"You're really giving up that easily?"

I nod wearily.

She pauses, blinking, before throwing her head back and cackling like a deranged maniac. "So it was just a fluke that you beat me!"

"Kochou-kun…" I set my pen down and massage my temples.

"I knew it! I knew it all this time! I mean, c'mon, me, Kochou Ran, the girl who is most surely qualified to join the pro leagues had it not been for that little brat…lose to a nobody like you?"

"Kochou-kun…"

She plants both hands on her hips, with a half-bitten apple in one of them. Her cackles reduce to sniggering. "You're a wimp." A hair flip.

I really hope Ran knows that I am this close to stabbing her eyes out. Or throttling her. Which ever comes first. I sigh.

My Edo-free week didn't turn out as wonderful as I had hoped. That's the long and short of it.

The long of it is that I've lost all my duels ever since the last time I laid eyes on Edo to the point where my confidence has dropped below negative twenty-five on the self-esteem thermometer—thirty-two degrees being Kanda's level, ninety-eight being Edo's level, and two hundred sixteen being Ran's egotist altitude—speaking of who, I've developed a pseudo-relationship with for unlikely reasons even though both of us can hardly brag about being more than a mere acquaintance of the other, oh, and before I forget—I'm very, very depressed.

The short of it is I have feelings for Hell Kaiser Ryou.

…yeah.

I guess that's why I've been hanging around Ran so much, even though I just have this teeny-weeny crush and she has this big huge whopping love-fest with bells and streamers and chocolate sprinkles. It's also why I've been rambling and abusing run-on sentences the past few days. Of course, Ran thinks I'm just being a moody sore loser rather than being heartsick. I guess I'm just really good at concealing my feelings or maybe others just don't think I'm the type that's interested in romance.

Well, either way, I'm not going to deny my feelings because I'm not ashamed. Pretending I'm so emotionless robot who doesn't know the existence of love is just not my gig. I accept the fact that I am an average teenage girl, have hormones, and a soft spot for guys who wear black leather and are into masochistic bondage. (Though at the same time, I'm not going to fantasize about how Ryou's going to swoop down from the heavens and carry me away bridal-style to some romantic getaway where we will spend the rest of our days relaxing and cuddling and totally not dueling.)

I pick up my pen again, dab the tip of my pen on my tongue, and attempt to finish Satou-sensei's homework while Ran eats and commentaries in the background.

"So how has your 'recovery' been going from Marufuji-kun?" I say when my patience is only hanging by a thin thread. "Do you have any new hobbies now that fangirling is off the list? You can take up knitting, you know. Or learning how to fold origami."

That gets her attention. "Oh, no, I'm not falling for that one again! You're preparing to diss him, aren't you?" She scrutinizes me suspiciously. "Why do you call him that anyway? -kun. Why not -san?"

I ignore her question. "…he's very indifferent-aisu."

"He's hot."

"Yeah. If his shirt was any tighter, it'd be spray-painted to his chest-aisu," I agree absentmindedly.

"…" Ran takes a seat next to me. "You're acting strange these days. And today isn't the first day."

Wha? She actually pays attention to how I act throughout the course of a week? I feel so appreciated. "Ah," is my vague reply.

"What's wrong?" she demands in a totally-not-compassionate voice.

"Nothing's wrong."

"That's a lie. Something is wrong with you."

"Ah."

Her eyes narrow. "Fine. Be that way. If you're not going to tell me, then I simply won't care!"

"Ah."

"And will you stop that?"

I look up from my papers and blink at her. "…ah?" I look down again. "'k."

She slaps a hand across her face.

After I finish my homework, I tell Ran off— "See you tomorrow lunch." "Hmph! By tomorrow I'll find somebody better to socialize with than a loser like you!" "You can say that when somebody un-purifies the white dorm and resets the social pyramid back to its norm-aisu." —and leave.

Wandering down sidetrack lane, technically Ran would be classified as a 'slut' or 'prep' and I'd be classified as a 'outcast' but the typical high school stereotypes aren't quite upheld here seeing as: 1) Everyone is a prep for attending a preparatory school in the first place, 2) All the girls are sluts for wearing the mandatory miniskirt uniforms, and 3) Anybody who isn't in the Hikari no Kessha is an outcast. So yeah, labels don't really work in Duel Academia.

