Arcade and Takoyaki

(Akane's PoV)

—

The inside of the Neon Dragon Arcade still smelled like nostalgia. I loved it immediately.

Everything was still in perfect order, from the cabinets to the old arcade posters, and then to the shooting gallery.

Behind the counter, an older man in reading glasses looked up from his newspaper. He assessed us with the tired expertise of someone who'd been watching teenagers walk through his door for forty years, then went back to reading.

'The time here seems frozen.' I thought, not leaving Shin's arm.

Sakurai spotted the rhythm game platform and made a sound I can only describe as religious.

"There," he breathed, pointing. "There it is. The infamous DanceMaster X7. Four pads. Full surround sound. The only machine in this entire city with the EX difficulty patch." He turned to us with tears that may or may not have been genuine. "Gentleman and terrifying lady. We have arrived."

"I'm not playing that," I said. "Not in a million years. Shin knows it."

"Nobody asked you to play it, Takanashi. This is between me and a twelve-year-old's ghost." He cracked his knuckles with the solemnity of a samurai drawing a blade. "Shin, you're up. Player two."

"I haven't played one of these dance games in years." Shin looked at the platform as if Sakurai had asked him to defuse a bomb.

"It's like riding a bike. Except the bike hates you and the road is made of arrows." He smiled.

"That's not reassuring," Shin said, scratching the back of his head.

"It wasn't meant to be. Get on the pad." Sakurai grinned.

"Go on, ghost boy. I'll make a memorial video here." I said, leaving his arm.

"Fine..." He sighed. "Be sure to use that video to threaten me whenever you want." 

"Of course I will." I smiled, pulling out my phone to record the historic moment.

Sakurai began stretching on the platform, touching his toes and rolling his neck before attempting what I think was a hip rotation.

It looked more like a man fighting an invisible hula hoop.

After shaking out his legs, he closed his eyes and took three deep breaths through his nose.

"Are you meditating?" I asked.

"I'm centering myself." He wiped something invisible from his mouth.

"You look like you're about to give birth. You're ridiculous."I giggled.

"Your support means the world to me, Takanashi." Daiki stretched his arms again.

Shin waited on the second pad, watching the screen with patient resignation. He knew he would regret this, but his friend needed it.

I found a stool near the crane machines, crossed my legs, and prepared to judge.

The first song was a mid-tempo pop warm-up. From my seat, the arrows looked manageable, and Daiki's timing surprised me. He wasn't particularly graceful, but his feet landed where they were supposed to, and he kept an eye on his steadily climbing score.

Shin was doing long division on a moving train. At least, that was what his frown suggested. His feet hit the arrows about half a second late, each step carefully considered by the time he should have been taking the next one.

"You're late on every down arrow," I called.

"Thank you, Akane." He said, not moving his eyes from the screen.

"And your left foot doesn't know what your right foot is doing. It's funny." I said. "Go on, Ghost boy! Smile to the camera!"

"Thank you, Akane." But he didn't turn around.

"You look like a giraffe on a frozen lake." Mocking him was so funny.

"I-hah-will remember this." 

"Good. Motivation builds character. Don't pass out yet, Shin!" I cheered.

Sakurai cleared the song and immediately leaned toward the results screen.

"Not bad, but not enough. The kid who holds the record has 3,000 more points. I need to go harder. Much harder. I must reach my limit break!" He exclaimed. 

"How old was this child?" I asked, fighting the urge not to cringe.

"Twelve. Maybe thirteen. He had a headband with a cat on it, and he wasn't even looking at the screen while he played." Sakurai said.

"And you're threatened by this person. Right." I sighed.

"I'm not threatened. I'm motivated. There's a difference. Now... it's time for the serious fight." Sakurai said, wiping away some sweat.

"The difference seems to involve a lot of sweating," Shin said, panting, his gaze moving to me. 

"What is it, Shin? You're not gonna get away from there until I see you pass out on the floor." I giggled.

"...I regret all my life choices." He said, smiling.

The second song required actual footwork. Daiki set his jaw and kept his eyes on the screen, muttering between combos: "Left, left, down, up, left, DOWN, yes, YES!"

Beside him, Shin had abandoned any pretense of competing. He was trying to put out multiple small fires using only his shoes.

"You missed seven arrows in that last section," I observed.

"I'm aware...! Shit—!" He kept missing.

"Seven out of twelve," I said. "Go, Shin, Go! Hehe!"

