Survival Of The Fittest

Anime club was for losers. This was an inevitable and tragic fact, and that Hunter actively spent time there was equally tragic and, unfortunately, inevitable. For a variety of reasons, most of which involved avoiding going home on time when his father was making one of his bimonthly appearances, or seeing if a certain someone felt like showing up today, orrrr sometimes he just wanted to argue about something, was that such a crime, etcetera.

Anime club was for losers, he was simply an exception, because he said so, and he was the baseline for opinions.

That argument became slightly harder to make when he swung open the clubroom door and found the classroom empty.

>> Hunter Kim continued (for now) from his ever-accelerating sleep deprivation cycle

Part-time anime club observer, languid steps in a darkened room ten minutes into whatever One Piece movie Koa had picked out today (were there functionally infinite One Piece movies, math was not Hunter’s best subject), blink blink hair toss silent steps to an unoccupied position calculated for maximum judgment—that was the style. The aesthetic. The ironic detachment barrier stating clearly I am too busy and cute to be here but I grace you with my presence regardless. And yet! Here he stood, his internal clock fucked beyond all reason even more than usual, the classroom fucking empty because he was the first one here which inevitably communicated a level of impatience—god forbid, enthusiasm—that immediately made him want to shrivel up and die.

Welllllll, he could leave, that was always an option, but he wasn’t in any other clubs, and walking around by himself to kill time was its own variety of pathetic awkward nightmare complete with a rather less consistent cast of potential supporting players. He could kill a little time, maybe, walk back to homeroom, pretend he forgot something, whatever, but the afternoon sun was already taking his presence under its eye personally based on the light heat he was already feeling coming up in his cheeks. Plus he could just run into one of the other club members anyway and the same problems again, circles in circles.

Hunter slid into the classroom, a quiet sigh of relief as the air conditioning slid over the beads of sweat on his forehead. He seriously considered locking the door behind him. It would have been very funny. Self-preservation instincts won out over the siren call of the bit, as they usually did when the bit would be wasted on boring nerds who wouldn’t appreciate it. He glanced around the room, blinds turned down to block the worst of the sun’s rays, vaguely floral air freshener plug-in smell, desks in their neat little rows except the second one from the right in the back row that he’d always assumed one of the freakish giants that roamed the school grounds must have sat in for last period because it was pushed aside at a new weird angle every time they held club.

He re-examined his initial assessment, in that he clearly wasn’t the first one here, though he was the only one currently in the room. The school laptop, hooked up to a currently-off projector, logged in, permanent Chrome tab to Crunchyroll, Hunter didn’t remember whose sub they were actually leeching off at this point, sticker on the front with the equipment ID and the [A. HOLLAND] sticker. So their club advisor had been here first, at least, and proooobably shouldn’t have left the room unlocked with the laptop on and all that. Thankfully he wasn’t a complete fuckup or, like, poor, so he’d make a decent electronics babysitter until Ms. Holland got back.

Also, he could maybe take a moment to aid and abet a slightly more interesting crime. They’d always stuck to whoever’s Crunchyroll account for questionable legal reasons that Hunter was near 100% sure were not school-enforced, and he rarely got a chance to have input into what they watched anyway (downsides to strategic aesthetics), but the laptop was his now for all intents and purposes, as was the 2 TB hard drive he slipped out of his backpack and into the permanently fiddly USB port (as opposed to the one that didn’t work).

And now an attempt to not fall to decision paralysis before someone else showed up and destroyed his hard-earned anime dictatorship. Skipped past his other files, video clips, bits and pieces of audio that he deluded himself into thinking he might be able to work with in the school library (on computers he couldn’t download DaVinci to, nooo thank you), onto his immaculately organized anime list. Crunchyroll was nice, yes, extensive, sure, but the holes it had were inexcusable, and could he really blame half the club for having such pedestrian tastes when they were so confined (yes).

Hovered over Higurashi for a moment, the basically-ancient original from before he was born, basically required viewing for the sequel/remake/alt-universe/whatever that was on Crunchyroll—paused there, twitch of a smile on his lips, before deciding that he did not want to be the progenitor of a second Horror Club Incident Of 2025 and moving on. Kakegurui for a moment, same problem to a lesser extent, at least to the extent that he would not want to have to explain the OP to Principal Winegarden with his own neck on the line. Elfe—yeah, okay, if he wanted to be suspended?

