The evening air had grown considerably cooler by the time Inori left the exhibition venue. The excitement surrounding the match had not entirely faded, however, and the streets around the building remained crowded with spectators who were gradually making their way home. Groups of students gathered beneath the streetlights to argue about the final team fight, while others replayed the match on their phones, stopping at particularly impressive moments to show their friends. Some praised Inori's overwhelming performance, while others insisted that Kazuha's sudden turnaround had nearly stolen the victory from Ishika High.
Inori could hear fragments of their conversations as she walked along the sidewalk, but she paid little attention to them. She had already spent enough time thinking about the match, and there was no point listening to strangers repeat what she had witnessed herself.
Ishika High had won, just as many people had expected. Their greater experience and coordination had given them a considerable advantage, particularly when the match entered its later stages. Even so, the victory had not been as comfortable as Inori had anticipated. Seishin Academy's Gaming Research Club was inexperienced, and several of its members still made mistakes that more seasoned players would have avoided. Yet they had also demonstrated an unusual ability to adapt, and their determination had forced Inori to take them seriously.
Ruko, in particular, had surprised her.
The boy she remembered from Nerva had been a tactician capable of turning seemingly hopeless situations into opportunities. His decisions had often frustrated his opponents because he rarely approached a battle in the way they expected. Rather than relying solely on mechanical skill, he studied the habits of everyone around him, searching for the smallest inconsistency that might reveal a weakness.
That ability had not disappeared during his absence from competitive play.
His execution was still somewhat rusty, and there had been moments when hesitation had cost him valuable opportunities. Nevertheless, once he began recognizing the patterns behind Yamashiki's weapon rotations, he had patiently constructed a counterattack instead of blindly pursuing another kill. He had waited for the right weapon, the right distance, and the right opening before committing himself.
Inori had recognized the danger a moment too late.
If she had been even slightly less careful, he might have caught her again.
A faint smile appeared on her face as she recalled the moment her character had fallen. She had lost her killing spree, and Ruko had demonstrated that he could still challenge her despite the difference in their experience. The result of the exhibition match remained unchanged, but that did not make their encounter any less enjoyable.
You're getting interesting again, Ruko.
She continued along the sidewalk until she reached the small restaurant where they had agreed to meet. Tucked between several shops, it was the sort of establishment people could easily overlook while passing by. Warm light spilled through its windows, illuminating the tables inside, while the quiet murmur of conversation blended with the occasional clatter of dishes.
Inori paused briefly outside before looking through the glass.
Ruko was already there, sitting at a table near the window with his phone resting beside his drink. He occasionally glanced toward the entrance, although the slight crease between his eyebrows suggested that his attention was still occupied by the exhibition match. Even after losing, he had probably been reviewing every major decision in his head, searching for the moment when a different choice might have changed the outcome.
Some things really never changed.
Inori pushed open the door, causing the small bell above it to ring. Ruko immediately raised his head, and she greeted him with a casual wave as she approached the table.
"Hello."
He returned the greeting with a small nod before glancing at the clock on his phone.
"You're late."
Inori pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, looking at him with exaggerated disbelief.
"By three minutes. You're seriously going to complain about three minutes?"
"Being late is still being late."
"Wow. You've become strict."
"I've always been strict."
"No, you haven't. You used to be much worse at managing your time."
Ruko stared at her for a moment, apparently deciding whether arguing about his punctuality was worth the effort. Eventually, he leaned back in his chair and let out a quiet sigh.
"...Did you call me here to talk about the game, or did you just want to criticize me?"
"Both, if necessary."
Inori grinned at his expression, and the tension between them began to ease. It was the first time since the match had ended that either of them had been able to enjoy a conversation without the scoreboard looming somewhere in the back of their minds.
A server approached their table, and Inori ordered a drink before settling comfortably into her chair. Ruko had already ordered something for himself, so there was little reason to delay the conversation. Once the server had left, he turned his attention back to her.
"So, what did you call me here for?"
