written by Jason Bertovich
story by Jason Bertovich with Matthew Atanian
©2014 by Jason Bertovich and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
story by Jason Bertovich with Matthew Atanian
©2014 by Jason Bertovich and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
The burgundy mini-van exited US Highway 1 and merged onto South Clark Street in Arlington, Virginia, which was a suburb of Washington, D.C. A few minutes later, the van entered into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency Crystal City, pulled into a space, and then came to a stop. All three doors opened at the same time. Lina Wells, who was the driver, John Hoelscher, her boyfriend, and Matthew K. Atanian, their mutual friend, emerged from the van a moment later.
The August heat made the parking lot seem like a sauna. The heat rippling from the blacktop caused a watery shimmer to appear in the slight distance. Even Matt, well known for his insistence on perpetually wearing his black trench coat and fedora in all weather, found himself tugging at his collar for a moment. It was a good thing that the convention was being held indoors, or even his famed heat endurance might begin to melt away. One thing the heat couldn’t melt, however, was the enthusiastic smile he wore.
“Well, here we are,” he said to his companions, “at Otakon!”
Lina opened the rear hatch on the van and started to unload her luggage and garment bags. John did the same, handing Matt’s bags to him as he did. “I don’t know if you’d call the hotel parking lot ‘Otakon,’” John said.
“Where to now?” Lina asked John.
John reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-creased and folded piece of paper. “Well, I guess we need to check into the hotel, drop our luggage off in our room, and then hit registration for our badges.”
Matt and Lina nodded, picked up their bags, and followed John to the hotel’s front entrance.
Walking into the hotel, the trio were greeted with a blast of recirculated air from the hotel’s industrial air conditioners. Lina sighed in relief. John pointed to the check-in desk and the other two followed him.
Walking to the desk, Matt was surprised to see that there were escalators and glass elevators descending from the front lobby. Even though the lobby was on the street level, there were three floors below it making up a large multi-tiered atrium crisscrossed with several escalators and stairways. These sub-levels were where all of the hotel’s conference and event rooms were located and where the bulk of the convention’s events would be held.
They got in line to check in and get their room keys. There were several people in front of them, some wearing anime related shirts, or with hair colored every shade of the rainbow. It was very likely that they too were here to partake in the weekend’s festivities.
“Here we are, finally, at Otakon,” Matt confirmed aloud.
“No, this is the line to check into our hotel room,” Lina stated with a smirk, which Matt rolled his eyes at.
John talked to the check-in clerk for a few minutes, showed identification, provided a credit card, and eventually was given three card keys in a small envelope marked with the number 531.
“Good news, guys. I got us a room on one of the lower floors,” John said happily as they crossed the lobby toward the elevators.
“Is that good?” Matt asked.
“It will be when by Saturday afternoon, an elevator ride will involve a two hour wait and taking the steps is a preferable alternative. Your calves will thank me by Sunday,” John answered as they stepped into the elevator and were greeted by a extremely tall African-American gentleman dressed in a hotel employee uniform. He was easily six foot eight and thus positively dwarfed both Lina and John.
“Which floor?” he asked with a smile, seemingly delighted by the eclectic group visiting his workplace for the next three days.
“Five, please,” Lina said. The bellhop pushed a button. A moment later, the doors slid closed and they ascended.
Room 531 was nice, clean, and reasonably spacious. It had two queen sized beds, a nicely sized bathroom, and, to Lina’s delight, a coffee maker.
Matt set his bag on the bed closest to the large window that looked out toward the newly rechristened Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. He turned around and looked to Lina and John, who had flopped down onto their own bed. “Well, here we are. Otakon!” Matt said excitedly.
“No, this is our hotel room,” Lina said, eyes closed and grinning like if she kept doing it, she’d win a medal.
Matt frowned. The semantics, along with anticipation, were killing him. He decided to change the subject. “Thanks again for letting me tag along and for sharing your room. I really appreciate it.”
John gave a thumbs up gesture from his lying position on the bed. “Ain’t no problem. I think we’ve known you long enough and well enough to know that you won’t stab us in our sleep.”
“Shame Matty couldn’t make it. It would’ve been nice to finally get everyone together at the same time. Always seems like you two’s work schedule conflicts with that,” Lina commented as she soaked up the room’s air-conditioned comfort.
“Yeah… it’s… it’s hard enough just getting together with her myself, let alone when everyone tries to do something as a group.” Matt said evasively.
Matt reflected on the problems of having a double life, especially when both those lives share a large portion of the same social circle. Since last fall, due to many coincidences and circumstances of fate, both Matt Atanian and “Matty Hayes” had met, and subsequently made friends with, both Jason Bertovich and John Hoelscher.
It could be complicated at times. Very complicated. Particularly because no matter how much Jason and John wanted to hang out with both of them at the same time or plan group activities involving both of them, it was simply an impossibility to do such. Matt, more times that not, found himself forced to find a way to balance both of his personas' social obligations.
Complications aside, however, it was a set of friendships that as both Matt and Matty he very much appreciated having. When John and Jason approached Matt before the summer started and described their plans to drive down to Arlington for Otakon ’98, Matt was thrilled when they ask him to join them. He was equally unhappy to see their disappointment when the pair approached Matty later that same week and she had to turn down the same invitation, giving the pair an excuse about an upcoming family reunion happening at the same time.
John sat up, got up from the bed, picked up his and Lina’s garment bags from off the bed, and placed them in the closet next to the room’s main door. He then looked toward Lina, who had yet to lift her body from its sprawled position on the bed. “Speaking of the group, think we should call and check up on Jay?” he asked.
Lina shook her head. “I think he wants to brood for a few days. It’s probably best we hold off until we get to Ohio after the con. I figure the last thing we should do is remind him that we’re having a good time, even if it was him that said he didn’t want to go off having fun.”
“What exactly happened between him and Nicole?” Matt asked. The only information he knew was that Nicole and Jason had broken up very recently, and that was why Jason cancelled his plans to come to Otakon with the three of them.
Matt hadn’t had a chance to see either Jason or Nicole in the rush to prepare for his year-or-longer exile from Massachusetts, while simultaneously preparing for both Otakon and NOAC. He’d barely had chance to speak to Sarah, and with no offense meant to his friend, that had been a higher priority compared to their relationship issues.
John shrugged. “He didn’t really give specifics. All I know is there were three words that kept cropping up when he told me that he and Nicole had broken up. They were ‘lying’, ‘heartless’, and a very unflattering term that I shan’t repeat here.”
“I see,” Matt said with a slight nod and frown.
“Don’t let it bring you down, Matt. We’ll check in on him on Monday when we get to Ohio. I think he just needs some space right now. He’ll be fine, eventually,” Lina said as she sat up and stretched her limbs, still sore from the seven-hour drive they had just finished. Their directions had said it was supposed to be only a six-hour drive. Those directions never had to navigate the I-495 D.C. Beltway.
Matt nodded and then looked to John, who was checking the garment bags in the closet. “Are you and Lina going to get changed into costume now?”
John nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind waiting a few extra minutes while we change before we head down to get our badges.”
Matt shook his head. “So, what’s you two’s cosplay itinerary for the weekend?”
John smiled. “Today we’ll be Touga and Utena, tomorrow it’s Jinnai and Deva, and on Sunday, it’ll be Shinji and Misato.”
“Not Rei or Asuka?” Matt asked, looking toward Lina.
“I’m not wearing a plugsuit!” Lina said with a sinister glare. John shuddered in fear, remembering a very heated conversation with his girlfriend when cosplay plans for the con were first discussed. Matt, seeing Lina’s reaction, wisely let the matter drop.
“What about the fourth set of garment bags?” Matt then asked.
John got a slightly crazed gleam in his eye. “Those are for the Saturday Masquerade. They’re a surprise.” Matt simply nodded, and again, wisely let the matter drop.
John reached into his pocket, pulled out the small envelope with the hotel room key cards, and distributed them between the three of them. Matt pocketed his room key. He then grabbed his hat from off the desk and placed it on his head. “Lady, gentleman, shall we?”
“The con awaits,” John confirmed with a smile.
“And it won’t know what hit it,” Lina said with a laugh.
The elevator returned the trio back to the lobby level. It was the early afternoon and more convention attendees were now arriving in the lobby, walking alongside large luggage dollies loaded with not only suitcases, but wig stands, VCR’s, extra TV’s, various video game systems, and even sewing machines and dressmaker’s dummies.
People milled about the lobby, some were likely waiting for friends to finish checking in, others were waiting to meet up with people, and some were obviously not here for the convention, judging by the confused expressions they wore as they walked about and saw the convention attendees.
“Registration is only one level below. We’ll take the stairs down,” John said as he led them past the escalator where several people were crowding to get on in favor of the more traditional stairway.
As the three of them stood at the top of the stairs, they finally got a good look at the entire three-level atrium and, with it, the convention itself. It was as if a manga printing press had exploded. Characters ranging from the classics like Gatchaman, to the more contemporary Dragonball and Sailor Moon, to even one woman dressed as Nurse Washu from Tenchi Muyo were walking about, stopping to pose for pictures, waving hello to friends, and going in and out of various rooms.
Matt had been to sci-fi conventions before and had known that people liked to dress up for them, but this was something different. Even his research on anime cons prior to leaving did little to prepare him for this. There was different energy here -excitement and anticipation almost crackling in the air. In his mind, he could hear a familiar tune from his childhood, and he closed his eyes. “Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three…” Matt said barely above a whisper.
The August heat made the parking lot seem like a sauna. The heat rippling from the blacktop caused a watery shimmer to appear in the slight distance. Even Matt, well known for his insistence on perpetually wearing his black trench coat and fedora in all weather, found himself tugging at his collar for a moment. It was a good thing that the convention was being held indoors, or even his famed heat endurance might begin to melt away. One thing the heat couldn’t melt, however, was the enthusiastic smile he wore.
“Well, here we are,” he said to his companions, “at Otakon!”
Lina opened the rear hatch on the van and started to unload her luggage and garment bags. John did the same, handing Matt’s bags to him as he did. “I don’t know if you’d call the hotel parking lot ‘Otakon,’” John said.
“Where to now?” Lina asked John.
John reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-creased and folded piece of paper. “Well, I guess we need to check into the hotel, drop our luggage off in our room, and then hit registration for our badges.”
Matt and Lina nodded, picked up their bags, and followed John to the hotel’s front entrance.
Walking into the hotel, the trio were greeted with a blast of recirculated air from the hotel’s industrial air conditioners. Lina sighed in relief. John pointed to the check-in desk and the other two followed him.
Walking to the desk, Matt was surprised to see that there were escalators and glass elevators descending from the front lobby. Even though the lobby was on the street level, there were three floors below it making up a large multi-tiered atrium crisscrossed with several escalators and stairways. These sub-levels were where all of the hotel’s conference and event rooms were located and where the bulk of the convention’s events would be held.
They got in line to check in and get their room keys. There were several people in front of them, some wearing anime related shirts, or with hair colored every shade of the rainbow. It was very likely that they too were here to partake in the weekend’s festivities.
“Here we are, finally, at Otakon,” Matt confirmed aloud.
“No, this is the line to check into our hotel room,” Lina stated with a smirk, which Matt rolled his eyes at.
John talked to the check-in clerk for a few minutes, showed identification, provided a credit card, and eventually was given three card keys in a small envelope marked with the number 531.
“Good news, guys. I got us a room on one of the lower floors,” John said happily as they crossed the lobby toward the elevators.
“Is that good?” Matt asked.
“It will be when by Saturday afternoon, an elevator ride will involve a two hour wait and taking the steps is a preferable alternative. Your calves will thank me by Sunday,” John answered as they stepped into the elevator and were greeted by a extremely tall African-American gentleman dressed in a hotel employee uniform. He was easily six foot eight and thus positively dwarfed both Lina and John.
“Which floor?” he asked with a smile, seemingly delighted by the eclectic group visiting his workplace for the next three days.
“Five, please,” Lina said. The bellhop pushed a button. A moment later, the doors slid closed and they ascended.
Room 531 was nice, clean, and reasonably spacious. It had two queen sized beds, a nicely sized bathroom, and, to Lina’s delight, a coffee maker.
Matt set his bag on the bed closest to the large window that looked out toward the newly rechristened Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. He turned around and looked to Lina and John, who had flopped down onto their own bed. “Well, here we are. Otakon!” Matt said excitedly.
“No, this is our hotel room,” Lina said, eyes closed and grinning like if she kept doing it, she’d win a medal.
Matt frowned. The semantics, along with anticipation, were killing him. He decided to change the subject. “Thanks again for letting me tag along and for sharing your room. I really appreciate it.”
John gave a thumbs up gesture from his lying position on the bed. “Ain’t no problem. I think we’ve known you long enough and well enough to know that you won’t stab us in our sleep.”
“Shame Matty couldn’t make it. It would’ve been nice to finally get everyone together at the same time. Always seems like you two’s work schedule conflicts with that,” Lina commented as she soaked up the room’s air-conditioned comfort.
“Yeah… it’s… it’s hard enough just getting together with her myself, let alone when everyone tries to do something as a group.” Matt said evasively.
Matt reflected on the problems of having a double life, especially when both those lives share a large portion of the same social circle. Since last fall, due to many coincidences and circumstances of fate, both Matt Atanian and “Matty Hayes” had met, and subsequently made friends with, both Jason Bertovich and John Hoelscher.
It could be complicated at times. Very complicated. Particularly because no matter how much Jason and John wanted to hang out with both of them at the same time or plan group activities involving both of them, it was simply an impossibility to do such. Matt, more times that not, found himself forced to find a way to balance both of his personas' social obligations.
Complications aside, however, it was a set of friendships that as both Matt and Matty he very much appreciated having. When John and Jason approached Matt before the summer started and described their plans to drive down to Arlington for Otakon ’98, Matt was thrilled when they ask him to join them. He was equally unhappy to see their disappointment when the pair approached Matty later that same week and she had to turn down the same invitation, giving the pair an excuse about an upcoming family reunion happening at the same time.
John sat up, got up from the bed, picked up his and Lina’s garment bags from off the bed, and placed them in the closet next to the room’s main door. He then looked toward Lina, who had yet to lift her body from its sprawled position on the bed. “Speaking of the group, think we should call and check up on Jay?” he asked.
Lina shook her head. “I think he wants to brood for a few days. It’s probably best we hold off until we get to Ohio after the con. I figure the last thing we should do is remind him that we’re having a good time, even if it was him that said he didn’t want to go off having fun.”
“What exactly happened between him and Nicole?” Matt asked. The only information he knew was that Nicole and Jason had broken up very recently, and that was why Jason cancelled his plans to come to Otakon with the three of them.
Matt hadn’t had a chance to see either Jason or Nicole in the rush to prepare for his year-or-longer exile from Massachusetts, while simultaneously preparing for both Otakon and NOAC. He’d barely had chance to speak to Sarah, and with no offense meant to his friend, that had been a higher priority compared to their relationship issues.
John shrugged. “He didn’t really give specifics. All I know is there were three words that kept cropping up when he told me that he and Nicole had broken up. They were ‘lying’, ‘heartless’, and a very unflattering term that I shan’t repeat here.”
“I see,” Matt said with a slight nod and frown.
“Don’t let it bring you down, Matt. We’ll check in on him on Monday when we get to Ohio. I think he just needs some space right now. He’ll be fine, eventually,” Lina said as she sat up and stretched her limbs, still sore from the seven-hour drive they had just finished. Their directions had said it was supposed to be only a six-hour drive. Those directions never had to navigate the I-495 D.C. Beltway.
Matt nodded and then looked to John, who was checking the garment bags in the closet. “Are you and Lina going to get changed into costume now?”
John nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind waiting a few extra minutes while we change before we head down to get our badges.”
Matt shook his head. “So, what’s you two’s cosplay itinerary for the weekend?”
John smiled. “Today we’ll be Touga and Utena, tomorrow it’s Jinnai and Deva, and on Sunday, it’ll be Shinji and Misato.”
“Not Rei or Asuka?” Matt asked, looking toward Lina.
“I’m not wearing a plugsuit!” Lina said with a sinister glare. John shuddered in fear, remembering a very heated conversation with his girlfriend when cosplay plans for the con were first discussed. Matt, seeing Lina’s reaction, wisely let the matter drop.
“What about the fourth set of garment bags?” Matt then asked.
John got a slightly crazed gleam in his eye. “Those are for the Saturday Masquerade. They’re a surprise.” Matt simply nodded, and again, wisely let the matter drop.
John reached into his pocket, pulled out the small envelope with the hotel room key cards, and distributed them between the three of them. Matt pocketed his room key. He then grabbed his hat from off the desk and placed it on his head. “Lady, gentleman, shall we?”
“The con awaits,” John confirmed with a smile.
“And it won’t know what hit it,” Lina said with a laugh.
The elevator returned the trio back to the lobby level. It was the early afternoon and more convention attendees were now arriving in the lobby, walking alongside large luggage dollies loaded with not only suitcases, but wig stands, VCR’s, extra TV’s, various video game systems, and even sewing machines and dressmaker’s dummies.
People milled about the lobby, some were likely waiting for friends to finish checking in, others were waiting to meet up with people, and some were obviously not here for the convention, judging by the confused expressions they wore as they walked about and saw the convention attendees.
“Registration is only one level below. We’ll take the stairs down,” John said as he led them past the escalator where several people were crowding to get on in favor of the more traditional stairway.
As the three of them stood at the top of the stairs, they finally got a good look at the entire three-level atrium and, with it, the convention itself. It was as if a manga printing press had exploded. Characters ranging from the classics like Gatchaman, to the more contemporary Dragonball and Sailor Moon, to even one woman dressed as Nurse Washu from Tenchi Muyo were walking about, stopping to pose for pictures, waving hello to friends, and going in and out of various rooms.
Matt had been to sci-fi conventions before and had known that people liked to dress up for them, but this was something different. Even his research on anime cons prior to leaving did little to prepare him for this. There was different energy here -excitement and anticipation almost crackling in the air. In his mind, he could hear a familiar tune from his childhood, and he closed his eyes. “Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three…” Matt said barely above a whisper.
Do you see?
Can it be?
It’s a world
Of pure Japanimation
Take a look
And you’ll see
Joyous Otaku exultation
It’s so fine
In this line
Waiting for
Our three day registration
What awaits us
Will defy
Explanation
If you want to buy anime
Simply hit the dealers room
I hear it will open soon
Have lots of cash on hand?
Watch it all
Go vroom…
There is no
Life I know
That compares with
Pure Japanimation
Sailor suits
And colored hair
In every
Direction.
If you want to watch anime
Simply look at any screen here
Sub and dub fans will both cheer
And Friday night’s the big
Eva Movie
Premiere
There is no
Life I know
That compares with
Pure Japanimation
Being here
I now see
Where I truly
Wish to be…
Can it be?
It’s a world
Of pure Japanimation
Take a look
And you’ll see
Joyous Otaku exultation
It’s so fine
In this line
Waiting for
Our three day registration
What awaits us
Will defy
Explanation
If you want to buy anime
Simply hit the dealers room
I hear it will open soon
Have lots of cash on hand?
Watch it all
Go vroom…
There is no
Life I know
That compares with
Pure Japanimation
Sailor suits
And colored hair
In every
Direction.
If you want to watch anime
Simply look at any screen here
Sub and dub fans will both cheer
And Friday night’s the big
Eva Movie
Premiere
There is no
Life I know
That compares with
Pure Japanimation
Being here
I now see
Where I truly
Wish to be…
“Matt, are you… humming?” Lina asked, giving him an odd look.
Matt snapped alert, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. "I’m sorry, what?"
"Humming?" Lina asked again.
"Was I? Sorry, must’ve zoned out there for a moment. Come on, let's get our badges," Matt said, to which the other two nodded and began to head down the steps. Matt shook his head a few times. Now, where the hell did THAT come from? Matt asked himself, still confused.
Meanwhile, in the deep recesses of Matt's subconscious, a penguin wearing a purple top hat and coat, along with an entire penguin symphony orchestra, all fresh from a recent holiday, gave a bow to an entire theatre full of well-dressed penguins who were applauding their performance. The penguin in the top hat caught a bouquet of roses and fish thrown his way and proceeded to take another bow.
Back outside of Matt's subconscious, Matt felt a tap on his shoulder. It was John, who grinned and said, “Hey, Matt.”
“Yes?”
“Now, we have arrived at Otakon."
After a rather lengthy wait in the registration line for their badges, the trio walked about the convention levels, taking in the early sights and sounds of the convention. As they walked, John and Lina were stopped for photo requests by other convention attendees.
Matt, who had decided to stick with John and Lina for time being, politely stood off to the side, checking the contents of the plastic bag the con staffer gave him as she handed him his laminated badge. Inside were a printed schedule, a floor map, a program book and about a dozen or so promotional fliers for anime distributors and retailers.
Matt studied his convention badge. It was laminated and a small chain was looped through a small hole in the upper left corner. On it was a picture of Asuka Langley Soyru wearing her form-hugging red plugsuit, which had been one of the six picture choices available for the badges this year.
From what Matt could tell, the characters available for the badge pictures were chosen based on various things going on at the con, such as specific events or guests. Matt, being a fan of Evangelion, chose the Asuka badge. After looking through the program, Matt assumed Asuka was an option because her English voice actress was a guest this year and the con was also showing a special viewing of The End of Evangelion, which was rumored to be finally getting its American release in the not too distant future.
“So, where to first?” Matt asked when John and Lina were finished.
“Well, the dealers room will be opening in a few hours, so the line is going to start building soon. Me and Lina are thinking of heading there first,” John stated as he replaced his badge over his head because he had taken it off for the photos.
“Well, I think I’ll stick with you two for a little while at least, if that’s okay with you,” Matt said.
“Sure, the more the merrier,” Lina said with a smile.
“Hey! Is that Jinnai?!” a voice shouted from above.
John instinctively looked around and gave a hearty laugh when he saw the source. “Danny! Dommi! I didn’t know you two were coming!”
From up above, looking down over the atrium railing, was a Asian man in his early twenties with his hair tied in a ponytail and a young woman with dark brunette hair. They gave an enthusiastic wave and then made their way toward a nearby escalator.
When the new pair had joined the old trio, the man gave John a hearty pat on the back while Lina and the woman, identified as “Dommi”, gave each other a warm embrace. “I didn’t know you guys were going to be here. You should’ve told us!” Danny said.
“I did! I posted on the mailing list that me and Lina were coming along with Jay. Didn’t you see it?” John asked.