Hmm...the school year is ending soon. There's only two weeks left to the Genex Tournament and then arrives the summer vacation. Yet somehow, summer vacation doesn't spark my enthusiasm. Nothing does these days. I don't know why, either.

Yeah. That's it.

I just don't know anymore.

I had set myself up for success but it just ended up as a failure. I can't think or function or do anything productive. I'm negative about everything; my outlook on life is gray—which sucks because it's between white and black. Some people turn depressed because of guilt over something important—a lost family member, or a murder on those terms. But the way they're depressed is almost artistic, poetic, surreal. They could best describe their depression like—

I have slain thousands and spilled innocent blood. My hands are soiled. I am tainted imperfect, dirty. I se myself through a crimson veil I continue because that's what I have to do. Because it's my job.

In contract, my depression is more—

I hate everything, nobody understands me because they're stupid. I'm really fat. And ugly. And worthless. I'm a failure.

It's shallow, it's petulant, and it's whiny, stupid, and self-absorption, and over-exaggerated. It's...gray. Not rich, violent black. Just gray. That's the problem with gray. Not depressed enough to be suicidal, slitting my wrists and abusing drugs 'cause that's the type of stuff that appears in newspapers and documentaries you watch in health class.

Ryou can be defined as real depression. He loses to Edo and his life spiral down from there. He loses ten consecutive pro-duels in a row, does something funky, then rises up with a whole new persona, all dark and gothic and wholly scary. Like being reborn from the flames like a phoenix.

I can be defined as a not so real depression. I don't duel anymore, at least not seriously, because I'm a coward and I'm afraid. I tell myself I'll do it eventually but that never happens. Not even remotely interesting. Not as interesting as a story filled with profound moments of anguish and despair and humiliation. No events that jump out at you or make tears come to your eyes.

Shades of gray.

Then a shout from the courtyard captures my attention. I stroll over to the large throng of people gathering around a duel—or more accurately, the end of a duel. My heart skips a beat when I catch a glimpse of one of the duelists.

His gothic black attire easily stands out from the sea of white, blue and yellow uniforms: it's Hell Kaiser Ryou, cold and domineering as ever. He doesn't bother picking up the medals that flew from the clouds of smoke of his trampled opponent. Ignores the low whispers and 'no way!'s coming from the crowd like chitterling mice. Just stares ahead of him, tall and proud and brutally indifferent and unconnected with the world around him.

An Osiris kid scrambles forward and makes a move on the medals. "Hey—I call first dibs on these babies."

"Wait." I step out of the crowd and glide in front of him. "Those are his."

The kid gawks at me like I'm a nutjob. "He doesn't care about these!" he argues. "They're up for grabs."

"It's still his."

I kneel down and retrieve the medal he was about to filch, wiping away the dirt on some of the more particularly grimy ones. Once I'm done, I stand up and stare at the boy, as well as the rest of the crowd.

"I'm going to give it to him." My voice comes out soft and somewhat empty, rather than snappish and full of pride like it normally is. I turn around and begin walking away.

However, the Osiris boy grows indignant. "Hey!" he shouts at me. "You can't just do that!"

I glance behind. "…tell it to someone who cares-aisu."

And so I leave, in somewhat the same fashion as Ryou, unconcerned of the background noise that is the crowd, unconcerned about everything and anything that isn't significant at this present time.

I travel towards the direction that Ryou left the duel, playing out how our encounter might turn out in my head. Would he thank me? Would he slap them out of my hands? A simple glare and whoosh of the trenchcoat? I don't know why I'm doing this, really. I guess I maybe want…to talk to him. Or just…know more about him. See how he functions. What turns his gears. His habits, his passions, his tastes. He's like an unsolved Rubik cube.

After a bit of basically wandering about, I spot a patch of cobalt bobbing up and down from some underbrush and take a wild guess that I've found my target. Somewhat mindlessly, and allowing my body to function before my mind, I tiptoe towards him until he's only a shadow's length away from me. Then I duck behind a nearby tree and chuck a medal in Ryou's direction. Lady luck is on my side because it lands smack-dab on his head, like a quarter on a plate skipping games you find at carnivals.