Inori rested her forearms on the table. For a moment, she seemed to consider how she wanted to begin, and the playful expression on her face softened into something more thoughtful.
Then she sighed.
"Today's game was fun."
Ruko blinked.
"...That's it?"
"Do you want me to write you a report?"
"No."
"Then don't rush me."
She leaned back and glanced toward the window, watching the pedestrians pass beneath the streetlights. Although she had begun the conversation casually, there was genuine satisfaction in her voice when she continued.
"Seriously, though. I enjoyed it. I knew your team would struggle because of the difference in experience, but I didn't expect you to adapt as quickly as you did. Your teammates also performed better than I anticipated."
Inori began counting the names on her fingers as she considered their performance.
"Risa's rotations were especially interesting. She still has a lot to learn, but she doesn't seem to panic when something unexpected happens. Instead of wasting time trying to recover a plan that has already failed, she changes her approach and looks for another opportunity. That's not something every beginner can do."
She moved to the next finger.
"Kazuha was more troublesome than I expected, too. She was willing to keep fighting even after the situation turned against her, and that final sequence was almost enough to change the entire match. Kana and Hikari still need to work on their coordination, but if they can learn to support each other instead of acting independently, they'll become much harder to deal with."
Ruko listened without interrupting. He knew the girls had performed well in certain situations, but hearing an experienced player describe their strengths and weaknesses helped him look at the match from a different perspective. They had lost, yet the game had exposed more than just their shortcomings. It had also shown him where their potential lay.
Inori finished her assessment and turned her attention back to him.
"But you were the one I wanted to see."
"...Me?"
"Obviously. I didn't ask you to meet me just to compliment your teammates."
She gave him a knowing smile, and Ruko's expression changed slightly. Inori noticed the shift, but she chose not to question it. She understood that his return to competitive play was not a simple matter, and she had no intention of turning their conversation into an interrogation.
Instead, she leaned forward a little.
"I wanted to see how much of the old Ruko was still there. After all, it's been a long time since we've played against each other seriously."
She paused, allowing the words to settle between them.
"And I think I've got my answer."
Ruko lowered his eyes toward the table, but Inori continued before he could dismiss the compliment.
"You're still rough around the edges. Your timing isn't always consistent, and there were a few moments when you hesitated even though you had already identified the right play. But your instincts are coming back. You noticed my weapon-switching pattern, waited for the right opportunity, and punished me when I was vulnerable. You didn't simply charge at me because you wanted a kill."
Her smile widened.
"That was a good play."
Ruko studied the condensation on his glass for a moment before answering.
"...I still lost."
"Yes, you did."
Inori responded without the slightest hesitation.
He raised his eyes toward her, perhaps expecting her to soften the statement, but she merely shrugged.
"What? Would you rather I lie?"
"No."
"Then there's your answer."
She tapped the tabletop lightly with one finger, her tone becoming more serious as she explained what she meant.
"Winning doesn't mean every decision you made was correct, and losing doesn't mean everything you did was wrong. You made mistakes. So did I. The difference is that my team managed to destroy your Base Camp before yours could destroy ours."
She looked directly at him.
"That's all the scoreboard tells us. It tells us which team won the match. It doesn't tell us that every decision made by the winning team was perfect, or that the losing team has nothing worth learning from."
Ruko remained silent for a while, considering her words. The defeat still frustrated him, particularly because Seishin had come so close to turning the game around. Nevertheless, there was no point pretending the result had been unfair. Ishika had capitalized on its opportunities, and Seishin had failed to do the same when it mattered most.
That was the nature of competition.
If he wanted a different result the next time they faced each other, he would have to earn it.
Eventually, he nodded.
Inori watched him for another moment, apparently satisfied that he had understood her point. Then she straightened in her chair, and a familiar glint returned to her eyes.
"Anyway, that's not the main reason I wanted to meet you."
Ruko looked up again.
"What is it?"
Inori's expression grew more serious, although the excitement beneath it was impossible to conceal.
"I'll see you in the big leagues."
He stared at her, momentarily unsure whether he had heard her correctly.
