Extracurricular Week, as teachers explain it to doe-eyed freshmen, is the one week of September where every club in school gets to showcase their activities in hopes of pursuing new members. The arts perform just about everywhere on Thursday and Friday, while technology-centered clubs take over on Wednesday. Humanity clubs like student council takes to the halls on Tuesday, and Monday is reserved for miscellaneous clubs like anime, climate, or sewing. It’s a chance for every student to find something of interest, further developing their chance for success.

                  That’s what the teachers say. On the other hand, the wise and all-knowing Kim Taehyung describes it in several words: five days of absolute chaos.

                  Last year, anime and gaming merged forces and became what many feared: the geek squad. The entire school became a literal nerd con for a week and a half, only seeing its end when staff banned the use of ninjutsu until further notice (read: forever). As for Jimin, he can’t ever look at a Pokémon battle the same again.

                  This year, staff isolated either club into three square metres of floor on opposite sides of the school, preventing any potential weebaboo activity from flowering. That’s probably what his classmate Sanghyuk is complaining about as Jimin walks into math class that morning.

                  “… and they only gave us one projector, so we can only show one anime at a time!” he grumbles, “That really screws up my schedule. When am I supposed to talk about cosplay panels?”

                 “Oh boohoo,” Junghwa retorts as he sits down. “You think you have it bad? I heard President Chanyeol has a dentist appointment tomorrow, so he won’t be at the student council booth. That was like, my only chance to see him!”

                  Sanghyuk rolls his eyes. “At least you’re not being confined to this puny- square! Even chess has a bigger section than us. Teachers treat us like we’re animals or something. Hello, we are otakus, a superior race of human.”

                  “Pres Chanyeol is a higher being than all of you nerds combined—”

                  “Excuse me?”

                  Jimin regrets sitting in between them; he’s not sure how much more his ears can take of this bickering (during lessons, those two throw things at each other and he usually leaves class with an eraser in his hair). And yet, he doesn’t change his seat because this is the spot behind one of the prettiest girls in the world.

                 Chanmi turns around in her chair (Jimin flinches) and glares at either side of him. “Hey weeaboo and thirsty, Ms Jeong’s coming. So shut up.”

                  Sanghyuk and Junghwa flip each other off before minding themselves. Then she makes eye contact, making him flinch again. “Hey Jimin,” she says. “I’m going to perform with my break dance crew on Thursday. We’re going to be in the caf, so are you coming to watch?”

                  Quick! Look cool, Jimin tells himself before outright choking on his own spit and taking an embarrassingly long moment to recover. He manages to sputter “Y-Yeah, I’ll be there,” in between coughs.

                  Chanmi doesn’t recoil with disgust. In fact, she smiles. “Cool.”

                  When their teacher walks in, she faces the front again and Jimin feels faint.

--

                  Tuesday rolls around and during their lunch periods, the main hall is bustling with students advertising their clubs. In specifics, student council (pretentious gold badges on lapel) and foreign languages club (‘BONJOUR, BONJOUR’ shrieks an excited senior). Jimin has difficulty shying away from Library Helpers before he sees a mop of orange that basically screams, ‘Taehyung is here!’ some feet away. He slips past the crowd and makes the final lurch towards his friend.

                  Taehyung sports a big grin when he notices him. “Hey buddy! I was just checking out some clubs.”

                  Jimin looks at the flyer in his hand. “I didn’t know you were into Christianity.”

                  “I’m not, but they have awesome Christmas parties. Anyway…” He nudges them to the school’s servery. “Before I forget, I have to spend Wednesd—uh, tomorrow’s lunch practicing a dumb ensemble for jazz band to play this week. They couldn’t find another sax player since Sunggyu graduated. I’m buying a cookie.”

                  “Okay.” They walk in and Jimin is patient while he gets money to pay for one. “And uh, that’s nice. You playing the —the sax, sorry, for band I mean. Maybe you’ll actually win the award for it this year?”

Taehyung goes to give the lunch lady his change. As they return to the atrium, he breaks the cookie into halves and gives Jimin one. “Well, I’m only going to win an award if I’m in band, remember?”

                  “What do you mean?”

                  He stares. “You forgot? I’m only joining band if you don’t try for dance team.”

                  “… Oh.” Jimin looks at his feet. “Well, .”

                  “You totally forgot, didn’t you?” Taehyung wraps an arm around his shoulders. “You can back out, if you want to. I promise I’ll lose the grudge after a week.”

                  “No, no, no.” Jimin shakes his head and exhales. “I-I said I’ll join dance team, so I will.”

                  Taehyung shoves his entire half of the cookie into his maws. “They’re holding auditions on Friday, so you have a couple days to think about it. You can do it!” While he speaks, crumbs fly out of his mouth.

                  Jimin winces and brushes crumbs off his face. “Yeah… wait, what?”

                 “Auditions.”

                  “What auditions?!”

                  His friend looks genuinely disappointed. “Guess I won’t be joining the morning announcements club then!”

                  “Y-You have a chocolate smudge on your nose.”

                  He wipes it off with the back of his hand. “Dance team auditions are on Friday’s lunch, and you only have one minute to impress. Got it?”