"Akane."

"That's a forty-two percent accuracy rate. In most fields, that would result in termination." I teased.

"Oh, come on!!!. I'm just trying to survive now!" He kept moving his feet at random, but his score kept dropping.

"DON'T GET DISTRACTED, SHIN ISHIKAWA! COME ON! HORYAAAA!" Daiki exclaimed. His voice was loud enough that multiple customers turned their gaze to him. 

By the third song, Daiki didn't seem to need the muttering anymore. He loosened up, his feet moving automatically through sequences that would have tangled mine. You could see the hours he'd spent on these pads. It was actually impressive, though I would never tell him that.

And Shin? Let's not talk about that. 

The fourth song was brutal. Arrows cascaded down the screen so fast they made my brain melt down just watching them.

Sakurai's shirt was dark with sweat, and his shoes squeaked with every hit. Two middle school boys had gathered behind me, along with a man in his thirties who was eating dried squid and nodding to the beat.

"Oh, look at him! He's trying to beat the legendary record!" One of those kids said. 

"Yeah!! That guy is amazing!!" The other one exclaimed. "Oh my god!" 

Meanwhile, a small crowd had formed around Sakurai, and even a group of girls stared at him in a daze.

Shin had abandoned his pad and was standing beside me, honorably discharged from a war he never should have been pulled into.

"The gap is closing!" Daiki shouted, his feet blurring. "Two hundred points! ONE HUNDRED! COME ON, COME ON, COME ON!"

Everyone started cheering him.

"GO, BOY! GO! BEAT THAT RECORD!!" A short, purple-haired girl shouted, which seemed to charge Sakurai's ego further.

"I'M CLOSE! I CAN DO IT!" He exclaimed, his feet moving even faster than before. 

After less than a minute, he hit the final note and stared at the score flashing on the screen.

Eleven points above the record.

"YEEEEEES!" He threw both fists into the air and spun so fast he nearly fell off the platform. "I DID IT! NEW HIGH SCORE! TAKE THAT, TWELVE-YEAR-OLD WHOSE NAME I DON'T KNOW! YOUR REIGN IS OVER! THE KING IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE KING!"

The middle school boys and everyone around, including the group of girls, clapped. The man with the dried squid gave a solemn nod of approval, while the owner glanced up from his newspaper, decided it still wasn't his problem, and went back to reading.

"I'm never doing that again," Shin said, sinking onto the stool next to mine.

"You were terrible," I said, gently patting his back.

"I know." He sighed.

"Like, genuinely awful. I've seen better coordination from drunk people." I Couldn't help but giggle.

"I know, Akane." His voice was flat.

"But you tried." I then patted his head, the way you'd pat a dog that had failed to catch a ball but looked cute doing it. "And effort is what counts. That's what they tell children who lose at sports day. You're lucky that I love you, baby boy."

He gave me a look so flat that it was funny to see. "You're impossible." He said.

Sakurai then played three more rounds, each harder than the last, without beating his new record. Then he photographed the leaderboard and stared at the picture with the tenderness most people reserve for loved ones.

And then, the purple-haired girl stepped closer to him and introduced herself. 

"H-Hey! My name is Setsuna Sakishiro! You were amazing!" She said to him, holding out her hand. "What's your name?"

Sakurai stared at her in silence for a few instants. A cool-looking girl was introducing herself to him.

'Oh, God... he's probably thinking about being loyal to Izumi...' I thought. 

The girl, Setsuna, had purple hair, green eyes, and a silver ring on her thumb. She smiled at Daiki with a warmth that made you want to trust her immediately. 'Thank God she's not a gyaru.'

"Well... my name is Daiki Sakurai—" he said, looking away as he scratched the back of his head.

The purple-haired girl smiled warmly at him. "Daiki? That's such a nice name!! Mind if we exchange contacts?" She said, pulling her phone out of her bag.

"Well... I'm... uhm—" I didn't give him time to think. I immediately stood up and spoke.

"Oh, Setsuna-chan, Sakurai will be more than happy to exchange contacts! He's just a little shy," I said, grabbing Daiki's hand and putting it in hers. "Just do it!"

They both looked at me, completely stunned. "Takanashi—"

"Save thanks for later!" I said, walking back to Shin.

