Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A cheerleader...

...and an ominous sense of dread. 

She seemed so happy, but I knew something was wrong.

So I ran.

I ran to her.

I ran to her as fast as I could... but it just wasn't enough.

I fell to my knees on the grass and despaired as I watched it happen in front of me.

The cheerleader... being brutally torn apart by a zombie!

And a werewolf!

And Dracula.

And a bunch of Martians.

And tiny dolls with machetes.

And lumberjacks with chainsaws.

And giant ants, for some reason.

Oh God! There were so many monsters! It was overwhelming! What could I do?!

And then I woke up. 

Ugh. What a pain. Could it be a premonition?

I was having that feeling, but... it was just so weird. I mean, Martians don't even exist. I checked once, and—

"Kusuo? Wanna play a game with me?"

(Sigh.)

It was Dad. Of course it was. That explained everything.

The game he was referring to was Zombies Ate My Neighbors, released in 1993 on a number of platforms. You control a character, either a guy named Zeke or a girl named Julie, and you run around and fight all kinds of monsters as you rescue your neighbors before the monsters eat them. Dad was a fan, and he had this sudden inkling that playing it with me would be a good father-and-son bonding adventure.

I walked to my door and opened it.

Hey, Dad?

"Yeah, Kusuo?"

I can't play with you right now. I have to study. College entrance exams, blah blah blah.

"But it's 8:30 in the morning. And it's Sunday. And you're on summer break. And college entrance exams? Who gives a crap. You're practically immortal. What do you need college for?"

I rolled my eyes. It's not that he was wrong. But studying was the one surefire way to get out of unpleasant social obligations. Even Dad wasn't immune to the expectations that society places on parents about getting their kids into a good college. 

Whatever, Dad. I need to study. 

Dad shrugged. "Alright..."

You're going to make a big deal about this, aren't you?

"I guess I'll just go play this cult classic by myself."

Dad sulked as he walked a—

"I mean, I got the Sega Mega Drive set up and everything..."

I said, he walked away...

"...and I was hoping to spend some quality time with my son. 'Quality Time' is the name of this fic, you know..."

Dad was going to put one foot in front of the other any moment now...

"...but if my son needs to study for college entrance exams, I guess that comes first..."

...

...

...

Finally.

Dad closed the door and left me alone. Of course, knowing Dad, this wasn't going to be the last of it.

And sure enough, as I was reading a book about monotremes at my desk, Mom opened the door.

"SAIKI KUSUO STOP STUDYING AND GO PLAY VIDEO GAMES WITH YOUR FATHER!"

Geez, Mom! Alright! I'll do it!

"That's great, sweetie! Oh! I was thinking of making omelettes for breakfast if you're interested?"

I finished my omelette and ambled over to the couch where Dad had hooked up a Sega Mega Drive to the TV. The video game played on the screen, and Dad's eyes were glued to it. "Hey Kusuo."

I sat down next to Dad.

He gestured to the console. "Once I found this old thing in the closet, I couldn't help but give it a spin. You can try it the next time I die."

That's all ri—

"And I'm dead." Dad entered his initials (which were, of course, mine as well) on the high score page.

I reluctantly took the controller and started playing.

Now, you'd think my psychic powers would mean I'd excel at a game like th— And all the neighbors have died. Back to you, Dad.

Dad took the controller. "I really thought you'd be better at this."

Well, if it were real life, I would be. But there's only so much I can do when monsters constantly spawn in random places. Not to mention that the hit detection is terrible.

Dad spoke as he played the game. "Well, this is one of those games where you have to play it over and over again so you can memorize where all the neighbors are and figure out the best strategy to scoop them up before the monsters get to them. Oh, I spent many an afternoon trying to master this game, but I usually got stuck at the giant boss baby level. At least the muscle memory is starting to come back to me."

Dad's character ran and picked up a couple of cheerleaders moments before they could be eaten.

"Do you like cheerleaders?" asked Dad.

That's it. I'm going.

"I'm just trying to make conversation! C'mon, sit back down."

I sighed and sat down next to Dad. 

"Did I ever tell you that Mom was a cheerleader?"

Before I had the chance to roll my eyes, Mom entered the living room, twirling imaginary pom-poms. "Gimme an 'S!' Gimme an 'A!' Gimme an 'I!' Gimme a 'K!' Gimme an 'I!' What's that spell?"

Looks like Dad isn't the only one regaining their muscle memory.

Mom looked at the screen. "Ooh, I love this game! It's so hard, though. When your father made it to level 9, I was so impressed that I asked him to marry me right then and there! Ooh, there's a key! Pick it up!"