He paused at the next option. Ran through scenes in his mind, scrubbing for objectionable content. Nothing worse than a Marvel movie, he was pretty sure (Hunter had never seen a Marvel movie). Double click the folder, episode 1, VLC—did this stupid computer have—yep, okay. Sure. Subs on, obviously. Thankfully the projector was a quick flick of a switch, nothing more, lights off, the dim room somehow feeling immediately a few degrees cooler.

And now, Hunter would wait. Until the exact moment someone showed up, when he could press play, and then it would be too late to change shows because it was already plaaaaying, soooo.

Oh BOY, anime club!

((Koa Tagaloa continued from Chlorine))

There was a giddy look in Koa's eyes as he strode across the school grounds, clutching tightly onto the DVD in his hands - One Piece: Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island!

He still couldn't believe he was able to find a copy, having stumbled across it whilst browsing the local flea markets. You never know what diamonds in the rough you could find there, hidden gems that were rare to stumble across or otherwise out of print. Sure, there were easier ways he could've acquired it - yo ho ho - but man, nothing could top having a physical copy to call his own!

Plus, this wasn't just any old One Piece movie! It was one of the older ones, back before the likes of Stampede and Strong World proved just how good they could get. The earlier One Piece movies tended to be kinda meh, more like condensed filler arcs really. But this one was special, apparently - he's never actually seen it - but it was directed by Mamoru Hosoda; the same guy behind Summer Wars and the three shorts that got frankenstined into The Digimon Movie. Apparently it was super trippy and weird, and stuff... Sweet! He could hardly wait to see it!

Of course, that wasn't all he was excited about. Anime Las Vegas was on the horizon, and Koa was entertaining cosplay ideas and wanted a second opinion or two. That along with Wrestlemania 41 meant there was a lot to look forward to in the imminent future!

Well... Kinda. Unless you kept looking at the news... But, enough doom and gloom!

"Hey guys!" he called out, making his way inside with his DVD in hand. "You'll never guess what I..."

A brief pause.

"...oh! Hey, Hunter!"

The signature clunk of the classroom door, near enough in sync to Hunter’s near-instinctive clip of the play button, the opening scene blasting to life on the projector screen, a chase scene caught on (animated) camera. The swivel to the doorway, the barely-concealed shit-eating grin, blink blink hair twirl.

“Heyyyy, Koa.”

The head tilt, gently questioning, smile compressed to the very picture of innocence, Hunter had done nothing wrong, ever, in his life.

“Kinda late today, yeah? Weird for you. Thought I’d get started sooo, y’know, grab a seat?”

Helpful tone, blink blink. The OP played on the projector and, honestly, Koa should like this show, right? Like, objectively it was the sort of shonen slop he ate up, just, like, older? Slightly more obscure? Hunter’s choice and therefore objectively better in some undefinable way? Gayer for sure, maybe why Hunter liked it, probably, definitely, whatever, fandom can only get you so far without canon basis, etc. Tbh if anything he’d conceded too much ground, should have picked Banana Fish or no that also would have gotten the club fucked over, yeah? Taste simply too peak for high school. Seemed about right.

Considering the alternative, the glance at the DVD clutched in Koa’s massivehands, he’d take back the bitching about being here first. Like at least attempt not to live down to your own stereotype, my godddd.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, uh... Had to deal with a thing" he replied, guiltily running a hand through his wet hair. Note to self, apologise to Charlie Girl properly next time you bump into her...

Koa would be the first to admit that his taste in anime was pretty vanilla. More of a casual fan really, rather than a diehard enthusiast. His heroes being the likes of Goku, Luffy and Deku. That said, he was versed enough in the cultural zeitgeist to recognise most of the, uh, sub-groups as it were. You had the isekai nerds, the gunpla geeks, the yaoi/yuri enthusiasts, etc... And sure, a lot of that wasn't really his jam, but hey! If you like mecha isekai with yaoi undertones, all power to ya!

Then you had Hunter's particular flavour of weeb: The influencer/VTuber. Again, not really his thing, but not something he looked down on or anything. What did rustle his jimmies a little was how weirdly elitist Hunter got about it, or how he was always trying to push people's buttons and get a rise out of folks. Not cool, bro.