“Oh, that’s on me, man. Between my job and school, I’ve barely had time to sleep, let alone keep up with the mailing list. You should’ve emailed me directly,” Danny said, slightly embarrassed.
“I hear ya,” John said with a sympathetic nod.
“Mailing list?” Matt asked, feeling slightly left out.
“Oh Danny, Dommi, this is Matt. He’s crashing with us. He’s a friend of ours from back in Massachusetts,” John introduced.
“Hi,” Danny said extending a hand.
“Hello,” Matt responded, shaking first Danny’s and then Dommi’s hands. “So, you’re all part of a mailing list?”
“Cruel Angels Mailing List. It sorta came together on a whim after the last con. We all met last February at Katsucon and we started swapping emails and we ended up forming the list to help everyone plan cons and stuff,” Dommi explained.
“Do you know who else is here?” Danny asked.
John nodded. “Well, Chuck, Johnny, Kris, Mike, Val and Terry should all be here by this evening. Khourey, Jen, Danny T, Holly, and Steph weren’t able to make it. Johnny, Chuck, Kris, and Mike are going to be in our sketch for Saturday’s masquerade.”
“Sweet! Lookin’ forward to it. Well, we’re going to see if we can find any of the others. We’ll see you around,” Danny said, and with a wave, he and Dommi departed.
John, Lina, and Matt started walking again. John checked his map and pointed in the direction of the dealers room.
“So, you guys got a pretty big group of con friends?” Matt asked.
Lina gestured with a tilt of her hand and a nod. “It’s kinda like a snowball rolling down hill. Some of the members we know more than others. John and I met Kris and Mike first cause they were doing the couple’s cosplay thing, too. Through them we met Chuck and Johnny, and through them we met Danny, Dommi, and the others, and it just kinda kept building from there,”
“Still, to form an entire mailing list after one con, that’s pretty incredible,” Matt said, feeling a little like an outsider.
Lina noticed this and gave Matt another smile. “Just wait, Matt. I think you’ll be surprised. By the time this weekend is over, you probably won’t just bringing back some anime merchandise. You’ll probably be bringing back a few new friendships.”
Matt gave her a doubtful look, shrugged, and turned to John for a second opinion.
John grinned. “Dude, you know I’m never going to go against her in a discussion. If she says you’re going to make new friends, you’re probably going to make new friends.”
“I still doubt it, I’m not going to be out there grabbing attention like you guys.”
“Think the snowball is trying? It just sorta happens,” Lina stated confidently. She then gave her head a light shake, clearing the hair of her pink wig out of her eyes.
“In any case, speaking of anime merchandise, let’s get into the line for the dealers room before it gets so long that it’s outside.” John stated, picking up his walking pace.
Matt turned to Lina and asked nervously, “Outside?”
“He’s kidding,” Lina reassured. Then, after a pregnant pause, she added, “I think.”
This line was not so fine. Matt had been standing in it for two hours now and while semantics were no longer killing him, anticipation and his feet were doing a fair job of it.
Matt rocked back and forth on his heels and toes, trying to ease the pressure. It wasn’t helping. He then looked back to John and Lina who were standing behind him in line and asked, “Is it going to be this bad all weekend?”
John shook his head, his red Touga wig flopping in front of his left eye. “No, it’ll be much easier to get in later today or tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then, why are we standing here waiting for it open?” Matt asked incredulously.
“Because getting in when it first opens means you get a crack at harder to find merchandise, like rare art books and CD box sets. The dealers don’t exactly keep huge stocks of that stuff, so once that stuff is gone, it most likely won’t be there for the rest of the weekend, unless a dealer happens to be local and also happens to make trips back their store for additional merchandise,” John explained.
Matt nodded in understanding. “Ah.”
Lina looked up from her program. “I’m sorry, Matt, we should’ve asked if there was anything you were looking for. We’re hunting down some hard to find CD’s and there’s an art book I saw online that I want to see if I can track down here so I don’t have to pay international shipping costs. If you’re not looking for anything particularly rare and you want to go explore the con before coming back when the line’s more manageable, we can meet up later.”
Matt shook his head. “No, I’m good now that I understand. How much longer till it opens?”
Suddenly there was loud cheer from up at the front of the line. “I’d say, off the top my head, right now,” John said with a broad grin. The line began to move steadily toward a set of double doors.
After about ten minutes of moving at a shuffling crawl, they came to the entrance, where two tired-looking staffers in black Otakon staff t-shirts sat. They gave them a cursory glance to see if they were carrying backpacks or large handbags. John held up his laminated badge and Matt did likewise, holding Asuka up for inspection. The staffers nodded and motioned them through the doors.
When they crossed the threshold, they entered another world - a world of eclectic sight, sound, and even smell. At least a dozen different anime theme or Japanese pop songs could be heard blaring throughout the room. Giant displays of anime wallscrolls fluttered ever so slightly from the air-conditioned breeze being pumped into the room. Matt even detected the sugary sweet smells of various Japanese confections and snacks.
Matt just stood there for a moment, unable to decide which direction to move, what to look at, or even what to say. He was in awe.
“So, what do you think?” John asked.
“My god, it’s full of… merchandise,” Matt managed finally state with reverent awe.
“Let’s go shopping,” Lina said with a loud clap of her hands. She turned right and began a circuit around the room. John followed behind her, consulting a handwritten list he had pulled from his pocket.
For a few additional moments, Matt still stood there, awed by where he was. “So… beautiful…” was all he managed to mutter before Lina came back for him and helped him get moving again.
Matt snapped alert, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. "I’m sorry, what?"
"Humming?" Lina asked again.
"Was I? Sorry, must’ve zoned out there for a moment. Come on, let's get our badges," Matt said, to which the other two nodded and began to head down the steps. Matt shook his head a few times. Now, where the hell did THAT come from? Matt asked himself, still confused.
Meanwhile, in the deep recesses of Matt's subconscious, a penguin wearing a purple top hat and coat, along with an entire penguin symphony orchestra, all fresh from a recent holiday, gave a bow to an entire theatre full of well-dressed penguins who were applauding their performance. The penguin in the top hat caught a bouquet of roses and fish thrown his way and proceeded to take another bow.
Back outside of Matt's subconscious, Matt felt a tap on his shoulder. It was John, who grinned and said, “Hey, Matt.”
“Yes?”
“Now, we have arrived at Otakon."
After a rather lengthy wait in the registration line for their badges, the trio walked about the convention levels, taking in the early sights and sounds of the convention. As they walked, John and Lina were stopped for photo requests by other convention attendees.
Matt, who had decided to stick with John and Lina for time being, politely stood off to the side, checking the contents of the plastic bag the con staffer gave him as she handed him his laminated badge. Inside were a printed schedule, a floor map, a program book and about a dozen or so promotional fliers for anime distributors and retailers.
Matt studied his convention badge. It was laminated and a small chain was looped through a small hole in the upper left corner. On it was a picture of Asuka Langley Soyru wearing her form-hugging red plugsuit, which had been one of the six picture choices available for the badges this year.
From what Matt could tell, the characters available for the badge pictures were chosen based on various things going on at the con, such as specific events or guests. Matt, being a fan of Evangelion, chose the Asuka badge. After looking through the program, Matt assumed Asuka was an option because her English voice actress was a guest this year and the con was also showing a special viewing of The End of Evangelion, which was rumored to be finally getting its American release in the not too distant future.
“So, where to first?” Matt asked when John and Lina were finished.
“Well, the dealers room will be opening in a few hours, so the line is going to start building soon. Me and Lina are thinking of heading there first,” John stated as he replaced his badge over his head because he had taken it off for the photos.
“Well, I think I’ll stick with you two for a little while at least, if that’s okay with you,” Matt said.
“Sure, the more the merrier,” Lina said with a smile.
“Hey! Is that Jinnai?!” a voice shouted from above.
John instinctively looked around and gave a hearty laugh when he saw the source. “Danny! Dommi! I didn’t know you two were coming!”
From up above, looking down over the atrium railing, was a Asian man in his early twenties with his hair tied in a ponytail and a young woman with dark brunette hair. They gave an enthusiastic wave and then made their way toward a nearby escalator.
When the new pair had joined the old trio, the man gave John a hearty pat on the back while Lina and the woman, identified as “Dommi”, gave each other a warm embrace. “I didn’t know you guys were going to be here. You should’ve told us!” Danny said.
“I did! I posted on the mailing list that me and Lina were coming along with Jay. Didn’t you see it?” John asked.
“Oh, that’s on me, man. Between my job and school, I’ve barely had time to sleep, let alone keep up with the mailing list. You should’ve emailed me directly,” Danny said, slightly embarrassed.
“I hear ya,” John said with a sympathetic nod.
“Mailing list?” Matt asked, feeling slightly left out.
“Oh Danny, Dommi, this is Matt. He’s crashing with us. He’s a friend of ours from back in Massachusetts,” John introduced.
“Hi,” Danny said extending a hand.
“Hello,” Matt responded, shaking first Danny’s and then Dommi’s hands. “So, you’re all part of a mailing list?”
“Cruel Angels Mailing List. It sorta came together on a whim after the last con. We all met last February at Katsucon and we started swapping emails and we ended up forming the list to help everyone plan cons and stuff,” Dommi explained.
“Do you know who else is here?” Danny asked.
John nodded. “Well, Chuck, Johnny, Kris, Mike, Val and Terry should all be here by this evening. Khourey, Jen, Danny T, Holly, and Steph weren’t able to make it. Johnny, Chuck, Kris, and Mike are going to be in our sketch for Saturday’s masquerade.”
“Sweet! Lookin’ forward to it. Well, we’re going to see if we can find any of the others. We’ll see you around,” Danny said, and with a wave, he and Dommi departed.
John, Lina, and Matt started walking again. John checked his map and pointed in the direction of the dealers room.
“So, you guys got a pretty big group of con friends?” Matt asked.
Lina gestured with a tilt of her hand and a nod. “It’s kinda like a snowball rolling down hill. Some of the members we know more than others. John and I met Kris and Mike first cause they were doing the couple’s cosplay thing, too. Through them we met Chuck and Johnny, and through them we met Danny, Dommi, and the others, and it just kinda kept building from there,”
“Still, to form an entire mailing list after one con, that’s pretty incredible,” Matt said, feeling a little like an outsider.
Lina noticed this and gave Matt another smile. “Just wait, Matt. I think you’ll be surprised. By the time this weekend is over, you probably won’t just bringing back some anime merchandise. You’ll probably be bringing back a few new friendships.”
Matt gave her a doubtful look, shrugged, and turned to John for a second opinion.
John grinned. “Dude, you know I’m never going to go against her in a discussion. If she says you’re going to make new friends, you’re probably going to make new friends.”
“I still doubt it, I’m not going to be out there grabbing attention like you guys.”
“Think the snowball is trying? It just sorta happens,” Lina stated confidently. She then gave her head a light shake, clearing the hair of her pink wig out of her eyes.
“In any case, speaking of anime merchandise, let’s get into the line for the dealers room before it gets so long that it’s outside.” John stated, picking up his walking pace.
Matt turned to Lina and asked nervously, “Outside?”
“He’s kidding,” Lina reassured. Then, after a pregnant pause, she added, “I think.”
This line was not so fine. Matt had been standing in it for two hours now and while semantics were no longer killing him, anticipation and his feet were doing a fair job of it.
Matt rocked back and forth on his heels and toes, trying to ease the pressure. It wasn’t helping. He then looked back to John and Lina who were standing behind him in line and asked, “Is it going to be this bad all weekend?”
John shook his head, his red Touga wig flopping in front of his left eye. “No, it’ll be much easier to get in later today or tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then, why are we standing here waiting for it open?” Matt asked incredulously.
“Because getting in when it first opens means you get a crack at harder to find merchandise, like rare art books and CD box sets. The dealers don’t exactly keep huge stocks of that stuff, so once that stuff is gone, it most likely won’t be there for the rest of the weekend, unless a dealer happens to be local and also happens to make trips back their store for additional merchandise,” John explained.
Matt nodded in understanding. “Ah.”
Lina looked up from her program. “I’m sorry, Matt, we should’ve asked if there was anything you were looking for. We’re hunting down some hard to find CD’s and there’s an art book I saw online that I want to see if I can track down here so I don’t have to pay international shipping costs. If you’re not looking for anything particularly rare and you want to go explore the con before coming back when the line’s more manageable, we can meet up later.”
Matt shook his head. “No, I’m good now that I understand. How much longer till it opens?”
Suddenly there was loud cheer from up at the front of the line. “I’d say, off the top my head, right now,” John said with a broad grin. The line began to move steadily toward a set of double doors.
After about ten minutes of moving at a shuffling crawl, they came to the entrance, where two tired-looking staffers in black Otakon staff t-shirts sat. They gave them a cursory glance to see if they were carrying backpacks or large handbags. John held up his laminated badge and Matt did likewise, holding Asuka up for inspection. The staffers nodded and motioned them through the doors.
When they crossed the threshold, they entered another world - a world of eclectic sight, sound, and even smell. At least a dozen different anime theme or Japanese pop songs could be heard blaring throughout the room. Giant displays of anime wallscrolls fluttered ever so slightly from the air-conditioned breeze being pumped into the room. Matt even detected the sugary sweet smells of various Japanese confections and snacks.
Matt just stood there for a moment, unable to decide which direction to move, what to look at, or even what to say. He was in awe.
“So, what do you think?” John asked.
“My god, it’s full of… merchandise,” Matt managed finally state with reverent awe.
“Let’s go shopping,” Lina said with a loud clap of her hands. She turned right and began a circuit around the room. John followed behind her, consulting a handwritten list he had pulled from his pocket.
For a few additional moments, Matt still stood there, awed by where he was. “So… beautiful…” was all he managed to mutter before Lina came back for him and helped him get moving again.
Zankoku na tenshi no you ni
Shonen yo, shinwa ni nare...
Shonen yo, shinwa ni nare...
For the twelfth time that afternoon, “Cruel Angel’s Thesis” could be heard from the PA speakers mounted near the DJ table as Matt walked into the Karaoke Lounge that had been set up on the level below the Hyatt Regency’s lobby. The room contained several large round tables with about ten seats placed around each. Since the con’s opening, the lounge had become a de facto place to stop, have a sit, and take a break from the rest of the con, even if you had no intention of getting up, going to the front of the room, and singing.
Matt looked around for a moment, seeing that several of the tables were occupied with groups of would-be singers and other general con-goers. He then spied an empty table off in a far off corner away from the speakers’ deluge of music. Matt set his plastic bags down and crashed down on a chair. On the table were a couple half-full pitchers of ice water and several plastic cups. Matt took one such cup, assuming it was unused as it was part of a small upside down stack, and poured himself a cup of icy cold refreshment. It wasn’t ice tea, but it was cold and wet and that was pretty nice right now. He took off his black fedora, briefly fanned himself with it, then returned it to on top of his head. Even with the hotel’s air-conditioning, the humidity was beginning to intrude itself on the convention.
It was Saturday afternoon and the con had settled into its groove. The initial burst of excitement and ecstasy that had been set off by the opening ceremonies and the dealers room opening, had now subsided into a sense of nerd contentment, buzzing in the air like so much background noise. People were out and about, enjoying the things that they traveled to Arlington to enjoy – socializing, watching anime, cosplaying, and commerce. Maybe especially commerce.
Matt sipped his water contemplatively. He eyed his bags and sighed. This place… this place was pure evil. Well, it was to his willpower, at least. He had come back up from the bottom level where the dealers room was and had just completed his fifth circuit through the brightly colored wallet-slaying nirvana. Row upon row, table after glorious table, each overflowing with anime temptations, both domestic and imported. VHS tapes, OST’s and other CD’s, model kits, art books, and non-flipped imported collections of bound manga! It was all there, alluringly calling him back again and again.
Devastatingly, he couldn’t buy too much of it. Well, he could, but really, he shouldn’t. The reason wasn’t even that he didn’t have the money for such frivolity. In fact, he actually had a rather large cache of, well, cash for just the purpose of buying anime merchandise. That money, however, was destined to be spent elsewhere. That money was meant for Akihabara, and in only two short weeks, he’d be there. Now, if only he could resist the wiles of that damned dealers room for another day and a half.
Matt reached into one of his bags and pulled out three translated paperback manga collections. He then removed two subtitled VHS tapes from another. Yes, he was saving himself for Akihabara, but that didn’t mean he planned to deprive himself completely. After all, he wasn’t made of stone. Besides, he had already managed to rationalize this purchase to himself. The books were for the long flight to Japan. As for the tapes, well, he was going to have to spend three days in Iowa before NOAC, so he obviously was going to need some entertainment. That was only logical.
That sound reasoning was also how he justified his other four purchases of manga and videos during his prior four trips into the dealers room. Of course, those justifications only held water if he actually managed to locate a VCR for his hotel room while in Iowa, and also if he had the willpower to resist reading the books before he got on the before mentioned plane. Matt sighed again. If it wasn’t one temptation, it was another.
“Mind if I take a seat?” a voice asked.
Matt looked up from his purchases. Standing a few feet away next to one of the seats was a ninja. The ninja was dressed in a black shinobi outfit, though it was rather elaborate and probably not very historically accurate. Combined with the black pants and top were plastic shin guards as well as arm gauntlets, both painted to appear as steel. A multitude of belts and straps were wrapped around the ninja’s arms, legs, and chest, each holding various wooden prop shuriken, throwing daggers, and other small weaponry. The outfit was topped off with a large black hood and black face mask that obscured the identity of the wearer except for a few locks of blonde hair that dangled lazily in front of a pair of steel blue eyes. Matt noted that the ninja was relatively tall, had a slim build, almost gangly even, relatively thin arms and legs, and with almost no real definition in terms of either muscle tone or curves.
“Sure, take any one you want,” Matt said with a nod and gesture of his hand.
The ninja took a seat two chairs away from Matt and sighed in relief. “Thanks. These sandals can be murder.” Due to the mask, the ninja’s voice was muffled slightly, but Matt definitely heard a countertenor or contralto quality in it. He just wasn’t sure which it was.
Matt nodded and returned to examining the books. After a few moments of silence, the ninja broached him again. “Hey, mind if I ask you a question?”
Matt set the books down and shrugged. “Sure. What did you need?”
The ninja appeared to be studying Matt for a moment and then asked, “What are you from?”
Matt blinked dumbly. “What?”
“What series? You’re not Zenigata or Jigen, at least I don’t think so. I’m guessing something from the ‘70s judging by the fedora, but I’m honestly at a loss.”
Matt blinked again. “I’m not following you.”
“Your cosplay. What series are you cosplaying from?” The ninja asked.
“I’m not… I’m not cosplaying,” Matt stammered, surprised.
It was the ninja’s turn to blink. “Really?”
“Why do you sound so shocked by that answer?” Matt asked defensively.
“It’s August in D.C. and it’s like ninety degrees outside in the shade. You’re wearing a dress shirt, tie, black trench coat, and black fedora. I assumed that no sane person would dress like that in this heat unless they were committed to their cosplay,” the ninja answered matter-of-factly.
“Says the ninja covered head to toe in black in same heat,” Matt answered dryly.
“At least my outfit is mostly cotton. It breathes. You gotta be sweltering in that getup,” the ninja countered.
“You get used to it,” Matt stated defiantly. He then raised an eyebrow and looked at the ninja with dead seriousness. “Besides, who said I was sane?” A moment later, he couldn’t help himself but crack a grin.
The ninja began to chuckle. Matt found it infectious and joined in. Soon the pair were laughing harder than they had intended, bringing a few glares from people at the front of the room trying to listen to the current singers belt out “Kon’ya Wa Hurricane!” yet again. The pair settled themselves quickly and regained their composure.
The ninja tried to stifle further giggling. “Sorry, about that. Seriously though, you’re not just messing with me, are you? You’re really not cosplaying as anything?”
Matt politely shook his head. “It’s okay. No, I’m not messing with you. The only thing I’m cosplaying as is Matt Atanian, Massachusetts Otaku.”
The ninja nodded and extended a hand to Matt. “Chris Romanov, San Franciscan ninja.”
Matt took the hand and gave it a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m assuming that’s your real name and not a character I’m unfamiliar with.”
“Yeah. I’m not brave enough to try cosplaying in public as an actual character, though some of my club members keeping asking me to join in their group projects. I told them that a ninja outfit was as far as I would go. I mean, seriously, some of those outfits defy physics, plus who wants their picture plastered all over the internet? At least as a ninja, I can claim plausible deniability that any pictures that might show up later are actually of me,” Chris explained.
Matt nodded in understanding and in mild surprise at the candid revelation. “Is this your first con?”
“On this side of the Mississippi. Our club has done a few smaller ones back home, but this is our first time on the east coast. You?”
“I’ve done a few sci-fi cons before, but this is my first anime con,” Matt answered, trying to hide his embarrassment at being a relatively newbie.
Chris chuckled a little, good-naturedly. “What do you think so far?”
“Expensive and too damn tempting,” Matt admitted.
Chris laughed. “Yeah, that about sums it up. You couldn’t imagine what it was like trying to wrangle cheap airfare for five people. With that, badges, and hotel, our club’s budget for next year is already shot, thought that’s probably not going to be a problem for too much longer. You here by yourself?”
Matt shook his head. “No, I got a ride down and am sharing a room with two friends from back home. Another friend was supposed to come down with us, but he had to cancel at the last minute.”
“Where’re your friends at?” Chris asked.
Matt shrugged. “They’re off doing the couple cosplay thing. They’re showing off their Jinnai and Deva costumes and meeting up with their sketch group for tonight’s cosplay competition.”
Chris arched an eyebrow. “Your friend wouldn’t happen to have a really convincing Jinnai laugh, would he?”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “Yeah… why?”
“I think I saw them about fifteen minutes ago downstairs. Your friend had about fifty cosplayers bowing at his feet as he demanded their unwavering loyalty as his new army of devoted slaves. He’s good,” Chris answered.
Matt chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Well, he’ll be at that for about another forty-five minutes to an hour. I really wish Jason would’ve come. It would’ve been nice to hang out with someone I knew while the crazy couple got their cosplay on.” Matt then realized what he said in front of his conversational companion. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like I didn’t want to talk to you.”
Chris waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, It’s cool. I got what you meant. Why’d your friend bail on the trip?”
Matt contemplated whether to answer before deciding it was okay. “He and his girlfriend broke up. Kinda messily from what I hear. We thought he should’ve come, try to forget his troubles a little, y’know? He said he didn’t want to forget his problems and we let it be at that.”