His reaction is immediate. With the velocity of a slingshot, Ryou's whips around, stabbing the trees to death with his glare-blades of doom and destruction. His movements were so fast, I barely saw him snatch the medal from his head.

"Who did that?" he thunders. By then, I'm long since been hiding behind the tree.

He looks around some more and then starts to walk off in the other direction once more. Seconds later, I fling another one at him. Ryou shuts an eye when the second medal lands on his head, and then frowns, somewhat cutely, plucking the cursed thing off his head and grinding his teeth in aggravation.

He snarls.

I go back into hiding.

I have a bad need to giggle. The motivation that's fueling me is part-anger, part-frustration, and part-sick amusement. I accept what I'm doing is the stupidest thing ever, but, c'mon. Haven't you ever felt like there are just times when you just want to do something and not give a damn about what the world thinks? Aren't you ever tired of being mature in society's eyes sometimes? I guess that's what I'm feeling right now. I've been down in the dumps for so long now that I don't want to be huffy and moody and all tough girl-ish, emoing about the world's dilemmas—I want to act like a preteen hyped up on sugar just for a little while to take my mind away from my troubles. Then I'll sink back into the depths of cold, cold reality.

Unfortunately, the temptation is too great for me to resist and I let out a small, girlish titter that's quickly muffled by my hand. But I'm not quick enough. A hand grips my shoulder and flings me around—

"You think that's funny? You think so—"

—and the next thing I know, I'm peering into Ryou's cobalt eyes. He cuts off when he sees the smile on my face. For a split second, a flicker of revelation flits across his face, but it goes as quickly as it comes. It's acknowledgment. He remembers me as that girl from before; the one who witnessed his moment of weakness.

His grip on my shoulder is so hard there's no doubt I'll wake up bruised tomorrow morning. He wants to hurt me. Wants to teach me a lesson that Hell Kaiser's not someone you should poke with a funny stick and think you can run away unscathed. Yet at the same time, he doesn't have any desire to do so. He's not a vengeful man. Doesn't hate or spite others. Simply looks down upon them.

Knowing this fact is the reason why I'm not afraid of Ryou. All the rumors I heard, all the newspapers and magazine clippings I read, the interviews, the commentary, the duels—they're all bullcrap, really. Ryou's not evil. I bet he'd even give someone the directions to the post office if asked. I guess he's just colder than before. More sealed. He doesn't really have a personality…

My lips part.

"...sorry."

The single syllable comes out breathless.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion at my bizarre behavior, though I can't say I know why I'm acting this way either. Lost in though, I extend my hand towards him—only to get caught by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" he demands, possessing the same steely edge in his voice for he's far away from trusting me.

I slowly raise my gaze to meet his. "…is your heart still hurting? Aisu?" My voice comes out oddly detached.

His face is set in stone. "That's none of your business."

"Yeah," I simply consent.

Ryou lowers his guard and loosens his hold on my wrist for a second, but that second is enough for me to set my outspread palm against his chest. He stiffens from my touch, but keeps quiet, to my mild surprise. I feel the irregular beat of his heart while he observes me in muted deliberation.

"...do you enjoy pain?"

"It's the only way to duel," he replies coldly. He offers no further explanation. Guess I'm not someone worth wasting his breath on.

"A hell duel?" I muse. Then I remember the reason why I'm here in the first place. "These are yours. Aisu."

He takes one look at the gleaming diskettes in my hand and then shoves me away, perhaps a little harder than he intended to. I think he says something, something harsh and cold, but I don't hear him, because by that time common sense smacks me good and I'm stumbling away—no, running—no, sprinting. Sprinting back to the only place I feel safe: my room.

I think I should try out for the track & field because I seem to be very talented in running—running away that is. How many times I've run away from challenges rather than face them head on? I…feel ashamed. What in the world did I just do? I just threw a freakin' medal on Hell Kaiser Ryou Marufuji's head, asked him about his heart condition, and then completely overreact when he rejects my present. I'm a drama queen. I over theatrical things. Oh my god, I have problems. Yes, I do. Loads of them. Enough to fill up a storage room.

