Work Text:
Haru hasn’t played video games for a very long time.
Being an adult is exhausting, especially an adult who has been demoted and is now paid peanuts for mostly uninteresting work. Every evening he returns to his modest apartment in a groggy haze, sits down with whatever cheap and easy meal he’s thrown together, and drinks alone watching television dramas until he passes out. It’s a thrilling existence, truly fit for a law-abiding man of justice such as himself.
Ha, ha.
Buying a new console at this age seems like a waste when he’ll never have time to play it, but sometimes Haru does find himself a bit nostalgic for the escapism of video games. He sees children laughing together in Nintendo Switch ads, huddled around the television with joycons in hand, and he can hardly remember the last time he had last felt so carefree.
And then, something fateful happens: Mahoro brings her Switch to work one day, and Haru’s division slowly collapses into chaos.
“Who’s the deer?” Shinnosuke asks, peeking over Mahoro’s shoulder.
They’re on lunch break, and Mahoro is apparently checking in on her Animal Crossing island (“Gumishima,” a fitting island name for a woman who loves candies). Haru can’t help but feel a bit interested, since he hasn’t played a new video game for years. Also, he’s bored out of his damn mind.
“Her name’s Diana,” Mahoro says with cheeks full of rice. “She’s a snooty deer. Isn’t she cute?”
Shinnosuke rolls his eyes. “I mean, I guess?”
Mahoro huffs. “Hey, back me up, Haru —”
He turns his chair away from her. “Don’t drag me into this.” All he knows about Animal Crossing is that there’s a tanuki who scams people. Or maybe he’s actually a misunderstood good guy? Haru doesn't know the lore well enough to confirm one way or the other.
“Oh, I’ll ask Kambe-san what he thinks he comes back from break! Maybe he has a secret soft side for cute things...”
It’s no secret around the office that Mahoro swoons every time Daisuke walks through the door. Haru scowls. “Don’t bother with that guy, he probably thinks he’s above video games.” Either that, or his family owns the entirety of Nintendo or some such nonsense. With a huff he rolls his chair over to Mahoro’s desk and peers over her shoulder at the screen. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute —” He scrunches his nose as another villager walks into frame, a cat wearing a blazer. “Is that cat a salaryman?”
Mahoro giggles. “No, he’s just a smug. He’s really popular right now, though. People are selling him for real money on the black market, but I was lucky enough to find him on one of my first islands.”
Haru grunts in affirmation as though he knows what she’s talking about (he doesn’t). “Sounds like a lot of drama for a game about cute animals,” he remarks before returning to his desk. Their lunch break ends in about ten minutes, and he’d like to savor the moment before returning to the drudgery of his daily life, not to mention the headaches that Daisuke will inevitably cause when he returns.
That should have been the end of it.
Getting drunk and shopping online is a combination fated for disaster.
Haru should know better. He barely buys anything outside of necessities, and he takes adequate care of his wardrobe to avoid replacing his clothes. Fancy materialistic possessions do not tempt him, and thus his wallet does not suffer.
At least, not when sober.
A week later, Haru wakes up to a delivery at his door, a package he doesn’t remember ordering.
Inside is a Nintendo Switch and a copy of Animal Crossing.
Haru names his island Whiskey and his native fruit is oranges.
He doesn’t understand what the hype is about, but there’s a no-return policy on both the Switch and the game, so he’s determined to get his money’s worth out of the experience (and never shop drunk again). The infamous tanuki and his tanuki subordinates greet him on an island that’s as barren as his apartment, and he spends the rest of the night hitting trees with flimsy tools and cursing at the shadows of fish.
Over the course of the following week, Haru continues the routine stubbornly, booting up the game after each exhausting day of work. He expands his tent into a one room house and helps the various animal critters with their errands, mostly uninteresting construction tasks delivered to him with chirps and smiles. This routine makes him feel simultaneously five and ninety years old.
The grim reality of Animal Crossing, which he realizes within days of playing, is that it’s difficult to make money; the creatures that sell for the most Bells are the rarest, and the tedium of collecting crafting materials is eerily reminiscent of his own life, relegated in the office to performing menial tasks for an undermotivated department. Still, at least there’s a charm to the game that’s absent from his real job. Haru’s animal neighbors are always happy to see him and appear grateful for his contributions, which is more than he can say for his coworkers.
