“Still, I dunno…Target shooting and all…How should we, like, get started?”
I knew I had just all but overwhelmed Haruka into the choice a moment ago, but really, how much could the two of us do to set up a shooting gallery in a week’s time?
We’d need to buy some prizes, for one, as well as build a stand to display all of them. That, and the cork pop-guns. The more we thought about it, the more the tasks piled up before us.
We’d need to use the art room and shop room to build the bigger props, but I figured that the classes who had planned a bit earlier than we did had already filled up all the available time slots.
“Uhm…If you think we can’t do it, maybe we could do something else instead?”
“No! Forget it! It’s only impossible if we think it is! You’re the one who wanted to go through with it. Think of something!”
Haruka flinched again before crossing his arms together and nodding in agreement, eyes closed.
It was his idea…at first, anyway. But I was a driven girl, my mind racing with the thought of showing everyone else that we weren’t like them, not like the others. Not all bubbly and ditzy and airheaded.
If we were gonna go through with this, I didn’t want to do it half-cocked. My days and weeks of online gaming had forged in me a sense of high ambition, and now—for this, of all things—that ambition was starting to blaze.
“One thing’s for sure, though—we can’t really build any kind of big, fancy stand or anything. You aren’t good at do-it-yourself stuff or anything, are you, Mr. Tateyama?”
“Nope! Never tried any of it!”
“—Yeah, I figured. Which means that you and I will have to do it ourselves, Haruka…”
“Whoa, whoa, hang on a sec! Okay, I’ll admit I’m no handyman or anything, but, you know, I’m pretty good at programming and stuff!”
Mr. Tateyama pointed a thumb at himself, flashing that asinine “I’m really great at this one thing you’d never understand!” aura you see a lot from otaku nerds.
“Huh. Yeah, wow, neato. So, anyway, you’ll just get in the way, so why don’t you go code a dating simulator or—”
Dealing with him was starting to exasperate me. I was just trying to humor him, but somewhere along the line, I had inadvertently said what I was thinking out loud.
* * *
We were wholly incapable of fabricating anything large or elaborate.
The only prize we had to offer was a rare fish specimen.
Our goal: to create the most exciting shooting gallery that mankind ever saw.
It was a gamble, but maybe, just maybe, it was something we could fabricate within a week.
Before I knew what I was doing, my chair clattered backward as I stood up.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! T-Takane, just wait a sec! Look, I’m sorry about all this, okay? So let’s settle this peacefully! Violence isn’t gonna solve anything, all right?! There’s got to be some way to do this…!”
Mr. Tateyama, surprised at this abrupt motion on my part, held his hands in front of him, whimpering his response like an evil RPG minion doomed to die for story purposes.
As for Haruka next to me…I don’t know if he had fallen sleep as he attempted to at least pretend to think things over or if all of this had pushed his gentle psyche over the edge, but he had fallen to the floor, taking the loudly clattering chair with him.
“I have an idea, Mr. Tateyama! I think we might be able to pull off the shooting gallery!”
“Uh? Oh. Yeah, that. But that’s gonna be a huge pain to get together, right? I mean, like I told you earlier, I’ve never even successfully put a bookshelf together, so…”
“No, no, I’m not relying on you at all for anything on that. But, like, you said you can program, right? Right, Mr. Tateyama…?”
I smirked at my teacher. He blanched in response, plainly aware of where this conversation was going.
“What…what’s with you, Takane?”
There was still a bit of spittle on Haruka’s face as he spoke to me from behind the chair he was sitting behind. I decided not to bring it up.
“Hee-hee-hee…I was just saying that we might be able to do this shooting gallery after all. You’re good at drawing, right…?”
“Eeeep…!”
I tried to smile as broadly as I could, but Haruka looked absolutely terrified, as if I was attempting to blackmail him. Why does every male (well, both of them) in this room have to be so pitiful?
But, really, it didn’t matter how pitiful they were right now.
…After all, they just had to do as I told them, and everything would be fine.
“H-hang on, Takane…This ‘shooting gallery’ you’re thinking of…”
Judging by his facial expression, Mr. Tateyama had likely already figured out what I was thinking.
It was understandable, given that his share of the work to make this “shooting gallery” happen was nothing short of massive.
“Hee-hee-hee…You guessed it. We don’t need a table saw or anything to make a shooting gallery game, right? Haruka could draw the characters and backgrounds, and if we went with that, one prize would be all we need.”
Once I finished, Mr. Tateyama’s shoulders dropped, as if he was saying “Ahh, I knew it…” with his entire body.
A single person creating a video game all by himself would be a fairly massive amount of work.
But Mr. Tateyama had been lazing around, doing his own thing in the classroom for long enough. Considering that, he owed us that much labor by now, if not more.
“Huh…? We’re gonna make a game? Starting now?!”
Even the normally placid Haruka seemed startled, a surprise given how hard it was to get him to react to anything. Unlike Mr. Tateyama, though, there was a palpable measure of excitement behind the response.
