As every year, the long-awaited moment has arrived once again: the SISCO Antananarivo festival.
Today, the Palais des Sports de Mahamasina is bursting with shouts and colors. In the stands, a sea of students in LMA aprons sways like a human tide, flooding the arena with songs and excitement. The concrete trembles under the applause.
Backstage, however, the atmosphere is heavy. Three LMA teams are finalists in the Intellect XJ, but an underlying rivalry with Jules Ferry electrifies everyone's nerves.
Each team warms up in tense silence, except for two people who seem elsewhere.
Miaro and Haintso.
Between them, a strange coldness has settled.
Miaro, hurt, sulks in her corner, arms crossed, refusing even to meet his gaze. Haintso, meanwhile, is oblivious to it all. He's simply captivated by the universe and the spectacle unfolding before him. And it's understandable. He comes from a modest background. And now, here he is, a star among high schools. Even if, technically, no one knows he exists.
Now feeling self-conscious, he reinvents himself. He helps carry boxes, chats half-heartedly, avoids anything that might resemble conflict. He naively believes she's just focusing on the final. She, on the other hand, is fuming.
As Haintso picks up some scattered papers from the floor, a brutal shove sends him staggering backward. He nearly loses his balance. Before him stands a giant, six feet tall, staring down with obvious contempt.
— "Oops, sorry… didn't see the insect," he mutters, a wicked smile on his lips.
The locker room, already hostile, falls eerily silent. A few glances turn their way. Haintso bends down to pick up his box again. Before he can react, a hand extends toward him. It's Rija, smiling with false friendliness.
Haintso looks at him for a moment before taking his hand and saying, "Sorry," followed by, "Thanks."
Rija responds,
— "Sorry, man, he didn't see you. He's not great at apologies."
Against all expectations, it's Miaro who explodes with anger at the guy who pushed Haintso.
—"Seriously? Is this how you represent our school? Aren't you ashamed?"
Rija's eyes widen. Haintso, sensing the dangerous game brewing, steps in immediately.
— "Miaro, it's nothing. It was a joke. I was the one in the way. It was my fault," he says, gently taking her hand.
And Miaro, craving his warmth, softens instantly, her words becoming vague.
— "But did you see his smug face? He thinks you're…"
— "Easy, my love," Haintso whispers in her ear.
She shivers, truly.
— "We have a final to win. Our team is counting on you, so focus, okay?"
And Haintso pulls her fully into his arms. She wants to resist. Truly. But his scent, the warmth of his embrace, everything disarms her. She melts against him. The beating of Haintso's heart pulses against hers.
"You're right," she murmurs, her voice trembling. "Sorry, guys. Good luck to you all."
Rija clenches his teeth. His anger simmers beneath a frozen smile. He wanted to play the peaceful, reasonable hero, but Haintso beat him to it, once again.
Reluctantly, he mumbles something vague:
"Yeah, sorry too. Good luck to us all…"
Even as they walk away, Rija's fist clenches until his knuckles turn white.
In the opponents' locker room, their captain watches in silence.
The captain flashes a cold smile.
— "That Haintso… he's a ninja, Rija," he says, bitter but impressed.
— "He's not a ninja, kid. He's just an insect. And I swear I'll crush him with my own hands."
The captain nods vaguely, but deep down, he's seen something else.
In Haintso's eyes, not a trace of fear. Just an unfathomable void. He's experienced enough to know that's dangerous. Very dangerous, even. And he knows: this boy, who seems weak, won't break.
The captain holds his tongue because they have a final to win. And they need an angry Rija to unleash his full potential.
Finally,
The lights dim. A shiver ripples through the stands like an icy wave. Then, a harsh beam of light pierces the darkness. The curtain rises. And she steps forward.
Miaro.
She doesn't walk. She glides. She moves with a firm yet light step, as if each heartbeat makes the ground vibrate beneath her feet.
She pauses for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the crowd gathered in the vast Palais des Sports de Mahamasina.
Her eyes.
They brush across hundreds of faces pressed together in the dim glow of blinding spotlights. They graze the shouts, the flashes, the banners held high.
And then…
She sees me.
She doesn't know who I am. I'm nothing more than a spectator among others, a mere breath lost in the crowd. But in that moment, I swear… she sees me.
