground when it comes to something that sounds like this much fun. “Come on! Games are pretty big out here and you gotta get used to the modern mortal world at some point.” “I do?”, the question is posed in a way that leaves no need for an answer. “Yes, you do!”, you reply anyway, “And these games were such a large part of my childhood, I’m sure you’d get at least some fun out of them as well!” “I’m not in my childhood. Or you in yours”, you don’t miss the snide remark, but choose to ignore it. You’re confident that you’d recognize if he was genuinely annoyed, but all you can make out right now is some slight relief at your elevated mood. I can win this, you realize, probably as surprised as Misao. You pick up the controller and hold it towards him, your eyes almost glowing with excitement. “If you push this button Sonic – that’s the blue thing – jumps, you move these thing to dictate the direction he moves in and...”, you don’t give Misao time to pause before launching into your energetic explanation. After a moment you delightedly note that he actually seems to be paying attention. This time though, the quick glances he steals at your face do get past you, as you lose yourself in retelling stories of frustration and success filled with both advice and fond memories. You are almost shocked when, once you finish your monologue with a hopeful glance towards the fox, a pale hand gently closes itself around the controller. “If you really insist, then I will try”, the statement is supposed to sound resigned, but a sliver of an exasperated smile sneaks onto Misao’s lips before he can hide it. You nod and nestle yourself into the pillows, directing Misao towards the correct save file. You laugh and shout as he starts the game back up, yelling directions and flinching at hits taken. Misao for his part stays calm, but the few times you covertly peak at his face convince you that he is genuinely trying. Still, despite his quick reflexes his inexperience at the game – and games in general – becomes apparent after a few moments. He lowers the controller as the dreaded letters spell out over the screen. “The game is over, it seems”, he pronounces, almost solemnly. “It’s not over over”, you laugh, “You can try again. You only lose if you give up, really.” Misao makes no attempts to reload the save, but still the controller remains, held securely in his hands. “Also I kinda hate to admit it, but I think you got farther than I did the last three times”, you encourage him further with a pleading smile, “Help me out?” A suspenseful second passes, before he sighs: “Direct me to the save document once more?” “File”, you correct with a chuckle, but hurriedly follow his request, giving him no time to reconsider. You’re so entranced with the amusement an increasingly invested and concentrated Misao provides that you barely notice the afternoon slipping by. Meanwhile the papers on your desk lay there forgotten, put on hold for at least one more day.