As such, there was a slight hint of nervousness in Koa's eyes as Hunter hit the play button. Nobody wanted a repeat of the Horror Club fiasco after all, his mind reeling in terror at the thought of Principle Winegarden walking in on them watching a freaky hentai or something.

Fortunately, that didn't appear to be the case... At least, not as far as he was aware?

"Ooh, is this...?" he began, before realising that no, he definitely didn't recognise what Hunter just put on. A tokusatsu style superhero show, from the look of things? The OP was pretty catchy, he'd give it that.

"Huh... Neat!" he added, sheepishly putting his DVD away as he found himself a seat. Another time, perhaps... "So is this, like... A Kamen Rider kinda thing?"

Blink smile hair twirl. The withering stare but only for a moment. The point in victory was to enjoy yourself, wasn't it? The DVD going back in Koa's bag was complete, instant victory, right? This was the part where he got to kill an hour or so watching something good?


but liiiiike he really just didn't understand why people got into things without seeming like they actually cared about them like the internet has existed for a long time now believe it or not you can just look things up and then boom you know them now congrats or sorry that happened etc so like you have the power to not ask stupid fucking questions and also to have tastes that bypass the things that are literally pushed directly in front of your eyes by the algorithm or shueisha's almighty hand like let us be perfectly honest here kamen rider was a stretch like genuinely a miracle he had a point of comparison that viz wasn't actively shilling but also do you actually get credit for being able to name one of the most referenced properties in japanese media history plus like even then does he get credit if he stumbled over it on wikipedia when he looked up power rangers one time, like, proooobably not?


Anywayyy.


"Like, not really, except I guess in so much as basically any Japanese superhero gets something off of Kamen Rider, kind of hard to avoid? Cultural saturation, etcetera?"

Hunter rolled back his permanently-stiff shoulders, the cherry-bomb pop,

"like it's influenced by tokusatsu cause everything is but Tiger and Bunny's a way more Western-influenced take, like it predates it byyyy a few years,"

he was pretty sure, not that Koa was going to call him on it,

"but it has the most in common with HeroAca, as like," he waved in a way that wasn't meant as condescending but you know, who cares,

"a cultural touchstone? Didn't blow up the same way, probably because the leads are like actual adults and not high school kids which, you know, easier niche to market buuuut for an anime-first property with, like, pretty blatant queer theming it did pretty well? All things considered? Like Madoka beat it but Madoka is a masterpiece soooo, probably not a war they'd want to be fighting?"

He shrugged.

"Given the option."
the actual lesson here was that yuribait won in the ratings over yaoibait every time but liiiike, save that convo for when Ray gets here, yeah

Uh oh. Koa knew that look all too well.

That right there was the "Ugh, can't believe I'm gonna have to explain this to a filthy normie" look. Every nerd, no matter how humble they claim to be, was guilty of it at some point in their life. Hell, even Koa had his moments of obnoxious smarkery when it came to wrassling.

And right now, it was his turn to be the normie. Oh boy. 

Still, he politely nodded along as Hunter explained. At this point he was kinda used to Hunter's condescending tone, which... Like, he wasn't exactly a fan of it, but in fairness the guy was like that with just about everyone at Anime Club. Except maybe for Mona, but... Yeah. Less said about that the better.

"Huh... Cool!" he replied, sitting back to focus on the show for a bit. Queer theming, huh? That's cool! He could vibe with that, something a little different to his usual go-tos.

As the show played out, his eyes occasionally drifted down to his phone, flipping between a pair of pictures he had saved to his gallery - ref material for costume ideas, to be specific. Man, where was everyone? He was really hoping to talk to someone about cosplay advice... Someone a little more chill, ideally.

Hmm... Ah, what the hell.

"Say, uh... You know much about, like, cosplay stuff?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. He hadn't seen enough of Hunter's show to know whether that was really his schtick, but... Couldn't hurt to ask, right? "Wanted a second opinion on a thing for this year's ALV"

Hunter, like. Didn’t know what he expected? Cool. Yeah. Like, it was, wasn’t it. Whatever, they were watching the show.



One extended action scene and dramatic deuteragonist reveal later.



