As soon as Akeidat stepped hoof on the black, patterned carpet, they knew they'd entered paradise. The child's grin grew impossibly wide as they took in the sights and sounds; the flashing bright neon lights, the flickering of screens, the ka-ching and doo-doo-doo-doo-doo and wup-wup-wup of the games in each cabinet, just waiting to be played.
Loud noises and bright lights weren't usually Akeidat's wheelhouse, but this, this was different, because it was all for their favourite things in the whole wide world.
They'd never been in an arcade before; but they'd seen them in the middle of shopping malls and read about them in books and saw them in old movies. And now, they were finally in one, properly.
Watching them practically leap into the arcade, admiring the cabinets like they were made of sacred gold, Fiera did not match the child's giddy enthusiasm. She stood by the entrance, looking practically catatonic.
"Fiera!" they called, cheerfully, from inside, "Come play with me!"
"O-oh, I couldn't," she refrained, crossing her arms, "My paw-eye coordination isn't very good-"
"Mine as well!" Akeidat cheered, "But the fun isn't about winning the game, it's about playing it!"
"The- the noise, and crowds-"
"It's just us," Akeidat grinned. They'd done their due research online before dragging her here. Wouldn't have made for a good apology if they didn't take into account her comfort, "People don't usually come here unless it's the middle of summer, but it's about autumn, now, so there's probably not going to be anyone else here but us!"
"But isn't all this- things for children?" Fiera protested, still, "Won't it be- be weird?"
"Uh, who says?" they snorted, growing amused and a little fond of their friend's shyness, "If there's an age-limit, wouldn't they put it on a sign somewhere?"
And besides, they thought to themself, someone once told me that our time is ours to spend.
With elation, Akeidat's tail swished like a boat paddle as they watched Fiera finally agree to join in. They scuttled towards a desk at the front, pulling her by the sleeve with them. As Fiera talked with the receptionist and ordered their tickets, Akeidat set their sights on the prize pool.
It was far from the most costly prize; but for five hundred tickets, they could get an octopus plush. They absolutely needed it- they'd already named it in their head; Mx. Squish-a-lot the Third. Five hundred was a piece of cake; they'd once collected a prize of a thousand gems in some mobile game they couldn't remember the name of by patiently completing web challenges said to be practically impossible to win.
They weren't exactly a pro at playing anything, but they knew the rewards of endurance, and trying again, and again, until they got what they wanted.
When they monologued as such to Fiera, their friend made a face they couldn't even begin to decipher the meaning of.
"That just sounds like a ploy to lure kids into giving them more ad revenue," she replied.
"What free game doesn't have sketchy ads?" they retorted, "It's either that, or it's pay-to-play. I don't fancy asking others to buy things for me."
"You're technically a working adult," she pointed out, "You have your own money."
"Well, what if I don't fancy spending my own money, then?" they argued, smugly. Fiera just stared at them, her expression blank.
Then she handed them a wad of, "Tickets. We have twenty."
Akeidat lit up like the sun, taking ten in their paws, and leaving the other half to their friend, who quirked her head quizzically.
"What do I do with these?" she questioned.
"They're for you, obviously!" Akeidat beamed. Seeing that Fiera had yet to smile, Akeidat's own faltered. Crud, this wasn't working. They were supposed to be getting her to loosen up and enjoy herself, for once; not make her feel forced to do something. If they hated that kind of thing, so would she, probably. Maybe they needed a new plan; but they'd already come this far, so...
"But- but if you don't wanna play anything, then could you perhaps still just hold them for me, whilst I play?"
She closed her paw into a fist around the ten tickets, before pocketing them.
"Alright," she agreed. As Akeidat took off to explore the arcade, Fiera sat in the row of seats lining one of the walls. They tried not to keep looking back at her; it's not like anything about her expression would change if she was just sitting.
So, they set their sights on the games. They didn't recognise any of the titles; but they recognised the genres, and figured they could come to learn how to play given enough time. A determined fire lit up behind their eyes when they spotted a pirate-themed target-shooting game, and spent ten whole rounds losing because of their lack of speed, and three rounds pushing themself to be quick enough to earn tickets from that.
Eventually, they moved on to the others, revelling in the thrill every time a whole new world and a whole new challenge would open for them; by the end of it, they'd accumulated four hundred tickets.
There was one game left; a skeeball game. They grimaced at the idea- their aim was terrible, and they never could get the hang of accurately throwing something. Countless rounds of being an active detriment to their classmates when they played dodgeball and volleyball in P.E told them that- not that Akeidat even knew the rules of volleyball other than tossing the ball, anyway; but it was also the game that would most quickly give them the one hundred tickets they needed for the toy. But they didn't want to waste any of the four hundred tickets they'd already acquired on the off-chance they'd actually score.
Contemplating their dilemma, Akeidat plunked themself on the other seat by the table where Fiera was now eating cheese fries from the arcade's fast food counter. She looked up from her food, wordlessly offering a fry. They analysed the food- it didn't look like it had anything extra other than the cheese-and tentatively accepted it.
They swallowed, "The only game left that I haven't played is skeeball, but I don't like it very much."
She tilted her head, "What's skeeball?"
"That one," they pointed, "With the holes and the long board thing; you're supposed to throw a ball into one of the holes, and it'll give you points, which becomes tickets- but I'm bad at throwing things."
"Hm," she followed their gaze. Then, without warning, she stood up, the metal legs of the chair creaking against the floor as she did so.
Were they leaving already? That was disappointing, but they weren't going to argue with her. But instead of heading for the exit, she approached the skeeball game, and inserted a ticket. Akeidat's fur puffed with surprise and awe.