My dorm room is on the second floor with a balcony. The convenient tree next to said balcony becomes a proxy ladder that I climb up and jet into my room through the balcony door because I want to get into my haven as quickly as possible and get so goddamned wasted the past half an hour rusts into a dazed memory in the back of my file.

It's just a shame I don't drink.

Once inside, I immediately flop onto my bed without bothering to undress. I stare at the ceiling. The ceiling is white. The opposite of black. Opposites. Sort of like...Ryou and Edo. I inwardly wince at the thought of Ryou's name. Still. That's right, actually. I never thought about it before, but now that I have—both in appearances and personality-wise, the shade and tint describes these two Pro-League duelists perfectly.

Black is bold and dark and it stands out, thick rich paint you splatter on the walls, and something you can't see—a potential almost, serious, demanding, rebellious, intimidating, and emotionless. Everything that stands for Hell Kaiser.

White is transparent, crystal clear, yet opaque as well, waves of passion, burning hot pain, creamy creamy milk, purity, hope, innocence, light, courage, cleanliness, freedom, and perfection. A perfect epitome of Edo Phoenix.

Black. White.

…and gray.

You mix black and white together, and you get gray.

Yet unlike its mommy and daddy components, baby gray is a bland and boring and annoying, like a dust bunny blowing by the leg of a chair or the color of a ceiling when you're staring at it in math class. Everyone knows suffering in math class can't possible compare to being rotted to the brink of insanity by having screwed drilled into your skull but it's bad enough to complain about. It's a neutral color. That's why all the neutral countries in war are colored gray on the geography maps. Conservative, like the suits business men wear, it seldom evokes strong emotion. Cloudy.

Shades of gray.

Shades of gray…

…

I drift into unnatural sleep woven with melancholy, despair, and teddy bears getting stabbed by acto knives. When I awaken, it's half past seven. I need some water. I need a walk. I need Zoloft.

I bunch my hair into my traditional style of pigtails to keep it out of my eyes and look myself in the mirror. A bleak, pale face stares back. Huh. You know—I think I lost some weight. Three to four pounds, as a side effect of depression is loss of appetite. Figures.

(Figures that weight loss can't spark my enthusiasm either.)

After listlessly entertaining myself with my reflection, I leave my dorm and take the walk I had planned. Even though I skipped dinner, I'm not remotely hungry.

I wonder how Edo's doing. Edo's probably observant enough to know I'm upset and probably thinks I belong in a mental insinuation or something, but the only thing I lament over is the way I had to leave because gawds, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea or that I like him or anything like that.

I remember what Edo said about his father. He was murdered. Though honestly, I wouldn't have guessed that to be part of his life in a million years had Edo not informed me. He simply doesn't act like a charity case. I'm not saying this out of scorn. I've given up my scorn for Edo since that day. I'm just saying...well...what I see.

A shoulder collides with mine.

"Oh... excuse me."

I freeze.

He seems to realize it as well, though he doesn't count these circumstances as the gods poking fun of a poor, deluded girl suffering from a petulant teenager state of depression and be morally outraged at the heavens.

"Toukouseki-san? I mean—I mean, Toukouseki?"

A week of not seeing him, of almost purposely avoiding him, and here he has to go and recognize me. Couldn't just pretend he didn't see a thing. Couldn't just have poor night vision, oh no, the kid's blessed with excellent dueling skills, athletic talent, charisma, charm, a pretty face, and the eyes of a cat.

I rotate my head, and there he is in all his magnificent glory—Edo Phoenix. Looking suave as ever. The darkness only sharpens his good looks.

He doesn't shirk away like he always did when I marched up to him and accused him of being everything except a loser. "Ah...I barely recognized you there. You..." He searches for the right words. "...look nice."

Awkward. "Yeah," I reply simply. "It's dark-aisu."

I'm not as flattered as I should be. I know Edo's feeling guilty for making me cry on that time on his ship so he's trying to repair the stitches to our relationship by flattering me.