Shin looked at me with a confused expression. "Akane? Isn't Daiki already—" 

"Shh..." I silenced him with one finger. "Izumi is a bitch. I saw her walking out of school with someone else. Don't say anything. We'll talk about this later, okay? Let's not ruin the mood." I whispered in his ear.

I felt his body stiffen, but he then nodded silently.

With the rhythm game conquered, a new friend with purple hair who said 'I'll text you later!' to a shocked Sakurai, we drifted through the rest of the arcade.

Shin and I found the same shooting gallery where I had beaten him on our first official date.

The aim compensation was even more terrible than before, but I had the targets' patterns memorized within thirty seconds.

I hit forty-seven out of fifty. Shin hit thirty-one.

"How?" he asked, staring at my score.

"Hand-eye coordination." I blew imaginary smoke off the barrel. "Also, I'm better than you at everything. That's established canon at this point."

"No, you're not. We still have plenty of cabinets to try." Shin grinned.

"If you won't cheat again, I'll win for sure, ghost boy. So play fair this time, or..." I leaned close to his ear. "No sex."

"How generous..." he smiled.

Meanwhile, Sakurai lost four hundred yen trying to win a stuffed penguin.

He didn't say who it was for, but his jaw tightened every time the claw dropped it back into the pile.

After the fourth attempt, he stayed in front of the glass, looking far too hurt over a rigged machine.

I wondered if he was thinking about giving that penguin to her.

I looked away.

Then, at the machine next to his, I put a hundred-yen coin in the slot and positioned the claw over a skull-shaped keychain with the precision of a woman who was in a life-or-death situation.

Obviously, it came out on the first try, and I clipped it to my bag.

"GOTCHA!" I exclaimed, clinging to Shin.

Sakurai looked at me with a particularly angry expression. It was funny.

"That was disgusting," Daiki said.

"No, Sakurai. That was talent," I grinned. "The talent of being lucky," I said, clinging to Shin even tighter than before.

And then Shin and I moved on to the old racing game, and for some reason he was too good at it.

He had the same focus he had when he played the piano. The fun fact? He had won that race by cheating again.

"SEE!?! YOU CHEAT! MY CAR IS SUPPOSED TO BE FASTER THAN YOURS!" I exclaimed after the race.

"Oh no. That's talent, darling." Shin said, kissing my forehead. 

"Fuck you," I said, crossing my arms, but leaning slightly on his shoulder.

After that, Sakurai and Shin tried a boxing game, and Sakurai punched the pad hard enough to make the machine wobble. It was a funny show.

I followed them from one stool or corner perch to the next, making observations that were half-insult, half-affection, until I had beaten both of them at air hockey.

Later, near the entrance, I watched them argue about the best angle for a claw machine grab.

'What a fun day.' I thought, smiling.

After everything that had happened today, they were standing here arguing about a claw. I could listen to them and enjoy myself. I'd almost forgotten I could have an evening like this. I should've invited Hoshiko. She would've loved this kind of thing.

By the time we stepped outside, the sky was completely dark. Neon signs and the paper lanterns outside the izakaya lit the old district, where people coming off work were heading into bars and restaurants. The air smelled of grilled food and rain that hadn't arrived yet.

"I'm hungry," I announced.

"You're always hungry," Shin said.

"And you always state the obvious. We're a perfect match." I sniffed the air. "Takoyaki. Three streets over. I can smell it. Follow me."

"How can you possibly smell takoyaki from three streets away?" Sakurai asked.

"Wolves have a heightened sense of smell. It's a biological thing. Don't question it." I smiled. 

After my reply, he literally jumped.

And then, we kept walking and walking, occasionally mentioning how fun the time at the arcade had been.

"You know," Sakurai said. 

"What?" Shin replied.

"You two are a disgustingly amazing couple, you know?" He sighed, smiling. "It looks like you've known each other for a lifetime, and that's actually beautiful to see." 

We stopped. 

Shin and I looked at each other for an instant, then smiled together before looking back at Sakurai.

"Well, the couple is beautiful because I make it beautiful, you know?" I said, smiling. "Taking care of this guy here requires a lot of energy, you know? Should I talk about how noisy his snores are when he is not sleeping in the right position? Or should I talk about the fact that he won't wake up even if a bomb detonates?" 

"Akane!!!" Shin exclaimed, red as a tomato. "That's—" 

And the three of us burst into a laugh.

I then leaned to his shoulder. "Yeah. There are no secrets between us. Plus, my ghost kept haunting his dreams when he was little, so that's why we are beautiful together." I said to Sakurai, a warm feeling wrapping around my heart.