“Ah, I can relate a little to unhappy endings,” Chris said a nod.
Matt caught a definite hint of something there, and decided to try and change the subject. “So, you’re here with your anime club?”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. Samuel Clemens High Anime Club. Current membership: five members. Chris Romanov, president. Go Fightin’ Prospectors. Rah Rah Rah,” Chris said flatly.
“That’s some school spirit there,” Matt commented.
“They’ve tried to kill our club ever since it was founded. Our old president used to have knock down drag out shouting matches with the faculty every few months when they tried to take away our club status and give our space to the Knitting Club or the Macroeconomics Club or something ‘more educational’ as they love to put it,” Chris explained while performing the “finger quotes” gesture.
“Sounds like your old president was pretty passionate about the club,” Matt commented.
Chris nodded. “Yeah, she was. When we were both freshmen, she helped found the club. Next thing I knew, she was dragging me off to meet the other members and before I could say no, I was one of them. She’s practically unstoppable when she has her mind set on something.
“We’ve never been a big club, but we’ve worked hard to make it respectable, actually trying to promote an understanding of Japan through their pop culture. Yeah, we do events like cosplay photo shoots, video game tourneys, and anime viewing parties, but we do that alongside things like tea ceremonies, kabuki viewings, and even calligraphy.
“Still, it doesn’t matter. The damned teachers still label us as ‘those weird kids who watch the big eyed, crazy hair cartoons’ and then they try to disband the club. Meanwhile, anyone who can run fast, throw a ball, or hit someone gets carte blanche to do whatever they want. Yeah, cause that’s reeeeeeeaaaaaal educational there,” Chris said bitterly.
Chris’ eyes closed and a sigh escaped through the face mask. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant there. It’s just I kinda get myself worked up sometimes about it. I really shouldn’t focus on that while I’m here. This is supposed to be a good time for the club. Probably the last hurrah.”
Matt’s expression changed to one of concern. “What do you mean?”
Chris sighed. “It’s no secret that Megumi, our former president I mean, well, she was pretty much all that stood between the our club’s continued existence and oblivion. I don’t know how she was able to do it, but she always got the school to back down from shutting us down, and we kept going. School starts again in a few weeks and, as president, I have to make the applications for the club for another year and for another year, they’ll try to deny it. Without her making their lives hell, I’m pretty sure they’ll win.”
“Wait, I thought you said she founded the club when you were both freshman. Isn’t she still in the club? Why can't she still help you fight for the club?” Matt asked, confused.
“She moved away last winter.” Chris then went silent and Matt swore he thought he saw a tear well up in Chris’s eye.
Matt squirmed a little. “I’m sorry. If this is an uncomfortable subject, we can talk about something else.”
Chris gave a few shakes of the head. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Were you… close?” Matt asked cautiously.
Chris sighed. “We were. But then she told us she was moving away, and it didn’t…” Chris sighed again and looked away, “It didn’t end well.”
“That’s… that’s pretty… um… Sorry,” Matt managed to stammer out.
Chris gave Matt a confused look and then gasped. “Oh… wow. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I mean, geez, I just met you and here I am dumping all my problems on the table and into your lap. I’ve just felt so comfortable sitting here talking that I didn’t even think twice about it. You must think I’m like some kind of freak.”
Matt waved his hands in negative. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay. I kind of understand what you mean. It’s nice to sit here and geek out a little without feeling like you’re getting weird looks every two minutes. It kind of puts you at ease, like you’re surrounded by old friends, even if most of them are strangers.”
Chris nodded, still slightly embarrassed. “But still, I am sorry.”
“It’s okay, Chris,” Matt reassured. He then returned to the previous subject. “Have you heard from her since she left?”
Chris gave a sad shake of the head. “No. I thought about emailing her a few times, but…” Chris then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I see,” Matt said with a slight nod.
Chris then chuckled quietly. “Actually, she’s kinda the reason we’re even here.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She always said she wanted to organize a club trip to one of the big cons away from home. She kept saying that she would do it before she graduated. Of course, after she left, I found out that she named me her successor as club president so I guess that task along with a host of other things fell to me, though not without its own drama, let me tell you.
“Eventually, I got everyone together and said that with everything that may happen with the club come the next school year, if we’re going to go out, then we’re going to go out on a high note. We worked to raise the money, get the permissions, and somehow we made it here. She might not be here with us, but at least we can say that we accomplished what she wanted the club to do.”
“Good for you guys,” Matt said sincerely, at which Chris nodded appreciatively. “You think you guys might be able to save the club?”
Chris gave a half-hearted shrug. “To say I’m pessimistic is an understatement. Unless we pull off some sort of sponsorship from a prominent faculty member or a business in the community or something else, I think they’ll axe the club. I’m not going to give up the ship, though. I’m going to do my best and fight for the club. That’s what she’d do. Maybe a miracle can happen.”
“Don’t discount miracles. I’ve seen some pretty impossible stuff over the last year,” Matt encouraged.
Chris nodded again. After a moment, Chris’ eyes betrayed an inspired expression. “Hey, you got an online presence?”
“You mean like email and stuff? Yeah, I do,” Matt answered.
Chris pulled out a folded up flyer that was stuffed in the outfit’s pockets, proceeded to unfold it, and then began writing on the back. “We do a newsletter for the club. It’s mostly about the club and our activities, but we also do write ups on new shows and stuff about Japan. I’d like send ya a few issues and maybe keep in touch to let you know what happens, is that cool?”
Matt nodded. “I’d like that, actually.” Matt accepted the paper that had Chris’s email address on it. He tore a clean portion of paper off the bottom and began writing himself. First he wrote his email address. After a few moments of staring at it, he then nervously decided to write an additional web address. He handed the new scrap to Chris.
“[email protected]?” Chris stated for confirmation. Matt nodded in affirmation. Chris then looked back the paper. “What’s this address marked as ‘NGBS?’”
“Ah, that. I don’t know if you’re interested, but I do some fan-fic in my spare time. If you like that sort of thing, I’d love any feedback that you or your club could give,” Matt said, slightly embarrassed.
“Neat. We love fan-fics. One of our members, Casey, writes a Tenchi Muyo ‘what-if’ series over at fanfiction.net. What’s yours about?”
“Um… Neon Genesis Boy Scouts,” Matt admitted after a long pause.
“Sounds… interesting. I’ll be sure to give it a long look over,” Chris promised. A moment later, Matt watched as a beautiful teenager with a long bright red wig and a blue and white sailor fuku outfit with black arm gauntlets walked over to the table and up to Chris’ seat.
“Chris, there you are. I was looking for you,” the newcomer, who Matt recognized as dressed as A-ko Megami from Project A-ko, chided. A-ko proceeded to take a seat in Chris’ lap, then a moment later, turned Chris’s head away from Matt. Matt realized that Chris’ face mask was being tugged down by A-ko and he then saw why – A-ko gave Chris a kiss, on the lips presumably. When it was finished, A-ko stood up from Chris’ lap, grinning broadly and devilishly triumphant.
“Dammit, Sam!” Chris stated with an annoyed tone, while quickly standing up in surprise, fixing the face mask feverishly while doing so, and returning it to its proper placement before turning back toward Matt. Matt could see obvious reddening starting to form on Chris’ face. “Matt, this is my very um… affectionate friend, Sam,” Chris said, gesturing toward A-ko and trying to not appear flustered.
Matt stood up and politely extended a hand toward Sam. “Hello.”
Sam walked over to Matt, beamed, and cheerfully said, “Hiya!” Sam looked down at Matt’s hand, still extended , then looked back up at Matt and grinned. “Here, hold this a second…”
A moment later, Sam kicked a leg upward in front of Matt, while wrapping both arms around the back of his neck. Matt instinctively caught the leg, embarrassingly realizing that the A-ko costume’s socks only went up to the knee and he was holding smooth, bare thigh. Sam then planted a kiss on Matt’s left cheek.
“SAM!” Chris gasped, aghast.
Sam twirled away and laughed. Giving a mock pouting expression, Sam groaned, “You’re supposed to take a picture when I do that, Chris! It’s no fun if you don’t do your part!” The teenager then casually took a seat, satisfied at the reaction the kiss had garnered.
“I’m president of the club, not your accomplice!” Chris stammered loudly. “Don’t involve me in your little games! AND Especially don’t involve total strangers!” Chris then turned to Matt. “I’m so sorry, Matt. Sam is… well, Sam is… um…”
Matt retook his seat. “It okay. No harm done,” he said, still wearing a slightly stunned expression.
Sam grinned. “See, Chris, no harm done.” Sam said with an innocent eyelash flutter.
Chris sighed in defeat and retook the seat next to Sam, making sure to be firmly between the teenager and Matt. “Sam, what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to go to the Kodocha viewing downstairs with Terry and Casey,” Chris asked tiredly.
Sam suddenly jumped up and turned to Chris, excitedly. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Chris, I got like big, big news. Like crazy big! Like the biggest big thing in the history of bigness.”
“Sounds big,” Matt commented offhandedly.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?” Chris asked, still annoyed.
“Well, I had heard rumblings Friday in the halls and I decided to investigate. Turns out that they have DBC out here in D.C., too! It’s going down at 2 AM tonight!”
“What’s DBC? Is that like a new series or something?” Matt asked, grabbing his schedule from one of his bags and not seeing anything named DBC at 2 AM listed in any of the viewing rooms.”
Sam looked at Matt with narrowed eyes. “Sorry, we can’t talk about it. We’re sworn to secrecy. Come on, Chris, we gotta tell Vikki, Terry, and Casey! We have to defend the club’s honor!” Sam then started pulling on Chris’ arms like an excited child.
Chris looked to Matt. “Sorry, looks like I’m being summoned to go be presidential. It was really cool meeting you, Matt.”
“It was nice meeting you. I hope everything turns out okay for your club,” Matt said sincerely.
“Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate that.”
“I hope we run into each other again before the con ends,” Matt said.
Chris stopped and first looked to Sam, then turned to Matt, as if studying him. “I think we will. If something happens, however, and we don’t, I’ll email you as soon as we get back to San Fran to I’ll send you those old newsletters.” With that Sam dragged Chris away, leaving Matt alone at the table once more.
Matt returned to his bag of purchased booty and wondered if he’d be breaking his self-promise if he only read just one chapter. Perhaps, maybe two? His concentration was broken by a loud commotion entering the room. Matt looked up from his manga to see what it was.
Several con-goers in various costumes marched into the room, loudly chanting “JIN-NAI! JIN-NAI! JIN-NAI!” Behind them, several more cosplayers entered, carrying John upon their shoulders. John gave an evil cackle as he sat upon his human palanquin.
“Hi, Matt,” a voice said behind him.
Matt whipped his head around and saw Queen Deva of the Bugrom, or rather Lina dressed as Queen Deva of the Bugrom, standing there. She must have came in through the door on the other side of room to avoid the mass of people who had converged at the front of the room. “Lina, hey. What’s going on?”
“We’ve lost him,” she said sadly. “He belongs to them now. Or rather, I guess it’s more accurate to say they belong to him. We might never get him come home at this rate.”
“Having fun, then?” Matt asked.
Lina took a seat and poured herself a cup of water. After a long sip, she smiled. “A blast. I guess, I don’t mind sharing him for one more day. But his slaves are NOT coming with us to Ohio. How about you? You having fun?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah. I think I am beginning to understand why John and Jason talk so fondly about conventions.”
Lina nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I didn’t understand it much until they took me to one last February. Now I think I do.” She then gave Matt a smile. “Just wait until the Masquerade.”
“I look forward to it.” A moment later, the room was filled with trademark cackling as John was now standing at the mic stand that had been set up for karaoke. The previous singers had deferred to their new ‘god’, at which point John then broke into “Seifuku-ou Jinnai Katsuhiko” to the raucous approval of the room.
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon on Saturday when Matt would see John and Lina again, albeit very briefly. The Masquerade was not scheduled to begin for another couple hours, so Matt decided to return to the room to drop off his purchases for the day and to take a short breather from the con itself in the quiet sanctity of room 531.
Matt had not had dinner yet, but the plan was for Matt, John, Lina, and several of their mailing list friends was to go catch a late dinner down the street after the Masquerade and awards ceremony were completed. Matt’s stomach rumbled slightly, and he knew he was not going to last that long with only a peanut butter sandwich from six hours earlier tiding him over, so he decided that a quick batch of coffee pot ramen wouldn’t leave him too full for dinner down the road.
As Matt walked down the hall toward their door, he caught a glimpse of John. He was running right at him, carrying a garment bag behind him, and wearing an expression that could be described as “frenzied” at best and “full blown panic mode” at worst.
“HiMattByeMattCan’ttalknowsorry…” was all Matt could make out as John blew past him. Matt stood there for a moment and blinked. He then shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way.
Another moment later, a blur that might have been Lina, also carrying a bulky garment bag and trying to prevent a very beautifully styled lavender wig from falling off the polystyrene head she carried in her other hand. Her conversation was much shorter and it mainly sounded to Matt like “outtawaysorrybyeohmygodwe’re…” before she vanished down the hall and was out of earshot.
Matt again stood in the hall for the moment, blinked a few more times, then once again shrugged his shoulders, and was on his way.
Cosplayers…he thought to himself with an amused shake of his head. He was sure that there was a story behind what he just witnessed. He was also sure that there was a packet of chicken ramen and a container of 4C iced tea powder sitting on the desk in their room. Since he was confident that the former was not immediately forthcoming, he was more than happy to focus on the latter.
Fifteen minutes he was sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk, happily slurping chicken-flavored ramen noodles, calmly sipping perfectly mixed iced tea, and casually flipping through a volume of Mermaid’s Forest.
At this moment life was, it could be said, good.
From what Matt could tell, the Saturday night Masquerade had been a rousing success so far. The costumes were wonderfully crafted and the sketches, for the most part, were well-done with only a few falling flat in the humor department. Matt found himself often switching between amused chuckling and doubling over in his seat from laughing.
Matt was particularly enjoying the sketch he was currently watching for a few reasons. The first reason was that it featured several cosplayers dressed as characters from one of his favorite video game series. He guffawed as several characters, who had been the protagonists in previous installments, were currently making several thinly veiled and rather pointed comments about the most recent installment's protagonist in regards to the ludicrous size of his sword and what that implied about certain other "aspects" of his "personality."
The sketch came to an end when the two female protagonists from the current installment stepped in and tried to defend their spiky-haired friend by loudly proclaiming "Hey, it's not the size of the sword that matters, it's the power of the Limit Break!" The crowd roared with laughter and the cosplayer dressed as poor Cloud was forced to run off stage in mock tears. The lights darkened and the audience applauded heartily and sincerely.
As house lights came back up, the emcee for the evening walked up to the podium that had been set up at the far right side of the stage and spoke into the microphone. An amplified voice came from the speakers to either side of the stage as the applause died down. "Well, now I know what to tell my girlfriend the next time she complains about the size of my 'personality,'" the emcee said with a wry smirk. The audience laughed at that and gave a short round of applause. The emcee waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “That was Final Fantasy Follies. “Next up is El Hazard: The Y2KJ Problem!”
That was the second reason Matt had enjoyed the previous sketch. Having learned the order of sketches from John and Lina after they came back from the rehearsal earlier in the day, he knew that his friends were coming up on stage next, and he was eager to see what they had come up with.
The lights darkened and the applause for the announcement died down, save for a few random laughs, giggles, and one "Woo!"
From out of the darkness, a voice started speaking. Matt recognized it as John’s. “We stand here today on the precipice of a new era. A time of great change and of what some may believe will be cataclysmic shifts in our way of life. To this I say ‘YES!’, for we are not merely on the dawn of a new decade or even a new century, no we are on a dawn of a new Millennium.”
There were a few random cheers, but mostly the audience was in rapt attention. John’s voice began to build to a fevered delivery. “But forget what you know, feeble slaves of mine! For this new era will not be known as ‘Y2K’ as you’re so fond of calling it. No, I say this new era shall be henceforth called ‘Y2KJ’ for today begins the true new millennium, the Katsuhiko Jinnai Millennium!”
A moment later, several strobe lights went off and the houselights came up slowly, revealing John standing, arms spread and his back to the audience, at center stage. Gone was his traditional Jinnai suit. In its place was an entire suit covered with blue sequins, complete with a silver dress shirt, and red sequined tie. On his back, in large, white sequined letters were the characters “Y2KJ”.
The audience cheered loudly and John, like the messianic character he was portraying, ate it up. Standing behind him, in stiff attention was Lina, now dressed as the beautifully tragic Ifurita, holding the Power Key Staff that Jason had designed and built for the con.
Matt turned his head to his left and saw Danny and Dommi each clapping and cheering enthusiastically. He had run into them while heading the the line for the Masquerade, and as they were all going out for dinner together afterward, had invited him to join them during the show, which he appreciated as it made the long wait in line much more tolerable by having someone to chat with.
Up on stage, John lowered his arms and took a purposeful step forward. He then broke into one of his longest and most epic patented Jinnai laughs ever. The audience again cheered, trying to egg him on to be louder and even more crazed.
“Hold it right there, Jinnai!” Another voice shouted.
From the left side of the stage, several of John’s friends appeared. Matt had been briefly introduced to them on Friday evening. There was Mike, who was playing the role of Makoto. He was originally supposed to play Fujisawa, but when Jason cancelled, he volunteered to fill in. Playing Fujisawa instead was their friend Chuck, who had managed to find a pretty close replica of his blue track suit. He drunkenly stumbled on stage. Behind him was their friend Val, a beautiful African-American girl who was playing the role of Miz Mishtal.
Mike stepped forward. “You’re not ruling anything today, Jinnai!”
“Oh?” John say evilly. “Well, let’s see what my companion has to say to that, hmmm?”
Lina stepped forward and pointed the business end of the staff at Mike. Mike took a step back. “Ifurita, no! How could you obey that psychopath?!”
John cackled again. “You fools! This is a new and improved Ifurita! This one won’t betray me, even if I lose that stupid staff!”
“What?! How?” Mike asked, shocked.
“Because I registered her and filled out the warranty card!” John then broke into a fresh bout of laughter. The audience for their part laughed at John’s line. John then turned to Lina and ordered, “Now Ifurita, destroy my enemies once and for all!”
Lina, stiffly walked to the front of the stage, turned to Mike, Chuck, and Val and then said, in a monotone voice, “Error finding target file. Abort, Retry, Fail?”
“What?!” John shouted, aghast. “Destroy them!”
Lina again deadpanned, “Error finding target file. Abort, Retry, Fail?” She then slowly turned her head toward John and asked, “Would you like to send an error report?” The audience chuckled.
John stamped his feet in fury and then turned to offstage right and screamed, “Tech Support Slave!”
A moment later, John’s friend Johnny came out, dressed like a member of Best Buy’s famed “Geek Squad” and started looking over Lina, poking her a few times in the arm, tapping her head, making various “hmm’s” and “aha’s.” After a few moments of this, he looked to John. “Yeah… looks like your demon god has to be upgraded to be Y2K compliant. We’re gonna have to take her back to the shop for a few days, probably upgrade her RAM, maybe purge the hard drive. Y’know, tinker around a bit.”
“What?! Are you freakin’ kidding me?! How am I supposed to conquer the new millennium without a demon god!?” John barked.
Johnny put his arms out as a shield. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there chief. We’re gonna set you up with a temporary loaner demon god. Just as good. Should hold you over just fine for a couple days,” Johnny said calmly. He then looked at Lina again and turned back to John. “Maybe a couple weeks. A month, at most.”
John threw up his hands in the air in frustration. “Fine! Send her in! At once, Tech Support slave!”
Johnny went offstage and a moment later reappeared wheeling a mover’s dolly. Riding on it was a girl wearing a red tights, a black and grey tunic, and a long black wig. Johnny unloaded the new girl, whom Matt realized was Mike’s girlfriend, Kris. He then walked over to Lina, lifted her up and placed her on the dolly and wheeled her away. A moment later he walked back over the still unmoving Kris and pretended to ‘wind’ her up with a mockup of her key staff. After winding her up, Kris still didn’t move, so Johnny nudged her with his hip and Kris jumped to life.
“Yes, Master! What is your first order, Master, whom I am belonging to, because you are my master, master,” Kris said, perky and literally bouncing with ditzy excitement and giving a few enthusiastic salutes as the crowd laughed at her antics.
John cackled again and looked to Mike, Chuck, and Val again. “Ifurita Version 2.0, destroy the idiot who always causes me to fail!”
Kris looked to Mike and then back John. “Master, are you sure?”
“Yes, you ditz! Shoot the idiot!” John screamed.
Kris again looked really unsure. “Are you really sure, Master?”
John started jumping up and down, stamping his feet in emphasis. “YES! SHOOT THE IDIOT! SHOOT THE IDIOT! SHOOT THE IDIOT!!!”
Kris shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, you’re the boss, chief.” She then pointed her staff at John. A moment later, more strobes went off from behind the stage, causing the audience to jump in their seats.
John, for his part, sold the “laser blast” like he’d just been shot by a howitzer. He’d flung himself backwards nearly six or seven feet and kicked his legs up in a comical mockery of a death rattle.
Chuck walked over to the “unconscious” John and grabbed him by the back of the collar and started dragging him off the stage. “Maybe you should start planning for Y3KJ because you’ll be spending the next millennium in detention…”
As John was dragged off stage, the lights once again went off.
For a moment there was silence. Another moment passed and the place erupted in thunderous applause and raucous laughter. Even as the lights came back on and the emcee walked back to the podium, the applause continued. The emcee, for his part, tried to continue over the noise. “That sketch was brought to you by Katsuhiko Jinnai, the official despot for the new millennium. Ok, that was El-Hazard: The Y2KJ Problem. Next up is A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Iscandar.
It was a little after midnight when the trio returned to their room. They had just come back from a late dinner at a small diner they had been told about that was off Crystal Drive a few blocks down the road from the hotel. Lina had changed from her Ifurita costume before they headed out, but John was still wearing the spangled suit, blinding everyone who looked his way.
Dinner had been pretty good, even offering items that appealed to Matt and his rather "refined" palate. When they had came back through the hotel lobby, they could hear the pulsing throb of the rave going on some three stories below. After a quick stop at Mike and Kris’ room to retrieve their garment bags, they decided to return to their own room to plan their next move.