“Well, yeah! You can draw all of the graphics for the game, right? That’d be pretty exciting for you, I bet.”
Haruka energetically nodded in response. His unbelievably bright expression, something unlike anything he usually wore, gave him a distinctly different impression than usual.
“Well, I know it’s gonna be kinda tough, but hang in there, okay? Like, I’m sure Mr. Tateyama will figure something out in the end, so…”
“Whaa?! Why’s it gotta be me?! Do you have any idea how much it takes to code a whole—”
“Administr…”
“I’ll give it everything I’ve got! It’s gonna be the best gallery you ever saw!!”
Mr. Tateyama gave us a thumbs-up, his face one of pure, unadorned affirmation.
This “administrator” magic word was proving surprisingly useful.
There was no doubt that I’d be relying on it for the rest of my high-school career.
“But let me ask you something. What did you mean by ‘one prize would be all we need’? There’s no way we can predict how many people will beat the game, you know…And if we made the game so hard that nobody could beat it, that’d turn off people even more, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. Just have it so you’re trying to score points instead of finishing the whole game. Also, make it two-player only, okay?”
“Sure, that wouldn’t be any problem, but…you aren’t talking about…”
“Exactly! I’ll complete against anyone who shows up, and we’ll play for the highest score. Playing against a girl like me, you aren’t gonna get any complaints about the game’s difficulty then, right?”
The blood had returned to Mr. Tateyama’s face. Now his expression was one of sheer exasperation, the exact same face I had given to him a moment ago. I reveled in it for a second.
“You’re gonna play against everyone, Takane? But if you lose even once, we’re gonna have to give up our prize, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, assuming that ever happens. Who said I was ever gonna lose? I’ll just lose on purpose right toward the end of the school festival, and we’ll be the talk of the whole school. I’ll make sure that it
works out that way.”
Listening to this, Haruka looked more and more anxious by the moment. I couldn’t blame him.
No one can predict what would happen in a video game. There was always a non-zero chance of me losing at any time.
And if I did lose and we had to give up our single prize (Rare Fish Specimen [Extremely Expensive]), that essentially meant the end of our festival booth. A pretty ambitious bet, in other words.
But I possessed a certain “special ability,” one I hadn’t gotten around to revealing to these guys.
…Actually, I hoped I’d never have to tell anyone about it, but that ability was what gave me so much confidence that we’d win this bet. Not that I ever want to breathe a word of it to anybody, but—
“You know, Haruka, she might just do it, too. She’s, like, a celebrity on the net. You know that game they keep showing ads for on TV? The one with the dude blowing away all those zombies?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen that. One of those online games, right…? I think there was some kinda championship a bit ago…”
“Right, right. And Takane placed second in the nationals there.”
Just as I was expanding upon my internal monologue to myself, my teacher, much to my abject surprise, tossed me out of the closet.
“Ahhhghghhh!! W-w-what’re you talking about?! I-I’m not anything like…”
The name of the game was Dead Bullet -1989-, an online shooter where you mowed down wave after wave of zombies. It had attracted a vast swath of users since its launch a year or so ago, to the point where it was now one of the leading FPSes in the Japan market. I was kind of a veteran player, having made it to the top ranks approximately four hours after the game launched.
Thanks to the unique strategic approach I brought to the game, my name was famous enough that I boasted a fan community with several hundred members. But, thanks in part to the rather narrow channels of communication I retained with most people, my teacher was the only person in real life who knew about this. —Until now, that is.
It was a critical error in judgment. I was looking for someone I could share this game with in the real world, and since Mr. Tateyama demonstrated an ability to discuss even the finer details of Dead Bullet with me, I invited him into my community. Big mistake.
The thing about Dead Bullet -1989- is that it’s a grotesquely violent title, one with an overwhelmingly male audience—not the kind of thing a teenage girl would flock to over all other forms of entertainment.
To be honest, it was the sort of game that, if one of the other female students got addicted to it, I’d be hesitant to come near her.
And now the truth’s been revealed to my sole classmate…
“Wow, Takane! Second in the whole country? That’s really surprising! Why didn’t you tell me until now? Is it, like, really fun?”
But Haruka, completely unaware of my internal conflict, gave me a surprisingly favorable reaction, to the point where he acted like he wanted to know more.
No doubt that’s because he didn’t know what the game was all about. If he knew more about it, there’s no doubt the reaction would be more like “LOOOOOLLLL look at this scary chick playing this freaky horror game…stay away from her!!!!” or something.
As I winced at Haruka’s meek, questioning eyes, Mr. Tateyama suddenly let out a belly laugh as he revealed yet more horrifying secrets.
“There, you see, Takane? You were looking for friends to play with, weren’t you? I’m not really all that good at Dead Bullet, so I thought, hey, why not invite Haruka?”
“Huhh?! W-what’re you talking about?! It’s not like I play it all that much or anything…”
Which was a lie. Because I did. I fell asleep early due to exhaustion yesterday, but generally, I threw myself into the world of the game from four p.m., when I got home from school, until four a.m. the next morning.
