"All your friends like that?" I asked Ronin as I slumped in my chair. Having a conversation with that whirlwind of a person was a bit tiring to say the very least.

"Nah, not really," he chuckled. "Iwasaki's the first person I did a raid with when I started out, so we're a bit closer than others."

"I don't know what kinda folk I was expectin' ya to be around, but it sure weren't him," I reckoned.

My friend tilted his head and gazed at the ceiling. "Yeah, I suppose. He's a good guy though."

I nodded. "No, I agree." I paused for a second, watching his vacant expression. "I don't mean it in a bad way, It's just strange to see ya 'round others."

He looked back at me, a bit confused. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about who to introduce you to next," he said with a smile.

My heart felt a bit better after that. It was bizarre seeing a guy I'd grown up with for years act like a stranger, but I suppose he's still the same ol' Ronin on the inside. When we were in school, he wasn't the type to get embarrassed by a little teasing. Ronin was the most social among us and had an unfounded confidence in his likability. I mean, I guess it was a bit warranted since most people did seem to like him. Something about his cock-sure attitude mixed with his courteous nature gave him a bit of popularity with kids our age. I still saw that in him a bit, but he'd seem to have become more docile since our high school days.

"Hey, do you think you'd be up for an event tomorrow?" Ronin asked.

"Tomorrow? Uh, I guess, but I don't really feel prepared. I wouldn't know what to do."

"Hm, how about we go shopping then?"

"Oh, I don't know," I retorted. I really didn't have the money to be buying a ton of brand spankin' new shit, and I certainly didn't want to indebt myself to Ronin any more than I'd already done.

"It's okay, there's a good second hand store in here, they don't have a ton of great stuff but it should be fine until you start making some money," he explained calmly.

It seemed that Ronin really hadn't changed. This was the side of him that made everyone like him so much, kind, considerate, and already thinking of you before you had a chance to complain about him.

I breathed out in relief. "Yeah, I can do that."

A smile crept across his face. Smug bastard, he could even sense me complimenting him in my head.

He stood up from the table and beckoned me to follow. Back through the main lounge and through the other archway was a veritable mini-mall. Dozens of small shops lay side by side, packed together like hens in a hen-house. Each store looked a bit unique, selling everything from food, to potions, to armor, to “fashionable” clothing.

Ronin quickly made his way to a specific store, probably the one he’s mentioned before. A few sets of clothing stood display in the windows, along with various weapons. Although it was kinda hard to see with all the bright yellow “SALE” stickers plastered everywhere.

The delicate jangling of a bell rang out as Ronin swung open the door. Although the Green Room seemed pretty busy right now, it didn’t look like much anyone was here, but it was hard to know for sure.

Laid out like a maze, the store was full of cluttered and disorganized clothing and items. Boxes and bins with “DISCOUNT” written on them in big, bold letters were erratically stacked, reaching up to the ceiling. Hanging from racks on the wall were swords and daggers that looked like they’d been polished by a toddler. Shelves were stacked with alien-looking guns and other things I didn’t recognize. I cringed at the dangerous way some of them were teetering on the edge of shelves. Tattered books were chaotically splayed out over bookshelves, along with random items with neon-colored price tags.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I looked to my left only to find that Ronin had already gone off and started digging through bins. Random bits of clothing flew through the air as he tossed them aside.

“Here, what do you think of these?” he asked while tossing me a pile of clothes.

I set the pile down on a stack of boxes and looked through them. Everything was gaudy and bright, but it was all made of a strange material. Just looking at it I’d say it was something like cotton, but it felt as durable as canvas to the touch.

“What’s this made of?”

“Oh, most of that’s aramid. it’s weird, right?”

“Aramid?”

“It’s a type of durable fiber. Got alotta useful properties to protect you without being too clunky. It won’t replace modern armor, but it’s pretty useful. Most player clothing’s made of it so we don’t look like fools on stream.” Ronin tossed something my way. “What about this?”

I looked at the orange piece of fabric in my hands. It felt tough, but looked like a cotton sweater. A thick white band went around the midsection.

“What am I supposed to be, a traffic cone?” I protested.

Laughing, Ronin threw more colorful clothing my way. “Hey, you’ve gotta stand out somehow. Plus, I’m giving you the good stuff here.” He held up a neon-green shirt with a cartoon elephant crudely drawn on it to make his point.

I sighed. “I really don’t get why players all dress so strange. I get you want attention from patrons, but it’s all so weird-lookin’ and gaudy.”

“Well, that’s kinda the point,” Ronin said. “Like you said, getting attention from patrons is vital to making money, and they’re more likely to remember you if you’re distinctive. It’s also about consistency, though.” He threw me a couple more shirts. “You’ve gotta cement a style and color scheme so that potential patrons don’t have trouble recognizing you. Not all of them are human, so they’re pretty bad at telling us apart.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I groaned. “Still, is something simple that bad?”

Ronin turned to look at me. “Well, with your face it’d probably be okay. Here,” he stated while throwing a couple more shirts to me.

“My face? The fuck’re ya on about?” I complained while I dug through the ever-growing pile of tops in front of me.

“Dude, you’re pretty attractive.” He tossed a sweater in my face. “For a farmer.”

“Fuck off,” I groaned.

“But for real, you’ve got a good look. Y’know, you got that ‘pretty-boy’ vibe going on.”

“Pretty-boy?”

“Hey, it’s a compliment!” Ronin defended himself as I threw a bright pink shirt at his face.

I sighed. I couldn’t really argue, Mira and Harvey’d always been saying the same when we were in high school. I guess I had a dainty look to me, something I’d must’ve got from my mom. People were always saying I didn’t look like my dad, with my small nose and big eyes. My face always made me stand out in the past. My eyes were a strangely bright shade of orange, and I had moles under both that my mom insisted on calling beauty-marks. Top that all off with my burnable skin and I was the opposite of what you’d expect a farmer to look like.

I pulled out a couple tops from the pile, the traffic cone sweater among them.

Looking at the stack I’d produced, Ronin said “Hey, you should stick to one or two colors.”

“Oh, right. Color schemes and shit.”

He nodded. “Hmm. I think orange would be good. Matches your eyes. You look good in darker colors too, so maybe black and navy?”

I shrugged. “Sounds fine, I guess.”

Ronin tossed a pile of pants and shoes to me. “We’ll go with this too then.”

“Wait, all of it?”

“Your clothes from before were all ruined, right?”

I flinched. “Right, y-yeah. But I should get some n-normal clothes too--”

“No, if you’re gonna be a player you should wear this stuff all the time, trust me. Plus, even if you’re not, it’s really durable clothing.”

I exhaled slowly. “Alright, fine, you got me.”