Chapter 5: A Glimpse of the Rival

School's out.

Finally.

"So, arcade?" Toujo asks, walking backward in front of me. He has a small red mark on his forehead from where I flicked him.

"You know it," Rika chirps. "Aoi-chan needs to blow off some steam. And I want to try that new crane game!"

"I'm not going to the arcade," I say.

They both stop.

"W-what?" Toujo stammers. "But... it's Friday. You always go to the arcade on Friday. To defend your 'Street Fighter' high-score!"

"I have an essay," I grumble, hoisting my bag. "And I need to... think."

"Whoa," Toujo says, putting a hand on my forehead. "Are you sick? You're 'thinking'? On a Friday?"

I slap his hand away. "Piss off. I'm just... going for a walk."

Rika looks concerned, but she nods. "Okay, Aoi-chan. We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

I turn and walk away, leaving them at the school gate.

I don't really want to be alone.

But I also don't not want to be alone.

My mind is... noisy.

Empathy.

What a stupid topic.

I walk without thinking, my feet just taking me on their usual route.

Past the convenience store. Past the bookstore.

Past the sports field.

I usually ignore the sports field. It's just a pit of noise, sweat, and screaming girls.

But today... I stop.

The soccer team is practicing.

And he is here.

Fuji Kenji.

He's impossible to miss.

Short, snow-white hair that catches the afternoon sun.

He's in his practice gear, number 10 on his back.

He moves like... well, it's annoying how good he is.

He's fast. He's precise.

He's not like me. I'm all sharp angles and brutal efficiency.

He's... graceful.

It pisses me off.

A ball comes flying toward him, high and fast.

He doesn't even look stressed.

He leaps, twists in mid-air, and kicks.

An overhead bicycle kick.

Something that should not be possible outside of an anime.

The ball becomes a white blur. It rockets past the goalie and slams into the back of the net.

Swish.

The entire field stops.

Then, the girls on the sidelines-a whole gaggle of them-just erupt.

"KYAAAA! KENJI-SAMA!"

"SO COOL!"

"HE'S AMAZING!"

Fuji Kenji just lands lightly on his feet. He runs a hand through his stupid, perfect white hair, messing it up.

And then... he smiles.

A bright, charming, 1000-watt smile for his screaming fans.

Ugh.

I want to barf.

He's so... popular.

He's smart. He's athletic. He's handsome. He's nice.

And he's my rival.

He's the only one who's ever beaten me on an exam. It was last semester. By one point.

I've never forgiven him for it.

As if he can feel me thinking horrible things about him, his head turns.

His blue eyes-of course they're a stunning shade of blue-scan the sideline.

They pass the screaming girls.

And they land.

On me.

I'm standing half-hidden by a tree, just off the path.

He doesn't look surprised.

His smile is gone.

He just looks... interested.

His eyes lock with mine across the 50 yards of grass.

It's just for a second.

A silent challenge.

The #2 student... looking at the #1 student.

Then, that stupid, infuriating, cocky smirk I hate so much creeps onto his face.

It's not his "fan" smile.

It's his "rival" smile.

It's the one that says, "I see you, Isuzu. And I'm coming for that #1 spot."

My blood boils.

I don't smile back.

I don't wave.

I give him my most withering, soul-crushing "Bloody Twilight" glare. The one that made Ayaka face-plant.

His smirk just widens.

He actually has the nerve to give me a little two-fingered "hello" wave.

Tch.

I'm done.

I turn on my heel and stomp away.

I can feel his eyes on my back until I round the corner.

"Stupid, perfect, white-haired prince..." I mutter to myself, kicking a pebble.

I'm so annoyed.

I'm so... flustered.

And I hate being flustered.

Forget the essay.

Forget "empathy."

I'm going to the arcade.

I need to punch something.

"Street Fighter," here I come.

I'm gonna beat my own high score until my knuckles bleed.

Just you wait, Fuji Kenji.

Mid-terms are next week.

And I am going to destroy you.