My name is Toukouseki. Sickle Crystal or something among those lines.

"I offer my D-hero Disk Guy as a tribute to add an extra 1,000 attack points to my Dash Guy and activate my facedown—D-chain, granting him another 500 attack points."

Life is painful when you're not number one. At least, it is for me.

"Now, D-hero Dash Guy—finish her Necroface and the remainder of her life points!"

The next few moments consists of blinking lights and blurs. All I remember seeing is a mecha-looking monster on wheels striding to my side of the field and then tentacles writher in the air before a huge explosion kicks up a cloud of whirling dust. When the dust clears, my life points tick to zero and I drop to one knee.

"You rely too much on power and too little on skill," Edo states indifferently as the holograms disappear and takes out his deck from the duel disk.

"I didn't ask you," I snap back defensively, fueled by my irritation that I had lost yet again. Edo simply looks down at me with half-lidded eyes as I kneel in front of him, gasping and catching my breath from the duel that left me exhausted.

"Come back with a theme and a strategy," he says emotionlessly before turning a heel and walking away. His words make the blood boil in my veins; I clench my fists and glare at his retreating back.

"I HAVE ONE!" I yell after him. I swallow a lump in my throat. "And aren't you going to take my medal-aisu?"

Edo shrugs before coolly replying, "I told you already—I don't need any more medals from trash."

Then he leaves.

Six times this month I've lost to Edo Phoenix. Six times. He started to get bored of me after the second or third time but I was desperately persistent so he dueled me over and over again, yet refused to take my medals over and over again when I lost. Get better, is his underlining message and I don't understand why.

I try to calm myself down so I go to my dorm's cafeteria, ignoring the strange looks directed at me when I enter through cafeteria doors because I'm not in white. I refuse to be a part of the Hikari no Kessha and I'll duel anybody who tries to force me to join. I buy myself a drink from the vending machine and sit at an empty table, mulling over how to get better when I can't get any better than I already am.

"Tou-san? What are you doing here? This probably isn't the best place to relax, you know..." a voice bomb-drops from the sky and shatters my thoughts. I don't bother glancing around; I know it's Momoe and Junko AKA two of the other girls who aren't in the Kessha.

"Toukouseki da," I reply impassively, stirring my drink with the straw. "Use my full name-aisu."

"Let me guess, you lost a duel again?" asks Junko, clucking her tongue sympathetically. "You always mope in the cafeteria when this happens. What is this—the fifth time this month?"

Sixth, I mentally correct her. "I'm not moping."

"I don't get why you continue dueling this mysterious person you won't let us in on," Momoe comments and stacks her hands on her hips. "Depression isn't healthy you know…"

And neither is hair gel but am I accusing you? I mimic a response in my head. Besides, I only insist on dueling Edo because he's the only duelist I haven't been able to defeat yet and he won't take my medals OR let me lose gracefully, that prick.

While I'm absorbed in my thoughts, Junko leans over, steals my drink, and takes a nip at it without my permission. Then she draws back and makes a disgusted face.

"Yuck. Is this one of those diet milkshakes, Tou-san?" she says, looking like she just swallowed an ant. I know she's just grimacing because of diet milkshake's taste and not because the idea of me drinking a diet milkshake was revolting, or just plain funny, but I feel annoyed at her either way.

"Toukouseki da," I say irritably and snatch the drink out of Junko's grasp. "And thank you-aisu."

"What's up with the ugly chick?" comments a voice and I tense up immediately. "She looks pissed off."

Momoe gasps. "Wakame-san! That's mean…"

"Whoops, sorry," Tori AKA Manjyome's #2 crony says briskly, but he doesn't sound the least bit apologetic. "I didn't know she was a friend of yours."

"I'm not."

Tori awards me with a cold smile. "Well, there's no problem then. So let me ask again—what's up with the ugly chick? She looks pissed off."

Momoe glares at him reproachfully before turning to face me. "Don't listen to him," she assures soothingly like I'm a six-year-old and I want to kick her in the face for using that tone on me. "And of course you're our friend, Tou-san."

