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Volo sighs as Akari drags him through the crowded streets, resenting the inescapable press of people around his body as they wind through the festival. The scent of fried food and cheap booze blankets the air in a thick, inescapable shroud. It’s honestly disgusting. “Did we really have to come out tonight?” he grumbles for the umpteenth time. “You know I hate these events. You hate these events. Why are we even here, Akari?”
“You’re the one who wanted to go out on a nice, normal date, so here we are!” she chirps, her hand a vice-grip around his own. “Besides, aren’t you having fun? I know I am!” He shakes his head in disbelief, able to hear the well-hidden strain in her voice. Only Akari would think forcing both of them to endure something they equally loathe would count as a fun date night.
Still, she’s not entirely wrong. The food has been delicious — that grilled Basculin had been divine — and he certainly doesn’t dislike his company for the evening. The festival is crowded and noisy, running ragged on his nerves, but he doesn’t hate spending time with his girlfriend like this. He’d much rather prefer being out in the wilds of Sinnoh, but it’s not… terrible. Knowing Akari is just as discomfited by the crush of bodies around them as he is makes it just a little more bearable as well. He still doesn’t understand why she would subject the both of them to something that rattles their nerves so badly, but she’s always been a strange girl. Even before being brought back to the modern era she’d been strange, but he thinks the repeated time-travel may have addled her brains even more.
His musing is interrupted as he bumps into her back with a quiet grunt. “Akari, what —?” She’s staring at one of the booths up ahead with a quiet sort of glee. Volo follows her line of sight and lets out a sigh. Now he knows why she dragged him here. “Alright, but don’t sweep house,” he says. “It won’t be fair to everyone else.”
Akari, unsurprisingly, acts as though she hasn’t heard him as she happily drags him towards the game booth. “Looks like each round is ¥500 for ten shots,” she mumbles distractedly as she digs through her bag. “What do you think I should go for? The Chocorooms? The gummy Orthworms? Oh, but you don’t really like those… maybe the Chocorooms would be a safer bet, then.”
Rolling his eyes, Volo silently pulls out his wallet and hands her the money instead of watching her fruitlessly rummage around in her bag. It’s clear she’s forgotten she lost her wallet about two days ago. “Be nice,” he reminds her as she chirps out her thanks and hands the money over to the worker. “You have to leave some prizes for everyone else.” She simply hums and takes off her bag, shoving it into Volo’s hands before reaching out to grab the rifle laid out on the counter. “Oh, Arceus have mercy, you’re taking this way too seriously,” he mutters as his girlfriend settles the rifle into position as easily as breathing.
For reasons beyond his understanding, Akari loves to play the shooting game found at most festivals. The concept isn’t hard to grasp — shoot down one of the prizes on the counter at the back of the stall to win it — but for some reason his girlfriend is enamoured with it. He’s pretty sure it’s because she’s never walked away from the game empty-handed. Not even once. Even in Hisui she always managed to net herself a prize. It’d gotten to the point where Ginter was pulling his hair out trying to find a way to rig the game against her specifically — not that it worked, of course.
The Ginkgo Guild lost a lot of money to her during the festival season.
Unlike everyone else, Akari stands with her left shoulder facing the piles of prizes at the back of the stall. She opens the bolt of the rifle with practised motions, sliding it back into place before reaching out and grabbing one of the corks on the counter. She slams it into the muzzle with a firm slap of her palm before taking a slow, deep breath and exhaling. She does this once, twice, three times and then finally lifts the rifle to her cheek. Volo can see her adjusting her grip, pulling the butt firmly against her right shoulder as her left hand shifts positions to support the gun better, moving from a closed fist to an open palm and then back again. He thinks he can see the position of the muzzle moving with each adjustment but doesn’t know why it matters so much to her. All she has to do is shoot the damn thing.
