Chapter 22: The Identity of the King

My fingers are still shaking.

I am so angry. I am so embarrassed.

This jerk with his stupid, lazy eyes.

He undid my entire 'Bloody Twilight' aura in two rounds.

"I... I..."

"Number," he repeats, that infuriating smirk cemented on his face.

"You hustled me!" I accuse, my voice coming out way squeakier than I want.

"I played you," he corrects. "You accepted the bet."

He's right.

Ugh.

I hate that he's right.

The crowd is watching. Filming.

This is so bad.

I snatch his phone.

My pride screams at me. 'Don't do it, Aoi! Punch him! Run!'

But my stupid honor won't let me.

A deal is a deal.

I type in my number.

I shove the phone back into his chest.

"There," I hiss. "Now delete it."

"Nuh-uh," he says, his eyes twinkling.

He starts texting.

Bzzzt.

My own phone in my pocket vibrates.

I pull it out.

Unknown Number: Yo.

Unknown Number: This is your new King. ;)

I...

I am going to scream.

"I am going to end you," I whisper.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, pocketing his phone. "Get in line."

He turns his back on me.

He starts playing again.

One-handed.

Like I was nothing.

Like I was just another win.

Win number 75.

"WHO ARE YOU?" I finally shout.

The whole arcade stops.

The music, the bleeps, everything.

The guy sighs.

He pauses his game.

He turns around.

He pulls his hood all the way down.

And everyone gasps.

Not just the gamers.

But everyone.

The high school girls by the photo booth.

The salary-man on the racing game.

"No way..." someone whispers.

"It... it can't be..."

"Is... is that HIM?"

The guy just runs a hand through his messy black hair.

He looks annoyed.

"Daiki Hanata!" a girl screams.

"IT'S DECEPTION!" a gamer shouts.

Who?

Decep-what?

I have no idea what is happening.

"Deception?" I ask, my voice loud in the silence. "What is that? Some stupid nickname?"

The entire arcade looks at me.

Like I just grew a second head.

The guy, Daiki, just stares at me.

And he laughs.

He actually throws his head back and laughs.

It's a loud, bored laugh.

"Oh my god," he says, wiping a tear from his eye.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"You're the jerk who beat me," I snap.

"I like that," he says, smirking that stupid smirk.

"Daiki-sama!" a girl squeals, pushing past me. "Can I... can I have... your autograph?"

"Hanata-san!" a guy shouts. "You're... my idol! Your last tournament was flawless!"

Suddenly he is mobbed.

Screaming fans.

He's... famous?

This lazy, annoying, smelly (energy drinks) jerk.

Is... famous?

I...

I just grab my bag.

And I storm out.

I hate this day.

I hate arcades.

I hate black hoodies.

And I really, REALLY hate Daiki Hanata.