"No. I'm not," I repeat with a slight hint of sarcasm in my voice. I scoot out of the chair and wave two fingers at the girls. "Ta ta." I drape an arm over my stomach and mockingly give the boy a body bow. "Wakame-kun."

"Tou-san—" Junko protests, hurt.

"You didn't say the magic word-aisu," I cut her off, grinning sardonically with my mouth flashing a fake, toothy smile. My eyes are narrowed, my eyebrows are knitted together and the apples of my cheeks are bright red like I'm posing for a commercial. "You do realize I'm a better duelist than the two of you combined, right? So please, go ahead and piss me off." My grin dissolves into a snarl. "If you haven't learned your lesson from Sommelier Parker then freaking duel me—I'm up for it, ladies."

Momoe and Junko don't reply to my challenge; they back away and hold each other, gazing fearfully at me like I'm an escapee from a nearby asylum. I narrow my eyes and issue all three of them a sweet, acidic smile before swerving around and stomping out of the cafeteria.

I was blatantly arrogant back there, but my words are true. I may not have the looks, but I have skill and screw them for not understanding. It's not fair. It's simply not fair I have to stick out like the sore thumb in the crowd because thigh-revealing miniskirts are required as school uniforms. I wanted pants but they wouldn't let me because of some strict rule—and it's just not fair.

So now I somewhere outside right now, sitting on a tree trunk and skimming over a mad complicated textbook that hurts me in my brain-place. I don't know specifically where I am, but there's a lot of shade plus there's virtually no one around for at least a third of a mile which was the main feature I chose this location for. Darkness and solitude. Man, oh man, am I becoming more and more like a stereotypical emo teenager every day. Wait until I start writing angst poetry and belting out song lyrics from one of those J-rock bands where the lead singer is a hermaphrodite.

As a general rule of thumb, the level of my sarcasm increases by tenfold whenever I'm in a sour mood. It's a natural, unconscious response because I personally think sarcasm is a tool for beating around the bush when you're not articulate enough to say something straight out. That's why I avoid sarcasm like a rabies-infected mutt, though sometimes I'm just so pissed that my sentences end up laced with sarcasm anyway.

In a poorly executed attempt to release my frustration, I get up to introduce my foot to a charming pine tree. Two points to the genius who exclaims the obvious that it's a rather stupid thing to do but the truth is I'm just hurting badly inside and desperately want something else to feel my pain. But thanks to the laws of physics, biology, and tree-kicking, the tree feels nothing and I end up stubbing my toe.

"So this is what you do during your spare time," I hear suddenly hear two voices say, and I stop mutilating the tree trunk to eavesdrop some more. "Hide behind the foliage and spy on other pros."

"Don't flatter yourself, Phoenix. You're far too beneath my level to even be worth spying on."

Edo...?

"Oh? Is that also the reason why you didn't take up my challenge for a rematch?"

"Yes."

And that's...Hell Kaiser Ryou.

I hear Edo laughing airily. "Come, come, let us be honest here. If you truly saw me as an insect underneath your shoes, you wouldn't be wasting your breath talking to me right now. I know the real reason you didn't accept my challenge—you're scared shitless I'd beat you again. You can't stand the thought of another defeat followed by a period of humiliation, isn't that right…sempai?" Edo taunts his aggravated opponent with a voice dripping with feigned innocence and brash sarcasm.

My heart hammers in my chest as the atmosphere transforms dramatically. Is that kid asking for death on swift wings? I expect Ryou wants to punch the daylights out of Edo for being such a brash snotball. Yet instead, he simply replies in a cool, even voice, "You know as well as I that neither of us have a desire for a rematch, Edo Phoenix."

Edo doesn't goad him further. "Hmph. Fair enough answer."

By this point, I want to run far, far away from these two pros who wholly out of my league—like a million miles away—and once I'm a million miles away from them, I want to get so wasted that today's events are shoved into my brain's zip drive as a hazy memory file that can't be opened due to technical complications.

So that's what I do. I turn around and run. Somewhere. Anywhere.

These thoughts race through my head as I head towards a secluded bench on the island covered with shrubbery and trees where few people past by. Next thing I see is the planks of painted wood and I find myself plopping down on the bench, before I begin to cry. Pathetic, isn't it? I start crying because I'm weak and oh gods, I'm sorry I'm weak and I'm sorry I'm not pretty and I'm sorry I insulted you Momoe and Junko I didn't mean to and Edo and Ryou, you're such smug bastards—

"…hey. Are you alright?"