A week later, after the tailors’ shop opens and he’s able to dress his avatar in nicer clothes, Haru can’t help but feel a little proud of his humble island. He had forgotten how satisfying video games could be, living in a world where your perseverance makes a real, tangible difference to your environment and NPCs are glad you exist.
Of course, he can’t fully escape reality. Every night he switches off the console, goes to sleep, and wakes up for another day of underappreciated civil labor the following morning.
Some days at work are just so damn boring.
He’s tasked with running “official errands” for the chief of the Investigation Department, which is somehow even less enriching as it sounds. Haru is handed a list of office supplies and told to “not get into trouble” while procuring them, as though he’s known for causing riots everywhere he goes.
“It's a slow day — why don’t you take Inspector Kambe with you?” the chief asks.
Because he’s irritating and difficult to work with? “Sure, sure,” Haru grumbles instead. “Oi, Kambe, we’re going out.”
Daisuke stands slowly, brushing invisible dust off his coat. “Working on a case?”
Haru's cheeks flush with warmth at the absurdity of the task he’s been given. After all this time, being treated like a mere errand boy is incredibly condescending. “Not exactly,” he mutters. “Either way, you’ll be driving.” If he’s going to get saddled with babysitting this rich bastard, he may as well let him pay for gas with his bottomless bank balance at the very least. “And you better follow the damn speed limit this time.”
Daisuke scowls but says nothing.
Haru invites Daisuke to his apartment for dinner after their shift winds to a close.
Ever since the day he had slept over (in Haru’s bathtub, for whatever reason), Daisuke has been curious about Haru’s lifestyle. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Haru’s cooking had made an impression on him, and though he hasn’t yet admitted it out loud, Daisuke seems to enjoy eating Haru's dinners. Haru supposes it’s probably a reprieve from whatever snooty bourgeois meals he’s served at the Kambe estate. Cooking for two people doesn’t bother him, though. If anything, it actually helps Haru save money, because Daisuke always offers to shell out for the extra groceries, and Haru would be a fool to refuse.
Daisuke is useless in the kitchen, which would almost be endearing if it wasn’t so pathetic. Haru has stopped asking him for help, because his fumbling with utensils is counterproductive and frankly a little dangerous. Instead he cuts the vegetables himself as Daisuke sits politely by the TV and waits for him to finish in silence. In addition to having no survival skills, Daisuke is also completely incompetent at small talk.
Why would he be good at small talk, Haru thinks bitterly, when everything about him is larger than life?
Except this time, Daisuke does say something.
“I didn’t know you played video games, Kato-san.”
Haru freezes with the knife hovering over an onion. “Huh?” Then the realization hits: fuck, I left the Switch out , and then the following thought, I really don’t want to have this conversation with this guy. “You never asked,” Haru says, which is a terrible comeback, and he returns to furiously chopping vegetables.
Daisuke doesn’t say a word until after Haru sits down to eat with him. “No television dramas today, Kato-san?”
He’s making fun of me, huh? “No,” he says curtly. “You’re welcome for dinner, by the way.”
“Thanks for the meal,” Daisuke says with a nod, his stoic expression never faltering. Haru just scoffs, taking an aggressive bite of his rice. He doesn’t notice Daisuke bend forward to turn on the TV until it’s too late.
“Oi —”
Animal Crossing blinks onto the screen in all its resplendent, childish glory. Apparently Haru had put the game into standby mode last night instead of turning it off fully.
I want to die.
“Isn’t this the game Saeki-san was playing at work?” Daisuke asks flatly, and Haru almost wishes he would just laugh at him like a normal person.
“Yeah,” Haru grits out. “It’s… nice.”
“Mmhmm.”
Please turn the TV off, Haru pleads in his mind.
Of course, Daisuke never listens to him, telepathically or otherwise. “Explain it to me.”
“Huh?”
“The game,” Daisuke says seriously. “Explain it to me. The objectives.”