"I got it," said Dad.

Mom left to attend to something in the kitchen. 

Dad stared at the screen. "Ah, crap. The tourists died. You want a shot?"

You're just going to give up?

"The only chance you have of making it far into the game is if you keep all your neighbors alive in the early levels. Besides, I've been playing enough. Why don't you give it a try?"

He handed me the controller, and I started playing. I stared at the screen, intent on literally beating him at his own game... but I didn't make it four levels before I died.

It was a bit humbling.

For the game, I mean.

Dad, this game has serious design flaws. The only way someone could possibly win is if they're lucky and the right items get generated. What do people see in this game, anyway?

He gestured at the screen. "The Americana!"

We live in Japan.

"White picket fences!"

Who gives a f—

"A large house! Outdoor pools! Trampolines! Everyone's having so much fun! Look at the neighbors grilling in the backyard! Why don't our neighbors grill?"

Maybe they don't want to?

"But look at the people on the screen! Look at the neighbors! Everyone looks so happy!"

Yeah, and they're going to be eaten alive.

"Well, not if I can hel—" A zombie ate a pair of tourists. Dad restarted the console. "Anyway, it's just a dream." (So you had it, too.) "Imagine being a kid, just running through your neighbors' yards."

I ran to Mars last week.

"And we're very proud of you. But anyway, imagine that you're a kid or a teenager, running around with your friends in a friendly suburban environment. I mean, look at that guy just floating on an inflatable tube in the pool, without a care in the world."

While he's surrounded by—

"Yes, yes, I know. Zombies, et cetera. But look at him. Probably works at the help desk at a Comp USA, getting chewed out by his boss and angry customers. But the weekends are his time, and if he wants to spend the afternoon floating around in his pool, I say he's earned it. You can really connect to a guy like that. And thirty years ago, it was probably him running around people's backyards while his neighbors floated around in their pools. Or look at that lady. Probably a substitute teacher who used to be a full-time teacher but then retired. Dealing with whiny brats all day. But maybe she was one of them! Maybe back in the day, she played hooky to go to the theaters and watch 3D monster movies, you know, the ones where you had those glasses where the eyeholes had one red filter and one blue one? And then she gets to a point in her life where she can only experience that kind of carefree joy vicariously. She's strict, because she needs to be, but the love and sympathy and joy for her students is there just the same. Anyway, just imagine the interesting lives that all these people must have. You really have to feel for them." Dad sighed. "Imagine if we got to know our neighbors."

It would be exhausting.

"It would be nice. You'd chat, share a beer, ask about the wife and kids, and, oh, look, you've made a friend! People are too closed off nowadays."

Not necessarily. I babysat our neighbor's kid just two weeks ago.

"And it's nice, isn't it? Making those connections?"

Have you met Yuuta?

"Ooh, look at this!" The character on the screen drank a potion, turning him into a big purple monster that could punch through walls. "Haven't you ever wanted to transform into another creature?"

I do that all the time. I transformed into a platypus just days ago.

"And we're very proud of you. But for the rest of us, we can live vicariously through this game. We can feel the joy of exploring a shopping center without being haunted by how internet commerce has hollowed it all out. We can have the fun of exploring a hedge maze without dealing with the aching knees or the gnats." 

It's a nice day outside.

"Kusuo, I'm trying to make a point. There's just something wholesome in a game like this, something that we're missing out on in modern society." A child with a hatchet attacked the tourist couple and turned them into ghosts. "GodDAMNIT!"

Dad restarted the game.

"Another thing I like is the music. You hear that? That scronchy FM synth bass? Those flat drum sounds that are like 'tit, tit-ta-tit tit tit tit-ta-tit-ta-tit...' Ooh, and listen to that brompy synth!"

I just remembered, I need to study for things.

Dad rolled his eyes. "Well, while you hunker down in your room, I'll be right here, having the time of my li— DAMNIT!" Dad restarted the game.

Have fun, Dad. 

Chapter Text

I had to make a decision.

Stay in my room for the rest of the afternoon, and possibly my life... or go for a walk?

If I leave, they win. 

But if I stay inside, I'll have wasted a perfectly nice day, just because of them.

But perhaps I should be more optimistic. Just because an impulse runs through someone's head, doesn't mean they'll actually be cold-hearted enough to follow through on it it. Just because two people joke about doing something bad, doesn't mean they're in the bushes right now, conspiring to ambush me the second I step outside.

That would be crazy!

I'm going to walk outside, and surely my faith in humanity will be rewarded...

I exited the front door and walked down the walkway—

*smack*

Ow! My head! What are the odds?