(how hard would it be to build a mech suit for cosplay anyway, he did not keep in mind to ask Mona lest she actually murder him)

(not that he was about to pull off 6’1” on any planet)

(t&b had sooo many things going for it and then the only character he could credibly portray was fucking ivan? like?)

(whatever)




“Mm?” Mildly relevant brain tangent for once. Lucky him.

He tilted his head, the half-frown, the narrowed eyes, thoughtful rather than judgemental (but also, judgemental). Wouldn’t have taken Koa for a cosplayer buuuut like. “Cosplayer” was a wide umbrella. Professionals right down to kids buying Naruto costumes from Spirit Halloween or whatever (did the kids even know what Naruto was), technically it was all the same, he could go ahead and assume that Koa was on the Party City side of things but like? Given his tastes and also hiswhy was it impossible to have a rational thought about this that didn’t sound weird god fucking help him he could not be less interested physique??fucking let’s go with that sure he had a fair few options that would look half-decent even with next to no effort and an outfit made entirely of costume satin and prayers.

“Sure,” Hunter started, turning to give Koa his close-enough-to-full attention. He glanced at his phone, flick tap flick tap through to the most recent relevant photo set. Mostly him on his own, pretty decently composed for phone pics, thanks Mona love(?) you Mona, unrecognizable as himself, replaced entire by a different blonde Hoyo twink, not that this was a pattern or anything. He’d done at least some of the work on this one himself, probably more than half, even, so he could take his blessed credit and owe a steadily-decreasing portion of his clout. He’d convinced Mona to drag Kafka out again for this one, con too small to bother with a new costume anyways; he had one of their selfies set as his lockscreen for a bit before it occurred to him that if she noticed he would have no choice but to kill her and then himself.

“Sin City Anime, like, in November? You didn’t miss much, there’s like, nothing there, but liiike, nothing better to do?” He shrugged. “ALA is better. Or like, louder, anyways.”

His half-finished costume for a character who literally wasn’t even Out yet taking up valuable real estate in his room. Luckily not a hard one outside of the scythe which, you know, he was sure Mona would do a perfectly good job with (thanks Mona love(?) you Mona).

“So? What were you thinking?”

Alright... Alright, cool, so Hunter was willing to hear him out rather than blow him off on principle. That was a good start!

Not that Koa was any less convinced that this conversation was doomed to end awkwardly, but... Welp, too late to back out now. Here goes nothing!

"Sooo, uh..." he began, flipping through his phone again after realising it timed out on him. "Last year, I went as Demalo Black... Uuh, Fake Luffy? It's my Instagram profile pic, if you've ever seen it"

Sure enough, were one to look up Koa's Instagram the first thing they would see would be him posing as Fake Luffy - Straw hat, red jacket, denim shorts and even a little criss-cross scar on his belly. God, it was a pain in the ass to scrub that off. Should've listened to his sister and not used a sharpie...

"Well, for this year I was thinking of taking it a step further and going as Blackbeard! Yeah yeah I know, how predictable of me, but like... You gotta admit, I have a shot at rocking the look, right?"

Having finally found his ref material again, he turned his phone to Hunter to show him.

"Question is: Do I go as Marineford Blackbeard, or Yonko Blackbeard?"

Hunter didn’t use Instagram, liiiiike, almost at all? Like his account was basically a bot that threw indiscriminate likes at whatever Mona was posting today for the sake of saying he had. Insta was for the type of influencer whose physical existence mattered to the brand, the beauty bloggers, gym freaks, OnlyFans-lite, and like, y’know, 1. ew but also 2. like, maybe, brand expansion, etcetera, in the not-actually-that-far-future when high school was properly in the rear view? But like for now absolutely fucking not, Mona Lisa could have her little niche or whatever.

… and also like, non-influencers were all over it, he supposed. Just taking little pictures of their life or whatever. Seemed kinda, like. Sad? If you post a photo online and no one views it but bots does it make a sound, did you post it at all, are you even real, like, who knows what gets other people out of bed in the morning without wanting to give up and dieHunter could never, what could that be like,. His own account was resolutely empty; he had a second one, equally empty, parked on HunterXHK so he wouldn’t have to confuse his branding if the theoretical moment came. Pieces considered, plans in order, reasons for everything.