She sees me, and I see her.
Her gaze lingers. It catches, a fraction of a second too long. And in that fleeting instant, something passes. Something soft, silent, eternal. I'm in the stands, she's on the stage.
She is light, I am shadow.
She lives within the pages. I hold the pen.
And yet…
There's this silence between us, this invisible pulse no one else can hear. This breath from one world to another. The way she lifts her chin just a little, as if to say:
— "I know you're there."
It warms my heart. It makes me smile. Before I can shout anything truly meaningful, my friends Kevin, Landry, and Rivaldo beat me to it.
She raises her hand and steps onto the stage, but I feel as though a part of myself goes with her.
And so,
The stands, brimming with murmurs, sighs, and sweat, fall silent. The Palais des Sports de Mahamasina hasn't known such tension in years. The heavy silence grows with each signal from the host.
On the stage, the finalists. The score is tight:
Natolotra's team (Jules Ferry) leads with 4 correct answers.
Rajo's team (LMA) is tied for first.
Faneva's team (LMA) is second with 3 correct answers.
Taratra's team (Jules Ferry) trails with only 2 correct answers.
On the screen, a square is divided into eight blocks, only two of which are colored. By following the logic of the previous questions, Miaro has become quick to spot the answer: "It's a sequence where one moves top to bottom and the other left to right. You just have to pick the next in the sequence."
—"It's answer 'b,'" she says.
—"AND THAT'S CORRECT. THE FINAL POINT OF THIS ROUND GOES STRAIGHT TO MIARO'S TEAM, NOW WITH 2 POINTS."
Then comes the second round. This time, the patterns grow more complex. Incomprehensible lines flash on the board. Incomprehensible to a poor literature student like me, but these scribbles make sense to these brainiacs. The score quickly shifts from 4, 4, 3, 2, 2 to 9, 6, 7, 3, 3.
Of course, it's bad news for Miaro and her team. With only two questions left, the gap between them and the leading team is 6 points.
One thing is clear to me as an observer: these logic questions demand a lot of brainpower and perhaps maturity too, while Miaro and her team are only in their second year. They're bound to struggle as the rounds progress.
And there it is—another wrong answer surfaces. Their dream of victory crumbles further. Miaro feels the pressure rising like a wave. Her fingers tremble slightly, but she clenches her fists to steady them. She tells herself:
—"I can't falter… They're counting on me. Tsiaro is watching… Haintso too."
A new image appears on the screen. This time, rectangular boxes are divided randomly with varying numbers of lines. At the bottom of each rectangle, decimal numbers appear.
Miaro presses the buzzer again.
— "The next missing number in this rectangular block is 42."
— "CORRECT ANSWER! WOW… THIS TEAM OF SECOND-YEARS ISN'T HALF BAD AFTER ALL. THE SCORE: 9, 7, 7, 3, 4."
A faint sigh ripples through the stands. The suspense mounts. Kanto rubs her hands… She looks calm, but her heart is pounding.
She's giving it her all… but what if she collapses now? I can see how her focus is starting to waver. I have to do something. I can't just sit here.
And Kanto was right. Miaro is truly exhausted. The score is slipping away.
In the third round, Kanto presses the buzzer vaguely, if only to secure a turn, but the correct answers only come from Miaro.
13, 7, 11, 3, 4.
The faces of everyone counting on Miaro reflect a familiar expression. The hope we all pinned on this team of poor little second-years fades miserably from most students' faces. At some point, you have to be realistic. No matter how smart Miaro is, she's still just a second-year. Her opponents are smarter, more mature, and more experienced at this game.
It's Miaro herself who's struggling to keep up with this exercise. She can't be perfect every time, and besides, she's the only one who can follow the infernal logic of these problems. Compared to these monsters, she's average at best. She doubts they can win this competition. Especially now, with her focus shaken by the difficulty of the questions, the pressure of the score gap, and the weight of her team.
Haintso is starting to worry too. Six points remain before the final round, and the gap is now nine points. He sees Kanto and Miaro trying, but it's a tough battle even for them.
Haintso has never been too confident in his intelligence and has never really participated in this competition. But strangely, he's starting to notice that the predictions he makes in his head almost always turn out to be correct in this contest.