He startles slightly. "How are you doing these days?" Edo asks hesitantly, studying me carefully. Apparently, the fact I haven't tackled him to the ground and pulled on his hair strikes him as weird.

I shrug. "Fine."

He breaks into a forced smile. "Really? That's good to hear."

"Mh-hmm." I cast my eyes at the starless sky, an insect on a leaf, the spores growing from the hollows of a tree trunk—anywhere away from his face. This would be a nice time for him to give up and leave. I have to finish my walk anyway.

Edo purses his lips before attempting small-talk. His 'polite gentleman' complex is kicking in. "So anything interesting happened lately?"

"Not really."

"Engaged in any duels?"

"Sort of. Depends what you define as duels-aisu."

He laughs uncomfortably at my attempted humor which wasn't really an attempt at humor at all. I simply nod and shrug in response.

He's waiting for me to burst out yelling how much I hate him and how absolutely mean and nasty and snobbishly famous he is and blah, blah, blah. You know, like in all our past confrontations.

Instead, my eyes remain firmly fixed on his tie. It's a nice tie.

"...I guess I'll be seeing you then," Edo finally concludes when I don't show any signs of wanting to take this one-sided conversation into my own hands. Another forced smile. A lame brush of the hand in a gesture of salutations. "Good night."

I witness the ever so familiar scene of Edo turning around and leaving right before my eyes…

"Wait—" I suddenly call out, ignoring the little devils floating around my head screaming déjà vu in my ears.

My call receives a backwards glance from Edo, though this time, he's genuinely curious. I have a tough time holding my gaze with his, crystal blue and bleached red, but I swallow the lump in my throat and try my best to dam up my courage.

"I…"

…falter.

I want to speak my mind. No more immature, petulant hating. I don't hate Edo. He never did anything wrong, never wronged me (but I needed a scapegoat, and dammit, he was as good as lambs came).

Sad truth is that now that we're not at each other's throat anymore, there really isn't much else to discuss. Ever since I lost the guts to oppose him, my worth has shrunk to the point where now I'm just another girl in his eyes—an ordinary girl, not particularly pretty or smart or special. I'm no longer interesting to him (assuming I was to begin with), no longer a puzzle to solve or an onion with layers of skin to peel away. I'm lucid and transparent and see-through and simply not fascinating enough to continue to hang around with. Rebellion sparks interest. Passivity brings yawns.

What do I tell Edo? What can I tell Edo? Nothing I say honestly matters that much to him. Oh, Edo… In the end, everything boils down to the lone truth that I'm simply not as important as you. Your life, your significance, is just far greater than mine. So maybe I'll just stop this childish emo moping and try to move on. Yes, for real this time. I've accepted I'm just nothing next to you.

Edo seems to sense that I am at a lost for words and have just made a mentally resigned conclusion. He takes charge of the situation and steps forward, extending his hand towards me—an act of kindness? Pity? Or just another part of his gentleman complex?

"…come on. It's getting late. You should get back as well," he says, working up a tired but gentle smile.

I don't think I have the willpower to decline, so I take his hand and allow him to lead me towards the Obelisk Blue dorms.

You know, Edo has always shown a lot of concern to me, especially when no one else had. It's a nice warm feeling; the feeling that someone cares. I don't care if he's just suffering from a gentleman/hero complex or is carrying out his code of chivalry—it's nice to know that somebody puts in the effort to even pretend to care.

As we stop at the steps of the dormitory, I vaguely realize that his hair isn't white, it's silver.

"We're here." He lets go of my hand and draws back while I totter up the steps. "Goodnight, Toukouseki-san," he says when I reach the top. He waves his hand at me. There's a pleasant smile on his face.

I smile slightly in return. "...g'night, Phoenix-kun."

I don't look back after this moment so I can't see his expression whether it be shocked, confused, or simply nonchalant.

I enter the Obelisk dorms feeling warm and yet empty at the same time. What a day today's being. My unfortunate—and now that I think about, somewhat enchanting—encounter with Hell Kaiser Ryou…and then bumping into Edo after avoiding him for a week. Edo… You know, one day I'd like to break down this invisible barrier of his—so maybe he can stop acting so damned nice to me—but the truth is it's just all one huge fantasy, because no one can change a person except for that person him or herself. What a nice, interesting day. I wonder if it could ever happen again…

Caught up with recollecting my day, I don't notice the blur of white bulleting in my direction at full-throttle until it CRASHBANGTACKLES me and sends the both of us sprawling on the carpeted floor.