Mr. Tateyama, still guffawing in front of me, was fully aware.
“Oh, reeeeally? I figured you’d play it a lot more if you were that into it. I mean, what was your handle? Something like ‘Dancing Flash’—”
“Agh! Nooooo!! Listen! I’m gonna call the administrator, okay?! I’ll tell him everything! All right?!”
“Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Hey, don’t joke about that sort of thing! I’m sorry, all right?!”
Someone watching the two of us jostle our desks around as we screamed at each other would undoubtedly find the whole scene quite hilarious.
But to us, this was a life-and-death battle.
The moment Haruka said, “Hey, uh, calm down…” as we glared at each other for several seconds, the school bell rang, as if to put a final end to our stalemate.
“…Oof. How ’bout we just agree to keep quiet, all right? About everything.”
“Yes…That sounds like the best thing to me. But don’t get me wrong, Mr. Tateyama. If you leak anything else about me…”
“And likewise for you, Takane. Breathe anything to the administrator, and you know what’ll happen, right?”
“…Right. I follow you. I’ll just bottle it up inside me…But I’m not gonna let you divulge anything else about me, okay?”
As my teacher and I attempted to stare each other into submission, exchanging a conversation that hardly seemed like a healthy educational exchange, the first-period homeroom class came to a close.
“Right…Well, I guess this is partly my fault, too. Guess I’ll see what kinda stuff I can come up with, huh? …So let’s spend this next period working out the details, all right? Feel free to go to the bathroom if you want.”
With that, Mr. Tateyama picked up the attendance ledger and left the classroom, index finger scratching his forehead. For just a moment, I could hear the footsteps and excited conversations from passing students from beyond the open door.
“Boy…You think we can really do this?”
Haruka made eye contact with me as I threw myself back into my desk chair, utterly drained.
“…You sure made a lot of promises, Takane, but I dunno…This is kinda really starting to get exciting, huh…? I think we can really do this! I’ll do my best, okay?”
Watching Haruka give a fist-forward “We can do it!” pose after his little declaration made me suddenly feel like my face was burning a bright red. I could only assume it was out of embarrassment at having my illustrious online career revealed to the world.
—I let out a light smile.
Then I realized I had become what I hated the most—one of those “rah rah, this school festival is sooo important, we gotta do our best!” girls. My smile was no doubt borne from the sheer shame of it all, rather than coming from any actual happiness.
“…Well, at least we won’t be bored.”
As I muttered it to no one in particular, my mind was already beginning to formulate a schedule of tasks to handle before our boundlessly exciting school festival began.
HEADPHONE ACTOR II
I didn’t think I’d seen the landscape before me transform so wildly as this ever before in my life.
With every step I took, another stoplight was sent flying, another building swayed wildly over its foundation.
The air shifted and swirled before me, and my body propelled itself forward through the wind with every breath I took.
The intersection was packed with people.
The signals and signs had already lost all meaning to them, and the lawless roads were now host to a gaggle of colorful cars, abandoned in assorted unlikely locations and angles.
Some people were screaming something or other.
Some were punching and flailing at their fellow man.
All of them looked petrified, wailing pitifully at the end of the world.
The screaming infant I heard for just a moment almost made me stop running.
“Keep going. This area’s going to be all over within twelve minutes, so don’t let yourself look back at them…Make a left at the next light.”
The voice from my headphones, unlike the mad scene before
my eyes, was calm and composed as it matter-of-factly provided navigation.
So I kept going, following its directions as I thrust myself forward through the waves of people.
I began to wonder how many times in my life I had truly ran with all my strength up to now.
I led a sheltered childhood from early on, enough so that I was never given a chance to roam free outside.
That was because I had an illness. One where I lose consciousness in a completely unpredictable manner. No reason, no warning.
This wasn’t an illness that flared up all that often.
But the problem was, I could never recall the exact moment when I fell to the ground.
My memory clocked back into action from the point after I opened my eyes.
My recollection from before I blacked out would always be hazy and undefined, as if I was having a long, extended dream.
Cutting through the crowds, running through narrow alleys, I was ejected into a large, wide avenue.
“Turn right here! There’s only one minute left…”
The voice inside my headphones had gradually taken on a sense of urgency.
Paying no attention to my aching legs, I immediately pivoted myself to the right, only to hear a sound like crumpling metal behind me.
I became unable to resist the urge to turn around as I heard the screams follow in succession.
“…Hurry! You have someone you need to see, right?! Please…”
My consciousness began to grow hazy as my breathing accelerated. I felt my lungs begin to burn.
I wonder if I’m going to black out again.
Come to think of it, when was the last time I lost consciousness?
…I grew unable to recall anything at all.
How did all of this even happen?
Who was I even trying to reach…?
And yet, I still felt like there was something extremely important waiting for me at the end.
That feeling was the only thing that pushed my legs forward.
—Turning forward, I saw the hill I had been running toward right in front of me.
A Headphone Actor Page 3