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Click clack.
The clicking of buttons echoed throughout the small room. In the dark sat a young boy, his determined eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. Nimble fingers glided across the controller, expertly pressing buttons one after the other.
The controller fit so comfortably in his hands. So perfectly. The pastic molded to his fingers just right, like it was made for him. A total extension of his being.
Man, SEGA sure knew how to make their controllers! The only thing they made better than their controllers were their games. Each new release was revolutionary, he could give so many examples-
Ka-blam!
Enough with his rambling, he needed to focus on the fight!
His eyes were glued to the screen, focused on the intense battle in front of him. He was fighting a rather tough boss. Some garnered it impossible. They must have not been trying very hard. It was difficult, sure, but far from "impossible." It took him many hours to defeat it the first time… and the next few times after that… and the other times after that… and even more times after that! It was a brutal challenge, but immensely satisfying. He couldn't stop coming back!
The sprites clashed brilliantly on screen. They were a whirlwind of action and excitement that he swore his eyes would never get tired of. He pressed left and the hero followed, gracefully avoiding a lethal blow. He pressed right and the hero charged forward, narrowly slipping into an opening.
The difficulty was upped to max, so he had to be extra precise with his timing.
It was tedious, but the actions gradually recharged his special attack. Once it's bar was filled up, he struck!
Bam!
His opponent stumbled, falling to its knees as its health depleted.
~ba da daaa..... the music slowed momentarily. A small satisfying conclusion that put a grin on his face.
But the battle wasn't over.
The music picked back up, stronger, more intense. The boss roared as it stood once again.
The substantial amount of damage sent it into its third phase.
He wasted no time jumping back into action, once more joining it in battle. The fight raged on gloriously, like a dance. Trading blows skillfully back and forth across the digital landscape. The clash of pixelated blades was so mesmerizing. The graphics were truly something to marvel at. It was incredible how they managed to pull this off.
He was so distracted by the genius game design, he almost missed a crucial hit. Luckily he managed to save it last second. He struck using his Ultimate Move, and the boss’s heath bar dropped significantly! It would only take a few more blows to finish it off, and he wasted no time delivering them.
One, two, three hits! A combo! And just like that the last of the bar drained away.
The boss’s death cry was like music to his ears, signaling his victory. He felt immense satisfaction as the cutscene started. The monologue seemed to drag on, but he didn’t mind. He could listen to it for hours without getting bored, the moment dragging a happy sigh from his lips.
Perhaps he was wrong about the controllers. Maybe it wasn't that they weren’t made for him...
Maybe it was him that was made for this. Playing SEGA games, absolutely decimating enemies. Bringing insanely powerful bosses to their knees time and time again. This. This was where he was happiest. It just made sense. This was how he was meant to be.
Suddenly, everything stopped.
The tv shut off.
And Shibazaki woke up.
...
He was cold.
The next thing he became aware of was the dryness in his mouth, and then the blooming bruises all over his body. He couldn't help but groan in pain, curling further into himself.
The brittle stones punched uncomfortably into his injured form, digging into his side and back. He shifted slightly, trying to find a nicer position. One that didn't hurt quite so bad. Perhaps then he could go back to his nice dream.
He didn't want to be here.
Let him go back. It was such a lovely dream...
But sleep didn't find him quite so easily. Reality dug its nails in and held him tight. He would not be going back.
A mournful whine echoed around the space as he gave in, throwing himself onto his back and tossing a hand over his face.
He lightly coughed and peeled his eyes open to witness his surroundings. It wasn’t anything grand, the scene before him was rather desolate and bland, actually. He much preferred his room. His perfect lovely room with his SEGA console and soft bed. Nothing like this...
Rough square stones left imprints on his form from where he slept against the floor. Metal bars made up the front wall, leaving no inch of his cell unexposed should someone come to look. The only thing of note was the hole in the ceiling. Sunlight spilled through lazily, a bit dimmer than he'd come to expect. Maybe there were clouds? He hoped and prayed for rain. He didn't think anyone was coming back down to give him water.
A small wounded animal cry echoed throughout the hallway. quietly, like it didn’t quite want to be heard. No other animals followed.
...Was he truly going to die here? Alone? Forgotten about? Surrounded only by beasts? He hoped not.
The ache spread all the way down to his bones, and the barrenness of his surroundings left nothing to distract him. Every breath only intensified the dryness of his mouth, cracking his lips and accenting the dull pain in his skull. He was so. So thirsty...
Safe to say he wasn't in the best of shape!
How long has he been stuck here? It felt like years... He tilted his head to look at the markings on the wall.
He's been keeping track, every day he adds a new line. It's easy to tell when a day has passed because of the hole in the ceiling. The sun's rising and falling the only truly notable thing in this place. He's eternally grateful he was put in this cell and not any of the other ones, though of course he would prefer not to be in a cell at all. Ah, he's gotten distracted.
What was he....? Right. The day count.
So far he's at two, though he hasn't marked today off yet. He's too weak to even reach where he placed the previous marks...
It's funny. Two... no, three days... It feels like such a small amount of time. Not substantial at all... But he's found that time more than adequate to fill up a lifetime. He feels like a man twice his age here, just him and the stone walls, and the sunlight. And the occasional animal noises from his neighbors...
If he were to guess before, how long it took a person to perish in captivity? With no care or supervision? He'd probably say a week, minimum. Any less would be pathetically fast. Surly a person could last longer than that.
He must seem so pathetic right now.
Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, but he willed them back. He didn't have the hydration to spare. Thirst once more punched itself to the forefront of his mind, darkening his vision with the sheer need. A dry cough choked out of him, as he barely held himself together, shakey and bruised.
The next occupant of the cell would think he only made it two days... If they were even sentient and not another beast... The thought shook something deep within him. No one would be able to tell he made it to three. If only he was strong enough to stand up and make another mark, just one more... Just to let them know...
A distant deep rumble split his thoughts. It was so faint, so quiet, yet it penetrated his dispair like booming thunder. He raised his head and looked. His cell was darker. Actually. It wasn’t his vision, the cell was actually dimmer. And that noise... The clouds...
Looks like it's going to rain today after all.
Time seemed to pass ever so slower, almost like a punishment. How could such a wretched ugly thing dare to hope in this world? But he waited anyway. And he hoped. Hoped. Hoped.
The room got darker. The rumbles grew more noticeable. Even the air felt different.
Rain was coming.
Rain was coming.
Rain was coming.
He could hear it, starting to hit the ground outside. Like a cloying whisper in his ear. The room felt colder. He shivered, in anticipation maybe.
And eventually, after what must have been hours, a single drop passed through the hole.
So small, so miniscule, barely enough for a fly to drink. But there was more to come.
The sight was tantalizing. Slowly, he began dragging himself. Crawling across the floor, towards the oasis that was forming in the far end of his cell.
And another drop fell. And another after that, getting bigger and bigger each time, until a puddle was forming on the ground.
He was going to continue adding to the day count. He was going to live to continue to add to the day count. He felt a little bit of reassurance at the realization.