John held his garment bag with his left hand and with it slung over his shoulder. In his right hand, he held a beautiful certificate that declared that the CAML cosplay team were in fact the winners of the Best Performance award. They had lost the overall Best in Show prize to the Final Fantasy Follies group, which Matt could understand, seeing as they had a cast of nearly double John’s team and their costumes were quite fantastic. Still, the Best Performance award was nothing to sneeze at. Matt could tell that John and Lina were very proud of it, and he could tell how touched John was when the rest of the team insisted that John keep the award certificate.
“Good meal,” Lina commented.
“Yeah, might have to stop again for dinner Sunday night and try something else off the menu,” John added.
“Great show, guys,” Matt congratulated.
“Thanks, Matt. Glad you enjoyed it. Next year, you’re gonna have to join us up there. Matty, too! And Jay! He can’t be heartbroken forever,” John said.
Matt could only shake his head good-naturedly. “There is not enough money on this earth to get either me or Matty up there in cosplay,” Matt assured.
“What about liquor?” John asked, half-jokingly.
“And how often have you seen either of us drink?” Matt retorted.
“Ooh, I like a challenge,” Lina stated coyly.
“Wait, which are talking about? The liquor or the cosplay?” Matt asked, worriedly.
“Who said anything about ‘or’?” Lina said with a giggle.
“Well, we’ll have at least six months to work on the two of you before Katsucon,” John affirmed.
Matt bit his lip slightly, but said nothing. The three came to their door and were surprised to see a note stuck to their door. Holding it to the door was a yellow sticky note with crudely drawn shuriken on it.
“What’s this?” John asked as he pulled the note down and looked it over. After scanning the entire page, he began read aloud. “To Lord God Jinnai and his guests. You are cordially invited to join our esteemed organization this evening/morning at two in the AM in the Regency Ballroom. This is not actually an invitation and your presence is required. Do not tell anyone of this note. Signed, DBC.”
“DBC?” Lina asked. For a moment, Matt struggled with why that sounded familiar, but was drawing a blank.
“Fans perhaps?” John hypothesized.
“Pushy fans then,” Matt commented.
“Do we have any other plans tonight? I mean there’s the small gathering in Danny and Dommi’s room, but I don’t think that will keep us there all night. I gotta admit, my curiosity is piqued.” John looked to Matt and Lina.
“I’m game,” Lina said with an approving nod. “But if we see any sacrificial altars or hear any chanting, we’re outta there.”
“I’m with her,” Matt added.
“Okay, but if I miss out on a group of scantily clad virginal women who are there to worship me, I’m going to be very cross,” John said with a grin.
“If there’s a group of scantily clad women who are there to worship you, you won’t be the only one who’s cross,” Lina said with a sinister gleam in her eye.
“I retract my previous statement,” John said nervously and then proceeded to walk into their room.
“Good boy,” Lina said as she followed, leaving Matt to close the door behind them.
The Regency Ballroom was quiet. The Saturday night rave had ended an hour earlier. Around the outer edges of the room, stacks of chairs ten high on large metal dollies sat, most likely awaiting hotel staff or teamsters to rebuild Main Events in the morning before Sunday’s events began.
Due to the absence of chairs, the ballroom took on a vast cavernous feel. As Matt entered the room, alongside Lina and John, he mentally noted how much larger the room now felt without a few thousand people crowding in to watch the masquerade.
Matt also noted that they were not alone when the trio walked into the room. There were several other groups of people milling about. Some were dressed in cosplay costumes, including a few who had participated in the masquerade competition. Others were dressed as if they thought the rave to still be ongoing - club gear and glowsticks dangling around their necks, arms, and any number of other places. Most people, however, had chosen to dress casually and comfortably for the evening and were wearing an assortment of jeans, shorts, khakis, and geeky themed t-shirts. John and Lina had both removed their costumes by now and were dressed thusly. Matt was still wearing his shirt, tie, black trench coat, and black fedora.
As Matt looked around, he noticed that there were two moods in the room – either confusion or anticipation. Many people Matt walked by looked slightly unsure what exactly they were doing there. Matt wondered if they too, like his group had, received a mysterious summons from the even more mysterious “DBC.” Others, however, wore the smug expressions of people who were in on some great secret, eagerly waiting for the big reveal.
Matt turned to John and Lina. “So, you guys are in the know when it comes to cons, any idea what this is about?”
John and Lina both shrugged. “Don’t know. Apparently we must’ve done something to earn an invite though,” John hypothesized.
“Like win Best Performance in the Masquerade?” Lina said with a knowing smile and a nudge of the elbow to John.
“Maybe,” John said with a proud grin.
“Well, I hope they tell us soon,” Matt said, trying to stifle a yawn. It was now hitting him how long of a day it had been.
Suddenly, as if dictated by Matt’s request, the lights in the ballroom went out. Murmured concerns could be heard in the blackness. They were quieted by an unusual sound. THONK… THONK… THONK… A rhythmic sound, like the beating of a drum, echoing throughout the room. The sound of rubber and air hitting the ground over and over. THONK… THONK… THONK…
Suddenly the lights came back on. Matt blinked a few times, his eyes readjusting to the light. When his vision came back into clear focus, Matt saw the source of the noise. Standing on the stage was a young man in in his mid to late twenties wearing black cargo shorts and a black T-shirt with the image of Rei Ayanami on the front. In his left hand, he held what appeared to be a black rag or towel. With his right hand, he continued to bounce a blood red rubber ball. The THONK… THONK… THONK… sound continued to echo throughout the room until he palmed the ball and forced it to stop bouncing.
The man panned the ballroom from his place on the stage and smiled. He held both hands out, like an emcee or a circus ringmaster and loudly proclaimed, “Honored Alumni and invited initiates, Welcome.” He then paused and savored the moment before continuing, “To Dodge Ball Club.”
This was followed by a few “Yeahs!” “Yays!” and even a “Woooooooooo!” For the most part, however, there was a new wave of hushed confused murmuring. The Emcee “ahem’ed” loudly to draw everyone’s attention back to him. He began to pace back and forth on the stage, like a general addressing a large force. “I will now explain the rules of Dodge Ball Club. Learn these rules and keep them dear in your hearts. The first rule of Dodge Ball Club is you do not talk about Dodge Ball Club.”
The Emcee paused and let that rule sink in before continuing his pacing. “The second rule of Dodge Ball Club is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT DODGE BALL CLUB!” he shouted for emphasis. This was met with solemn nods from several participants who apparently were familiar with these sacred edicts.
The Emcee nodded in approval and continued, “The third rule of Dodge Ball Club is that if this is your first time at Dodge Ball Club, you WILL play Dodge Ball. Do you accept these rules?”
There was a collective cheer from both alumni and initiate alike. The Emcee smiled and then he looked down from the stage to four people also wearing black shorts and shirts and nodded. The four people each pulled out a roll of blue painters tape from their pockets and they dispersed throughout the room. Each took a section of the room started applying tape to the carpet. Matt studied this for a moment and realized that they were laying down lines that were going to form a giant square in blue tape on the ballroom floor.
“As my compatriots build our arena, I will now explain the supplemental rules for actually playing dodge ball as per the Official Dodge Ball Club constitution. The blue square being constructed is the official play area. At the beginning of each match, you will have sixty seconds to decide if you wish to participate in the round. If you choose not to, you must vacate the square. Those standing in the square when the match begins shall be considered legal targets.
“When a fellow player strikes you with the ball you are eliminated and must vacate the square until the match is over upon which a new round will begin and you may reenter. If a player throws a ball at you and you succeed in catching it, the player who threw the ball is eliminated instead and they must vacate the square. Play will continue until only one player remains who will declared the winner of the round and thus a place of honor in our official score record.
“Now, alliances, temporary truces, and partnerships are allowed and even encouraged. Some of you are probably already forming strategies to work together and claim victory. Some of you may even think that if you outlast almost all your fellow competitors and are one of the last two or three players left before being eliminated, that this might be construed as some sort of achievement. Allow me alleviate you of that sad misconception. At the end of the match only one player can be named the winner and therefor anyone not a winner is officially recognized as a loser. Helping your friends claim victory only means that you are a helpful loser.”
The Emcee then tossed the ball down from the stage to one of his partners and turned his attention to the black fabric object in his other hand. “And to help facilitate healthy competition between all players, especially those who try to build victory on the backs of partnerships, we have this.” He then held up the black fabric with both hands and allowed it to unfurl for all to see.
It was a black t-shirt. From its size, Matt guessed it was at least a XXL or even XXXL. Matt then winced when he saw what the shirt had splashed on its front. In a vast array of day-glo colors that so defined the late eighties and early nineties were the words “I ♥ NKOTB”.
The initiates gasped which in turn brought an evil smile from The Emcee. “This shirt was found at a Goodwill store in 1993 and it has not been washed since. It is imbued with the sweat, tears, and possibly blood of dozens, maybe hundreds, of losers . This shirt is a punishment and most certainly not an honor. If you are the last person eliminated then while the winner may gloat his or her victory over everyone else, you will be forced to don this garment, whereas you will then be photographed to preserve your shame for posterity. Furthermore, you will be forced to wear the shirt during the next match whereas you will only relinquish it when someone else has earned this mantle of dishonor. If you wish to avoid this fate you only have two options – get yourself eliminated early or win the whole damn thing. Does everyone understand these rules?”
The crowd answered an enthusiastic affirmation. The Emcee clapped his hands in delight and shouted, “Then let Dodge Ball Club Otakon ’98 commence! First match begins in sixty seconds!”
Immediately people rushed to the large square and conversed amongst themselves in pairs and small groups as the countdown commenced.
“Okay, I just like to state for the record, the phrases ‘ew!’ and ‘gross!’ come to mind,” Lina deadpanned.
John grinned. “Gotta admit, it’s an interesting motivator.”
“You force me to wear that thing and you’re walking to Ohio,” Lina stated flatly.
“Might be worth it, John,” Matt commented.
Lina turned to Matt gave him a menacing one-eyed glare. “You’ll be keeping him company, Matt. Just remember that.”
Matt turned to John. “Sorry, I think you’re on your own out there.”
“I understand,” John said with resignation.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Ifurita, they won’t get the chance,” a familiar voice stated from behind the trio.
Matt turned around and smiled. Standing there was a familiar ninja, still dressed in black. Behind Chris were four more ninjas, each wearing similar hoods and face masks, though their shinobi outfits were different colors than Chris’. There was a red ninja, a blue ninja, a green ninja, and a bright pink ninja. “Chris!” Matt said with a smile.
“Glad to see you got the invite,” Chris said cheerfully and then turned to John and Lina. “Congrats on the Masquerade win. Your sketch was awesome.”
“Thanks,” John said with an appreciative nod.
“That note on the door, was that you guys?” Matt asked.
Chris nodded and then gestured the other four ninjas. “Matt, allow me to introduce the rest of the Samuel Clemens High Anime Club. You’ve met Sam,” Chris stated at which the Pink Ninja gave a happy wave. Chris then gestured to the red, green, and blue ninjas and continued, “and this is Terry, Vikki, and Casey.”
John, Matt, Lina, and the ninjas all exchanged greetings and handshakes amongst themselves. Chris kept close to Sam to prevent any further impulsive acts of affection from the pink ninja.
“Good luck, everyone,” Chris said sincerely.
“You too!” Matt replied.
“Match one… BEGIN!” The Emcee shouted and he took the ball from his cohort and slammed it against floor, sending it flying into the air toward the vicinity of Matt’s group.
Several people, including Chris, leapt upward to try and snag the ball as it descended. The black ninja’s height was an obvious asset and Chris came down with the ball firmly in hand. Immediately other players scrambled away from the ninja holding the ball. Chris then held the ball out and pointed it at John and Matt. “Sam Clemens High Dodge Ball Ninja Squad, your president has an official declaration. For the rest of the evening, Lord Jinnai is worth fifty points and the guy in the fedora is worth a hundred!”
The other four ninjas nodded in obedience and then dispersed into the crowded play field. Matt and John looked at each other then back to Chris, who they could tell was obviously smiling behind the mask. John looked to Lina, who was grinning evilly and cracking her knuckles. Matt suddenly realized that every pair of eyes were on them. Matt and John looked at each other again and said at the same time. “Eep,” before proceeding to duck a red rubber ball flying at their heads.
Two hours later, the thirteenth and final match was proceeding toward its conclusion. John and Lina had already been eliminated and were sitting on the floor against one of the ballroom’s walls, observing the bout and shouting encouragements to Matt.
As a group, they had not done too badly. Lina had actually won the third match, having eliminated both Matt and John in the process. The woman was a tenacious competitor, as they quickly learned.
Matt’s personal score was something of a mixed bag. He’d eliminated his fair share of players, but had yet to win it all. In the seventh match, he had managed to last into the final three, only to be double-teamed by the other two players who then proceeded to square off against each other.
At least no one in their group had been forced to wear that wretched shirt. When he had last seen it, the man wearing it was dripping sweat from the constant activity and thus the shirt looked quite moist and therefore even more horrifying.
Matt tucked and rolled away from another shot, his hand desperately trying to keep his beloved hat from flying off, his black trenchcoat flapping with the movements. When he regained his footing, he surveyed the situation again.
A girl in a green school uniform was busy being eliminated with a clean shot in the back. Matt look around and realized that if the girl had been eliminated, then he once again was one of three players remaining. He also knew who the other two remaining players were, having made it a point to keep track of the whereabouts of his personal bounty hunters.
“I had a feeling we’d end up here,” Chris said, with the ball spinning at the end of the black ninja’s finger.
“Hey, no fair, Chris! I’ve been trying to snag those hundred points all night!” Sam pouted.
Matt looked to his left and saw that the pink ninja, Sam, was circling around to get behind him. Chris stood in front of him, holding the ball. He knew he was being pincered. He had to give the S.C.H.A.C. credit. They had shown fantastic teamwork the entire game.
Matt knew what Chris was waiting for. Once Sam was behind him, the black ninja was going to unleash a shot at him. If Chris missed when Matt ducked or dodged the ball, Sam was going to snag the rebound and nail him from behind while he was prone. His only hope was to even the odds, but how could he do that?
Eying Sam in his periphery, Matt was struck by inspiration, or perhaps it was just suicidal insanity disguised as inspiration, as the two could often be mistaken for one another. “Hey Chris, hold this a second!” Matt shouted. In one fluid movement, he pulled his beloved coat off his torso and he flung it towards Chris.
“Holy Shit! Someone finally got him to actually take his coat off!” John shouted in surprised delight.
Matt ignored him. As he flung the coat, he turned his back on Chris and bolted toward Sam in a full on sprint. Matt could see in Sam’s surprised eyes that this was the last thing the pink ninja had been expecting Matt to do. He had to time this perfectly.
“Chris, take him out!” Sam shouted past Matt. Still somewhat startled by the coat distraction, Chris quickly regained composure, took a step forward, and let fly with the ball. Matt’s instincts kicked in and he dropped down into a baseball slide along the ballroom’s carpeting. At the moment, he was grateful that he was still wearing full length pants as opposed to shorts or the rug burn might’ve been something awful. With Matt sliding directly at Sam, the pink ninja jumped up to avoid a collision. In the process of avoiding Matt, Sam had stopped paying attention to Chris and more importantly the ball, which proceeded to bounce off Sam’s back with a resounding thonk!
There was a cheer as the pink ninja was eliminated. Matt knew he couldn’t focus on that as he looked from his sliding position on the floor to see where the ball was going so he could hopefully retrieve it. He then grimaced. After the ball had nailed Sam, it bounced high and backward into the air…
…right back toward Chris, who was running right for it.
A moment later, Chris leapt and snagged the ball from mid-air and, before landing again, had whipped the ball towards Matt. Matt’s momentum had stopped and he found himself lying prone on the ground. His gambit had failed. With nothing left that he could do, he threw his hands and arms in front of his face and waited for the ball to eliminate him, resigned to his moist boy band fate.
Thus ended Dodge Ball Club for Otakon 1998.
“That cannot be hygenic,” Lina commented as she watched Matt slip on the shirt.
“I think I can feel it moving,” Matt added. He then took back his fedora from John who had been holding it as Matt slipped the shirt over his head. Placing it upon his sweaty scalp, he then retrieved his coat and slipped it over the shirt. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.
“Great game, Matt. If I hadn’t gotten a lucky bounce, I’d probably be standing where you are now,” Chris said sincerely.
“Lucky, my foot! He cheated!” Sam whined, arms crossed in a sulk.
Terry, Vikki, and Casey each came up from behind Sam, gave the pink ninja a vigorous set of affectionate noogies, and proceeded to walk the pouting, protesting teenager away.
“Congrats on winning the last match. Let it be said that you have, as the kids might put it, ‘mad dodge ball skillz,” Matt said with a sheepish grin.
Chris nodded and then yawned. “Well, it’s after four AM, and we need to check out by eleven, so we’re going to try and get at least a couple hours sleep before we pack up.”
“You flying home tomorrow, er, I guess I mean today?” Matt asked, realizing it was now Sunday.
“Yeah. We have a two PM flight out of Ronald Reagan direct to San Fran. So we most likely won’t see you tomorrow before we leave. We’ll be pretty much getting up, packing, checking out, and then catching the shuttle to the airport.” There was a thoughtful pause and then Chris spoke again, “It was really great meeting you guys. Thank you.”
“Likewise, Chris.” Matt then extended a hand in friendship.
A moment later, Chris took the hand and embraced Matt in a friendly hug. Then the black ninja turned away and walked toward the ballroom’s exit.
“Rematch next year?” Matt called out as he watched Chris walk away.
Without turning around, Chris gave a wave and shouted back, “Just try and keep us away.” Then Chris exited the room leaving only John, Matt, Lina, and the remaining organizers of Dodge Ball Club who waited for them to finish their goodbyes before approaching Matt with a camera.
“Any words of shame and regret that you would like to be included with your entry into our not so illustrious Hall of Losers?” The Emcee asked as he handed the red dodge ball to Matt.
Matt lined up at the wall, held the ball out like a Shakespearian actor holding Yorick’s skull, and stood proud and defiant, in direct contrast to the previous wearers of the shirt who were sure to try to look as dejected and defeated as possible for their photos. The Emcee smiled and began snapping pictures. Matt looked into the camera and proudly proclaimed, “I have no regrets.”
The three of them had returned to their room after Dodge Ball Club had been dismissed. While they each now had been awake over twenty hours, none of them felt like turning in for the night just yet.
So Lina dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of gourmet sake and proposed a nightcap. Matt kinda begged off, but Lina was very insistent and by “insistent” she poured three cups worth, shoved one into Matt’s hand, and ordered, “Drink the damn sake, Matt.”
A few moments later, they were reclining on their beds, wearing their sleepwear, and sipping warm sake from the small ceramic cups that Lina also brought. The small ceramic sake bottle rested in a coffee pot full of hot water, keeping warm.
Matt sighed. What he really wanted was a nice, cold glass of iced tea, but he supposed he could tolerate Lina’s alcohol. While he wasn’t particularly fond of liquor or sake, he at least had some familiarity with it from his and Carolyn’s not very successful attempt to slowly consume a bottle on their own. Lina had only brought a small bottle anyway, maybe enough for one or two cups each, certainly not enough to get intoxicated, or at least he hoped so.
“Okay, maybe I have one regret,” Matt said as he sipped his sake.
“What would that be?” John asked quietly. Lina’s head rested in his lap. She had given up the ghost shortly after the first round and she was now snoring lightly, her empty cup resting on nightstand between the two beds.
Matt looked to John and then back to his cup. He debated with himself on what he would say next. Would he confide in John about his regrets at not being able to give Sarah a real goodbye before he left for Japan? Would he apologize to John and Lina for not telling them that he, and by extension, Matty were going to be leaving for Japan for who knew how long? Would he reveal just how nervous he really was about all the things he was about to face in the near future?
Then he remembered Ling Ren’s warnings about revealing to anyone outside their immediate family where they would be going or why. As much as he wanted to tell his two friends, he worried more that it would put them in danger.
“Matt?” John asked after Matt had been uncomfortably silent for a minute.
Matt broke from his introspection. He smiled and finished his cup with a gulp. “Oh, nothing. Just the alcohol talking.”
“You’ve only had one,” John pointed out with a skeptical look.
Matt grinned. “Told you that I don’t drink.”
John rolled his eyes and chuckled. Lina continued to snore quietly.
A moment later, both men squinted in mild irritation as a shaft of painful light peeked into the room from the direction of the window. From outside, a tiny yellow ball began to creep up from over the Eastern horizon. Matt shielded his eyes and squinted. “Is that… is that the sun?”
John looked at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. It was just slightly before six AM. “I do believe that it might be.”
“I think it might be time to turn in,” Matt stated.
John nodded and lightly tapped Lina on the shoulder. He lifted her head and blinked wearily. Without saying a word, she rolled off John and crawled under the covers on the other side of the bed. “I think we concur,” John said as he turned off the lamp on the nightstand table.
Matt stood up and closed the heavy blinds, casting the room into darkness. As they did not have to check out until Monday, there was no need to set the alarm. He then crawled into his own bed, curled up under the covers, and within moments was unconscious.
It was 11AM on Sunday and Matt found himself walking about the atrium. He had slept a little over four hours before awakening. Not wanting to completely sleep the final day of the con away, he had forced himself out of bed, back into his trench coat and hat, and quietly strolled back down to convention floors.
It was quiet, Matt noticed. There were still lots of people about, but there seemed to be a much different air about the convention this morning. The dress was much more casual and there were fewer cosplayers. Most of the faces had dark circles under the eyes, most likely a product of two days’ sleep deprivation and/or possibly from being hung over.
But most tangible was this feeling, this pervasiveness you could call it, of resignation. The con was coming to an end. Oh, there were still people going in and out of panels or video rooms, rushing toward the dealers room, and conversing amongst themselves, but the actions carried an air of finality. This was going to be the last panel, the last viewing, the last chance to spend money in the dealers room, the last chance to swap emails or phone numbers, and the last chance to make promises to “keep in touch.” Now, there were bags to be packed, rooms to be cleared out of, check-outs to complete, bills to be paid, shuttles to catch, and flights home to take.
Matt took a seat on a small padded bench near a railing, looked about him, and reflected. It had only been two days prior that the air was filled with the pure electricity of anticipation. The anticipation of all the fun to be had, of the new shows to watch, of all the things to buy, of meeting new friends, of the memories to be made, and the pleasure in knowing that when Friday ended, there were still two more days of it to enjoy. Now Sunday was here and all that was mostly in the rear view mirror. Fun had been had, new shows had been seen, things had been bought, new friends had been met, and memories had been made.