Akari closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and holds it. Her eyes open as she stares down the barrel, breath still caught in her chest. In comparison to everyone around her, it’s as though she’s a statue — still, unbreathing, waiting for the right moment to strike. Her mannerisms at this moment are so much like him that it’s hysterical. Volo sees her index finger finally curl around the trigger and, with a quiet click, fire her first shot. A box of Chocorooms wobbles precariously but doesn’t topple over. “Hmm… low and to the right,” she mumbles as she readies her next shot. “Maybe if I…”
Volo watches as she lines up her next shot. His girlfriend is a fount of uncontrolled energy at the best of times, but it’s as though she becomes as placid as a lake whenever she plays these games. Her entire body settles into position and stays there until the round is over. All of her movements are carefully calculated for maximum success. The first time he saw her enter this strange, focused state, he wondered if she had been replaced by a trickster Zoroark. But no. She was just like this every time she shot. Even though he doesn’t quite understand what goes on in her mind at these times, can’t quite grasp the strategy that unerringly leads to her victory, at least he knows she’s having fun.
Another click comes from her rifle and Volo watches, utterly unsurprised, as the box of Chocorooms falls from the counter and into the prize collection tray. The worker picks it up and sets it onto the counter next to Akari. She thanks the man distractedly but Volo already knows she’s choosing her next target. He really hopes she doesn’t go for the gummy Orthworms. He hates those stupid things. “Maybe you could get that pack of gum?” he suggests, pointing towards where it’s nestled amongst the larger, more appealing targets. It’s a small thing, barely big enough to fit in his palm and all the more difficult to hit because of it. For anyone else it would be a struggle, but he knows Akari’s skill. It shouldn’t take more than two shots.
“Asking me to show off?” she teases as she reloads her gun.
Volo snorts. “More like trying to give everyone else a chance.” Though he loves to see his girlfriend show off her talents, he doesn’t want her to dishearten the other players. It’s not out of any real concern for them, of course. He’s just intimately familiar with the aggravation of losing paying customers when they keep walking away empty-handed and Akari keeps walking away with a ridiculous amount of prizes. His days of working festival games are far behind him, but he can commiserate with the dead-eyed worker behind the counter. He can’t stop Akari from walking away laden with prizes, but at least he can try to make them smaller.
There’s a boy next to Akari holding the rifle with one hand, leaning as far over the counter as he physically can in the hopes of bringing the muzzle closer to his targets. It’s nothing at all like Akari’s tight, steady form. The difference is like night and day. Volo knows from experience the boy is going to walk away with nothing but a consolation prize. Meanwhile, Akari’s gun goes off and the packet of gum tumbles into the prize tray. “Too easy!” she crows as the worker delivers her prize. “Pick something harder for me, would you?”
A small, metallic tin catches his eye. “Try to knock that one over,” he suggests, hoping the weight of the metal means it’ll take Akari several shots to knock down. Akari sizes up her target and hums in approval. Three shots later, the tin of rock candy clatters into the prize tray. Faster than expected, but at least it’s three less prizes for Akari to win. “See anything that catches your eye?” he asks curiously.
Trickier targets have always been Akari’s favourite, and her next selection is no different. There’s another box of Chocorooms on the counter but it’s positioned so that the skinny side is facing the players. The target is smaller and the force needed to knock it over is greater — exactly the kind of challenge Akari loves. She adjusts her grip, checks her aim, and settles in for the kill.
One, two, three, four — she unloads her remaining shots and laughs triumphantly as the box falls. “I’d say we got a pretty good haul!” she says, happily gathering the snacks off the counter as Volo throws her bag over her shoulder once more. Akari doesn’t waste any time and shoves her prizes into her bag. She moves away from the counter before stopping and looking at Volo with a sly expression. “Wanna see if you can do any better?”
He certainly won’t do any better — unlike Akari, his talents lie in other fields — but he’s not one to back down from such a blatant challenge. Even though he knows it’ll end in his utter defeat, Volo still feels the stirrings of competitive glee in his heart. With a sigh, he fishes out ¥500 and hands it over to the worker as he takes his place at the counter. “If I knew your idea of a date was just humiliating me,” he says with amused resignation, “I would’ve just stayed home instead.” Akari’s answering laugh is entirely worth it.