This may actually be the worst moment of his life, Haru thinks, forced to explain a cute animal game for children to his snobby multi-billionaire coworker. “Well, uh, it’s mostly just development of your island,” he says. “Like, um, city planning and infrastructure stuff.”
“Go on.”
What more do you want from me?! “That’s kind of it? You fish and catch bugs and uh, sell them. For Bells.”
“Bells.”
“Yeah, like. Yen. Currency. But Bells.”
Daisuke takes a contemplative bite of his food, eyes glued to the screen where Haru’s avatar is cheerfully holding a net. “Is there strategy involved in the earning of Bells?”
Haru rolls his eyes. Of course this prick and his one-track finance mind would zero in on the concept of money. “Well, there is the stalk market.” When Daisuke doesn’t comment, he’s forced to continue with an awkward cough. “You buy turnips on Sunday morning and then check your turnip prices for the rest of the week to see if there’s a spike. Then you sell them and make profit. I mean, if you’re lucky. I haven’t had any good prices yet.”
“Fascinating,” Daisuke says, the tone of his voice never changing, and Haru can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. It’s rather infuriating. “This has been enlightening, Kato-san.”
Yeah, he’s definitely making fun of me.
When Haru turns on the game the following night, the business cat has appeared at his campsite.
He doesn’t want this cat on his island, with his fancy clothes and quaffed hair and stupid smug villager laugh. Unfortunately, the game doesn’t give him a choice, and Haru is forced to welcome Raymond to his island, albeit reluctantly.
But this cat, this fucking cat, reminds him of another businessman, a person he’d rather not have as his neighbor on his escapist video game island.
Haru thinks he may be cursed.
“Kato-san.”
Haru pauses with one foot out the door of the office. “The day’s over, Kambe. I don’t get paid for overtime.”
“I wish to discuss a matter with you,” Daisuke says. “If you wish to be paid for your time, just name a price and I will compensate you.”
“I — no. I don’t need that.” This guy is going to give Haru an aneurysm before he reaches thirty. “Just spit it out.”
“I asked HEUSC to analyze the stalk market.”
“...Sorry?”
“After our discussion,” Daisuke says, “I spoke with Suzue, and she too found the idea of building an Animal Crossing empire rather intriguing. With the help of her programming and HEUSC’s stalk market analysis algorithm, I have now developed my own virtual Kambe estate.”
Haru blinks. And blinks again. “You’re… playing Animal Crossing?”
Daisuke nods. “At first I believed my lifestyle was not suitable for its inane fantasy, but after my time spent learning the game alongside Suzue I have come to change my mind. Much like reality, it is a world in which business transactions hold the highest form of power. I can respect its honesty in that regard.”
This can’t be real. This cannot be real. Haru feels a bit hysterical. “Uh.” He can’t muster any more than that, not when his brain hasn’t even fully finished processing this situation.
“I would like to personally thank you for opening my eyes to the benefit of this experience, Kato-san,” Daisuke says, “and I would like to cordially invite you to the Kambe estate this Thursday evening as a token of gratitude, so that you may sell your turnips during the calculated spike on one of our branch islands.”
Branch… islands? A chill runs down Haru’s spine. How many Switches did this guy buy to have suddenly built his own person Animal Crossing kingdom in a matter of weeks? Haru still isn’t even done with terraforming his own island! “Uh, I’ll have to pass,” Haru says weakly. If he has to see how much money Daisuke has spent on this game with his own two eyes, he may actually be sick.
“I insist,” Daisuke says. “Remember to fill your inventory with turnips before you arrive, Kato-san. I assure you that you will want to take advantage of this offer.”
Haru is still standing dumbfounded at the door when Daisuke disappears, and by the time he comes to his senses it’s too late to protest further. His destiny at the Kambe estate has been set in stone.
“Kato-san.” Suzue Kambe greets him with a bow as Haru steps into her laboratory. “Welcome to our latest project.”
Haru can’t believe what he’s seeing. Every wall screen shows a different Animal Crossing island like a virtual security room, and every avatar looks exactly like either Suzue or Daisuke, sauntering about the island with identical suit jackets. “I… uh, wow. That’s a lot of Animal Crossing,” he chokes out. “How do you have time to manage all these islands?”