Matt was happy he got to watch John and Lina dazzle the crowd and walk away rewarded for their efforts. He was glad to have met Chris, Sam, and the other S.C.H.A.C. members, and he looked forward to continuing correspondence with Chris. He was even glad he had spent way more money that he had intended to.
He was happy that he got to experience this and that he got to do it with friends like John and Lina. This weekend was going to go down in his memory as a happy time. Three days where he didn’t have to deal with ancient curses, or strange martial arts cults, or the overwhelming feelings the responsibility he had to his friends and fellow cursed Scouts.
No, this had been three days of overspending, of heated but good-natured discussions of subs vs. dubs, of an overabundance of caffeine and a lack of sleep, of mysterious dodge ball playing ninjas, and of a shirt so foul that he still wanted another shower even after the two he’d already taken.
This had been a good weekend. Correction, this had been a great weekend. This had been Otakon and, Jusenkyo cult be damned, he already decided that he was coming back next year.
Matt stood up and smiled. Yes, he would be back next year. Next year, however, was next year. This convention was not over yet and he intended to enjoy every last second of it.
He began walking. As he did, a few passersby would occasionally nod, or smile, or even say something like “Hat guy!” or “Hundred points!” Matt smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. Matt realized that, yes, he had made memories here, but also just as important, he was now a part of the memories of other people and, with much pride, he was glad to see that they were most likely happy ones.
Smiling broadly and contently, he began to whistle the melody of “Pure Imagination” quietly to himself as he showed his badge to the staff member stationed at the door. He then once again entered the dealers room for one final stroll through.
Matt looked around for a moment, seeing that several of the tables were occupied with groups of would-be singers and other general con-goers. He then spied an empty table off in a far off corner away from the speakers’ deluge of music. Matt set his plastic bags down and crashed down on a chair. On the table were a couple half-full pitchers of ice water and several plastic cups. Matt took one such cup, assuming it was unused as it was part of a small upside down stack, and poured himself a cup of icy cold refreshment. It wasn’t ice tea, but it was cold and wet and that was pretty nice right now. He took off his black fedora, briefly fanned himself with it, then returned it to on top of his head. Even with the hotel’s air-conditioning, the humidity was beginning to intrude itself on the convention.
It was Saturday afternoon and the con had settled into its groove. The initial burst of excitement and ecstasy that had been set off by the opening ceremonies and the dealers room opening, had now subsided into a sense of nerd contentment, buzzing in the air like so much background noise. People were out and about, enjoying the things that they traveled to Arlington to enjoy – socializing, watching anime, cosplaying, and commerce. Maybe especially commerce.
Matt sipped his water contemplatively. He eyed his bags and sighed. This place… this place was pure evil. Well, it was to his willpower, at least. He had come back up from the bottom level where the dealers room was and had just completed his fifth circuit through the brightly colored wallet-slaying nirvana. Row upon row, table after glorious table, each overflowing with anime temptations, both domestic and imported. VHS tapes, OST’s and other CD’s, model kits, art books, and non-flipped imported collections of bound manga! It was all there, alluringly calling him back again and again.
Devastatingly, he couldn’t buy too much of it. Well, he could, but really, he shouldn’t. The reason wasn’t even that he didn’t have the money for such frivolity. In fact, he actually had a rather large cache of, well, cash for just the purpose of buying anime merchandise. That money, however, was destined to be spent elsewhere. That money was meant for Akihabara, and in only two short weeks, he’d be there. Now, if only he could resist the wiles of that damned dealers room for another day and a half.
Matt reached into one of his bags and pulled out three translated paperback manga collections. He then removed two subtitled VHS tapes from another. Yes, he was saving himself for Akihabara, but that didn’t mean he planned to deprive himself completely. After all, he wasn’t made of stone. Besides, he had already managed to rationalize this purchase to himself. The books were for the long flight to Japan. As for the tapes, well, he was going to have to spend three days in Iowa before NOAC, so he obviously was going to need some entertainment. That was only logical.
That sound reasoning was also how he justified his other four purchases of manga and videos during his prior four trips into the dealers room. Of course, those justifications only held water if he actually managed to locate a VCR for his hotel room while in Iowa, and also if he had the willpower to resist reading the books before he got on the before mentioned plane. Matt sighed again. If it wasn’t one temptation, it was another.
“Mind if I take a seat?” a voice asked.
Matt looked up from his purchases. Standing a few feet away next to one of the seats was a ninja. The ninja was dressed in a black shinobi outfit, though it was rather elaborate and probably not very historically accurate. Combined with the black pants and top were plastic shin guards as well as arm gauntlets, both painted to appear as steel. A multitude of belts and straps were wrapped around the ninja’s arms, legs, and chest, each holding various wooden prop shuriken, throwing daggers, and other small weaponry. The outfit was topped off with a large black hood and black face mask that obscured the identity of the wearer except for a few locks of blonde hair that dangled lazily in front of a pair of steel blue eyes. Matt noted that the ninja was relatively tall, had a slim build, almost gangly even, relatively thin arms and legs, and with almost no real definition in terms of either muscle tone or curves.
“Sure, take any one you want,” Matt said with a nod and gesture of his hand.
The ninja took a seat two chairs away from Matt and sighed in relief. “Thanks. These sandals can be murder.” Due to the mask, the ninja’s voice was muffled slightly, but Matt definitely heard a countertenor or contralto quality in it. He just wasn’t sure which it was.
Matt nodded and returned to examining the books. After a few moments of silence, the ninja broached him again. “Hey, mind if I ask you a question?”
Matt set the books down and shrugged. “Sure. What did you need?”
The ninja appeared to be studying Matt for a moment and then asked, “What are you from?”
Matt blinked dumbly. “What?”
“What series? You’re not Zenigata or Jigen, at least I don’t think so. I’m guessing something from the ‘70s judging by the fedora, but I’m honestly at a loss.”
Matt blinked again. “I’m not following you.”
“Your cosplay. What series are you cosplaying from?” The ninja asked.
“I’m not… I’m not cosplaying,” Matt stammered, surprised.
It was the ninja’s turn to blink. “Really?”
“Why do you sound so shocked by that answer?” Matt asked defensively.
“It’s August in D.C. and it’s like ninety degrees outside in the shade. You’re wearing a dress shirt, tie, black trench coat, and black fedora. I assumed that no sane person would dress like that in this heat unless they were committed to their cosplay,” the ninja answered matter-of-factly.
“Says the ninja covered head to toe in black in same heat,” Matt answered dryly.
“At least my outfit is mostly cotton. It breathes. You gotta be sweltering in that getup,” the ninja countered.
“You get used to it,” Matt stated defiantly. He then raised an eyebrow and looked at the ninja with dead seriousness. “Besides, who said I was sane?” A moment later, he couldn’t help himself but crack a grin.
The ninja began to chuckle. Matt found it infectious and joined in. Soon the pair were laughing harder than they had intended, bringing a few glares from people at the front of the room trying to listen to the current singers belt out “Kon’ya Wa Hurricane!” yet again. The pair settled themselves quickly and regained their composure.
The ninja tried to stifle further giggling. “Sorry, about that. Seriously though, you’re not just messing with me, are you? You’re really not cosplaying as anything?”
Matt politely shook his head. “It’s okay. No, I’m not messing with you. The only thing I’m cosplaying as is Matt Atanian, Massachusetts Otaku.”
The ninja nodded and extended a hand to Matt. “Chris Romanov, San Franciscan ninja.”
Matt took the hand and gave it a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m assuming that’s your real name and not a character I’m unfamiliar with.”
“Yeah. I’m not brave enough to try cosplaying in public as an actual character, though some of my club members keeping asking me to join in their group projects. I told them that a ninja outfit was as far as I would go. I mean, seriously, some of those outfits defy physics, plus who wants their picture plastered all over the internet? At least as a ninja, I can claim plausible deniability that any pictures that might show up later are actually of me,” Chris explained.
Matt nodded in understanding and in mild surprise at the candid revelation. “Is this your first con?”
“On this side of the Mississippi. Our club has done a few smaller ones back home, but this is our first time on the east coast. You?”
“I’ve done a few sci-fi cons before, but this is my first anime con,” Matt answered, trying to hide his embarrassment at being a relatively newbie.
Chris chuckled a little, good-naturedly. “What do you think so far?”
“Expensive and too damn tempting,” Matt admitted.
Chris laughed. “Yeah, that about sums it up. You couldn’t imagine what it was like trying to wrangle cheap airfare for five people. With that, badges, and hotel, our club’s budget for next year is already shot, thought that’s probably not going to be a problem for too much longer. You here by yourself?”
Matt shook his head. “No, I got a ride down and am sharing a room with two friends from back home. Another friend was supposed to come down with us, but he had to cancel at the last minute.”
“Where’re your friends at?” Chris asked.
Matt shrugged. “They’re off doing the couple cosplay thing. They’re showing off their Jinnai and Deva costumes and meeting up with their sketch group for tonight’s cosplay competition.”
Chris arched an eyebrow. “Your friend wouldn’t happen to have a really convincing Jinnai laugh, would he?”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “Yeah… why?”
“I think I saw them about fifteen minutes ago downstairs. Your friend had about fifty cosplayers bowing at his feet as he demanded their unwavering loyalty as his new army of devoted slaves. He’s good,” Chris answered.
Matt chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Well, he’ll be at that for about another forty-five minutes to an hour. I really wish Jason would’ve come. It would’ve been nice to hang out with someone I knew while the crazy couple got their cosplay on.” Matt then realized what he said in front of his conversational companion. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like I didn’t want to talk to you.”
Chris waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, It’s cool. I got what you meant. Why’d your friend bail on the trip?”
Matt contemplated whether to answer before deciding it was okay. “He and his girlfriend broke up. Kinda messily from what I hear. We thought he should’ve come, try to forget his troubles a little, y’know? He said he didn’t want to forget his problems and we let it be at that.”
“Ah, I can relate a little to unhappy endings,” Chris said a nod.
Matt caught a definite hint of something there, and decided to try and change the subject. “So, you’re here with your anime club?”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. Samuel Clemens High Anime Club. Current membership: five members. Chris Romanov, president. Go Fightin’ Prospectors. Rah Rah Rah,” Chris said flatly.
“That’s some school spirit there,” Matt commented.
“They’ve tried to kill our club ever since it was founded. Our old president used to have knock down drag out shouting matches with the faculty every few months when they tried to take away our club status and give our space to the Knitting Club or the Macroeconomics Club or something ‘more educational’ as they love to put it,” Chris explained while performing the “finger quotes” gesture.
“Sounds like your old president was pretty passionate about the club,” Matt commented.
Chris nodded. “Yeah, she was. When we were both freshmen, she helped found the club. Next thing I knew, she was dragging me off to meet the other members and before I could say no, I was one of them. She’s practically unstoppable when she has her mind set on something.
“We’ve never been a big club, but we’ve worked hard to make it respectable, actually trying to promote an understanding of Japan through their pop culture. Yeah, we do events like cosplay photo shoots, video game tourneys, and anime viewing parties, but we do that alongside things like tea ceremonies, kabuki viewings, and even calligraphy.
“Still, it doesn’t matter. The damned teachers still label us as ‘those weird kids who watch the big eyed, crazy hair cartoons’ and then they try to disband the club. Meanwhile, anyone who can run fast, throw a ball, or hit someone gets carte blanche to do whatever they want. Yeah, cause that’s reeeeeeeaaaaaal educational there,” Chris said bitterly.
Chris’ eyes closed and a sigh escaped through the face mask. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant there. It’s just I kinda get myself worked up sometimes about it. I really shouldn’t focus on that while I’m here. This is supposed to be a good time for the club. Probably the last hurrah.”
Matt’s expression changed to one of concern. “What do you mean?”
Chris sighed. “It’s no secret that Megumi, our former president I mean, well, she was pretty much all that stood between the our club’s continued existence and oblivion. I don’t know how she was able to do it, but she always got the school to back down from shutting us down, and we kept going. School starts again in a few weeks and, as president, I have to make the applications for the club for another year and for another year, they’ll try to deny it. Without her making their lives hell, I’m pretty sure they’ll win.”
“Wait, I thought you said she founded the club when you were both freshman. Isn’t she still in the club? Why can't she still help you fight for the club?” Matt asked, confused.
“She moved away last winter.” Chris then went silent and Matt swore he thought he saw a tear well up in Chris’s eye.
Matt squirmed a little. “I’m sorry. If this is an uncomfortable subject, we can talk about something else.”
Chris gave a few shakes of the head. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Were you… close?” Matt asked cautiously.
Chris sighed. “We were. But then she told us she was moving away, and it didn’t…” Chris sighed again and looked away, “It didn’t end well.”
“That’s… that’s pretty… um… Sorry,” Matt managed to stammer out.
Chris gave Matt a confused look and then gasped. “Oh… wow. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I mean, geez, I just met you and here I am dumping all my problems on the table and into your lap. I’ve just felt so comfortable sitting here talking that I didn’t even think twice about it. You must think I’m like some kind of freak.”
Matt waved his hands in negative. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay. I kind of understand what you mean. It’s nice to sit here and geek out a little without feeling like you’re getting weird looks every two minutes. It kind of puts you at ease, like you’re surrounded by old friends, even if most of them are strangers.”
Chris nodded, still slightly embarrassed. “But still, I am sorry.”
“It’s okay, Chris,” Matt reassured. He then returned to the previous subject. “Have you heard from her since she left?”
Chris gave a sad shake of the head. “No. I thought about emailing her a few times, but…” Chris then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I see,” Matt said with a slight nod.
Chris then chuckled quietly. “Actually, she’s kinda the reason we’re even here.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She always said she wanted to organize a club trip to one of the big cons away from home. She kept saying that she would do it before she graduated. Of course, after she left, I found out that she named me her successor as club president so I guess that task along with a host of other things fell to me, though not without its own drama, let me tell you.
“Eventually, I got everyone together and said that with everything that may happen with the club come the next school year, if we’re going to go out, then we’re going to go out on a high note. We worked to raise the money, get the permissions, and somehow we made it here. She might not be here with us, but at least we can say that we accomplished what she wanted the club to do.”
“Good for you guys,” Matt said sincerely, at which Chris nodded appreciatively. “You think you guys might be able to save the club?”
Chris gave a half-hearted shrug. “To say I’m pessimistic is an understatement. Unless we pull off some sort of sponsorship from a prominent faculty member or a business in the community or something else, I think they’ll axe the club. I’m not going to give up the ship, though. I’m going to do my best and fight for the club. That’s what she’d do. Maybe a miracle can happen.”
“Don’t discount miracles. I’ve seen some pretty impossible stuff over the last year,” Matt encouraged.
Chris nodded again. After a moment, Chris’ eyes betrayed an inspired expression. “Hey, you got an online presence?”
“You mean like email and stuff? Yeah, I do,” Matt answered.
Chris pulled out a folded up flyer that was stuffed in the outfit’s pockets, proceeded to unfold it, and then began writing on the back. “We do a newsletter for the club. It’s mostly about the club and our activities, but we also do write ups on new shows and stuff about Japan. I’d like send ya a few issues and maybe keep in touch to let you know what happens, is that cool?”
Matt nodded. “I’d like that, actually.” Matt accepted the paper that had Chris’s email address on it. He tore a clean portion of paper off the bottom and began writing himself. First he wrote his email address. After a few moments of staring at it, he then nervously decided to write an additional web address. He handed the new scrap to Chris.
“[email protected]?” Chris stated for confirmation. Matt nodded in affirmation. Chris then looked back the paper. “What’s this address marked as ‘NGBS?’”
“Ah, that. I don’t know if you’re interested, but I do some fan-fic in my spare time. If you like that sort of thing, I’d love any feedback that you or your club could give,” Matt said, slightly embarrassed.
“Neat. We love fan-fics. One of our members, Casey, writes a Tenchi Muyo ‘what-if’ series over at fanfiction.net. What’s yours about?”
“Um… Neon Genesis Boy Scouts,” Matt admitted after a long pause.
“Sounds… interesting. I’ll be sure to give it a long look over,” Chris promised. A moment later, Matt watched as a beautiful teenager with a long bright red wig and a blue and white sailor fuku outfit with black arm gauntlets walked over to the table and up to Chris’ seat.
“Chris, there you are. I was looking for you,” the newcomer, who Matt recognized as dressed as A-ko Megami from Project A-ko, chided. A-ko proceeded to take a seat in Chris’ lap, then a moment later, turned Chris’s head away from Matt. Matt realized that Chris’ face mask was being tugged down by A-ko and he then saw why – A-ko gave Chris a kiss, on the lips presumably. When it was finished, A-ko stood up from Chris’ lap, grinning broadly and devilishly triumphant.
“Dammit, Sam!” Chris stated with an annoyed tone, while quickly standing up in surprise, fixing the face mask feverishly while doing so, and returning it to its proper placement before turning back toward Matt. Matt could see obvious reddening starting to form on Chris’ face. “Matt, this is my very um… affectionate friend, Sam,” Chris said, gesturing toward A-ko and trying to not appear flustered.
Matt stood up and politely extended a hand toward Sam. “Hello.”
Sam walked over to Matt, beamed, and cheerfully said, “Hiya!” Sam looked down at Matt’s hand, still extended , then looked back up at Matt and grinned. “Here, hold this a second…”
A moment later, Sam kicked a leg upward in front of Matt, while wrapping both arms around the back of his neck. Matt instinctively caught the leg, embarrassingly realizing that the A-ko costume’s socks only went up to the knee and he was holding smooth, bare thigh. Sam then planted a kiss on Matt’s left cheek.
“SAM!” Chris gasped, aghast.
Sam twirled away and laughed. Giving a mock pouting expression, Sam groaned, “You’re supposed to take a picture when I do that, Chris! It’s no fun if you don’t do your part!” The teenager then casually took a seat, satisfied at the reaction the kiss had garnered.
“I’m president of the club, not your accomplice!” Chris stammered loudly. “Don’t involve me in your little games! AND Especially don’t involve total strangers!” Chris then turned to Matt. “I’m so sorry, Matt. Sam is… well, Sam is… um…”
Matt retook his seat. “It okay. No harm done,” he said, still wearing a slightly stunned expression.
Sam grinned. “See, Chris, no harm done.” Sam said with an innocent eyelash flutter.
Chris sighed in defeat and retook the seat next to Sam, making sure to be firmly between the teenager and Matt. “Sam, what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to go to the Kodocha viewing downstairs with Terry and Casey,” Chris asked tiredly.
Sam suddenly jumped up and turned to Chris, excitedly. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Chris, I got like big, big news. Like crazy big! Like the biggest big thing in the history of bigness.”
“Sounds big,” Matt commented offhandedly.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?” Chris asked, still annoyed.
“Well, I had heard rumblings Friday in the halls and I decided to investigate. Turns out that they have DBC out here in D.C., too! It’s going down at 2 AM tonight!”
“What’s DBC? Is that like a new series or something?” Matt asked, grabbing his schedule from one of his bags and not seeing anything named DBC at 2 AM listed in any of the viewing rooms.”
Sam looked at Matt with narrowed eyes. “Sorry, we can’t talk about it. We’re sworn to secrecy. Come on, Chris, we gotta tell Vikki, Terry, and Casey! We have to defend the club’s honor!” Sam then started pulling on Chris’ arms like an excited child.
Chris looked to Matt. “Sorry, looks like I’m being summoned to go be presidential. It was really cool meeting you, Matt.”
“It was nice meeting you. I hope everything turns out okay for your club,” Matt said sincerely.
“Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate that.”
“I hope we run into each other again before the con ends,” Matt said.
Chris stopped and first looked to Sam, then turned to Matt, as if studying him. “I think we will. If something happens, however, and we don’t, I’ll email you as soon as we get back to San Fran to I’ll send you those old newsletters.” With that Sam dragged Chris away, leaving Matt alone at the table once more.
Matt returned to his bag of purchased booty and wondered if he’d be breaking his self-promise if he only read just one chapter. Perhaps, maybe two? His concentration was broken by a loud commotion entering the room. Matt looked up from his manga to see what it was.
Several con-goers in various costumes marched into the room, loudly chanting “JIN-NAI! JIN-NAI! JIN-NAI!” Behind them, several more cosplayers entered, carrying John upon their shoulders. John gave an evil cackle as he sat upon his human palanquin.
“Hi, Matt,” a voice said behind him.
Matt whipped his head around and saw Queen Deva of the Bugrom, or rather Lina dressed as Queen Deva of the Bugrom, standing there. She must have came in through the door on the other side of room to avoid the mass of people who had converged at the front of the room. “Lina, hey. What’s going on?”
“We’ve lost him,” she said sadly. “He belongs to them now. Or rather, I guess it’s more accurate to say they belong to him. We might never get him come home at this rate.”
“Having fun, then?” Matt asked.
Lina took a seat and poured herself a cup of water. After a long sip, she smiled. “A blast. I guess, I don’t mind sharing him for one more day. But his slaves are NOT coming with us to Ohio. How about you? You having fun?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah. I think I am beginning to understand why John and Jason talk so fondly about conventions.”
Lina nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I didn’t understand it much until they took me to one last February. Now I think I do.” She then gave Matt a smile. “Just wait until the Masquerade.”
“I look forward to it.” A moment later, the room was filled with trademark cackling as John was now standing at the mic stand that had been set up for karaoke. The previous singers had deferred to their new ‘god’, at which point John then broke into “Seifuku-ou Jinnai Katsuhiko” to the raucous approval of the room.
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon on Saturday when Matt would see John and Lina again, albeit very briefly. The Masquerade was not scheduled to begin for another couple hours, so Matt decided to return to the room to drop off his purchases for the day and to take a short breather from the con itself in the quiet sanctity of room 531.
Matt had not had dinner yet, but the plan was for Matt, John, Lina, and several of their mailing list friends was to go catch a late dinner down the street after the Masquerade and awards ceremony were completed. Matt’s stomach rumbled slightly, and he knew he was not going to last that long with only a peanut butter sandwich from six hours earlier tiding him over, so he decided that a quick batch of coffee pot ramen wouldn’t leave him too full for dinner down the road.
As Matt walked down the hall toward their door, he caught a glimpse of John. He was running right at him, carrying a garment bag behind him, and wearing an expression that could be described as “frenzied” at best and “full blown panic mode” at worst.
“HiMattByeMattCan’ttalknowsorry…” was all Matt could make out as John blew past him. Matt stood there for a moment and blinked. He then shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way.
