THE UNARGUABLE TRUTH WAS THAT LOSING DEALT IRREPARABLE DAMAGE TO YOUR PSYCHE.

A single loss was difficult to accept, let alone consecutive. Your confidence wanted to prove its worth. Your ego wanted self-assurance.

And when you received none of that, eventually, you bowed out. You focused on other activities that would give you that validation.

Because, as a human being, you could only accept so much degradation. Or else, you'd break.

I'd broken numerous people.

So why not him?

"Here. My scores on the latest tests."

Listlessly, I scanned the assortment of sheets Takumi had flung onto my desk. They were all either high nineties or solid one hundreds. Since it was nearing midterm season, our examinations were getting harder. Even Mr. Brainiac couldn't score perfectly on everything.

Not that I could relate.

Needless to say, I topped him on all of them.

My perfect test scores brought this prideful king to his knees.

"Y-you even had time to doodle on each of them," he sputtered, clutching my tests in miserable defeat. "Can they even be called doodles? I'd spend a fortune on these just so I could frame them and admire them all day long."

"Don't be shy," I egged him on, smirking. "Praise me some more."

That was the last thing Takumi wanted to do.

"Dammit." The dark circles under his eyes were glaring. "If not academics. . . if I can't beat you in pure academic knowledge. . . !"

EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY, RIGHT BEFORE LUNCH, CLASS 2–A HAD PE.

It was a co-ed gym class. Our teacher typically split the groups into girls and boys. Occasionally, though, we'd participate in the same activity.

Today, we were playing softball out on the school field.

As luck would have it, Takumi and I were on opposing teams.

He was stuck playing as pitcher.

I was last at bat.

It was already the last inning of our short game, with his team winning 2–1.

My team currently had two runners on first and third plate. Meaning, if I didn't hit Takumi's upcoming pitch, we would lose.

"Good luck, Anri," Moe told me.

Adjusting my helmet, I nodded, receiving the plastic bat from her.

"I'm right here cheering you on so don't worry if you don't get a hit," she added. "All that matters is that you tried."

I deadpanned. "Are you encouraging me? Or do you want me to miss?"

She laughed. "I want you to succeed, of course. But we have to be realistic here, sweetie."

Typical Moe.

I shuffled up to the home plate, right in front of the catcher. The blazing sun speared down from the clear blue sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight. How fitting.

Shuffling his feet on the pitching circle, Takumi tipped his cap downwards and over his steel-grey eyes. His girl teammates in the dugout, and the ones in the outfield with him, giggled hysterically.

"Takumi is so hot. Especially in that hat."

"He should wear one every day."

"It's a crime he doesn't already."

I lifted the bat into a swinging position. Perhaps, I was the only one who could feel it: Takumi's smouldering animosity. The tension in the air was thick enough to slice with a knife. He wanted to strike me out and end the game right here, right now.

This was his master plan of finally defeating me.

Go ahead and try, loser, I taunted him with a simper.

The vein in his temple pulsated.

As soon as our teacher blew the whistle and the game resumed, Takumi didn't hold back. He pitched a flawless slider that changed direction at the plate.

A home run wasn't feasible. Not with my strength, anyway. Therefore, I did the next best thing: I hit it in the absolute worst spot on the field.

The outfielders were too busy fawning over Takumi, therefore, when the ball entered their reach, they reacted slowly. My teammates on first and third plate had enough time to race for home plate. I sprinted there too.

"What are you doing?" Takumi's shout fell on dead ears. "Pick up the ball! The other team is going to score!"

The girl in question momentarily gushed at Takumi's overt display of frustration—apparently anger was associated with attractiveness, please rescue me from these maniacs. She scooped it into her mitt, cranked her arm back, and chucked it to third base.

I'd long since passed it.

I slid right to the home plate, following my two teammates, with plenty of time to spare. We scored an effortless three points. A flawless 4–2 victory. All because of my half-hearted hit.

"Anri, you did it! I can't believe you did it!" Moe cheered alongside my teammates. "We won! We actually won!"

Takumi flung his hat to the ground, fuming.

