Shiro had always been alone.

A genius at the age of three.

A freak.

No one had ever accepted her.

Not her parents. No, they had left her behind at the local orphanage, saying that they loved her but simply couldn't take care of her. But Shiro knew that was a lie. They were scared of her, the freaky genius child that couldn't be theirs. Had to have been switched at birth with their actual child. Maybe she was. Maybe that's why she never fit in with her parents; could never get them to truly smile at her.

Not the other orphan kids. No, they had avoided her like the Black Plague. Allowed her to sit alone in the corner of the table playing chess against herself. She couldn't truly fit in. A disgrace to orphan society. Maybe that was the solid truth; she never would be able to fit in, as technically, she wasn't an orphan. Just a child left to eat the dust of her parent's departure. A child that was left behind.

Not the adults who ran the orphanage. No, they'd glance her way and cluck their tongues and serve her food last. Maybe because they thought geniuses don't need food? Maybe because they reasoned that she wasn't human, and therefore couldn't get hungry? She didn't understand. The adults would always organize games and field trips and whatnot, their name tags shining and smiles laughing. They'd ask if she wanted to come as well, and she'd always reply 'Okay,' because now she finally wouldn't get left behind and she'd get to play with people and fit in. But then they'd ask if she was sure, as if they didn't actually want her there, and she'd say, 'I think chess is more fun,' because it's less enjoyable when no one really wants you there; if in truth, when she came along, she'd be left to walk alone.

Being genius of age three was lonely.

Sometimes she'd take intelligence tests, even though they were boring. And no matter who she played against, she'd always win and get their empty smiles and a pat on the back to say, Well done as reward that wasn't even a reward at all. Then they'd walk out of the room, glancing back just once with a look of fear… and not a twinge of admiration.

But then a woman walked into the orphanage room—possibly her birth mother; she couldn't bring herself to care anymore—with this boy of spiky maroon hair and a devious smile, and when he entered the room the first thing he did was smile and wave to her. To her.

And she simply stared back, blank and expressionless, because every genius keeps her dignity no matter how much emotion bubbles inside of her.

She could tell he was smart, and for some reason, it sparked something inside of her. Picking up her chessboard, she brought the game to a table and sat on a chair.

She could feel his gaze on her, so she stared back, waiting. He walked up to her, smiling and talking to the woman and orphanage manager. She could see that it was all an act. That he was only smiling because everyone else was smiling. That he was lonely and going to be left behind too.

His smile towards the lady and manager was blank and meaningless, and he only said the words they wanted to hear.

Why did he even try?

And then the lady spoke his name, and Shiro said the first words that came to mind. "You really are empty."

The boy turned towards her, a flicker of surprise flitting across his features. And under that, excitement. He even seemed to almost admire her.

The woman left him behind that day.

And during the dawn of the next day, Sora and Shiro—step-siblings, as they soon found out—ran away.

They used gamble money to rent an apartment. Everyday was full of games. It was fun.

And for the first time in her life, she hadn't been left behind. She was being included. Even relied on.

Sora and Shiro, the ones who were left behind.

And together, they formed Blank and conquered game after game, not suffering a single loss. They were unbeatable.

After eight years, they were challenged through an email by an unknown sender to a game of chess.

And together, they beat their opponent and were reborn into a world of pure games.

And even there, they defeated opponent after opponent, always winning, never losing.

Blank never lost. Blank never would lose. Blank refused to lose.

Because they were going to show the world—any world—how powerful the two who were left behind have become.

They became the rulers of Imanity. They were happy. Blank was happy.

And then Sora turned to her on the afternoon of the 19th after speaking of the arrival of some guests, and started acting weirdly. "Shiro, listen to me carefully," he said, picking her up and placing her gently on the ground. "I believe in you."

Of course. She already knew that. Why was he telling her this now? "I believe in you, too."

He nodded, seemingly looking satisfied. "Shiro, the two of us are one. We're bound by a promise. We're not the heroes of a boy's manga. We always win a game before we start."

What was he going on about? Why were there tears in her eyes? She quickly wiped them away. "Onii?"

He simply smiled. "I'm going to get the last piece we need to bring over to the Eastern Federation."

Then he turned around and walked away.

Was he leaving?

Was he going to leave her behind?

No, he wasn't.

He wouldn't.

Right?

She reached out her hand and began to run after him. "Onii? Onii, wait—"

And then he disappeared without a trace.

Yes, Shiro realized, sinking to the ground, he was going to leave me behind too.