Not that Koa would know anything about any of that. Like, all that to say that no, Hunter didn’t actually know Koa had an Instagram until this moment, why would he, but like, most normie-coded club member, scans, sure. Didn’t know the character off-hand either, all the One Piece he had consumed had been against his will, whose fault could that possibly be.

you could literally watch hunter x hunter 11 times all the way through in the amount of time it would take you to get through one piece and that would somehow be an objective better use of your time and hxh doesn’t even have an ending oh wait one piece doesn’t either because oda apparently cannot let shit go and because his fans are stockholm-syndromed freaks to a fucking man, exhibit A:

Anywayyyy Koa seemed pleased with himself, sure, turned the phone around, reference images, Hunter didn’t. Well. He didn’t not wince but he was subtle about it, the gentle nose wrinkle, the brow furrowed and smoothed back over, adjustments to neutral, the near-impossible maintenance of the undeserved Polite Hunter. Buuut also Oda’s character designs were so uniformly repulsive that he should be allowed a pass? Like, human reaction to awful aesthetics, evolutionary instinct something something.

The correct answer to Koa’s inquiry was “please get better taste, like try Iskander you could pull that off possibly like probably not but it would be better” but. But.

“How ambitious are you feeling?” The hair twirl with the free hand, the other swapping aimlessly back and forth between the two images. Goddd, the fucking teeth. Please let Oda get in a car accident or something and end this misery for Hunter personally forever, amen.

“Liiike.”

He stopped swiping on… the one with the orange. Cape. Cape? Thing. Purple pants (Hunter absolutely forgot the names of the characters as they were coming out of Koa’s mouth).

“Like if you’re trying to show off—” do anything else!!! “—and you think you can get all the pieces together, this one is more…” Hair twirl abandoned, replaced by an aimless hand gesture, indicating something theoretically positive. “Impressive.”

“Not that that always matters but it’s. Good to challenge yourself?”

That part was a lie! Showing off did in fact always matter, literally no other point in cosplay, this conversation was making him actively stupider and it had gone on for about two minutes thus far, the physical world was a curse,

“... Also the pants on the other one seem like they’d be, like. Uncomfortable.”

And they were the most hideous thing Hunter had ever seen??? Jesus fucking wept.

The glimmer of disgust in Hunter's eyes was... Eeh, not entirely unexpected.

Blackbeard wasn't exactly your typical anime prettyboy, for sure. He was a ugly son of a gun pirate with a big belly and terrible dental hygiene.

But like... Honestly, that was kinda why Koa loved him so much. In a medium stuffed to the gills with dime a dozen bishie badboys, he couldn't think of another show whose main antagonist had a silhouette like that. Goofy comic relief side characters galore, for sure, but the big bad? THE de facto final boss of a 1000+ episode odyssey? Something about that was... Like, it was neat.

Still, to Hunter's credit he gave an actual response - a slightly strained one, sure, but uh... Hey, could of been worse right?

"Mmm, I getcha... The cloak and hat's gonna be a pain, but you're right" he replied, with an enthused grin. "It's good to challenge yourself!"

Koa rubbed his chin, staring intently at the picture. Wonder how big a beard he could grow in under two months...

"HMmmm... Gotta have some stuff that'll come in use down at Crateful Dead, right?" he asked himself aloud.

In Ray’s under-informed opinion— sub hundred count on his MyAnimeList, power levels firmly triple digits—

Season 2 of Tiger and Bunny had turned understatement into statement into overstatement. It had turned the very creators of the show into allies in the fujoshi— blessed they be, and not just because Ray was one of them but because most of them enjoyed male homoeroticism because it was a sexual space safe from the male gaze— cause. It had turned Ray’s occasional sketches of a curly-haired blonde pretty boy tongue fucking his senpai into a rout of an entire 12-pack of pencils over the course of the back half of 2022. It had provided an example of a corollary to the common problematic elements of queer portrayal in anime and manga that Ray had been chewing on: the subtext became text, if given a fandom that celebrated it. Rarely. But certainly possible. Another variable among many to account for.

Yeah Ray had been going over all that in his head because he’d been standing to one side politely not butting into the conversation.