"Mahh…"

I groan loudly, feeling my chipper mood drain away like water dumped from a tuna fish can. There's only person with a whimper like that.

"Tsugiokunyoujackassloserfaggot." The words come out in one incoherent string. "OFF. OFF ME. NOW."

You know, I was feeling just a teeny-weenie better today after my positive (ok, maybe not positive) encounters with Ryou and Edo. Just a teeny-weenie better. And then this lump of dumbcrap has to ruin my mood. Way to go, Hikari no Dork.

"TSUGIO-KUN!"

I try to scrape together what's left of my dignity in order to return to my room quickly as possible before some passerby accidentally happens to stumble upon this pseudo-grope fest and ruin my rep in this academia forever and ever. However, Kanda doesn't share my thoughts. He stays plastered on top of me like white on rice. Jeez, Junko was right when she called him a pervert.

Kanda reads my mind and removes himself from me. He rises from the ground and straightens his Obelisk White uniform, turning his back towards me while he does so, while apologizing profusely. I notice that his voice is cracked.

I stare at him. "What the eff happened to you-aisu?" I demand.

"Ah? What this? It's nothing, nothing at all..." He hiccups, and quickly puts a hand on his mouth to repress it. "Sorry again…"

"Shut up and tell me what's wrong-aisu," I ask him again, sounding familiarly like Ran. I pause. What the hell just happened to me?

"Nothing's wrong!" he exclaims earnestly, though I'm a 100 percent sure he's lying through his teeth. A beat. "I'm kinda glad though...that she turned me down...can't keep on chasing after her heels for the rest of my life, you know...heh..."

My skepticism increases. "You got turned down by a girl, right?" I state bluntly.

Kanda glances at me, giving me a shaky grin. "Heh, I'm not exactly hiding it well, am I now?"

"And you're glad?"

Another hiccup. His eyes trail back to the familiar spot on the floor. He scratches his nose. "Well, it was better to try than to not try at all. I learned something from being turned down."

"Excuse me?" That's the biggest bullshit I ever heard 'cause you don't get hurt if you don't try, I add silently to myself.

"You can't brag about living if you never try new things. That's what life is about." I wrinkle my nose, yet Kanda overlooks this and continues with an unusual assurance in his voice. It's not confidence. Yet I don't sense a low sense of worth from him. "Life is about happiness. And in order to achieve happiness, you have to take risks and leap over hurtles."

I stare at him warily and cross my arms. "That's cute," I reply dryly, "except sometimes the risks you take only lead to your failure-aisu."

He shrugs a shrug not so unlike my own. "You don't have to succeed to be happy."

I wasn't expecting such an answer. My eyebrow knits together, and Kanda notices my incredulous reaction for once. He lets out a sigh, shoulders hunching; the sudden spark of self-assurance dissolving into nothing and all that's left is the same nerd that got picked on and abused by his own cult.

"I love Asuka-tan," he starts slowly after a prolonged period of contemplation. "And I'll never stop loving her. But in the back of my mind, I know that she'll never love me back and no matter how hard I try to look cool in her eyes I won't be and never will be the guy she wants." He casts his gaze at his boots, smiling slightly. "But I'm ok with that."

"Then you're a loser!" I blurt out before I can control myself. I quickly catch my mistake, and glance away, stuttering, "I mean—"

Kanda shakes his head with a sad glint in his eye. "It's alright. Maybe I am a loser. Maybe I didn't succeed in my goal." He hesitates, looking down at his boots for a second time, as if in deep thought, before raising his gaze to meet mine, firm and determined and headstrong. "But I've grown."

I feel a prickling up my spine by simply looking at him.

"My experience as a lover has taught me many things and nobody can take those experiences from me. They've become part of me. And if people tell me otherwise, then they're simply wrong. That's one part of my confidence nobody can ever crush. That's what life is about. Making mistakes…and learning from them…having ups and downs, good days and bad days. And in the end, looking back and smiling on how much you've grown after all that."

