Reunion

What sucks harder than losing a video game tournament you’ve spent every night of the last three months training for? If your answer was coming face-to-face with your ex-wife almost immediately afterwards, then you would absolutely be correct.

I had just stepped out of the building to get some air. The sky was dark, and there was a light drizzle pouring down from the clouds. The other guy was still busy celebrating with his friends inside for winning the tournament, and for also beating me. It was a lucky shot. Or maybe it wasn’t.

To be fair, he’d leveled up since the last time we played. I used to whoop his ass easily without breaking a sweat. But it was obvious he had also put in a lot of training since then. I made a blunder, he saw the opportunity, and he went for the finishing blow before I could react.

“Damn, he was fast. Clever bastard didn’t even waste a second.”

I was standing in the rain as I muttered to myself. Staring up at the darkened sky, letting the rain wash my face and soak my clothes as I ran my fingers through my wet hair. I almost had him though. Yes, I was winning. I basically had him cornered already, even with my health down in the red. Likewise, his health was also almost in the red. All I needed to do was trigger my combo, and it would have been game over in an instant. I was sure of it.

Even if he somehow survived the attack, I just had to dodge his next move, then end the match with a single punch. But… I smelled it.

A familiar strawberry scent in the air, one I hadn’t smelled in a long time. Sweet. Soft. Home. But also carrying pain. So much pain. It caused me to look away from my screen for a moment, searching the crowd behind me for a face I might recognize. But she wasn’t there. Maybe someone was just wearing a similar perfume to the one she used to. By the time I turned my attention back to the game, I had already lost. He had triggered his own combo against me, seizing the moment while I was distracted.

As I watched my avatar being absolutely obliterated, the reality of my situation settled in. 1.5 million yen, gone. Poof. No longer in my grasp. I was planning to use the prize money to ignite interest in my little manga shop. Maybe if I stocked the shelves with some of the newer titles, the customers would finally start rolling in. But since I lost, that door was now closed.

Thunder rumbled overhead, snapping me back to the present. I could still hear the celebrations coming from inside, and I developed the sudden urge to hit something. The vending machine across the street looked like a decent enough substitute for a punching bag in that moment. I needed to release some stress, so it was just going to have to do.

I began walking across the road, my right hand already forming a fist. I wanted to punch the thing hard enough to break through the glass. I didn’t care if I injured myself in the process. The pain was going to be a welcome distraction from all the crappy decisions I’ve made leading up to that point. My life sucked, I had no friends, and I was quickly going bankrupt. However, just as I was halfway across the street, a voice spoke up from behind me.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop doing that whenever you are angry?”

I came to a halt in the middle of the road, my eyes widening in surprise, my breath catching in my throat. That voice. That scent. Strawberry. Sweet. Soft. I didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. What the hell was she doing here?

I stood there in the rain for a few seconds, not moving forward or turning back. My entire body was drenched, as the earlier drizzle had now become a shower. The gradual sound of knee-high boots slowly approached me from behind. They stopped when they were much closer, and next, an umbrella was thrust forward to help cover my head. The strawberry scent was overwhelming at this point. Still soft, but no longer sweet. I turned around to see this person, and after six months of radio silence and zero communication, our eyes finally met.

“Stop hitting things when you’re mad,” the raven-haired girl with glasses said softly. “You'll just end up hurting yourself.”

There was a pause after that. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t precious. It wasn’t a treasured encounter, nor was it a special moment meant to be frozen in time. It was the opposite. I was gazing at her with absolute disdain in my eyes, and she was gazing back at me as if the last six months didn’t happen.

“What do you want?” I asked coldly, not really interested in anything she had to say.

“Daichi, I…” she started, but never got the chance to finish her sentence. We were suddenly engulfed by a pair of bright headlights, and when we turned, the sight of a large truck speeding towards us was the last thing we saw.

Then darkness.