I had four sports maniac older brothers who forced me to play outdoor games with them until I was bruised, battered, and queasy. Trust me, I was just as good at sports as I was at academics.

THE NEXT DAY, Takumi whisked me to the music room on the first floor. In his arms, he carried a glossy brown violin.

"I asked the Orchestra Club to let us borrow some spare instruments."

"For what exactly, if I may ask?"

"You have a weakness," he answered. "There's no way you're good at everything. It's impossible."

I grinned. "I'm the definition of impossible."

He hurled the violin and bow into my hands. "I'm going to find it."

"Wait, you want me to play?"

"That's obvious, isn't it? Stop taking your sweet time."

I fluttered my eyelashes. "Like this?"

"Like this."

He manoeuvred to block off the exit and crossed his arms over his chest. I wasn't leaving unless I participated in whatever fruitless contest this was.

Sighing, I propped the violin onto my shoulder and chin. "Any requests on this fine afternoon?"

He grumbled. "I'm serious."

"Okay, sheesh. I'll choose, then."

Steadying my breathing, I closed my eyes, envisioning a melody. My fingers moved instinctively. Chaconne in G minor. I hadn't played it in a long time, so, I must've been rusty. Plus, this violin—although the right size for me—was uncomfortable without a chinrest. Despite that, I allowed the melody and the muscle memory to carry me along. Ten minutes elapsed in a blur. By then, I parted my eyelids to find Takumi in a hopeless trance. When I lowered the violin by my side, he snapped to his senses.

His pale cheeks filled with colour, and fast.

"What am I doing?" he remarked, concealing his awkward blush. "I ended up listening to the whole thing."

"Aww, was I that captivating?" I cheekily answered.

"I can play the violin too," he snapped, avoiding to answer the question. "My parents had me take lessons under famous musicians."

"My apologies for disrespecting your wealthy ears with a subpar performance then."

He rolled his eyes. "Piano next."

I quirked a brow. "We're not done?"

"Not until I figure out your weakness." Retrieving the violin, he shepherded me to the grand piano at the corner of the room. "All the instruments in this room are instruments I received formal education in. I excel at them. You're inferior at something here."

"Guess again."

"What?"

Piano, cello, trumpet, guitar, drums, the flute. Takumi might've been right when he said he received formal education with all of these. Just like everything, though, it became abundantly clear who reigned supreme. No matter the composition he requested I play, even multiple instruments at once, I ridiculed his efforts and buried his self-confidence beneath the dirt.

"This is— it's impossible!" he sputtered. "There has to be an instrument or song you can't play!"

"If there is," I answered, pausing my rendition of Canon in D Major on the flute, "I haven't found it yet."

TAKUMI WAS DESPERATE NOW.

"Cards!" He slapped a brand new pack onto my desk in the middle of a free period. "Cards are a game of luck. Even you can't control the type of luck you get."

"Have you been sleeping okay? You have a crazy amount of bags under your eyes," I noted, ignoring the bug-eyed stare of the rest of our classmates.

"Speed," he enunciated. He nudged his chin to the boy behind him. "Nao, deal."

"Got it!" his best friend Naoya Otomo remarked.

Within seconds, the game was set. The entire class were our very own spectators.

They watched me demolish him in real time. I gave the guy no chance to react. He couldn't put down even a single card.

"Ann's the winner!" Naoya cheered. Grinning, he leaned over to my ear. "It's okay if I call you Ann, right?"

Takumi clenched his jaw, not in the mood for our friendly conversation. "Old Maid. Now."

Not long after we began, there was a verdict.

"Winner!" Naoya announced again, propping an imaginary crown onto my head.

"Memory!"

"Ann!"

"Poker!"

"Ann, again!"

The bell chimed for lunch. As if this were a wrestling tournament, Takumi was pinned pathetically to the desk while I sat above him, unfazed.

Naoya snickered to himself.

"So?" I asked as I calmly stacked the cards on top of one another. "What's the next challenge going to be, sore loser?"

Takumi gawked. "I'm having an existential crisis and you're out here building a card tower?" he sputtered. "How easy is this for you?"

"Very." I snorted. "Just give up."