Then Kanda flashes me a simple smile—genuine and pure, without a trace of deceit, without a trace of mockery, without a trace of hesitation or restrain. After a second, his smile falters and he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his head and laughing awkwardly.

"Man, what a cheesy speech. I'm really such a dork…" An uncomfortable laugh.

Silence.

"Tsugio-kun…you're smart," I finally admit, very candidly.

He blinks. "Mah? But I learned this from you, Tou-tan! You're the one who taught me all this!"

...I taught him this?

Being around Kanda…I realize I just…I just….

I gaze at my hand. My personality…it's been so passive this week…so docile and inert and just…not me. But being next to Kanda…

I look at his face. "...hey, Tsugio-kun?" I begin to ask him.

"Yeah?"

"Could you teach me how to duel?"

He gapes at me, wholly taken aback, and you know—I rather have a startled expression than an exasperated one any day. Nothing on Edo, of course. I understand the mistake I made by asking a pro league duelist to tutor and I want to learn from it by adjusting my standards.

Kanda blinks. "Ah, s-sure thing!" He clears his throat and all of a sudden, he changes. "I mean—sure thing!"

I arch an eyebrow. Did his testicles just drop five inches or something? What happened to his voice?

Kanda straightens up, holds his chin up, and puffs out his chest. "But first...you need a suit! And a microphone."

"…"

"And we'll have to work on your game show voice. And the poise has to be strong."

"…"

"And most importantly, you need a pretty girl, I mean, um, boy to protect their life from your Aniki!" He stops. He looks at my gawking, twitching expression and deflates slightly. "Um, you have a crush, right?" he asks hopefully in his non-gameshow voice.

My heart skips a beat. A crush? How long have I been waiting for someone to ask me this question? I...

Ryou with his hard set goal of victory...and Edo...whose hand felt so warm around mine.

And him...

"...looking back and smiling on how much you've grown after all that."

I...

I...

"...I DON'T."

My hand slices towards him, House of Flying Daggers style, and cuffs his head good.

"Owww!" Kanda yelps, rubbing his forehead, and peering at me with those big, innocent eyes.

"That's what you get for asking stupid questions-aisu!" I bark, retracting my hand to hit him again.

"But—but—maah!" he wails when my palm slaps his forehead once more, and throws his arms over his head as a makeshift shelter apparatus. "That hurt, Tou-tan!"

"Toukouseki da! Toukouseki da!"

"Tannnn..."

I fume. "I'll get you for this-aisu!"

Kanda yelps when I attempt to kick him, turns a heel, and hightails the holy hell away from me and my murderous lust. I chase him down the hallways of the Obelisk Blue dormitory, brandishing my knuckles as a threatening weapon. This goes on for a little bit and we pass through half a dozen corridors until he accidentally trips in a rut in the carpet and sprawls on the floor, in which I end up tripping over his crumpled heap of white clothing and dorkiness, roll around, and basically end up in the same position as our first encounter.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I think my spinal cord just dislocated in three different places. I wearily raise my index finger in the air. "...Tsugio-kun," I mumble, exhausted. "Let's get something straight. …I have no interest in guys. You got that?"

Kanda innocently props his chin on my chest to gaze at me. "Oh…ok, I understand, Tou-tan. You like girls."

I burst.

"KANDA!"

Somehow, someway, that Hikari no Dork manages to get out of the situation alive, but not without severe neck injuries from repeated strangling. (I spared his boy-parts out of goodwill.) Then he bids me a goodnight, and we part our separate ways, but not before he says:

"You should smile more. You look so much prettier when you smile."

Then it occurs to me I've been happier these past ten minutes with this nerdy, perverted nobody than I have been with Ryou and Edo combined. My soul feels full for the first time in a very long time and I find a genuine smile coming to my lips as I watch Kanda walk down the hallway. Oh, Kanda… I feel like I've been living in a dream-like state for these past seven days without knowing heads or tails where I'm supposed to go.

Thank you for pulling me out of it, you big dork.