Sin City Anime 2024, said Hunter when Ray had entered. Then something about Anime Los Angeles— Ray believed that was what ALA referred to— being better. Not enough information for Ray to have an opinion on that. But SCA 2024 had been nice. Vivian had enjoyed it the day he’d brought her by after cheer practice. Enough to assuage Ray’s anxieties. Enough to piss off Hunter. A harm Ray could have avoided inflicting by simply not bringing Vivian along, but introducing Vivian to a new experience that deepened their mutual compact through her understanding of his world. That was an ethical good. Net neutral. Uh. Probably.

There had been a lot of too much to see. A lot of it horrifyingly cringe and NSFW, inevitably, but Ray and Vivian both well understood the ramifications of kinkshaming where it had no boon to society. Kinkshaming of their environment, or. Erm, of each other. As it went.



Door had been quietly closed in the liminal space that existed where Ray awkwardly stood around lost in thought while nobody noticed him. His presence had been minimal, only really possible to acknowledge visually. He’d learned to walk quietly in a world that wasn’t friendly to his five senses, especially when his sister was screeching or his parents were being… his parents, so on. He was aware that was a sin. To, pretentiously, cite his existing body of thought on the matter: his ethical shortcomings— inaction creates the greater of evils given time— were his damn choice. He knew what he was^[1].



Regardless, once space existed for him in the conversation, he didn’t need to pontificate further. He could just sliiiiide on in, and:

“Yonko—”

The approval of each receptive party likely mixed that Ray had put in the effort to memorize at least some of Koa’s deep deep knowledge of… well. Not Ray’s taste shounen, to put it in the most diplomatic way possible. To be clear, if Koa ever suggested a One Piece marathon, Ray suffered it in the same way one suffered too much of a good time with friends. The zombie hours where everyone should have already gone home, ad infinity, until the damn every-episode-is-functionally-the-same kaleidoscope ended. TL,DR. Ray held his tongue, his liquor, and his opinion much better than Hunter did. No offense.

Okay the above was why Ray spoke too slow and haltingly sometimes. Right. Less thoughts, more action. Chin up. Cute for the camera.

“—Looks more comfortable, like Hunter said. Devil’s advocate, his costume has more complexity. I don’t cosplay—” Functionally, Mona’s expertise Ray was about to cite secondhand. Credit where credit was entierly due. “But I’ve had enough exposure in the scene to tell that the embellishments on his costume will be more difficult to replicate. To fabricate or thrift. A lot of extra notions on the coat, his hat would need some form of embroidery. Shouldn’t underestimate how much extra time and money putting together something like that will take.”

[Ray Janeczek. Pregame 2. Start.]

Ray shrugged, softly as his voice.

“A challenge is good but it’s a lift and then some.” Ray giggled. He’d never been the sort to guffaw or cackle or anything particularly imposing. “Not that I’m saying that you couldn’t literally lift it, Koa.”

“You could make a day of it. Hit up every thrift store on this side of I15 this weekend. If you have the time.” Diplomatic way of admitting Ray’s understanding of the sportsball situation in the sportsball school was… lacking. Outside of cheerleading, because. Yeah. Ray wasn’t quite sure what Koa’s status was as the wrestling season drew to a close, just that it was some flavor of good as the team was headed to championships. Would Koa be repping the red and black? Was he just going to be cheering on teammates? Ray should have asked. Rude of him to not do so then, rude of him to dodge doing so now, rude of him to ask too late. Lose-lose-lose.

“ALV is in two months, so if the thrift haul is lacking in anything, you have plenty of time to gameplan the rest of the costume.”

---

_{[1] As quoted}

Crateful Dead—fucking—okay, Hunter probably shouldn’t have assumed that Koa could sew, or had any relevant or applicable skills at all actually, call it the spirit of generosity called forth by Polite Hunter or something. Like, point of order, it wasn’t like he could give proper advice in the absence of complete information, and ambitious projects were for ambitious people? With talent?? So backtrack, maybe, try the other one it sucks but you’ll fuck it up possibly slightly less bad, not like there was any saving anything here for anyone from the start—





Mm, hold that thought.

The subtle shift in posture, the pained expression wiped clean and reset to “listening respectfully” with no hint that the former was ever therelooking, though? never ❤, the finger twirled gently around a strand of hair, the genuine surprise perfectly suppressed and replaced with a prettier alternate. Blink-and-you-missed-it, Hunter’s little magic trick. Elegant, poised.