Seething, he yanked a doe-eyed Naoya by the collar and out of the room. "You wish!"

A tiny, unintentional smile crept onto my face. "Suit yourself."

"YOU'RE STUDYING?"

"Skimming," I corrected Asahi who poked his head into my bedroom. Takumi could throw anything at me tomorrow, so there was no harm in being prepared. Lately, he'd been getting craftier.

"Don't you think your head's big enough?"

"Shut the door," I snapped.

In response, he nudged it open further. I scowled.

"Who for?"

I nearly missed his question. "What?"

"You don't skim," Asahi elaborated. "You're a freak who knows everything about everything. That brain of yours is a national treasure. Who the hell are you studying for?"

He seriously used that concerned older brother card on me. "It's none of your business," I remarked. "Goodbye."

Pulling a face, Asahi reluctantly disappeared down the hall.

My phone buzzed on cue.

You look like you're having fun.

I haven't heard from you in weeks. Here I assumed you'd finally kicked the bucket.

Aw? You missed me?
You know, you can always message me first, right?

You make me physically ill.

Keep up the flirting and I'll get the wrong idea (' ε ' )

So?
What do you want?

I'm here for updates! The whole school is talking about you two.
Takumi has never looked twice at a girl but here you are on his mind day in and day out.
Weeks ago, he didn't know who you were. All the while you despised him. Now, you're essentially tied by the hip.

I still hate him.

Now, now.

I'm serious.

If you are, I'm all for it. As fun as it is watching you fool around with Takumi, there are other love interests in our game. As the gamemaster, I can't have you falling for him and pursuing a happy ending behind my back. Or else, how else would you progress to the next route?

If you're implying what I think you are, don't.
Having Takumi fall head over heels for me only to break his heart has always been the plan. And that plan hasn't changed.
I won't catch feelings for him.

(￢ ￢)

I mean it.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't.
Real boys don't do it for me.

So you say.
You used to be terrified to be anything but average. Because abnormality cost you friends and family. It cost you your happiness.
But now, you're having more fun than ever. All by being yourself again.
It must be nice to finally have somebody on your level.

Takumi? On my level?
You're joking, right?

I'm wrong?

You're wrong.
Takumi's no different from everybody else.

Are you sure?
Looks to me like he is different.

How do you get that impression?

Because he hasn't given up on you yet.

My heart plummeted to my stomach. The stillness of the house socked me in the gut, and the overwhelming dread that ensued forced my phone to fall from my hands. I cradled my knees to my chest, kicking away the textbooks littered across my bed.

Now, more than ever, I wished I could wrap my hands around Creeper's skinny neck and choke him to death.

His comment was too personal, even for me.

I was having fun?

No, I wasn't.

I strictly wasn't.

The sole reason I got involved with Takumi was because of him. Because of his blackmail.

Takumi ruined my life. The emotional scars he inflicted would never fade. On top of that, he had the audacity to forget who I was.

Sure, it was satisfying, pulverizing the dude over and over. Sure, I liked being a priority for once, instead of an afterthought.

But that was that.

Although Takumi hadn't given up on beating me yet, he would eventually.

It was a matter of time.

An inevitability.

I was used to people throwing me to the wayside—treating me like dirt.

"—Get out."

I zapped back to the present. Asahi poked his head into the room, propping himself against the doorframe.

"Huh?" I stammered.

"I'm inviting friends over." He gestured to his cell. "You have fifteen minutes to disappear."

My slacked jaw set. Since starting college, Asahi mingled with a group of boys and girls who were equally as annoying as he was. From time to time, and whenever the house was empty, Asahi took advantage and invited them over. The cover story was to play video games, but in truth, it was an excuse to drink and engage in other "adult" activities it was best I didn't know about.

Azuma and Azusa had taken a trip out of the city, and Aoto was out working. Quiet nights like these were perfect for his so-called parties.

At least he had the courtesy to kick me out of the house this time.

I glanced at the clock. 8:04 PM.

"Where am I supposed to go at this hour?"

"Figure it out," he snapped, and took his leave. "I'll let you know when you can come back home."

_________________

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