So maybe, if…
If only to lift the weight of the team off Miaro's shoulders…
A new display appears on the screen:
6 — 9 — 14 — 21 — ?
Kanto presses the buzzer immediately, as is her habit to secure the turn. Then she thinks:
+3, +4… no. +3, +5, +6? … Wait. It's +3, then +5, then +7… and +9, right?
Her brain calculates, recalculates.
—"The answer is 30."
—"OH… NICE TRY, BUT THAT'S NOT QUITE RIGHT."
—"What? But that was super logical!"
Even the opposing team is confused. They thought it was the right answer too.
Then another voice rises.
—"It's 32."
—"AND THAT'S CORRECT. THERE WERE ONLY TWO POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS, BUT THE RIGHT ONE IS 32."
It was Haintso.
As long as the other team doesn't buzz in, theirs remains active. He looks relieved by his answer. And a thought crosses Miaro's mind:
The gap was a sequence of prime numbers? … Clever.
She thinks to herself, staring at Haintso, who seems lost in a fantastical world of possibilities and logic. It's as if this game is perfect for fools constantly seeking meaning.
And so, the points come pouring in, to the wide-eyed amazement of Haintso.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
…
The meager points the others manage to grab come between rapid buzzer pushes and the rare displays Haintso can't decipher in time.
The score quickly becomes tight among the top three teams:
A point for Miaro's team. Then another. And another.
Then a counterpoint for Faneva's team.
A point for Miaro's team.
A point for Natolotra's team.
Another point for Miaro's team. Followed by another.
And so on.
— "What a comeback, man. But who is this Haintso? Have you ever heard of him?"
— "They say he's Miaro's boyfriend."
— "I thought he was supposed to be some super hot, mysterious guy."
— "Yeah, I know. We're all disappointed in the end."
— "THE SCORE ON THE BLACKBOARD IS: 15, 12, 14, 3, 14.
TEAM 2—RAJO, SANTATRA, TOVO, ALL FIRST-YEARS FROM LYCEE MODERNE AMPEFILOHA—ARE DOING THEIR BEST, BUT THEY'RE OUT OF LUCK ON THIS 59TH QUESTION.
OUCH, OUCH, OUCH, THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE SEEN A SCORE LIKE THIS IN THE 13 YEARS OF THIS COMPETITION'S EXISTENCE. IF TEAM 1 FROM JULES FERRY GETS THIS LAST QUESTION, THEY'LL BE CROWNED CHAMPIONS. BUT TEAM 3 HASN'T SAID THEIR LAST WORD YET. SAME FOR TEAM 5, WHICH, WE'VE NOTICED, HAS MADE AN INCREDIBLE COMEBACK THANKS TO THAT BOY OVER THERE. WHAT'S YOUR NAME AGAIN?"
— "It's Haintso, sir."
And a chorus of ooohs rains down in the gymnasium, from both the Jules Ferry and LMA students. I don't need to explain why.
— "OH… YOU GUYS ARE SO MEAN TO HIM. BUT HE'S HERE TO WIN. SO QUIET DOWN. BECAUSE FOR THIS FINAL CHALLENGE, IT'S:"
The challenge appears on the board:
Lion – Wolf – Tiger – Panther – Eagle
This time, Faneva is the fastest to buzz in. And he's convinced the answer is Panther. It seems obvious.
— "WRONG ANSWER."
Even Natolotra thought it was the right answer, but hearing the bad news, he holds back. Miaro, on the other hand, slams the buzzer with all her strength, hoping strength equals speed.
— "TEAM 5?"
—"It's Eagle," Miaro says hurriedly.
— "AND THAT'S A CORRECT ANSWER."
It's only then that Faneva and Natolotra realize that, indeed, Eagle is the odd one out because the number of letters in its name isn't a multiple of 4.
— "TEAM 5 ADVANCES TO THE ULTRA-FINAL. THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED, I TELL YOU. THE STAFF HAS DECIDED TO POSTPONE THE EVENT UNTIL AFTER THE BASKETBALL MATCH—HAHA, THEY DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING. THEY NEED TO PREPARE A NEW QUESTION SET, AND WE ALL AGREE THE FINALISTS DESERVE A LITTLE BREAK."