"Got him!" said Mom, hiding behind a bush and wielding a slingshot.

"No, you're supposed to say, 'Look! Look!'" said Dad, kneeling next to her. 

"Oh. Gotcha."

Reader, Dad's latest obsession is this game called Pac-Man 2: The New Adventures. It's a weird game. 

"Did you say 'Pac-Man?'" said Grandma, who decided to stop by unannounced. "My husband loves that game!"

"No, I don't," replied Grandpa, standing next to her. "Why would I like that garbage? It's just silly nonsense for kids." 

Grandma grinned and brought her lips to his ear. "♫ Boop boop boop boop boop boop, boop boop boop boop boop boop, boop boop boop boop boop boop, boodily boodily boop! ♫" It was the theme from the original Pac-Man game. 

Grandpa waved dismissively. "Get away from me with that nonsense," he said, but he couldn't help but smile. 

Great. That was a nice little characterization moment. Now, on with my walk.

*smack*

Goddamnit...

"Look! Look!" said Mom. 

"You have to point where you want him to go," said Dad. 

"Right." She pointed toward the sidewalk by our house. "Look! Look!"

"What in tarnation are they doing?" muttered Grandpa.

Reader, let me explain why my parents are slinging rocks at my head. In 1994, Pac-Man 2: The New Adventures was released. Unlike the original game from 1980, where you move Pac-Man around a maze as he eats up pellets, Pac-Man 2 was an adventure game, where you usher Pac-Man through the world as he deals with the travails of modern-day life.

And how do you move Pac-Man? A D-pad? A joystick?

No, that would be too normal. Instead, you point and say "Look! Look!" Or you sling rocks at something and hope he notices. And if that doesn't work, you sling a rock at his head. Maybe he'll get mad, but at least—

*smack*

—at least you've got his atten— would you stop that! I'm trying to explain something!

"Look! Look!" It was Mom again, pointing at the sidewalk.

I glared at her.

Dad joined in. "Look! Look, Kusuo!"

...

Okay, I guess I'm going over to the sidewalk...

I walked down the sidewalk as my two stalkers lurked across the street, ready to fire at me at a moment's notice. 

*fwip*

A rock hit the ground in front of me.

Hmm.

What's down there?

Mom pointed. "Look! Look!" 

Yeah, I'm looking. 

A coffee jelly? Seems suspicious. Am I really going to be a pawn in my parents' sadistic game of chess?

...

Still, it'd be bad for it to go to waste.

I bent over and picked up the coffee jelly. I peeled off the lid, then reached into my pocket and pulled out a spoon that I keep on me in case of impromptu coffee jelly appearances.

I dug in. 

Not bad. What a pleasant little surprise this was. 

I crumpled up the trash and held onto it as I continued on—

*fwip*

The ground.... Is that another coffee jelly?

NARRATOR: Saiki ate the coffee jelly.

This day is going much, much better than expected!

Even my parents had noticed. "Is that— is that a smile?" said Mom.

"And all it took was a couple of coffee jellies," said Dad. (You see what happens when you're not so stingy?)

Reader, let me provide some context. One of the characteristics of Pac-Man 2: The New Adventures is that Pac-Man's emotional state is evident by the expression on his face. You can make him sadder and sadder, or madder and madder, or happier and happier, all depending on how he interacts with you and his environment. It turns out that making Pac-Man too happy can be almost as bad as making him too sad or angry, in that he'll stop responding to the world around him.

I had never been that happy, but then again, I had never had two coffee jellies in a row.

But Dad was just getting started. He chucked a third coffee jelly across the street. It skipped and rolled on the pavement as it made its way to the sidewalk in front of me. 

I ate it.

I felt... unusual...

Mom stared at me with confusion. It wasn't every day that I marched down the street with an open-mouthed grin. "I've never seen him so happy..."

"Yeah, it's a little off-putting," said Dad. (I'm a little freaked out, myself.) "But I want to see what happens if I do it one more time."

"Dear..."

"Just one more time." Dad threw yet another coffee jelly onto the ground in front of me.

I ate it.

Is this... is this what it feels like to reach enlightenment?

Dad grimaced as he looked at the cartoonishly smug grin that had spread across my face. "That's downright disturbing."

"I can't look," said Mom, turning away. 

Dad aimed his slingshot.

*fwip*

The slingshot hit something, probably.

Dad spoke. "He's so blissfully unaware that he's no longer paying attention to his surroundings. It's kinda sad when you think about it."

I was as happy as I've ever been.

"I mean, does he even have free will anymore?"

Who needs free will? I have coffee jelly.