                 Jimin tumbles to the wall, leaning against it for support. He blinks a lot. “… Let me—h-hold on… I’m just going to let this sink in for a bit…”

                  Absolutely none of it sinks in when Wednesday arrives, but Jimin still finds himself in the dance studio during lunch anyway. He’d asked his teacher if he could use the room, mostly because Taehyung is busy with band and he didn’t really have anyone else to hang with. Plus, he’s desperate for a little practice anyway.

                  The wide open space is all his, since most of his peers have taken to whatever techy thing is going on in the atrium. The room is equipped with a mirrored wall and smooth floors, plus all the audio equipment is stored conveniently in the two closets at the back. It’s great, because he can move freely without being judged for something he’s going to be judged for on Friday. He’s alone, and it’s great.

                  He does a couple stretching exercises while humming his song of choice. After getting warmed up, Jimin strides over to one of the closets to find some speakers. He pulls the door open.

                  A boy is crammed into one of the higher shelves, arms resting over his chest as he evidently snores. A snapback is hanging over his face, as if to hide all evidence of a human sleeping in the school’s dance room closet. Jimin closes the door.

                  He must’ve closed it too hard, because the next thing he hears is a very loud thud and some crashing. He contemplates grabbing his stuff and running away, not wanting to be accountable for disturbing another student’s poorly-placed nap.

                 “!” the student shouts from inside. The door opens again, and a familiar face appears before him; it’s the camera guy he tripped over (what was his name again?). “… Oh, it’s just you.” The look of anger on his face subsides for indifference. “Jimin, right?”

                 Jimin just stares. “… How did you know that?”

                 “We know everything in Yearbook,” he yawns, stepping out of the closet. “And your friend screamed your full name the last time we ended up in the office. I guess I never introduced myself, huh? Min Yoongi.” His hand is involuntarily shaken. “Esteemed head photographer of the Yearbook committee and vice-president of the Photography club.”

                 “… Okay,” he says. “Why were you sleeping in there…?”

                 Yoongi picks up his camera off the floor and hangs it around his neck. “I was taking photos of the dance room for our coverage on Extracurricular Week,” he explains, turning it on. “Then I got ing lazy.”

                 “O-Oh!” Jimin sputters, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave.” He turns to gather his things.

                 “Hold it.” His sleeve is yanked backwards. “Don’t be so quick to run away, junior. You owe me.”

                 He stares for a second before realizing he’s confused. “… For what?”

                 Yoongi points at his camera and frowns. “When your stupid tripped over me the other day, I dropped my baby onto the floor and she hasn’t been working well since. You ing owe me.”

                 “… I-I’m sorry.” He looks down at his feet. “I didn’t mean to. What… What do I owe you?”

                  “Let me take pictures of you.”

                  He looks up again, gaping at the boy casually leaning against the mirrors. “Wh-What?”

                 “It’ll look good in the Yearbook,” Yoongi replies, setting up his camera. “You know, we need a section on dance. So, you’d better pose for me.”

                 Jimin stiffens, panic erupting in his skull. “… N-No, no, no! I can’t. I-I’m camera shy.”

                 “What?” The older boy makes a face of contempt. “There’s no such thing.”

                 “No dude, I really don’t want my picture taken!” He scampers away, fleeing the room as fast as he can. Yoongi’s calling after him (more specifically, he’s shouting ‘COME BACK HERE, YOU NUGGET!’). He’s about to pass through the doorway and into the student masses when he notices that something’s off.

                 There’s no one in the hallway, even though it’s lunchtime. Jimin can’t hear anything at all, and usually he’d be able to listen to his peers chattering in the main hall or guitar solos by the music rooms. The silence isn’t something he’s used to.

                  “Hey, I said come back—” Yoongi’s standing beside him, and it’s clear that he notices it too. “… Where the hell is everyone?”

                  “I don’t know…” Across the hall is a set of lockers, where four numbers are printed on with blue spray paint. “What’s zero-two-zero-six?”

                  The senior student takes a photo of it. “Dunno, but it looks familiar. Come on, let’s go see what’s happening.”

                  Jimin realizes he doesn’t have much of a choice and trails after him. As expected, the atrium and cafeteria are also deserted. It’s like being at school at six in the morning, except at that time even the office staff would have been at their desks. Now, it’s 12:34PM and there are no students or staff in sight.

                  While they walk around, they see more of the same numbers on walls and random splatters of paint all over the floor. Yoongi suggests that there could’ve been a fire drill, but even that conclusion is nearly impossible as they would’ve heard the alarms go off.

                  “Maybe we should call someone…” Jimin pauses. “Do you hear that?”

                  “Sorry, that was me. I farted.”

                  “No, it’s— what? No. It’s something else…”

                  They wait at the cafeteria doors. Soon enough, they can both hear a faint whirring sound. Yoongi scrutinizes the area before stopping to ask, “Do you believe in the balance of power?”

                  “What do you mean?”

                  “Like…” He bites his lip. “… When one powerhouse goes down, another rises?”

                  “I guess?”

                 “Anime club lost its power last year. Guess who rises in their place?”

                 Jimin squints and in the distance he sees not one, but fifty-something robots rolling towards them. They’re only about two feet in height and otherwise not intimidating if the machines weren’t shooting tens of near-lethal paintballs per second. At that moment, they simultaneously decide that they are completely and utterly screwed.

                 “Robotics,” Yoongi curses under his breath and grabs Jimin’s wrist. “RUN, MOTHERER!”