“Kuro,” Kenma says. His grip tightens on the mouse. “You just stole my kill.”
“Oops, sorry.” Kuroo’s voice crackles through his headphones. “My bad.”
“Why are you following me?” Kenma asks instead. “This map is for elves, you should've started in the human tutorial region.” He concentrates on taking down the next Infected Bulltoad, fingers flying over his keyboard. F1, F7, double tap on the E to dodge, F2, then a finishing blow—
Kuroo’s avatar launches in, broadsword swinging down with a flash.
“Kuro—” Kenma says, unable to keep frustration from bleeding into his voice. He takes a breath, and continues, “You stole my kill again.”
“I was helping,” Kuroo objects. He sounds pleased. Onscreen, his avatar scoops up the loot.
“You were kill-stealing,” Kenma replies flatly. He's already directed his white mage to the edge of the woodland, and he halfheartedly hopes that Kuroo will fall behind. If he moves to the clearing, the mobs will be too high for Kuroo’s level too.
“What is that, anyway? Is it an actual thing?” Kuroo asks. Click, click. “No big deal right—” He makes a sudden, pleased noise over the mic. “Hey, I got a Blessed Sword. And poison glands.”
Kenma’s eyes drift up the PvP button, at the top-right corner of his screen.
No, he won't. It's not worth the immorality points—
“Hey, that toad dropped five gold too. Nice.”
Never mind. He might. He just might.
“So how do I level up?” Kuroo asks. “I wanna do one of those dungeon parties that you're always doing. Looks fun.”
Kenma resists the urge to say, please don't, and, my guild will kick me out if I run a dungeon with someone who plays as badly as you do, but that's just inviting Kuroo’s mirth. Which is a dangerous thing, given that Kuroo already seems too intrigued by the game—his avatar sprints around, pausing to collect the mushrooms littered on the forest floor.
Actually, he's not even collecting them. Kuroo’s avatar digs up the mushrooms and leaves them floating on-screen.
“Press the F key,” Kenma tries to tell him, but Kuroo has already moved on.
“Check out the view,” he says, as his avatar walks right up to the edge of the rocky outcrop, left of the woodland.
“Don't get too close—” Kenma begins.
“Woah!” Kuroo’s avatar plunges off the cliff, and flops over onto the rocky floor below. Dead. A cough sounds over Kenma’s headphones, followed with a bemused: “Didn't know that could happen. My red bar dropped all the way to zero. Wow.”
“HP bar.”
“What?”
“It's called a HP bar,” Kenma repeats. He hopes he doesn’t sound too resigned. Or maybe he does. Why is Kuroo even playing? As far as Kenma knows, Kuroo doesn’t play video games. Or any game, other than volleyball. And yet here he is, an hour after announcing that he’d downloaded the game and intended to join Kenma. All that Kenma’s managed to conclude is that Kuroo is terrible. Undeniably, irrevocably awful.
He didn’t expect to play babysitter today. There’s a server-wide event starting in a few hours too. How annoying.
“So,” Kuroo draws out, blissfully unaware. “Are you gonna come rescue me?”
Kenma lets his white mage run down the side of the cliff, a steep path downward. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag when I resurrect you,” he says, as he opens his inventory for a resurrection scroll.
“By the way, there’s a—”
The screen shudders, red cracks sparking on screen. Kenma’s HP bar cuts to half.
He scrambles to hit I, snapping shut his inventory, but he’s too late. Another shudder of his screen, and his white mage makes a low, groaning noise. His HP bar is empty.
Kenma stares at the screen. He rubs his eyes, finds that they’re dry enough to hurt, so he stops and blinks to stare again. Still dead. The screen slowly spins over the fallen body of his white mage.
Resurrect at the nearest town? the screen asks him.
To the side of the rocky cliff face, a black panther prowls away. A large crown is marked over its head, glowing softly.
“Is that a boss?” Kuroo asks, sounding apologetic.
Kenma takes a deep breath. “Yes. That’s a boss.” Why didn’t you tell me, he wants to ask, but there’s no point. They’re both still dead on the rocky floor of the cliff, and Kenma has just lost all the XP he gained over the last hour. Frustration has his fingers drumming over the keyboard.
“We should take a break for lunch,” Kuroo says, after a pause. “I’ve got leftovers in the fridge.”
His voice is too light, Kenma realises. Too nonchalant for mere disinterest, after dying in a new game. “You planned this,” he says, and wonders if he sounds too accusing. He should, he decides—that XP took him ages, and he’ll have to backtrack to pick up his bag too.
“Eh,” Kuroo says. He doesn’t sound apologetic now. His grin is almost audible, even over the poor quality of his microphone. “Maybe. But since we’re dead now anyway, let’s take a break.”
“You made me lose XP.”
Kuroo is unfazed. “You’ve barely left your room all week. You need a break.”
Bargaining with Kuroo is always difficult—mostly because what he says is true, but it doesn’t mean Kenma has to agree. “One hour,” he tries instead. He still wants to play that server-wide event.
“You gotta eat dinner with me too, then,” comes Kuroo’s swift answer.
“That’s—”
“Great, that’s a deal,” Kuroo interrupts, sounding disgustingly cheery. “I’ll be right over. We’ll just use your microwave, yeah?”
There’s a clatter as Kuroo presumably takes off his headset and drops it on his keyboard. Kenma stifles his sigh. He clicks the button to return to the nearest city, and pushes his chair back.