Blink blink. Half-lip upturn.

Loooocked the fuck in.

“Hey, sunshine,” the smile morphed to smirk for a fraction of a fraction of a second. “Nice of you to make it.” Lazy wave at the screen, every twitch of every joint of every finger choreographed.

“Thought Higurashi would be a bit much for school, soooo.” Equally lazy stretch above his head, pulled the hem of his Menhera shirt a little too far above the waistband of his black harem pants, quick as you’d like, plausibly deniable,fingers dipping under it too slow, giggling, impatient, pulled hair, you’re taking too loooong, etcback to neutral, head tilt, shruuug. “Figured you’d approve?” you seemed like you did last time we watched it, anyways, don’t really remember the details, wasn’t really looking at the screen, or facing it, you know—

“Don’t let me interrupt you, though,” perfect feigned half-yawn, perfect feigned disinterest, eyes flicking back to the screen, vaguely recognizing that at some point episode 2 had started. Ears aimed at the conversation beside him, knowing full well that Ray knew less about cosplay than even Hunter at this point buuuut, like. Hunter sure didn’t want to take this one anymore, released on time served, didn’t mind just listening for a little while to Ray’s voicestrained, breathless, his gigglestifled under impatient lips, he was just watching anime, it was whateverrrr.

Clack clack clack went his tongue ring pinging off his front teeth. sense memories, teeth and metal and bruises that didn’t heal for weeks and “oops” and “you’re not sorry” and “I know”

“Mhm,” the broadest possible approval of Ray’s take, lacking the energy or, like, any level of investment required to give a more nuanced read. “Good advice, more or less.”

Pointless backhand for the implied compliment, basically on instinct, not that it mattered, not that words meant anything at this stage. Pointedly still looking at the screen. Clack clack clack.

this was, Hunter would be deeply honest with himself for this spare moment, kind of fucking cringe? this spare moment, and then it would be gone again like it was every time he tried having this convo with himself, like he’d think oh maybe I shouldn’t be down this fucking bad and then he’d so much as smell him and he’s five seconds from dropping to his knees—

this is LITERALLY what we are talking about, here, pleeeeease be serious for a second

But liiiike, it wasn’t actually a big deal, don’t even worry about it, okay?

A relieved look flashed across Koa's face when Ray chimed in, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

It was nice to see a friendly face turn up... Well, friendlier. He and Ray weren't exactly super tight, their respective tastes divulging pretty dramatically. Koa recalled checking out a couple of Ray's recommendations - Higurashi something or other, if memory serves? Started out interestingly enough, but then it just kinda devolved into teenagers murdering each other, which... Eeh, didn't really rock his boat. That sorta premise just left him feeling uncomfortable, especially after all the Survival of the Fittest kidnappings.

Still, his smile brightened a little at Ray's encouragement, nodding his head in agreement. "Oh yeah, totes! I mean, worst case scenario I suppose I could always order some things online if need be..."

There was a brief moment where Koa glanced between the two, noting the way Hunter was looking at Ray. As clueless as he was about relationship-stuff, even he couldn't help but raise his brow a little at that sunshine comment. Not that it rubbed him the wrong way or anything, god no! But sitting there between them, he couldn't help but feel a little awkward. Two guys flirting away with each other, with a big teddy bear like him caught in the middle...

...wait, no, that came out wrong.

"But, uuuh... Yeah, think imma give it a shot! All just for fun in the end, right?"

“I was going to suggest Shiki, actually. But, Horror Club.” Metonym, self-explanatory. Efficient. There, Ray was getting into the groove of the talking thing he occasionally did with his own eyes and lips as opposed to through fingers and the avalanche clack of keys being banged for a dystopian forever.