"Just treat him well, Takanashi," Sakurai said.

"I will, but..." I smiled. "Call me Akane. Shin's friends are my friends too."

I saw his eyes widening.

"Oh. Okay." He looked at Shin. 

"Why are you looking at me?" My boyfriend asked.

"Nothing." Daiki moved his gaze to me. "I'll try to call you 'Akane' without the fear of getting killed." 

We laughed again, and then I gave him a reassuring thumbs-up. "Good!"

After that, we kept walking until three food stalls lined the old shopping street under striped awnings that had seen better days.

The takoyaki vendor was a woman in her fifties with arms like a construction worker. Her griddle hissed and popped as she worked, and behind her hung a cardboard menu with three options and a drawing of an octopus waving at the customers. It was cute.

I ordered a boat of eight, extra sauce, extra bonito flakes, extra aonori. Shin got a smaller portion because he has the appetite of a pensioner. Daiki, instead, matched mine. His appetite had returned along with his high score, and apparently he intended to make up for the last few days of starving in one sitting.

We ate under the awning in the cold night air. The first bite burned the roof of my mouth, but I didn't care.

"These are perfect," I said, chewing with my eyes half-closed. "This woman is an artist. She should be running a restaurant."

"The inside is still molten lava, hah, hah—" Shin said, breathing through his mouth.

"That's the experience, ghost boy. You don't wait for takoyaki to cool down. You commit to the burn. That's the whole philosophy." I said, eating another takoyaki.

"Your philosophy involves a lot of physical damage." Shin sighed.

"And yours involves a lot of complaining. Eat."

"She's right," Daiki said, shoving an entire ball into his mouth and chewing with tears in his eyes. "Pwain is fwavor. Mmmh."

"Thank you, Daiki. At least someone in this group has courage." I said.

Shin took a smaller bite and said nothing.

By his sixth takoyaki, Daiki was telling us about a delivery he'd made. The customer's dog had stolen the package off the doorstep, and he'd had to chase it three blocks.

Shin was laughing so hard his shoulders moved while I held my boat in one hand and his arm in the other.

But then, I looked across the street.

Between a bar and a shuttered noodle shop stood a building with a plain dark door and an unmarked awning. There was no sign I could see, but I'd passed enough places like it in this district to recognize a love hotel.

As I looked, the door opened, and two people stepped out with their shoulders almost touching.

The girl was laughing at something the boy had said, her hand resting comfortably on his arm.

I immediately recognized her short brown hair and the sketchbook bag over her shoulder.

Izumi Yamashiro.

Beside her was a guy I didn't know, his jacket unbuttoned and his undercut slightly disheveled.

My hand moved before my brain gave the order.

I let go of Shin's arm, took out my phone, and immediately opened the camera. My thumb was already on the shutter.

Two shots, fast, silent, from behind the takoyaki boat I was still holding in my other hand.

The angle wasn't perfect, but it didn't need to be. The light from the love hotel's awning caught both their faces clearly enough, and the door behind them was unmistakable in the frame.

I then slid the phone back into my pocket in under three seconds. Neither of them had looked this way, so they would never know.

I wasn't sure yet what I was going to do with those photos. But I've learned that you never let proof walk away from you when it's in good light.

They turned left, still laughing, and disappeared into the crowd without looking our way.

I stopped eating. This afternoon, they'd hurried out of school together, with the guy checking the street ahead. 

"Mystery solved," I said quietly.

A paper boat hit the pavement beside me, and I immediately turned my gaze to Daiki.

He was staring at the door, his hand still curled around the boat he no longer held.

Takoyaki lay scattered in the sauce at his feet. All the color had drained from his face, and I could even see his hands shaking.

The tremor reached his jaw. He tried to speak, his eyes wet, but it took him a moment to get anything out.

"That's why..." he whispered. "That's why she always... that's why she couldn't..."

Shin stepped closer and put a firm hand on his shoulder. I knew that touch. He'd steadied me with it enough times.

"Daiki. Don't do anything irrational. Calm down, please." He said.

His voice was low and controlled, but I could hear the anger in it. Izumi had kissed Daiki in the rain. Now she'd walked out of that hotel smiling, while he was now shaking under Shin's hand.

"So, that's why..." Daiki whispered again.

He kept staring at the closed door. None of us moved, and the food lay cooling at his feet.