FILL: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Narumiya Mei, G
“Kuro,” Kenma says. His grip tightens on the mouse. “You just stole my kill.”
“Oops, sorry.” Kuroo’s voice crackles through his headphones. “My bad.”
“Why are you following me?” Kenma asks instead. “This map is for elves, you should've started in the human tutorial region.” He concentrates on taking down the next Infected Bulltoad, fingers flying over his keyboard. F1, F7, double tap on the E to dodge, F2, then a finishing blow—
Kuroo’s avatar launches in, broadsword swinging down with a flash.
“Kuro—” Kenma says, unable to keep frustration from bleeding into his voice. He takes a breath, and continues, “You stole my kill again.”
“I was helping,” Kuroo objects. He sounds pleased. Onscreen, his avatar scoops up the loot.
“You were kill-stealing,” Kenma replies flatly. He's already directed his white mage to the edge of the woodland, and he halfheartedly hopes that Kuroo will fall behind. If he moves to the clearing, the mobs will be too high for Kuroo’s level too.
“What is that, anyway? Is it an actual thing?” Kuroo asks. Click, click. “No big deal right—” He makes a sudden, pleased noise over the mic. “Hey, I got a Blessed Sword. And poison glands.”
Kenma’s eyes drift up the PvP button, at the top-right corner of his screen.
No, he won't. It's not worth the immorality points—
“Hey, that toad dropped five gold too. Nice.”
Never mind. He might. He just might.
“So how do I level up?” Kuroo asks. “I wanna do one of those dungeon parties that you're always doing. Looks fun.”
Kenma resists the urge to say, please don't, and, my guild will kick me out if I run a dungeon with someone who plays as badly as you do, but that's just inviting Kuroo’s mirth. Which is a dangerous thing, given that Kuroo already seems too intrigued by the game—his avatar sprints around, pausing to collect the mushrooms littered on the forest floor.
Actually, he's not even collecting them. Kuroo’s avatar digs up the mushrooms and leaves them floating on-screen.
“Press the F key,” Kenma tries to tell him, but Kuroo has already moved on.
“Check out the view,” he says, as his avatar walks right up to the edge of the rocky outcrop, left of the woodland.
“Don't get too close—” Kenma begins.
“Woah!” Kuroo’s avatar plunges off the cliff, and flops over onto the rocky floor below. Dead. A cough sounds over Kenma’s headphones, followed with a bemused: “Didn't know that could happen. My red bar dropped all the way to zero. Wow.”
“HP bar.”
“What?”
“It's called a HP bar,” Kenma repeats. He hopes he doesn’t sound too resigned. Or maybe he does. Why is Kuroo even playing? As far as Kenma knows, Kuroo doesn’t play video games. Or any game, other than volleyball. And yet here he is, an hour after announcing that he’d downloaded the game and intended to join Kenma. All that Kenma’s managed to conclude is that Kuroo is terrible. Undeniably, irrevocably awful.
He didn’t expect to play babysitter today. There’s a server-wide event starting in a few hours too. How annoying.
“So,” Kuroo draws out, blissfully unaware. “Are you gonna come rescue me?”
Kenma lets his white mage run down the side of the cliff, a steep path downward. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag when I resurrect you,” he says, as he opens his inventory for a resurrection scroll.
“By the way, there’s a—”
The screen shudders, red cracks sparking on screen. Kenma’s HP bar cuts to half.
He scrambles to hit I, snapping shut his inventory, but he’s too late. Another shudder of his screen, and his white mage makes a low, groaning noise. His HP bar is empty.
Kenma stares at the screen. He rubs his eyes, finds that they’re dry enough to hurt, so he stops and blinks to stare again. Still dead. The screen slowly spins over the fallen body of his white mage.
Resurrect at the nearest town? the screen asks him.
To the side of the rocky cliff face, a black panther prowls away. A large crown is marked over its head, glowing softly.
“Is that a boss?” Kuroo asks, sounding apologetic.
Kenma takes a deep breath. “Yes. That’s a boss.” Why didn’t you tell me, he wants to ask, but there’s no point. They’re both still dead on the rocky floor of the cliff, and Kenma has just lost all the XP he gained over the last hour. Frustration has his fingers drumming over the keyboard.
“We should take a break for lunch,” Kuroo says, after a pause. “I’ve got leftovers in the fridge.”
His voice is too light, Kenma realises. Too nonchalant for mere disinterest, after dying in a new game. “You planned this,” he says, and wonders if he sounds too accusing. He should, he decides—that XP took him ages, and he’ll have to backtrack to pick up his bag too.
“Eh,” Kuroo says. He doesn’t sound apologetic now. His grin is almost audible, even over the poor quality of his microphone. “Maybe. But since we’re dead now anyway, let’s take a break.”
“You made me lose XP.”
Kuroo is unfazed. “You’ve barely left your room all week. You need a break.”
Bargaining with Kuroo is always difficult—mostly because what he says is true, but it doesn’t mean Kenma has to agree. “One hour,” he tries instead. He still wants to play that server-wide event.
“You gotta eat dinner with me too, then,” comes Kuroo’s swift answer.
“That’s—”
“Great, that’s a deal,” Kuroo interrupts, sounding disgustingly cheery. “I’ll be right over. We’ll just use your microwave, yeah?”
There’s a clatter as Kuroo presumably takes off his headset and drops it on his keyboard. Kenma stifles his sigh. He clicks the button to return to the nearest city, and pushes his chair back.