"Can I try?" she inquired, bafflingly.
Akeidat squinted, "You already put in the ticket."
She looked back at the machine, and frowned, "Oh, right. I did."
A ding, ding, ding! later, and a small, fist-sized ball rolled her way. She picked it up and turned it over in her paws, her fingers slowly, and carefully running over the grooves, but she did not throw.
A screen at the front lit up with numbers, counting down from sixty, and Akeidat gasped.
"You're on a time limit!" they informed her, "Just throw it!"
"Wh- j- I-" as if a puppet snapping back into action after being lifeless for a recess, Fiera fumbled with the ball in her paws, until she finally raised it behind her, and with a magnificent swing, tossed it forwards. Instead of hitting any of the holes or even the actual game, it flew upwards and hit the timer. The screen actually wobbled from where it hung.
Akeidat gawked at the sight, and guffawed, "Wo-ho-ho-hoah!"
"Oh my God," Fiera squeaked, paw rushing to her mouth.
Akeidat cackled, "That was awesome! Throw it again!"
Another ball rolled over Fiera's way, and she picked it up, far more quickly than she did the first.
"I- Erm, okay," she said, raising it behind her, again. She softened her stance, crouching lower, and swung a little less powerfully. With a graceful arc, it landed in one of the outer holes. It wouldn't be the one that spit out a hundred tickets, but it was a start. Akeidat whooped at her victory, and she stared down at her own paws.
"...Huh."
Another ball. Round three; and as she picked up the ball, finally, finally, the corners of her lips were tugged upwards. Fiera was smiling!
"Here goes nothing!" she announced, as she hurled the ball. It completely missed the target, instead rolling onto the bottom and dropping back into the gutter with a sad little thunk.
"..."
"Well, you weren't lying," Akeidat commented, "Here went nothing."
To Akeidat's surprise, Fiera laughed; the sound a mesmerising melodic stream that almost sounded like bird-song. Fiera's eyes widened at the sound of her own laughter, and when she made eye-contact with Akeidat's staring, she shied away.
"Sorry," she said unnecessarily, "It was- that's a good joke."
And then she smiled at them. There was probably some profound meaning in the gaze she gave them, but Akeidat had no idea what it was. Still, they smiled back, and hastily returned the now empty plate to the counter.
"Let me try," they requested, jogging to her side. Fiera stood aside, handing them the next ball. Mimicking the cartoons, they stuck their tongue out and whirled the ball around behind them- and accidentally smacked Fiera in the face.
"Ow," she grunted, blinking.
"Sorry," they amended, sheepishly. She fluttered her paw at them in a 'go on', gesture, so they followed suit. With a swing and a hoof raised high, they launched the ball forwards.
It was close- it hit the outer edges of the central hole, but it didn't go in. Akeidat stuck their tongue out and blew raspberry.
"Boooo," they growled, "I was so close!"
"Well," Fiera chuckled, approaching them to hand them another ball, "Something, something, the fun's not about winning, but playing, right?"
She remembered what they said? That was... nice. The acknowledgement sent a wave of warmth along their chest. They took the ball in their paws.
"What if I just do this blind?" they suggested, jokingly, blinking their eyes pointedly for emphasis.
"Please don't," Fiera begged to a giggling Akeidat, "I don't want us kicked out if we hit something important."
They tossed the ball again, and as they spent more tickets for more balls, earning back just enough to keep the game going, Akeidat felt the urge to ramble.
"Did you know people in ancient China used to play drinking games with dice?" they began, as they picked up another ball. They checked to see if Fiera was listening, and indeed, her eyes were watching them, "They'd write a list of the people present, and assign numbers to them. When they threw the dice, whoever's number got rolled would have to take a drink!"
"Huh, really?" she replied, "Cool."
"Everyone always thinks of ancient people as all- the same," they continued. They ran their fingers along the grooves of the ball, before throwing it, "One faceless mass of kingdoms and empires. But they were all people, just like us, and they wanted to have fun and they played games- how cool is that?"
Fiera stared at them, quietly.
"Hah, sorry, you're probably not interested in all this," they lamented, to which Fiera quickly shook her head.
"No, I like hearing you talk," Fiera insisted. She looked serious; her eyes locked onto them intensely, though Akeidat couldn't tell if she was being serious, or just being mock-serious for the sake of a joke.
"I'm just... not very wordy," she elaborated, "But I am listening."
The intensity of her gaze lowered, and she stepped a hoof back. Akeidat was so confused.
"So... do you want me to continue?" they asked. She nodded, and so they went on. Eventually, they ended up reciting everything they remembered about the history of games. When the two exited the arcade, hours later, the coveted octopus plush under Akeidat's arm, cheerful laughter rang from them both.
"Oh, that was actually fun," Fiera remarked, cradling her cheek with a paw, "I can't believe how good that felt."
"Yeaaah!" Akeidat agreed, flapping a leftover ticket in their other paw like a bird wing. It may have taken a while, but it seemed their plan to get Fiera to relax finally worked.
Then Fiera did something they definitely didn't expect. She spread an arm across their shoulders to hug them halfway, "Thanks for inviting me."
Then, after a pause, "You're a good friend."
Akeidat blinked, not expecting this kind of praise. Was it praise? Were thanks for something a form of praise? How were they supposed to respond? They knew the proper procedure for accepting compliments was to say thank you, but it was Fiera who thanked them first, and they couldn't say thanks for being thanked. They knew the proper procedure for accepting awards and certificates was with both paws and a polite bow before going offstage.
Did it matter how they responded, as long as it was nicely?
"You too," was what they settled on.