I quickly glance up to see none other than Edo Phoenix standing in front of me—and what the hell is he doing here? Wasn't he with Ryou just moments ago?

My heart thumps rapidly in my chest but I don't let my anxiety show. "Get lost-aisu," I mumble, avoiding his eyes and burying my nose into the tissue so it looked like I had allergies. My eyes probably gave it away, though.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"If nothing happened you wouldn't have a tear-streaked face."

"Go away."

"It's not attractive when girls cry."

The word 'attractive' plucks a sour heartstring and I decide that two-syllable replies no longer cut it. "Why do you even care?" I snarl bitterly when his parting words echo in my head. "I'm just trash, remember?"

"I'm sorry," Edo says suddenly. "If that's the reason why you're upset…"

There is no warmth in his words. It's all…rehearsed. He's doing this because it's a spur of the moment thing, because he's watched it happen on T.V. in the past and grown to accept that's what teenage boys do when the girl upset to make them feel better. Not because he means it or anything. His concern…all his concern has always been so fake. And I can't blame him because it's all unconscious. Him pretending to be polite and caring. I can see past his façade.

"It's not."

You know…if it's one thing I've learned about Edo in the past minute, it's that he wears different masks for different occasions, and keeps the spares in an unsealed jar for easy access. When he duels, his swaggering grin makes the crowds holler until their throats are sore. And when he defeats his opponent, his superior smirk sends the loser scampering away with their tail between their legs. Then when he greets fans, his charming smile makes the girls flutter their mascara-drenched eyelashes and whisper his name breathlessly.

But when the duel is over and the hysteria calms down, his arrogance, his authority, his charisma—it all disappears. Edo puts the mask he's currently wearing back into the jar and closes the jar. This is his real self: quiet and polite and utterly normal.

Despite this, I remove the tissues hiding my face and brazenly glare up at him with my eyes red and puffy from crying and my nose resembling a cherry, wishing with all my heart he would just leave me be. Of all the millions of people in the world that I'd want to discover find me in this state he's the last one on the thousand page long list.

He scrutinizes me as if doing that long enough will break my vow of silence or something. Then he shrugs; a sign he's given up already, kind of like a, "Oh well, but I tried and that's that." I call it false concern. If he really cared, he wouldn't have resigned so quickly. Thanks, you bastard.

"Fine."

Edo begins to walk away when I feel some inexplicable urge to exclaim, "Don't you want to know my name?"

He stops and gives me a backward glance.

"It's Toukouseki-aisu." I falter before blurting out, "But -aisu isn't my last name! It's my…sentence ender. I just thought you should know the name of the duelist who defeats you…"

Edo doesn't say anything; he just draws his lips together in an awkward smile without feeling, looks away and begins walking again. I feel empty when he leaves. Nothing I said mattered to him; nothing at all. He doesn't even see me as a challenge, a rival. To him, I'm little more than scum beneath his feet.

It's just my luck that as soon as Edo leaves, a couple of guys from the Hikari no Kessha rear their heads and play their favorite game of bully-any-bystander-on-the-premises. I guess my secluded spot is no longer secluded.

"Lookie here, we've got ourselves a crybaby," taunts one guy in white while three others form a semi-circle around me. "Would you like me to wipe away your tears, little baby?"

Bullshit, I don't need this. I mop away my tears with the back of my hand and stand up, unlocking the duel disk from my arm as I do so.

"A four-to-one duel," I say. "This won't take more than ten minutes-aisu."

Three years ago, I hit rock bottom. I learned when your face is in dirt the only way to go is up.

I won that duel. For a few shining moments, it didn't matter that I couldn't defeat Edo—I could defeat everybody else. They were going to be my stepping stones to reach him.

So I shook the dirt out of my hair and clawed my way up. It didn't matter if my fingernails ripped apart and bled, I wanted to be the perfect duelist. The best.

As I stared at the three shiny medals in my palm, I promised myself I would never cry in public again.