Another moment later, a blur that might have been Lina, also carrying a bulky garment bag and trying to prevent a very beautifully styled lavender wig from falling off the polystyrene head she carried in her other hand. Her conversation was much shorter and it mainly sounded to Matt like “outtawaysorrybyeohmygodwe’re…” before she vanished down the hall and was out of earshot.
Matt again stood in the hall for the moment, blinked a few more times, then once again shrugged his shoulders, and was on his way.
Cosplayers…he thought to himself with an amused shake of his head. He was sure that there was a story behind what he just witnessed. He was also sure that there was a packet of chicken ramen and a container of 4C iced tea powder sitting on the desk in their room. Since he was confident that the former was not immediately forthcoming, he was more than happy to focus on the latter.
Fifteen minutes he was sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk, happily slurping chicken-flavored ramen noodles, calmly sipping perfectly mixed iced tea, and casually flipping through a volume of Mermaid’s Forest.
At this moment life was, it could be said, good.
From what Matt could tell, the Saturday night Masquerade had been a rousing success so far. The costumes were wonderfully crafted and the sketches, for the most part, were well-done with only a few falling flat in the humor department. Matt found himself often switching between amused chuckling and doubling over in his seat from laughing.
Matt was particularly enjoying the sketch he was currently watching for a few reasons. The first reason was that it featured several cosplayers dressed as characters from one of his favorite video game series. He guffawed as several characters, who had been the protagonists in previous installments, were currently making several thinly veiled and rather pointed comments about the most recent installment's protagonist in regards to the ludicrous size of his sword and what that implied about certain other "aspects" of his "personality."
The sketch came to an end when the two female protagonists from the current installment stepped in and tried to defend their spiky-haired friend by loudly proclaiming "Hey, it's not the size of the sword that matters, it's the power of the Limit Break!" The crowd roared with laughter and the cosplayer dressed as poor Cloud was forced to run off stage in mock tears. The lights darkened and the audience applauded heartily and sincerely.
As house lights came back up, the emcee for the evening walked up to the podium that had been set up at the far right side of the stage and spoke into the microphone. An amplified voice came from the speakers to either side of the stage as the applause died down. "Well, now I know what to tell my girlfriend the next time she complains about the size of my 'personality,'" the emcee said with a wry smirk. The audience laughed at that and gave a short round of applause. The emcee waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “That was Final Fantasy Follies. “Next up is El Hazard: The Y2KJ Problem!”
That was the second reason Matt had enjoyed the previous sketch. Having learned the order of sketches from John and Lina after they came back from the rehearsal earlier in the day, he knew that his friends were coming up on stage next, and he was eager to see what they had come up with.
The lights darkened and the applause for the announcement died down, save for a few random laughs, giggles, and one "Woo!"
From out of the darkness, a voice started speaking. Matt recognized it as John’s. “We stand here today on the precipice of a new era. A time of great change and of what some may believe will be cataclysmic shifts in our way of life. To this I say ‘YES!’, for we are not merely on the dawn of a new decade or even a new century, no we are on a dawn of a new Millennium.”
There were a few random cheers, but mostly the audience was in rapt attention. John’s voice began to build to a fevered delivery. “But forget what you know, feeble slaves of mine! For this new era will not be known as ‘Y2K’ as you’re so fond of calling it. No, I say this new era shall be henceforth called ‘Y2KJ’ for today begins the true new millennium, the Katsuhiko Jinnai Millennium!”
A moment later, several strobe lights went off and the houselights came up slowly, revealing John standing, arms spread and his back to the audience, at center stage. Gone was his traditional Jinnai suit. In its place was an entire suit covered with blue sequins, complete with a silver dress shirt, and red sequined tie. On his back, in large, white sequined letters were the characters “Y2KJ”.
The audience cheered loudly and John, like the messianic character he was portraying, ate it up. Standing behind him, in stiff attention was Lina, now dressed as the beautifully tragic Ifurita, holding the Power Key Staff that Jason had designed and built for the con.
Matt turned his head to his left and saw Danny and Dommi each clapping and cheering enthusiastically. He had run into them while heading the the line for the Masquerade, and as they were all going out for dinner together afterward, had invited him to join them during the show, which he appreciated as it made the long wait in line much more tolerable by having someone to chat with.
Up on stage, John lowered his arms and took a purposeful step forward. He then broke into one of his longest and most epic patented Jinnai laughs ever. The audience again cheered, trying to egg him on to be louder and even more crazed.
“Hold it right there, Jinnai!” Another voice shouted.
From the left side of the stage, several of John’s friends appeared. Matt had been briefly introduced to them on Friday evening. There was Mike, who was playing the role of Makoto. He was originally supposed to play Fujisawa, but when Jason cancelled, he volunteered to fill in. Playing Fujisawa instead was their friend Chuck, who had managed to find a pretty close replica of his blue track suit. He drunkenly stumbled on stage. Behind him was their friend Val, a beautiful African-American girl who was playing the role of Miz Mishtal.
Mike stepped forward. “You’re not ruling anything today, Jinnai!”
“Oh?” John say evilly. “Well, let’s see what my companion has to say to that, hmmm?”
Lina stepped forward and pointed the business end of the staff at Mike. Mike took a step back. “Ifurita, no! How could you obey that psychopath?!”
John cackled again. “You fools! This is a new and improved Ifurita! This one won’t betray me, even if I lose that stupid staff!”
“What?! How?” Mike asked, shocked.
“Because I registered her and filled out the warranty card!” John then broke into a fresh bout of laughter. The audience for their part laughed at John’s line. John then turned to Lina and ordered, “Now Ifurita, destroy my enemies once and for all!”
Lina, stiffly walked to the front of the stage, turned to Mike, Chuck, and Val and then said, in a monotone voice, “Error finding target file. Abort, Retry, Fail?”
“What?!” John shouted, aghast. “Destroy them!”
Lina again deadpanned, “Error finding target file. Abort, Retry, Fail?” She then slowly turned her head toward John and asked, “Would you like to send an error report?” The audience chuckled.
John stamped his feet in fury and then turned to offstage right and screamed, “Tech Support Slave!”
A moment later, John’s friend Johnny came out, dressed like a member of Best Buy’s famed “Geek Squad” and started looking over Lina, poking her a few times in the arm, tapping her head, making various “hmm’s” and “aha’s.” After a few moments of this, he looked to John. “Yeah… looks like your demon god has to be upgraded to be Y2K compliant. We’re gonna have to take her back to the shop for a few days, probably upgrade her RAM, maybe purge the hard drive. Y’know, tinker around a bit.”
“What?! Are you freakin’ kidding me?! How am I supposed to conquer the new millennium without a demon god!?” John barked.
Johnny put his arms out as a shield. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there chief. We’re gonna set you up with a temporary loaner demon god. Just as good. Should hold you over just fine for a couple days,” Johnny said calmly. He then looked at Lina again and turned back to John. “Maybe a couple weeks. A month, at most.”
John threw up his hands in the air in frustration. “Fine! Send her in! At once, Tech Support slave!”
Johnny went offstage and a moment later reappeared wheeling a mover’s dolly. Riding on it was a girl wearing a red tights, a black and grey tunic, and a long black wig. Johnny unloaded the new girl, whom Matt realized was Mike’s girlfriend, Kris. He then walked over to Lina, lifted her up and placed her on the dolly and wheeled her away. A moment later he walked back over the still unmoving Kris and pretended to ‘wind’ her up with a mockup of her key staff. After winding her up, Kris still didn’t move, so Johnny nudged her with his hip and Kris jumped to life.
“Yes, Master! What is your first order, Master, whom I am belonging to, because you are my master, master,” Kris said, perky and literally bouncing with ditzy excitement and giving a few enthusiastic salutes as the crowd laughed at her antics.
John cackled again and looked to Mike, Chuck, and Val again. “Ifurita Version 2.0, destroy the idiot who always causes me to fail!”
Kris looked to Mike and then back John. “Master, are you sure?”
“Yes, you ditz! Shoot the idiot!” John screamed.
Kris again looked really unsure. “Are you really sure, Master?”
John started jumping up and down, stamping his feet in emphasis. “YES! SHOOT THE IDIOT! SHOOT THE IDIOT! SHOOT THE IDIOT!!!”
Kris shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, you’re the boss, chief.” She then pointed her staff at John. A moment later, more strobes went off from behind the stage, causing the audience to jump in their seats.
John, for his part, sold the “laser blast” like he’d just been shot by a howitzer. He’d flung himself backwards nearly six or seven feet and kicked his legs up in a comical mockery of a death rattle.
Chuck walked over to the “unconscious” John and grabbed him by the back of the collar and started dragging him off the stage. “Maybe you should start planning for Y3KJ because you’ll be spending the next millennium in detention…”
As John was dragged off stage, the lights once again went off.
For a moment there was silence. Another moment passed and the place erupted in thunderous applause and raucous laughter. Even as the lights came back on and the emcee walked back to the podium, the applause continued. The emcee, for his part, tried to continue over the noise. “That sketch was brought to you by Katsuhiko Jinnai, the official despot for the new millennium. Ok, that was El-Hazard: The Y2KJ Problem. Next up is A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Iscandar.
It was a little after midnight when the trio returned to their room. They had just come back from a late dinner at a small diner they had been told about that was off Crystal Drive a few blocks down the road from the hotel. Lina had changed from her Ifurita costume before they headed out, but John was still wearing the spangled suit, blinding everyone who looked his way.
Dinner had been pretty good, even offering items that appealed to Matt and his rather "refined" palate. When they had came back through the hotel lobby, they could hear the pulsing throb of the rave going on some three stories below. After a quick stop at Mike and Kris’ room to retrieve their garment bags, they decided to return to their own room to plan their next move.
John held his garment bag with his left hand and with it slung over his shoulder. In his right hand, he held a beautiful certificate that declared that the CAML cosplay team were in fact the winners of the Best Performance award. They had lost the overall Best in Show prize to the Final Fantasy Follies group, which Matt could understand, seeing as they had a cast of nearly double John’s team and their costumes were quite fantastic. Still, the Best Performance award was nothing to sneeze at. Matt could tell that John and Lina were very proud of it, and he could tell how touched John was when the rest of the team insisted that John keep the award certificate.
“Good meal,” Lina commented.
“Yeah, might have to stop again for dinner Sunday night and try something else off the menu,” John added.
“Great show, guys,” Matt congratulated.
“Thanks, Matt. Glad you enjoyed it. Next year, you’re gonna have to join us up there. Matty, too! And Jay! He can’t be heartbroken forever,” John said.
Matt could only shake his head good-naturedly. “There is not enough money on this earth to get either me or Matty up there in cosplay,” Matt assured.
“What about liquor?” John asked, half-jokingly.
“And how often have you seen either of us drink?” Matt retorted.
“Ooh, I like a challenge,” Lina stated coyly.
“Wait, which are talking about? The liquor or the cosplay?” Matt asked, worriedly.
“Who said anything about ‘or’?” Lina said with a giggle.
“Well, we’ll have at least six months to work on the two of you before Katsucon,” John affirmed.
Matt bit his lip slightly, but said nothing. The three came to their door and were surprised to see a note stuck to their door. Holding it to the door was a yellow sticky note with crudely drawn shuriken on it.
“What’s this?” John asked as he pulled the note down and looked it over. After scanning the entire page, he began read aloud. “To Lord God Jinnai and his guests. You are cordially invited to join our esteemed organization this evening/morning at two in the AM in the Regency Ballroom. This is not actually an invitation and your presence is required. Do not tell anyone of this note. Signed, DBC.”
“DBC?” Lina asked. For a moment, Matt struggled with why that sounded familiar, but was drawing a blank.
“Fans perhaps?” John hypothesized.
“Pushy fans then,” Matt commented.
“Do we have any other plans tonight? I mean there’s the small gathering in Danny and Dommi’s room, but I don’t think that will keep us there all night. I gotta admit, my curiosity is piqued.” John looked to Matt and Lina.
“I’m game,” Lina said with an approving nod. “But if we see any sacrificial altars or hear any chanting, we’re outta there.”
“I’m with her,” Matt added.
“Okay, but if I miss out on a group of scantily clad virginal women who are there to worship me, I’m going to be very cross,” John said with a grin.
“If there’s a group of scantily clad women who are there to worship you, you won’t be the only one who’s cross,” Lina said with a sinister gleam in her eye.
“I retract my previous statement,” John said nervously and then proceeded to walk into their room.
“Good boy,” Lina said as she followed, leaving Matt to close the door behind them.
The Regency Ballroom was quiet. The Saturday night rave had ended an hour earlier. Around the outer edges of the room, stacks of chairs ten high on large metal dollies sat, most likely awaiting hotel staff or teamsters to rebuild Main Events in the morning before Sunday’s events began.
Due to the absence of chairs, the ballroom took on a vast cavernous feel. As Matt entered the room, alongside Lina and John, he mentally noted how much larger the room now felt without a few thousand people crowding in to watch the masquerade.
Matt also noted that they were not alone when the trio walked into the room. There were several other groups of people milling about. Some were dressed in cosplay costumes, including a few who had participated in the masquerade competition. Others were dressed as if they thought the rave to still be ongoing - club gear and glowsticks dangling around their necks, arms, and any number of other places. Most people, however, had chosen to dress casually and comfortably for the evening and were wearing an assortment of jeans, shorts, khakis, and geeky themed t-shirts. John and Lina had both removed their costumes by now and were dressed thusly. Matt was still wearing his shirt, tie, black trench coat, and black fedora.
As Matt looked around, he noticed that there were two moods in the room – either confusion or anticipation. Many people Matt walked by looked slightly unsure what exactly they were doing there. Matt wondered if they too, like his group had, received a mysterious summons from the even more mysterious “DBC.” Others, however, wore the smug expressions of people who were in on some great secret, eagerly waiting for the big reveal.
Matt turned to John and Lina. “So, you guys are in the know when it comes to cons, any idea what this is about?”
John and Lina both shrugged. “Don’t know. Apparently we must’ve done something to earn an invite though,” John hypothesized.
“Like win Best Performance in the Masquerade?” Lina said with a knowing smile and a nudge of the elbow to John.
“Maybe,” John said with a proud grin.
“Well, I hope they tell us soon,” Matt said, trying to stifle a yawn. It was now hitting him how long of a day it had been.
Suddenly, as if dictated by Matt’s request, the lights in the ballroom went out. Murmured concerns could be heard in the blackness. They were quieted by an unusual sound. THONK… THONK… THONK… A rhythmic sound, like the beating of a drum, echoing throughout the room. The sound of rubber and air hitting the ground over and over. THONK… THONK… THONK…
Suddenly the lights came back on. Matt blinked a few times, his eyes readjusting to the light. When his vision came back into clear focus, Matt saw the source of the noise. Standing on the stage was a young man in in his mid to late twenties wearing black cargo shorts and a black T-shirt with the image of Rei Ayanami on the front. In his left hand, he held what appeared to be a black rag or towel. With his right hand, he continued to bounce a blood red rubber ball. The THONK… THONK… THONK… sound continued to echo throughout the room until he palmed the ball and forced it to stop bouncing.
The man panned the ballroom from his place on the stage and smiled. He held both hands out, like an emcee or a circus ringmaster and loudly proclaimed, “Honored Alumni and invited initiates, Welcome.” He then paused and savored the moment before continuing, “To Dodge Ball Club.”
This was followed by a few “Yeahs!” “Yays!” and even a “Woooooooooo!” For the most part, however, there was a new wave of hushed confused murmuring. The Emcee “ahem’ed” loudly to draw everyone’s attention back to him. He began to pace back and forth on the stage, like a general addressing a large force. “I will now explain the rules of Dodge Ball Club. Learn these rules and keep them dear in your hearts. The first rule of Dodge Ball Club is you do not talk about Dodge Ball Club.”
The Emcee paused and let that rule sink in before continuing his pacing. “The second rule of Dodge Ball Club is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT DODGE BALL CLUB!” he shouted for emphasis. This was met with solemn nods from several participants who apparently were familiar with these sacred edicts.
The Emcee nodded in approval and continued, “The third rule of Dodge Ball Club is that if this is your first time at Dodge Ball Club, you WILL play Dodge Ball. Do you accept these rules?”
There was a collective cheer from both alumni and initiate alike. The Emcee smiled and then he looked down from the stage to four people also wearing black shorts and shirts and nodded. The four people each pulled out a roll of blue painters tape from their pockets and they dispersed throughout the room. Each took a section of the room started applying tape to the carpet. Matt studied this for a moment and realized that they were laying down lines that were going to form a giant square in blue tape on the ballroom floor.
“As my compatriots build our arena, I will now explain the supplemental rules for actually playing dodge ball as per the Official Dodge Ball Club constitution. The blue square being constructed is the official play area. At the beginning of each match, you will have sixty seconds to decide if you wish to participate in the round. If you choose not to, you must vacate the square. Those standing in the square when the match begins shall be considered legal targets.
“When a fellow player strikes you with the ball you are eliminated and must vacate the square until the match is over upon which a new round will begin and you may reenter. If a player throws a ball at you and you succeed in catching it, the player who threw the ball is eliminated instead and they must vacate the square. Play will continue until only one player remains who will declared the winner of the round and thus a place of honor in our official score record.
“Now, alliances, temporary truces, and partnerships are allowed and even encouraged. Some of you are probably already forming strategies to work together and claim victory. Some of you may even think that if you outlast almost all your fellow competitors and are one of the last two or three players left before being eliminated, that this might be construed as some sort of achievement. Allow me alleviate you of that sad misconception. At the end of the match only one player can be named the winner and therefor anyone not a winner is officially recognized as a loser. Helping your friends claim victory only means that you are a helpful loser.”
The Emcee then tossed the ball down from the stage to one of his partners and turned his attention to the black fabric object in his other hand. “And to help facilitate healthy competition between all players, especially those who try to build victory on the backs of partnerships, we have this.” He then held up the black fabric with both hands and allowed it to unfurl for all to see.
It was a black t-shirt. From its size, Matt guessed it was at least a XXL or even XXXL. Matt then winced when he saw what the shirt had splashed on its front. In a vast array of day-glo colors that so defined the late eighties and early nineties were the words “I ♥ NKOTB”.
The initiates gasped which in turn brought an evil smile from The Emcee. “This shirt was found at a Goodwill store in 1993 and it has not been washed since. It is imbued with the sweat, tears, and possibly blood of dozens, maybe hundreds, of losers . This shirt is a punishment and most certainly not an honor. If you are the last person eliminated then while the winner may gloat his or her victory over everyone else, you will be forced to don this garment, whereas you will then be photographed to preserve your shame for posterity. Furthermore, you will be forced to wear the shirt during the next match whereas you will only relinquish it when someone else has earned this mantle of dishonor. If you wish to avoid this fate you only have two options – get yourself eliminated early or win the whole damn thing. Does everyone understand these rules?”
The crowd answered an enthusiastic affirmation. The Emcee clapped his hands in delight and shouted, “Then let Dodge Ball Club Otakon ’98 commence! First match begins in sixty seconds!”
Immediately people rushed to the large square and conversed amongst themselves in pairs and small groups as the countdown commenced.
“Okay, I just like to state for the record, the phrases ‘ew!’ and ‘gross!’ come to mind,” Lina deadpanned.
John grinned. “Gotta admit, it’s an interesting motivator.”
“You force me to wear that thing and you’re walking to Ohio,” Lina stated flatly.
“Might be worth it, John,” Matt commented.
Lina turned to Matt gave him a menacing one-eyed glare. “You’ll be keeping him company, Matt. Just remember that.”
Matt turned to John. “Sorry, I think you’re on your own out there.”
“I understand,” John said with resignation.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Ifurita, they won’t get the chance,” a familiar voice stated from behind the trio.
Matt turned around and smiled. Standing there was a familiar ninja, still dressed in black. Behind Chris were four more ninjas, each wearing similar hoods and face masks, though their shinobi outfits were different colors than Chris’. There was a red ninja, a blue ninja, a green ninja, and a bright pink ninja. “Chris!” Matt said with a smile.
“Glad to see you got the invite,” Chris said cheerfully and then turned to John and Lina. “Congrats on the Masquerade win. Your sketch was awesome.”
“Thanks,” John said with an appreciative nod.
“That note on the door, was that you guys?” Matt asked.
Chris nodded and then gestured the other four ninjas. “Matt, allow me to introduce the rest of the Samuel Clemens High Anime Club. You’ve met Sam,” Chris stated at which the Pink Ninja gave a happy wave. Chris then gestured to the red, green, and blue ninjas and continued, “and this is Terry, Vikki, and Casey.”
John, Matt, Lina, and the ninjas all exchanged greetings and handshakes amongst themselves. Chris kept close to Sam to prevent any further impulsive acts of affection from the pink ninja.
“Good luck, everyone,” Chris said sincerely.
“You too!” Matt replied.
“Match one… BEGIN!” The Emcee shouted and he took the ball from his cohort and slammed it against floor, sending it flying into the air toward the vicinity of Matt’s group.
Several people, including Chris, leapt upward to try and snag the ball as it descended. The black ninja’s height was an obvious asset and Chris came down with the ball firmly in hand. Immediately other players scrambled away from the ninja holding the ball. Chris then held the ball out and pointed it at John and Matt. “Sam Clemens High Dodge Ball Ninja Squad, your president has an official declaration. For the rest of the evening, Lord Jinnai is worth fifty points and the guy in the fedora is worth a hundred!”
The other four ninjas nodded in obedience and then dispersed into the crowded play field. Matt and John looked at each other then back to Chris, who they could tell was obviously smiling behind the mask. John looked to Lina, who was grinning evilly and cracking her knuckles. Matt suddenly realized that every pair of eyes were on them. Matt and John looked at each other again and said at the same time. “Eep,” before proceeding to duck a red rubber ball flying at their heads.
Two hours later, the thirteenth and final match was proceeding toward its conclusion. John and Lina had already been eliminated and were sitting on the floor against one of the ballroom’s walls, observing the bout and shouting encouragements to Matt.
As a group, they had not done too badly. Lina had actually won the third match, having eliminated both Matt and John in the process. The woman was a tenacious competitor, as they quickly learned.
Matt’s personal score was something of a mixed bag. He’d eliminated his fair share of players, but had yet to win it all. In the seventh match, he had managed to last into the final three, only to be double-teamed by the other two players who then proceeded to square off against each other.
At least no one in their group had been forced to wear that wretched shirt. When he had last seen it, the man wearing it was dripping sweat from the constant activity and thus the shirt looked quite moist and therefore even more horrifying.