Blink. Sunshine blessed the face of a former lover with the briefest, undivided, whites-of-the-eyes attention. An image formed by the rays of light bouncing off the paper pale of Hunter’s skin.

not the only bounce that blossomed like an oil spill into Ray’s memory in that instant. Hunter minus the pretense, minus the clothes, hard to see the specifics in a room door closed only lit by the light of Hunter’s computer monitor, why yes Netflix, we are not still watching Dungeon Meshi

but Ray quashed the thought before it became loud enough to notice, before it breached the subconscious and became something more than a warm stir viscerally deep in his core (yes, that specific quadrant of his body, so on). Ray knew full well that he had the mutual permission of both parties involved in the intrusive moment of fantasy. I consent. I consent. But isn’t there someone he’d forgotten to ask? Vivian wasn’t privy to his moments of weakness, she wasn’t his thought police, defund, deny, defend, depose, and so on. If he’d wanted to have that sort of conversation, she gladly would have it. But they’d had that conversation by way of him saying he didn’t want to have it. Clear communication, few such cases. Ray was, core of his being, a strict believer in monogamy as it applied to his own personal life. Sexual, social, marital. Polyamory was not an unethical stance (albeit it tended to invite unethical behavior, though that was definitely a perceptual distortion given his own personal biases), but it was not his stance. Ray had probably explained this all to Hunter before. Many more times than he’d had to explain it to Vivian.

Koa looked happy enough to see him. Nod for nod, an easygoing smile on Ray’s lips. Soft, he’d just hit it up with the lip scrub that morning. Hunter was definitely taking notes, his prerogative, so on.

“Yep, exactly. I’d help out if I could but I’m too busy to do much for SCA.” There would come a day where he— and Vivian, if he didn't fumble— would actually cosplay. Ray found a seat, a too-cold roost for the remainder of the club’s meeting. However short it would likely be, given that they were at least twenty five good minutes into a club meeting and there were only three people in the classroom.

“I know you’re gonna kill it though dude!” Ray was sure to finish his out loud thoughts before he got too distracted. “Way too many people will be stopping you for pics.”

So, the empty classroom… Class senioritis so strong even wasting time was too much effort for his peers now. Hah. To be fair, this was actually the busiest time of year for a lot of them. Anime club would probably come to life in a major way after the last of the AP exam dates, after spring sports championships were all wrapped up.

Ray would miss this place. Much as he was ready to move on.

“Anybody hear from Inessa? I just finished a sketch I promised her.” Need to know basis. The NDA signed between them was by blood, not on paper.

Blink blink right back at him, as always. Alchemized expression, equal parts contemplative and aloof, a touch of smugness at the edges. Unbothered, in his lane,and other lies we tell ourselvesetc. Ray broke eye contact first, a fraction of a moment, and Hunter’s eyes turned back toward the projector screenteeth tugging irritably but, crucially, invisibly at the inside of his cheek.

Hunter dismissed the fleeting thought of offering his services to Rayover the desk, against the wall, sure, whateveras far as cosplay was concerned; he was no Mona (small blessings) but he was capable enough by this stage and had more than a few ideas besidesAlhaitham, Ratio, perhaps there was an agenda, specific reenactments in mind, wouldn’t be the first time, but it was a touch too desperate a gamble for his tastes. Never the type to take bets he hadn’t already won.

wouldn’t be the first time Ray made an exception out of himself in that category. low stakes, maybe, but not none, and the shock of rejection may have killed him on the spot. if it had happened. but he’d played the odds well, made a couple of salient predictions, too, the results of which flashed behind eyes that betrayed nothing at all.

All just for fun in the end. Jesus. Presumably Ray had chosen the moment he had to wander into the room due to a sudden psychic premonition that a murder might occur had Hunter and Koa remained in close and undisturbed proximity for much longer. As it was, the indignance had bled out of him, and he managed a noncommittal, vaguely positive sound, hair turning corkscrews that never stayed in place around his index finger.

He did allow his perfectly composed lips to curve into a smirk at Inessa’s mention, at least; he knew, Ray knew he knew, Ray knew Koa didn’t know, Koa had cotton where his brain should be, dynamics were as they always were minus a cast of other assorted idiots. “She wasn’t in English,” he offered, potentially helpfully; Inessa wasn’t the type to skip class, educated guess was she wasn’t here today, not that he cared enough to follow the train of thought further. probably wouldn’t have said anything if anyone else had asked the question; add a tally mark to his list of sad little sins, mounting evidence against his performative apathy, someone’s mounting something anywayyyyy

The conversation died a natural death, in favor of the presumptive purpose of the club. Three sets of eyes turned toward the screen.

Only let his flick over in Ray’s direction once or twice, for no reason at all.