"This is just too weird. Let me take a photo—" (Gee, thanks, Dad.) "—and then hit him once to get his mood back to normal.

Dad took a photo on his phone, then aimed the slingshot...

*pow*

Ow. Crap. But I have to admit, I needed that wake-me-up. I was now my usual disinterested self. 

"Well, he's back," said Dad.

"He looks really upset," said Mom.

"Yeah, that's Kusuo all right. Now, let's guide him into the mines so we can do a mine-cart level..."

"We have mines?" asked Mom. 

Dad grinned. "We have everything. We live in a suburb within walking distance of both a farm and a train station, and we live in a house shaped like my head!" (You do not.) "Well, not yet, but maybe Kusuo can help us with that." (Are you out of your mind? Who would want to live in their own head?) "I just think it would be a nice bit of whimsy." (What happens if the roof starts leaking? What happens if we get mold?) "Look, it was just an idea. Anyhoo, here's another idea!" (Is that supposed to be a segue?)

We went on a nice little walk as a family out to the country to get a bottle of milk. Unlike Pac-Man, though, we didn't live anywhere close to a farm, so this was quite a trek.

Grandma, at least, was enjoying the rural environment. "It's so nice to go for a walk as a family."

"Yeah," said Dad. "It seems like the only time we get together like this is for a funeral." (Don't tempt fate, Dad...)

"My feet hurt," said Mom. "We've been walking for six hours. Please tell me we're taking an Uber back..."

"We're almost at the farm," said Dad. "In fact, I think we're coming up to it as we speak. You know, there's nothing like fresh milk."

Yeah, and tell them how we're getting it.

Dad shrugged. "Well, we're getting it straight from the source." Dad walked up to a cow standing next to a fence at the edge of the property and patted it on the back.

Grandpa stared at Dad. "Don't tell me we're just going to milk it?!"

"Uh, yeah. How else would we get it?"

"Is this your cow?!" (You know perfectly well it's not his cow. Has Dad ever talked about cows before?)

"Um..." Dad scratched the back of his head. 

"It's private property! You can't just steal its milk!"

Dad stood there for a few seconds and patted the cow some more. "Are you sure? I though cows were, like, a public resource..."

"No!"

Dad chuckled nervously as everyone stared at him, including me. Especially me. Dad, you're being stupid.

"Well," said Dad, "we walked all the way out here. Why don't we be a little adventurous and get some milk? It'll be fun!"

Grandpa sighed derisively and stepped away. 

Dad, tell them how we're containing the milk.

"You did bring a bottle, didn't you?" asked Mom. 

Dad raised a finger. "Even better! You see that?" Dad pointed to a fence post, on top of which was perched a glass milk bottle. 

Okay, then let's go get it—

"No, it's a little too high."

No, it isn't. And besides, I can levitate.

"Bear with me, son. It's a little too high, so what we need to do is sling a rock at that crow over there on the power lines, and then it'll fly into the bottle and knock it down."

By dumb luck, there was, indeed, a crow perched on the power lines. Of course, this didn't make Dad any less delusional.

Dad turned to Mom. "Honey, why don't you give it a shot?"

She turned to him. "Hmm? Well, I suppose so. But it's pretty high up." Mom aimed the slingshot at the crow, then pulled the slingshot way, way back.

*fwing*

*thoc*

Well, she hit the crow, all right.

Mom gasped. "Eek!"

"Oh, crap, it's dead," said Dad at the crow corpse on the ground. 

"Well, I'm heading back," said Grandpa. "Best to cut our losses now before things turn into even more of a disaster."

"Dear, wait for me," said Grandma. 

"Hold on!" said Dad as he grabbed the bottle and knelt under the cow. "Just a sec." He grabbed an udder and pulled on it. "Just wait a second. I think I'm getting the hang of this— Oh crap, the cow's moving."

Dad, let's just do what everyone who plays Pac-Man 2: The New Adventures does and give up.

Dad leaned on the fence and stared at the cow as it wandered off. He looked at the ground. "It's a good game..."

No, it's not. The control scheme is a nightmare.

"It's certainly original, though."

Originality is overrated. 

"There's a lot of life in Pac-Man's expressions..."

Which no one has seen because it's impossible to play. Let's just head back.

Dad took a breath, then slapped the fence. 

Great. Let's get goin—

"Let's go hang-gliding!"

"Higher! Higher!" yelled Mom from the edge of the cliff that i had just jumped off of.

"No, he needs to go lower!" said Grandpa. "You need to shoot a rock at him!" 

"Watch out for ghosts!" yelled Dad.

This is humiliating.