“I developed a program that maintains and develops the islands remotely,” Suzue says cheerfully. “It was quite the entertaining diversion. First, I studied the entirety of the game’s code, and then…”
Haru’s mind glazes over as her explanation grows more and more technical. All he can think is that this would be impressive if it wasn’t so excessive (and terrifying). “I see,” Haru says, understanding nothing.
“Once the Kambe Island Conglomerate was installed into our system, HEUSC could easily access the data and patterns for the stalk market spikes on every island,” Daisuke says. "And thus, every day we make a steady profit."
“Doesn’t that kinda take the fun out of it?” Haru asks.
Daisuke ignores the question, pressing one finger to the device in his ear. “HEUSC, which island currently has the best prices for selling turnips?”
“Kambe Island #17,” the metallic voice says, piping through the lab’s speakers. “The current price of turnips is 602 Bells per unit.”
602 Bells?! Haru balks. His own turnip prices haven't exceeded 150 for a month. “If you get these kinds of prices every day, that must mean… your reserve of Bells…” He trails off. He’s not sure he even wants to hear the answer.
But Daisuke simply smirks, happy to elaborate.
“Unlimited.”
Returning to his own meager island after that just feels pitiful. Raymond is still there too, smiling at him with his damn businessman cat grin.
Haru thwacks him with a net, but it doesn’t help.
Daisuke had friended him after that demoralizing night — on the account with his main island, of course, and not the fifty other branch islands currently running on Suzue’s programming. Haru visits him the next week, and after seeing Daisuke’s three fully expanded houses and money flooring basement, the feeling of inadequacy just grows.
I wish to visit your island, Kato-san, Daisuke messages him. Open your gates and I will leave Bells at the entrance.
Hell no, Haru types back.
The next time he visits Daisuke, he fills his inventory with trash he’d fished out of the ocean, dumps it all over the beach, and runs back to the airport before he can be scolded for his crime.
Haru has been Switch friends with Daisuke for weeks, but the topic has never come up at work. The two have silently agreed to never acknowledge this new virtual relationship in public lest their image and credibility as professionals be damaged.
Or so Haru had thought.
“Inspector Kato,” Daisuke says one morning as he takes his seat. “I am shocked at your propensity for littering on my property. I had believed you to be a person who staunchly abides by the law. I demand reparations for your disrespectful actions.”
“Huh? Haru littered?” Shinnosuke snorts. “We talking about the same guy? The guy who'd give himself a ticket for going one kilometre over the speed limit? Didn't know you had it in you, Kato. Some policeman you are, huh?”
“Perhaps I should have clarified,” Daisuke begins, and Haru’s soul immediately evacuates his body as he realizes what’s coming. “The reference to littering was not something that occurred in reality, but rather…”
Don’t say it, Kambe!
“In Animal Crossing.”
Silence.
Utter silence.
Then Mahoro squeals.
“Eeeehhhhh?! You — you play Animal Crossing? You both do? Together?!”
Haru buries his face on his desk and prays for the afterlife to take him swiftly.
That night, he sends Daisuke’s island a postcard with a garbage bin attached. The message reads fuck u.
When he sits back down with his dinner, there’s already a return gift in his blinking mailbox. Haru opens the letter.
This is unprofessional behavior, Kato-san.
There’s a gift attached. Haru opens it.
It’s a Baby’s Hat.
Haru swears very, very loudly.
“My villagers have been asking about you, Kato-san.”
Haru looks up from his bento. “Oh yeah?”
He nods. “They wish for you to visit again at your earliest convenience.”
“How nice of them,” Haru says snidely.
“I expect to see you online this evening,” Daisuke says, then turns away immediately. In his typical fashion, he's trying to end the conversation so he can get the last word.
“All right.”
Daisuke looks back. “Hmm?”
“I’ll be there,” Haru says. Unnerved by the intensity of Daisuke’s eye contact, he drops his gaze to his desk, staring intently at his half-eaten convenience store karaage. “Thanks for the invite.” He can hear the click of Daisuke’s expensive shoes fade away as he heads outside for a smoke.
With a deep sigh, Haru leans back in his chair.
I’m bringing pitfall traps to your island tonight, Kambe.