Matt tucked and rolled away from another shot, his hand desperately trying to keep his beloved hat from flying off, his black trenchcoat flapping with the movements. When he regained his footing, he surveyed the situation again.
A girl in a green school uniform was busy being eliminated with a clean shot in the back. Matt look around and realized that if the girl had been eliminated, then he once again was one of three players remaining. He also knew who the other two remaining players were, having made it a point to keep track of the whereabouts of his personal bounty hunters.
“I had a feeling we’d end up here,” Chris said, with the ball spinning at the end of the black ninja’s finger.
“Hey, no fair, Chris! I’ve been trying to snag those hundred points all night!” Sam pouted.
Matt looked to his left and saw that the pink ninja, Sam, was circling around to get behind him. Chris stood in front of him, holding the ball. He knew he was being pincered. He had to give the S.C.H.A.C. credit. They had shown fantastic teamwork the entire game.
Matt knew what Chris was waiting for. Once Sam was behind him, the black ninja was going to unleash a shot at him. If Chris missed when Matt ducked or dodged the ball, Sam was going to snag the rebound and nail him from behind while he was prone. His only hope was to even the odds, but how could he do that?
Eying Sam in his periphery, Matt was struck by inspiration, or perhaps it was just suicidal insanity disguised as inspiration, as the two could often be mistaken for one another. “Hey Chris, hold this a second!” Matt shouted. In one fluid movement, he pulled his beloved coat off his torso and he flung it towards Chris.
“Holy Shit! Someone finally got him to actually take his coat off!” John shouted in surprised delight.
Matt ignored him. As he flung the coat, he turned his back on Chris and bolted toward Sam in a full on sprint. Matt could see in Sam’s surprised eyes that this was the last thing the pink ninja had been expecting Matt to do. He had to time this perfectly.
“Chris, take him out!” Sam shouted past Matt. Still somewhat startled by the coat distraction, Chris quickly regained composure, took a step forward, and let fly with the ball. Matt’s instincts kicked in and he dropped down into a baseball slide along the ballroom’s carpeting. At the moment, he was grateful that he was still wearing full length pants as opposed to shorts or the rug burn might’ve been something awful. With Matt sliding directly at Sam, the pink ninja jumped up to avoid a collision. In the process of avoiding Matt, Sam had stopped paying attention to Chris and more importantly the ball, which proceeded to bounce off Sam’s back with a resounding thonk!
There was a cheer as the pink ninja was eliminated. Matt knew he couldn’t focus on that as he looked from his sliding position on the floor to see where the ball was going so he could hopefully retrieve it. He then grimaced. After the ball had nailed Sam, it bounced high and backward into the air…
…right back toward Chris, who was running right for it.
A moment later, Chris leapt and snagged the ball from mid-air and, before landing again, had whipped the ball towards Matt. Matt’s momentum had stopped and he found himself lying prone on the ground. His gambit had failed. With nothing left that he could do, he threw his hands and arms in front of his face and waited for the ball to eliminate him, resigned to his moist boy band fate.
Thus ended Dodge Ball Club for Otakon 1998.
“That cannot be hygenic,” Lina commented as she watched Matt slip on the shirt.
“I think I can feel it moving,” Matt added. He then took back his fedora from John who had been holding it as Matt slipped the shirt over his head. Placing it upon his sweaty scalp, he then retrieved his coat and slipped it over the shirt. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.
“Great game, Matt. If I hadn’t gotten a lucky bounce, I’d probably be standing where you are now,” Chris said sincerely.
“Lucky, my foot! He cheated!” Sam whined, arms crossed in a sulk.
Terry, Vikki, and Casey each came up from behind Sam, gave the pink ninja a vigorous set of affectionate noogies, and proceeded to walk the pouting, protesting teenager away.
“Congrats on winning the last match. Let it be said that you have, as the kids might put it, ‘mad dodge ball skillz,” Matt said with a sheepish grin.
Chris nodded and then yawned. “Well, it’s after four AM, and we need to check out by eleven, so we’re going to try and get at least a couple hours sleep before we pack up.”
“You flying home tomorrow, er, I guess I mean today?” Matt asked, realizing it was now Sunday.
“Yeah. We have a two PM flight out of Ronald Reagan direct to San Fran. So we most likely won’t see you tomorrow before we leave. We’ll be pretty much getting up, packing, checking out, and then catching the shuttle to the airport.” There was a thoughtful pause and then Chris spoke again, “It was really great meeting you guys. Thank you.”
“Likewise, Chris.” Matt then extended a hand in friendship.
A moment later, Chris took the hand and embraced Matt in a friendly hug. Then the black ninja turned away and walked toward the ballroom’s exit.
“Rematch next year?” Matt called out as he watched Chris walk away.
Without turning around, Chris gave a wave and shouted back, “Just try and keep us away.” Then Chris exited the room leaving only John, Matt, Lina, and the remaining organizers of Dodge Ball Club who waited for them to finish their goodbyes before approaching Matt with a camera.
“Any words of shame and regret that you would like to be included with your entry into our not so illustrious Hall of Losers?” The Emcee asked as he handed the red dodge ball to Matt.
Matt lined up at the wall, held the ball out like a Shakespearian actor holding Yorick’s skull, and stood proud and defiant, in direct contrast to the previous wearers of the shirt who were sure to try to look as dejected and defeated as possible for their photos. The Emcee smiled and began snapping pictures. Matt looked into the camera and proudly proclaimed, “I have no regrets.”
The three of them had returned to their room after Dodge Ball Club had been dismissed. While they each now had been awake over twenty hours, none of them felt like turning in for the night just yet.
So Lina dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of gourmet sake and proposed a nightcap. Matt kinda begged off, but Lina was very insistent and by “insistent” she poured three cups worth, shoved one into Matt’s hand, and ordered, “Drink the damn sake, Matt.”
A few moments later, they were reclining on their beds, wearing their sleepwear, and sipping warm sake from the small ceramic cups that Lina also brought. The small ceramic sake bottle rested in a coffee pot full of hot water, keeping warm.
Matt sighed. What he really wanted was a nice, cold glass of iced tea, but he supposed he could tolerate Lina’s alcohol. While he wasn’t particularly fond of liquor or sake, he at least had some familiarity with it from his and Carolyn’s not very successful attempt to slowly consume a bottle on their own. Lina had only brought a small bottle anyway, maybe enough for one or two cups each, certainly not enough to get intoxicated, or at least he hoped so.
“Okay, maybe I have one regret,” Matt said as he sipped his sake.
“What would that be?” John asked quietly. Lina’s head rested in his lap. She had given up the ghost shortly after the first round and she was now snoring lightly, her empty cup resting on nightstand between the two beds.
Matt looked to John and then back to his cup. He debated with himself on what he would say next. Would he confide in John about his regrets at not being able to give Sarah a real goodbye before he left for Japan? Would he apologize to John and Lina for not telling them that he, and by extension, Matty were going to be leaving for Japan for who knew how long? Would he reveal just how nervous he really was about all the things he was about to face in the near future?
Then he remembered Ling Ren’s warnings about revealing to anyone outside their immediate family where they would be going or why. As much as he wanted to tell his two friends, he worried more that it would put them in danger.
“Matt?” John asked after Matt had been uncomfortably silent for a minute.
Matt broke from his introspection. He smiled and finished his cup with a gulp. “Oh, nothing. Just the alcohol talking.”
“You’ve only had one,” John pointed out with a skeptical look.
Matt grinned. “Told you that I don’t drink.”
John rolled his eyes and chuckled. Lina continued to snore quietly.
A moment later, both men squinted in mild irritation as a shaft of painful light peeked into the room from the direction of the window. From outside, a tiny yellow ball began to creep up from over the Eastern horizon. Matt shielded his eyes and squinted. “Is that… is that the sun?”
John looked at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. It was just slightly before six AM. “I do believe that it might be.”
“I think it might be time to turn in,” Matt stated.
John nodded and lightly tapped Lina on the shoulder. He lifted her head and blinked wearily. Without saying a word, she rolled off John and crawled under the covers on the other side of the bed. “I think we concur,” John said as he turned off the lamp on the nightstand table.
Matt stood up and closed the heavy blinds, casting the room into darkness. As they did not have to check out until Monday, there was no need to set the alarm. He then crawled into his own bed, curled up under the covers, and within moments was unconscious.
It was 11AM on Sunday and Matt found himself walking about the atrium. He had slept a little over four hours before awakening. Not wanting to completely sleep the final day of the con away, he had forced himself out of bed, back into his trench coat and hat, and quietly strolled back down to convention floors.
It was quiet, Matt noticed. There were still lots of people about, but there seemed to be a much different air about the convention this morning. The dress was much more casual and there were fewer cosplayers. Most of the faces had dark circles under the eyes, most likely a product of two days’ sleep deprivation and/or possibly from being hung over.
But most tangible was this feeling, this pervasiveness you could call it, of resignation. The con was coming to an end. Oh, there were still people going in and out of panels or video rooms, rushing toward the dealers room, and conversing amongst themselves, but the actions carried an air of finality. This was going to be the last panel, the last viewing, the last chance to spend money in the dealers room, the last chance to swap emails or phone numbers, and the last chance to make promises to “keep in touch.” Now, there were bags to be packed, rooms to be cleared out of, check-outs to complete, bills to be paid, shuttles to catch, and flights home to take.
Matt took a seat on a small padded bench near a railing, looked about him, and reflected. It had only been two days prior that the air was filled with the pure electricity of anticipation. The anticipation of all the fun to be had, of the new shows to watch, of all the things to buy, of meeting new friends, of the memories to be made, and the pleasure in knowing that when Friday ended, there were still two more days of it to enjoy. Now Sunday was here and all that was mostly in the rear view mirror. Fun had been had, new shows had been seen, things had been bought, new friends had been met, and memories had been made.
Matt was happy he got to watch John and Lina dazzle the crowd and walk away rewarded for their efforts. He was glad to have met Chris, Sam, and the other S.C.H.A.C. members, and he looked forward to continuing correspondence with Chris. He was even glad he had spent way more money that he had intended to.
He was happy that he got to experience this and that he got to do it with friends like John and Lina. This weekend was going to go down in his memory as a happy time. Three days where he didn’t have to deal with ancient curses, or strange martial arts cults, or the overwhelming feelings the responsibility he had to his friends and fellow cursed Scouts.
No, this had been three days of overspending, of heated but good-natured discussions of subs vs. dubs, of an overabundance of caffeine and a lack of sleep, of mysterious dodge ball playing ninjas, and of a shirt so foul that he still wanted another shower even after the two he’d already taken.
This had been a good weekend. Correction, this had been a great weekend. This had been Otakon and, Jusenkyo cult be damned, he already decided that he was coming back next year.
Matt stood up and smiled. Yes, he would be back next year. Next year, however, was next year. This convention was not over yet and he intended to enjoy every last second of it.
He began walking. As he did, a few passersby would occasionally nod, or smile, or even say something like “Hat guy!” or “Hundred points!” Matt smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. Matt realized that, yes, he had made memories here, but also just as important, he was now a part of the memories of other people and, with much pride, he was glad to see that they were most likely happy ones.
Smiling broadly and contently, he began to whistle the melody of “Pure Imagination” quietly to himself as he showed his badge to the staff member stationed at the door. He then once again entered the dealers room for one final stroll through.
Author's Notes and Other Miscellanea
Hello again, everyone. These are a rather unusual set of author’s notes for me. These notes are being written almost a year after the initial draft of the story you have just read. Indeed, they are being written while I am still doing (hopefully) final revisions on this story. In any case, if you are reading them, and you are not me or Matt, then it can safely be assumed that the story was finished and placed for consumption on the Boy Scouts ½ Universe web site.
This story began when Matt came to me with a proposal. He had an idea for a trilogy of side stories that detailed some events that take place prior to the beginning of Boy Scouts ½: In Japan series and he informed me that he very much wanted me to pen one of these stories.
When Matt came to me with this proposal, I was currently in the middle of penning the third part in the rebooted Perspectives series. As I was already in the middle of a project, I wasn’t exactly, what could be politely described as, eager to jump into another project. This was mostly because Perspectives III was taking longer than I originally thought it would. I desperately didn’t want to have the momentum I had built up in writing Perspectives to stall out as it had done before so many times.
Something happened, however, to change my feelings about the project. The more we discussed things like the proposed story’s placement within the universe’s timeline and other minor details, I found gears beginning to turn. The more the gears turned, the more I wanted to get something down on paper. On a whim, I wrote up a single scene for this “proposed” story - that of Matt’s encounter with a mysterious ninja.
When I passed the scene on to Matt for his opinion, we started having more conversations about the story, about the proposed trilogy as a whole, and before I knew it, I was committed to getting this story done. Soon, the first draft was completed, then a second, then finally the last draft and these notes, and now here we are.
The writing process for this story has been a mix of both good and bad for me. And to be sure, the positives most definitely outweighed the negatives, but I still wanted to discuss them both here as an opportunity to clear the air.
The biggest positive thing to come from this story and indeed this trilogy, is that it is the first time I’ve ever really felt like I’ve really collaborated with Matt to tell a story. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed writing in Matt’s universe, and I’ve always enjoyed Matt’s feedback or editorial suggestions. However, it was always within the confines of working within one particular person’s “vision,” either my own (Perspectives) or Matt’s (The Main series, Kenny’s Laboratory, etc.), we’ve never really, truly joined together to create a joint vision for a story.
Now, this trilogy did originally start as Matt’s idea and vision, but as we began discussing his idea more and more, the more I felt the need to try asserting my own ideas, my own vision, into this project. As those ideas spread from not only my proposed part of the trilogy but to the trilogy in its entirety, I began to feel like me and Matt were really working together to build a cohesive story being told in the background of what might seem, at first, to be three separate individual tales. As we bounced ideas back and forth, I began to feel an ownership and pride in this project as a whole because I felt like I had truly helped design and build it, as opposed to just being given a rough blueprint of what was needed from me. That’s why I credited the authorship as “by Jay Bertovich, with Matt Atanian”, because while the overall bulk of the words written here are mine, I feel that this story couldn’t have existed without the other stories penned by Matt and the ideas they represent.
However, this was kind of a double-edged sword in many ways. As we were both trying to create a shared vision, there were times when we disagreed, not necessarily about the vision of the trilogy as a whole, but more so how the individual stories would convey that joint vision. There were times when I felt that Matt was being overly critical of my writing and storytelling style, but on the flip side, I can understand how my including certain scenes and information would diminish their impact in other stories. I think my biggest issue stemmed from the fact that some of my most favorite ideas for the trilogy worked best in stories not penned by me. I felt a little cheated that some of the characters that I created/help create wouldn’t get any true development until Matt’s stories.
In the end, I excised a lot of material that I had a strong attachment to, because Matt was right in that it would work better in the other stories. That leaves me with some mixed feelings on this story. I don’t feel like it has the impact I had hoped it would, but I am satisfied that those ideas will be conveyed elsewhere, even if I am disappointed that I don’t necessarily get to write them all. I think I can be happy with the sum, even if I’m disappointed with some parts.
As I said before, the positives of this experience have far outweighed the negatives and I do owe Matt a tremendous debt of gratitude of that. So, thank you Matt for this opportunity. No matter what else may happen to or within the Boy Scouts ½ Universe in the future, I think this particular story will hold a special place in my heart as a time when I finally got to really work with one of my best friends to help create something together. Thank you.
Now, spiritual and creative fulfillment aside, there was another reason why this project became very enjoyable for me. If I could use a phrase to describe what this story is, I would probably say that this is a “love letter”, or at least an affectionate tribute, to the anime conventions I attended as a much younger otaku.
It was with a certain irony that even though I wrote the events of this story taking place at Otakon 1998, the highly fictionalized version of me, Story-Jason, was unable to attend said convention in the story. In real life, Otakon ’98 was the first anime con I attended. When Matt first proposed the project idea to me, he originally wanted it to feature, John, Lina, and Jason taking Matt to Otakon. Unfortunately, the story plan and timeline of events I had created as part of the Perspectives reboot, made it really hard to include Story-Jason in this story without compromising how I wanted to write some rather big future stories in. Me and Matt both tinkered with the timeline to see if we could make it work, but in the end the hurdles were just too big to overcome and it was decided that Story-Jason would be staying home.
Now, Matt’s first anime convention was actually Otakon ’99, which was held at the Baltimore Convention Center in the Inner Harbor as opposed to ’98 when it was held at the Crystal City Hyatt Regency. A lot of what I had to do with this story was built off my own memories of events as they occurred sixteen years ago (ye gods, sixteen years?!) and how I believed Matt, or at least Story-Matt, would have reacted. In the end, I’m rather pleased with how I presented the three day convention weekend experience for a first time con attendee during that time period.
Now, not to get all Grandpa Simpson on you readers, but I have to admit that even though I still attend conventions today, it’s not the same as it was in the old days (by cracky!) Now, this is probably a byproduct of natural nostalgia, as everything is always gonna seem more pleasant or vivid when it was newer to you, but I do think it there is a something to the fact that anime fandom itself has changed A LOT since the late 1990’s.
When I first started attending conventions, there were barely anime DVD’s, let alone Blu-Ray, Ultra-Violet, 4K, or HD streaming services. There was no Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube, or Crunchy Roll. Web-Comics were still in their infancy. Most anime-related websites were hosted by services like AOL, Geocities, Tripod, and a score of others, now long gone. The typical turnaround time between when a series or movie was shown in Japan and when it arrived officially in America was measured in months and years, instead of weeks, days, or even hours.
So compared to today, that time period would almost seem primitive. I think, however, it was because of the limitations we as fans faced that helped forge the anime fandom community and made it stronger than what it feels like it is today.
In any case, my purpose today is not to wax philosophical on why I feel conventions were “better” then than they are today. Honestly, I don’t even feel like they were better. As I said, I still attend conventions to this day and while the experiences are certainly different than they were all those years ago, I still find them just as enjoyable, if not more so, now. It’s probably because I attend conventions now for different reasons, with different people, and to do different things than back then. Because my tastes have grown and changed, I’ve adapted my convention experience to make it appeal to those new tastes.
Still, I will admit that when I look back at those first few conventions I attended (Otakon’98 and ’99, as well as Katuscon ’99 and 2K, specifically) I hold a certain fondness in my heart for them. I believe those fond memories are a product of not only who I was as a person during those times, but also product of the times itself - A perfect marriage of the two that resulted in my nostalgia.
Okay, let’s move into a little history (along with some disclaimers)…
The Cruel Angel’s Mailing List was a real entity. In fact, it was vehicle that through which I had met the real Fenny Lin (the non-goddess version). It’s history, as presented here, is a little different than reality, but I don’t think it’s a great concern except for the most ardent of historical sticklers. Several of the names given here were old friends/acquaintances I had met through the mailing list, or through conventions. Real-Life CAML members mentioned here include Danny (Hong), Dommi, Terry (Chu), Mike (Corbitt), Kris, Chuck, Johnny (a.k.a. The Can-Asian), Val, (Big) Danny T, Khourey (Royal), and Jen (Williams). Holly (Segara) and Steph were another duo who may have been CAML members (though honestly, I can’t remember now if they were or not) who made a name for themselves as “The Yiddish Dirty Pair”. I haven’t really seen nor spoke to any of them in the last several years, but I still consider them friends and I still look back on the times spent with them with fondness and the hope that the are all doing well.
The sketch John and company perform in the masquerade is loosely based off a real life series of cosplay sketches that John had performed from late 1999 to about 2001. The “Y2KJ” persona and spangled costume do, in fact, still exist, though the actual script for the sketch presented in the story was mostly created as fiction by me for this story. The whole origin of the “Y2KJ” has its ties to a few pro wrestling story lines from the same time period and, as it is a long story that would only interest those who are fans of both pro wrestling and anime, it’s not really worth going into too much detail here.
Dodge Ball Club does not exist nor has it ever existed. Dodge Ball Club is a complete work of fiction and anyone stating otherwise or providing ‘evidence’ to the contrary (such as obviously doctored photos) are lying liars who lie.
But, and this is only hypothetical speculation, if Dodge Ball Club could have possibly existed, which it didn’t, it might have existed as part of Otakon from the years 1999 to 2001 and, possibly, could have been played on the large spacious skywalk between the Baltimore Convention Center and several hotels in the very early morning hours of Sunday during those three years.
Furthermore, if were humoring such speculations, one could suppose that if there was a punishment shirt, it was a XXL shirt that featured allegiance to the contemporary boy band of that time, N*Sync. Likewise, one could speculate that perhaps there was a special silver dodge ball that also bore the logo of the before mentioned N*Sync, and that the first person struck with that particular ball was forced to wear the punishment shirt, which, theoretically, had not been washed during any of the three years Dodge Ball Club could’ve existed, which of course was never, because it didn’t. (Are we clear so far?)
Now, seeing as there was never any such thing as Dodge Ball Club, there is no need to explain the difference in depiction between the story presented here and the hypothetical version that could’ve existed in real life (which again, as I have reminded before, never existed.) However, in the name of intellectual curiosity, if one were to speculate on why there are differences, it could be explained as simple literary license and well as for narrative purposes to preserve story flow.
Now please ignore the preceding four paragraphs and never speak of them again. Fnord.
Chris Romanov, Sam, and the other characters appearing as members of the Samuel Clemens High Anime Club, as well as Samuel Clemens High School itself are fictional and were created by Jay Bertovich and Matthew Atanian. Any resemblances to peoples living or dead are purely coincidental.
The characters of Lina Wells and Nicole Porter were created by Matthew Atanian.
The Characters of Matthew Atanian, John Hoelscher, and Jason Bertovich are based on real persons. Likewise the characters of Danny, Dommi, Chuck, Johnny, Kris, Mike, Val, Terry, Khourey, Jen, Danny T, Holly, and Steph are all loosely based on real persons.
The rather tall Elevator Operator/Bellhop is based on a real person whom became a fixture at the conventions held at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City during the late 90’s/early 2000’s. He was even featured in a volume of the manga Futuba-Kun Change when the manga’s creator, Hiroshi Aro, featured his likeness in series of omake strips detailing his trip to Arlington to attend Otakon ’98 as a guest of Studio Ironcat who were distributing his books at that time. He was quite friendly to the convention goers and seemed to genuinely enjoy having the convention at his place of employment, which sadly is sometimes a rare exception when it comes to hotel staff and anime conventions.
The song Matt hears in his mind upon entering the convention is sung to the tune of the song Pure Imagination from the soundtrack of the film version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I know the term ‘Japanimation’ might be looked down on or frowned upon by several members of the anime fandom community. For me, I simply see it as an artifact of the time period the story takes place, when there was still a lot of debate on how exactly anime distributors chose to sell their product to its audience. Also, it had the perfect number of syllables for the song, so bugger off.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the final part of the In Japan Origins trilogy.
Your turn, Matt. Anything you care to say?
This story began when Matt came to me with a proposal. He had an idea for a trilogy of side stories that detailed some events that take place prior to the beginning of Boy Scouts ½: In Japan series and he informed me that he very much wanted me to pen one of these stories.
When Matt came to me with this proposal, I was currently in the middle of penning the third part in the rebooted Perspectives series. As I was already in the middle of a project, I wasn’t exactly, what could be politely described as, eager to jump into another project. This was mostly because Perspectives III was taking longer than I originally thought it would. I desperately didn’t want to have the momentum I had built up in writing Perspectives to stall out as it had done before so many times.
Something happened, however, to change my feelings about the project. The more we discussed things like the proposed story’s placement within the universe’s timeline and other minor details, I found gears beginning to turn. The more the gears turned, the more I wanted to get something down on paper. On a whim, I wrote up a single scene for this “proposed” story - that of Matt’s encounter with a mysterious ninja.
When I passed the scene on to Matt for his opinion, we started having more conversations about the story, about the proposed trilogy as a whole, and before I knew it, I was committed to getting this story done. Soon, the first draft was completed, then a second, then finally the last draft and these notes, and now here we are.
The writing process for this story has been a mix of both good and bad for me. And to be sure, the positives most definitely outweighed the negatives, but I still wanted to discuss them both here as an opportunity to clear the air.
The biggest positive thing to come from this story and indeed this trilogy, is that it is the first time I’ve ever really felt like I’ve really collaborated with Matt to tell a story. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed writing in Matt’s universe, and I’ve always enjoyed Matt’s feedback or editorial suggestions. However, it was always within the confines of working within one particular person’s “vision,” either my own (Perspectives) or Matt’s (The Main series, Kenny’s Laboratory, etc.), we’ve never really, truly joined together to create a joint vision for a story.
Now, this trilogy did originally start as Matt’s idea and vision, but as we began discussing his idea more and more, the more I felt the need to try asserting my own ideas, my own vision, into this project. As those ideas spread from not only my proposed part of the trilogy but to the trilogy in its entirety, I began to feel like me and Matt were really working together to build a cohesive story being told in the background of what might seem, at first, to be three separate individual tales. As we bounced ideas back and forth, I began to feel an ownership and pride in this project as a whole because I felt like I had truly helped design and build it, as opposed to just being given a rough blueprint of what was needed from me. That’s why I credited the authorship as “by Jay Bertovich, with Matt Atanian”, because while the overall bulk of the words written here are mine, I feel that this story couldn’t have existed without the other stories penned by Matt and the ideas they represent.
However, this was kind of a double-edged sword in many ways. As we were both trying to create a shared vision, there were times when we disagreed, not necessarily about the vision of the trilogy as a whole, but more so how the individual stories would convey that joint vision. There were times when I felt that Matt was being overly critical of my writing and storytelling style, but on the flip side, I can understand how my including certain scenes and information would diminish their impact in other stories. I think my biggest issue stemmed from the fact that some of my most favorite ideas for the trilogy worked best in stories not penned by me. I felt a little cheated that some of the characters that I created/help create wouldn’t get any true development until Matt’s stories.
In the end, I excised a lot of material that I had a strong attachment to, because Matt was right in that it would work better in the other stories. That leaves me with some mixed feelings on this story. I don’t feel like it has the impact I had hoped it would, but I am satisfied that those ideas will be conveyed elsewhere, even if I am disappointed that I don’t necessarily get to write them all. I think I can be happy with the sum, even if I’m disappointed with some parts.
As I said before, the positives of this experience have far outweighed the negatives and I do owe Matt a tremendous debt of gratitude of that. So, thank you Matt for this opportunity. No matter what else may happen to or within the Boy Scouts ½ Universe in the future, I think this particular story will hold a special place in my heart as a time when I finally got to really work with one of my best friends to help create something together. Thank you.
Now, spiritual and creative fulfillment aside, there was another reason why this project became very enjoyable for me. If I could use a phrase to describe what this story is, I would probably say that this is a “love letter”, or at least an affectionate tribute, to the anime conventions I attended as a much younger otaku.
It was with a certain irony that even though I wrote the events of this story taking place at Otakon 1998, the highly fictionalized version of me, Story-Jason, was unable to attend said convention in the story. In real life, Otakon ’98 was the first anime con I attended. When Matt first proposed the project idea to me, he originally wanted it to feature, John, Lina, and Jason taking Matt to Otakon. Unfortunately, the story plan and timeline of events I had created as part of the Perspectives reboot, made it really hard to include Story-Jason in this story without compromising how I wanted to write some rather big future stories in. Me and Matt both tinkered with the timeline to see if we could make it work, but in the end the hurdles were just too big to overcome and it was decided that Story-Jason would be staying home.
Now, Matt’s first anime convention was actually Otakon ’99, which was held at the Baltimore Convention Center in the Inner Harbor as opposed to ’98 when it was held at the Crystal City Hyatt Regency. A lot of what I had to do with this story was built off my own memories of events as they occurred sixteen years ago (ye gods, sixteen years?!) and how I believed Matt, or at least Story-Matt, would have reacted. In the end, I’m rather pleased with how I presented the three day convention weekend experience for a first time con attendee during that time period.
Now, not to get all Grandpa Simpson on you readers, but I have to admit that even though I still attend conventions today, it’s not the same as it was in the old days (by cracky!) Now, this is probably a byproduct of natural nostalgia, as everything is always gonna seem more pleasant or vivid when it was newer to you, but I do think it there is a something to the fact that anime fandom itself has changed A LOT since the late 1990’s.
When I first started attending conventions, there were barely anime DVD’s, let alone Blu-Ray, Ultra-Violet, 4K, or HD streaming services. There was no Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube, or Crunchy Roll. Web-Comics were still in their infancy. Most anime-related websites were hosted by services like AOL, Geocities, Tripod, and a score of others, now long gone. The typical turnaround time between when a series or movie was shown in Japan and when it arrived officially in America was measured in months and years, instead of weeks, days, or even hours.
So compared to today, that time period would almost seem primitive. I think, however, it was because of the limitations we as fans faced that helped forge the anime fandom community and made it stronger than what it feels like it is today.
In any case, my purpose today is not to wax philosophical on why I feel conventions were “better” then than they are today. Honestly, I don’t even feel like they were better. As I said, I still attend conventions to this day and while the experiences are certainly different than they were all those years ago, I still find them just as enjoyable, if not more so, now. It’s probably because I attend conventions now for different reasons, with different people, and to do different things than back then. Because my tastes have grown and changed, I’ve adapted my convention experience to make it appeal to those new tastes.
Still, I will admit that when I look back at those first few conventions I attended (Otakon’98 and ’99, as well as Katuscon ’99 and 2K, specifically) I hold a certain fondness in my heart for them. I believe those fond memories are a product of not only who I was as a person during those times, but also product of the times itself - A perfect marriage of the two that resulted in my nostalgia.
Okay, let’s move into a little history (along with some disclaimers)…
The Cruel Angel’s Mailing List was a real entity. In fact, it was vehicle that through which I had met the real Fenny Lin (the non-goddess version). It’s history, as presented here, is a little different than reality, but I don’t think it’s a great concern except for the most ardent of historical sticklers. Several of the names given here were old friends/acquaintances I had met through the mailing list, or through conventions. Real-Life CAML members mentioned here include Danny (Hong), Dommi, Terry (Chu), Mike (Corbitt), Kris, Chuck, Johnny (a.k.a. The Can-Asian), Val, (Big) Danny T, Khourey (Royal), and Jen (Williams). Holly (Segara) and Steph were another duo who may have been CAML members (though honestly, I can’t remember now if they were or not) who made a name for themselves as “The Yiddish Dirty Pair”. I haven’t really seen nor spoke to any of them in the last several years, but I still consider them friends and I still look back on the times spent with them with fondness and the hope that the are all doing well.
The sketch John and company perform in the masquerade is loosely based off a real life series of cosplay sketches that John had performed from late 1999 to about 2001. The “Y2KJ” persona and spangled costume do, in fact, still exist, though the actual script for the sketch presented in the story was mostly created as fiction by me for this story. The whole origin of the “Y2KJ” has its ties to a few pro wrestling story lines from the same time period and, as it is a long story that would only interest those who are fans of both pro wrestling and anime, it’s not really worth going into too much detail here.
Dodge Ball Club does not exist nor has it ever existed. Dodge Ball Club is a complete work of fiction and anyone stating otherwise or providing ‘evidence’ to the contrary (such as obviously doctored photos) are lying liars who lie.
But, and this is only hypothetical speculation, if Dodge Ball Club could have possibly existed, which it didn’t, it might have existed as part of Otakon from the years 1999 to 2001 and, possibly, could have been played on the large spacious skywalk between the Baltimore Convention Center and several hotels in the very early morning hours of Sunday during those three years.
Furthermore, if were humoring such speculations, one could suppose that if there was a punishment shirt, it was a XXL shirt that featured allegiance to the contemporary boy band of that time, N*Sync. Likewise, one could speculate that perhaps there was a special silver dodge ball that also bore the logo of the before mentioned N*Sync, and that the first person struck with that particular ball was forced to wear the punishment shirt, which, theoretically, had not been washed during any of the three years Dodge Ball Club could’ve existed, which of course was never, because it didn’t. (Are we clear so far?)
Now, seeing as there was never any such thing as Dodge Ball Club, there is no need to explain the difference in depiction between the story presented here and the hypothetical version that could’ve existed in real life (which again, as I have reminded before, never existed.) However, in the name of intellectual curiosity, if one were to speculate on why there are differences, it could be explained as simple literary license and well as for narrative purposes to preserve story flow.
Now please ignore the preceding four paragraphs and never speak of them again. Fnord.
Chris Romanov, Sam, and the other characters appearing as members of the Samuel Clemens High Anime Club, as well as Samuel Clemens High School itself are fictional and were created by Jay Bertovich and Matthew Atanian. Any resemblances to peoples living or dead are purely coincidental.
The characters of Lina Wells and Nicole Porter were created by Matthew Atanian.
The Characters of Matthew Atanian, John Hoelscher, and Jason Bertovich are based on real persons. Likewise the characters of Danny, Dommi, Chuck, Johnny, Kris, Mike, Val, Terry, Khourey, Jen, Danny T, Holly, and Steph are all loosely based on real persons.
The rather tall Elevator Operator/Bellhop is based on a real person whom became a fixture at the conventions held at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City during the late 90’s/early 2000’s. He was even featured in a volume of the manga Futuba-Kun Change when the manga’s creator, Hiroshi Aro, featured his likeness in series of omake strips detailing his trip to Arlington to attend Otakon ’98 as a guest of Studio Ironcat who were distributing his books at that time. He was quite friendly to the convention goers and seemed to genuinely enjoy having the convention at his place of employment, which sadly is sometimes a rare exception when it comes to hotel staff and anime conventions.
The song Matt hears in his mind upon entering the convention is sung to the tune of the song Pure Imagination from the soundtrack of the film version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I know the term ‘Japanimation’ might be looked down on or frowned upon by several members of the anime fandom community. For me, I simply see it as an artifact of the time period the story takes place, when there was still a lot of debate on how exactly anime distributors chose to sell their product to its audience. Also, it had the perfect number of syllables for the song, so bugger off.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the final part of the In Japan Origins trilogy.
Your turn, Matt. Anything you care to say?
Matt's Notes
Oy gevalt! Leave it to Jason to have author's notes that are longer than some of the shorter individual stories found elsewhere on this website! Ah, well, at least he didn't treat us to another magnum opus such as the author's notes he presented with Of Possible Alternatives. I shall try to be a bit more brief then him in my own notes... but I suppose we shall find out together if I am successful in this endeavor or not.
Well, shall we get started?
As I am often finding myself with cause to say in my notes, sorry for the delay since the last story! But at least, I suppose, it is not as long as many of the past delays. Some of it can be attributed to the usual cause of me being a procrastinating son of a bitch. But part of that can also, I fear, be attributed to some of the behind-the-scenes turmoil that went on in regards to the writing of this story and the next one. (Or, if you are reading these chronologically, the previous one.) Jason did go into this a bit in his notes, and I suppose I shall elaborate some as well. But I shall save most of what I wish to expound upon for the next story's notes. Short version for now: some back story Jason really wished to reveal in this story I preferred to have left out, as it was rather overlapping with the next story's... well... story! But, as Jason said, he was quite attached to it and desperate to include it here. And we were both of us being rather stubborn in our positions.
Fortunately, eventually cooler head prevailed. Jason ended up exorcising or making more vague some material presented here, and none of it is anything that really takes away the experience of the story being told. But of course, the key to any good solution between feuding parties is compromise, and before I put the concluding part of the "In Japan Origins" trilogy online, which is pretty much completed, I first do have a few changes to it to make at Jason's request.
And all in all, I think these stories will, in the end, in part perhaps even because of the conflict then compromise, really work well together even while still being good individual reads. And even more importantly, not that I ever felt there was any real danger in this area, Jason and I came through it together and are still friends! Frankly, I wouldn't have that last part any other way.
There were a few other bits that I recall having issue with when first reading this story. Specifically, I was a bit worried about the "voice" of the character of Matt. There were a few things. For one, while Jason did make a point of mentioning that, while new to anime cons specifically, Matt had been to a few sci-fi cons, Matt still seemed to me to come off as a total newbie to the whole con going experience! And I don't remember feeling like that at all when I did go to my first Otakon.
But hey... I suppose it does serve a story purpose, giving any readers who may not have such experiences themselves a point of view character too whom certain things can be explained to. Or, as another possibility, maybe to a more experienced con-goer such as Jason, I really did come off as a total newbie to Jason back in '99 when I joined him at Otakon? Maybe I am just looking back with rose colored glasses and painting myself as someone more competent in the ways of the con? Who knows...
Also, while I thought the lyrics were clever, the Pure Japanimation song stuck out in my head as something I would never be able to think of on the spot like that. (You know how freakin' long, back in the day, it took me to come up with Lambada Boy Scouts? And that's just one repeated chorus with random lines of dialogue between each repeat!) But that was something else Jason was very attached to, and knowing I had some other material that was more important to me to see excised, I decided to choose my battles.
Besides which, you know what? So what if the voice of the Matt character wasn't exactly as I might have written it! Part of the selling of this to Jason when I asked him to write it was, "I want to give you the Matt story. Might be fun to see how you write Matt as opposed to me." And yet, here I was, trying to tell Jason, "Nope, that doesn't sound like me at all, that'll have to go." What the hell, me? What the hell?
So, maybe fictional me is a better and quicker lyricist. At the end of the day, it doesn't really contradict anything anything established previously about fictional Matt, or anything I have planned for him in the future. And it lets Jason write the damn story I asked him to in the first place. So thank you, Jason, to sticking to your guns on that one!
Jason talked some about the Cruel Angel Mailing List. He was only mentioning the names of members of that list who were in this story, but there were three other members of that list whose names might jump out to Perspectives fans: Fenny Lin, Jordan Kovington, and Sonya Rinaldi, also known as the CAML Goddesses. The names may seem vaguely familiar from another divine trio, but I am sure that is purely a coincidence.
I was a member of CAML myself, for a little while, although I am sure my time on the list pales to Jason's. My memories of it are certainly no where near as clear as his! Still, thinking about it now is a bit nostalgic. Sadly, there is very little evidence of CAML as a group anywhere online that I can find... except, amusingly, a group dedicated to a programming language bitching that they can't have their preferred domain name: "Not www.caml.org to my great regret, since the caml.org domain is registered already by the 'Cruel Angel Mailing List' (no kidding)..." I suppose they got the last laugh, though, as today www.caml.org does indeed redirect to their website!
Oh, to backtrack a bit, there is another place where Jason seriously got the character of Matthew all wrong! I would never have been athletic enough to make it anywhere near second place in a game of dodge ball! But, I guess it was necessary change for the plot, in order to get my character to have to wear that disgusting shirt.
It is a good thing there never was a real Dodge Ball Club, which had different rules by which I totally would have ended up in that shirt at some point, and thus photographic evidence of such a thing cannot exist!
Well, shall we get started?
As I am often finding myself with cause to say in my notes, sorry for the delay since the last story! But at least, I suppose, it is not as long as many of the past delays. Some of it can be attributed to the usual cause of me being a procrastinating son of a bitch. But part of that can also, I fear, be attributed to some of the behind-the-scenes turmoil that went on in regards to the writing of this story and the next one. (Or, if you are reading these chronologically, the previous one.) Jason did go into this a bit in his notes, and I suppose I shall elaborate some as well. But I shall save most of what I wish to expound upon for the next story's notes. Short version for now: some back story Jason really wished to reveal in this story I preferred to have left out, as it was rather overlapping with the next story's... well... story! But, as Jason said, he was quite attached to it and desperate to include it here. And we were both of us being rather stubborn in our positions.
Fortunately, eventually cooler head prevailed. Jason ended up exorcising or making more vague some material presented here, and none of it is anything that really takes away the experience of the story being told. But of course, the key to any good solution between feuding parties is compromise, and before I put the concluding part of the "In Japan Origins" trilogy online, which is pretty much completed, I first do have a few changes to it to make at Jason's request.
And all in all, I think these stories will, in the end, in part perhaps even because of the conflict then compromise, really work well together even while still being good individual reads. And even more importantly, not that I ever felt there was any real danger in this area, Jason and I came through it together and are still friends! Frankly, I wouldn't have that last part any other way.
There were a few other bits that I recall having issue with when first reading this story. Specifically, I was a bit worried about the "voice" of the character of Matt. There were a few things. For one, while Jason did make a point of mentioning that, while new to anime cons specifically, Matt had been to a few sci-fi cons, Matt still seemed to me to come off as a total newbie to the whole con going experience! And I don't remember feeling like that at all when I did go to my first Otakon.
But hey... I suppose it does serve a story purpose, giving any readers who may not have such experiences themselves a point of view character too whom certain things can be explained to. Or, as another possibility, maybe to a more experienced con-goer such as Jason, I really did come off as a total newbie to Jason back in '99 when I joined him at Otakon? Maybe I am just looking back with rose colored glasses and painting myself as someone more competent in the ways of the con? Who knows...
Also, while I thought the lyrics were clever, the Pure Japanimation song stuck out in my head as something I would never be able to think of on the spot like that. (You know how freakin' long, back in the day, it took me to come up with Lambada Boy Scouts? And that's just one repeated chorus with random lines of dialogue between each repeat!) But that was something else Jason was very attached to, and knowing I had some other material that was more important to me to see excised, I decided to choose my battles.
Besides which, you know what? So what if the voice of the Matt character wasn't exactly as I might have written it! Part of the selling of this to Jason when I asked him to write it was, "I want to give you the Matt story. Might be fun to see how you write Matt as opposed to me." And yet, here I was, trying to tell Jason, "Nope, that doesn't sound like me at all, that'll have to go." What the hell, me? What the hell?
So, maybe fictional me is a better and quicker lyricist. At the end of the day, it doesn't really contradict anything anything established previously about fictional Matt, or anything I have planned for him in the future. And it lets Jason write the damn story I asked him to in the first place. So thank you, Jason, to sticking to your guns on that one!
Jason talked some about the Cruel Angel Mailing List. He was only mentioning the names of members of that list who were in this story, but there were three other members of that list whose names might jump out to Perspectives fans: Fenny Lin, Jordan Kovington, and Sonya Rinaldi, also known as the CAML Goddesses. The names may seem vaguely familiar from another divine trio, but I am sure that is purely a coincidence.
I was a member of CAML myself, for a little while, although I am sure my time on the list pales to Jason's. My memories of it are certainly no where near as clear as his! Still, thinking about it now is a bit nostalgic. Sadly, there is very little evidence of CAML as a group anywhere online that I can find... except, amusingly, a group dedicated to a programming language bitching that they can't have their preferred domain name: "Not www.caml.org to my great regret, since the caml.org domain is registered already by the 'Cruel Angel Mailing List' (no kidding)..." I suppose they got the last laugh, though, as today www.caml.org does indeed redirect to their website!
Oh, to backtrack a bit, there is another place where Jason seriously got the character of Matthew all wrong! I would never have been athletic enough to make it anywhere near second place in a game of dodge ball! But, I guess it was necessary change for the plot, in order to get my character to have to wear that disgusting shirt.
It is a good thing there never was a real Dodge Ball Club, which had different rules by which I totally would have ended up in that shirt at some point, and thus photographic evidence of such a thing cannot exist!
But obviously, if you think you see something between this paragraph and the proceeding one, it is just a figment of your imagination. There is no such thing as Dodge Ball Club. Do you need proof? If there was, then it wouldn't have been written about in this story! After all, the first rule of Dodge Ball Club is that you do not talk about Dodge Ball Club!
Hypothetically, that is. If there was one, that would be the first rule. But there isn't!
Anyway, it is a shame that Jason could not work his own character into this story. That really would have been lovely to have, but Jason could not make it work in his head for his character. But, hey! You never know! If we ever get to where it would be the summer of 1999 in the story, maybe Matt will find himself returning once more to Otakon! (This one being the first of the three I attended in that pesky reality known as "Real Life.") And hopefully, by then, the character of Jason will have managed to work through whatever issues were plaguing him currently, and can join everyone else there!
Jason! (You, the real one!) Pencil that in as a project for another day! (Likely one quite far off!)
But for now... I suppose I come to the conclusion of these notes. Be back soon with the conclusion of the In Japan Origins trilogy!
Hypothetically, that is. If there was one, that would be the first rule. But there isn't!
Anyway, it is a shame that Jason could not work his own character into this story. That really would have been lovely to have, but Jason could not make it work in his head for his character. But, hey! You never know! If we ever get to where it would be the summer of 1999 in the story, maybe Matt will find himself returning once more to Otakon! (This one being the first of the three I attended in that pesky reality known as "Real Life.") And hopefully, by then, the character of Jason will have managed to work through whatever issues were plaguing him currently, and can join everyone else there!
Jason! (You, the real one!) Pencil that in as a project for another day! (Likely one quite far off!)
But for now... I suppose I come to the conclusion of these notes. Be back soon with the conclusion of the In Japan Origins trilogy!