"...What?"
"The Nervanox City Cup."
She said the name as though it should have been obvious.
"It's happening a month from now."
Ruko's eyebrows drew together. He knew the event, of course, but he had not expected Inori to bring it up so suddenly. The City Cup was one of the major competitive events held in the region, attracting school teams, independent groups, and registered players from different levels of competition. Depending on the division, participants could find themselves facing opponents with far more experience than anyone they had encountered in an ordinary school match.
It was a considerably larger stage than the exhibition match they had just finished.
"The City Cup?" he repeated.
"That's right."
Inori folded her arms, watching his reaction with growing amusement.
"It's one of the major competitive events in the city. There are plenty of experienced players there, and the competition is considerably tougher than today's exhibition match. Surely you've heard of it."
"I have."
"Then why do you look so confused?"
"Because I don't understand why you're bringing it up."
For a moment, Inori simply stared at him. Then she released a long sigh and shook her head as though she had just been reminded of one of his most irritating habits.
"...You really haven't changed in some ways."
Ruko frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you can analyze an entire match in your head, but somehow miss the obvious."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
"Listen. Our team won today, but this was only an exhibition match. It was an opportunity for both teams to test themselves, not the end of the road. There's still plenty of time before the City Cup, and I have no intention of spending that time fighting the same opponents over and over."
Her eyes sharpened with unmistakable excitement.
"I want stronger opponents. I want matches where I can't predict everything that's going to happen. And I want to see how far you can go now that you've started playing seriously again."
Ruko's expression became more guarded as he waited for her to continue. He had a feeling he already knew what she was going to say, but hearing it directly from Inori was different from merely suspecting it.
She smiled.
"I'll see you and Mitsuru at the City Cup."
Ruko went completely still.
The name struck a part of him that the rest of their conversation had not touched. For a moment, the restaurant seemed to grow quieter, and the faint sounds of customers talking around them receded into the background. Inori noticed his reaction, but she did not interrupt him immediately.
Ruko had spent years trying to put his memories of Nerva behind him. He had told himself that the past belonged where it was, that there was no reason to keep looking backward when he had already decided to leave competitive play. Yet every time one of his former teammates appeared, or someone mentioned the name of the person who had once mattered most to him, that carefully constructed distance became harder to maintain.
Mitsuru was no exception.
Inori allowed him a moment before continuing.
"And when we meet there, both of you had better fight me with your full power."
Ruko remained quiet for another second. Then, gradually, the tension in his expression eased. A small smile appeared on his face, one that looked far more genuine than the faint expressions he had worn throughout most of the evening.
"...You're really looking forward to this, aren't you?"
"Of course I am."
Inori answered immediately, as though the question itself were ridiculous.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to fight you seriously again?"
Ruko did not answer, because he understood what she meant.
Inori had continued competing after Nerva disbanded. She had tested herself against players from different schools and regions, faced opponents who forced her to improve, and built a reputation that no longer depended on the team she had once belonged to. While she had continued moving forward, Ruko had withdrawn from the competitive scene and allowed his skills to grow rusty.
For a long time, their paths had moved in opposite directions.
Now, after years apart, they had finally crossed again.
Inori wanted to know what would happen if the Ruko she remembered returned to the battlefield in full. She wanted to see whether the player who had once challenged the strongest teams in Nervanox could still stand beside her as an equal.
Ruko leaned back in his chair, his smile becoming a little more pronounced.
"Fine."
Inori raised an eyebrow.
"Fine?"
"I'll be there."
He met her eyes, and for once, there was no uncertainty in his expression.
"And when we meet again, I'll win."
Inori stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha! There it is!"
Ruko looked mildly annoyed.
"What?"
"That confidence! I was wondering when you'd finally bring it back."
She pointed at him with a grin that made it clear she was enjoying herself far too much.
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I wouldn't make one if I didn't intend to keep it."
Inori's grin grew wider.
"Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
The defeat at the exhibition match had not suddenly become pleasant, nor had Ruko forgotten the frustration of watching his teammates fall one by one. However, the disappointment had finally begun to settle into something more useful. Instead of allowing the loss to become another reason to avoid the game, he could treat it as a starting point.
There was another match ahead, another opponent to challenge, and a clear deadline by which he and his teammates would need to improve.
The City Cup was only a month away.
The server returned with their drinks, briefly interrupting the conversation. Inori thanked her before taking a sip, while Ruko turned toward the window and watched the evening traffic pass beyond the glass. A month was not a long time, especially for a team that still struggled with coordination and basic competitive experience. Risa needed to become more comfortable with jungle play, Kana and Hikari had to learn to coordinate their attacks, and Kazuha needed to turn her determination into more consistent decisions under pressure.
There was plenty of work to do.
Yet for the first time since the match had ended, Ruko had something to look forward to rather than merely something to regret.
The City Cup.
And another chance to face Inori.
He turned back toward her.
"Is that everything you wanted to tell me?"
Inori paused with her glass halfway to her mouth. She had been about to take another sip, but something suddenly seemed to occur to her. Setting the glass down, she tilted her head and regarded him with a casual expression that did not quite conceal the significance of what she was about to say.
"Oh, right. There's one more thing."
Ruko waited.
Inori studied his face for a moment before adding, almost offhandedly, "Ester will probably be there, too."
Ruko froze.
The reaction was immediate. The confidence that had returned to his expression moments earlier vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. His fingers stopped against the side of his glass, and for several seconds, he seemed unable to decide whether he should ask her to repeat herself.
"...Ester?"
Inori nodded.
"Yeah. Ester."
The name carried more weight than Inori's casual delivery suggested. Ruko had not heard it spoken in a conversation like this for a long time, and hearing it now brought back memories he had not expected to revisit that evening.
Ester, the Support Queen of Nerva.
The girl with long, light-blue hair who had once stood beside them on the biggest stages of competitive Nervanox. She had possessed an extraordinary sense of positioning, precise timing, and an instinct for protecting her teammates without sacrificing opportunities to attack. While Mikasa controlled the jungle and Ruko studied the battlefield, Ester had shaped the rhythm of their team fights, creating openings that allowed their strongest players to perform at their best.
She had been one of the team's most dependable members, the sort of player whose contributions were easy to overlook until the moment she was no longer there to provide them.
But she had been more than a dependable support player.
She had been his teammate, his friend, and someone who had shared the years when Nerva had seemed almost impossible to defeat.
Ruko stared at Inori, his voice quieter when he finally spoke.
"...Is Ester still playing Nervanox?"
Inori's smile faded.
"No."
The answer came simply, without any attempt to disguise the truth.
Ruko lowered his gaze. He had not realized how much he had wanted to hear a different answer until that single word had taken the possibility away from him.
Inori continued, her voice softer than before.
"She stopped playing after Mikasa disappeared."
The atmosphere between them changed.
Mikasa had been the heart of Nerva, the captain who held the team together when matches became difficult and their opponents seemed impossible to overcome. She had been known as the Perfect Jungler, a player whose control of the map could dictate the pace of an entire game. Her presence had given the rest of them something to rely on, both inside the battlefield and outside it.
Then, one day, she had disappeared.
No proper explanation had come that could make sense of the sudden absence. The team that had once stood together at the highest level of competition had gradually fallen apart, each member finding a different way to deal with the loss.
Inori had continued playing. She had entered new competitions, faced new opponents, and steadily built her own reputation.
Ruko had withdrawn from competitive play, leaving behind the world that had once defined him.
And Ester had walked away from the game entirely.
Ruko's fingers tightened slightly around his glass.
"...I see."
Inori watched him, giving him time to absorb the answer before continuing.
"She still comes to watch my tournament matches, though."
Ruko looked up.
"She does?"
"Yeah. She doesn't play anymore, but she hasn't completely abandoned the game. Whenever I'm competing nearby, she'll sometimes show up in the audience."
A faint smile returned to Inori's face as she recalled the occasions when she had spotted her former teammate among the spectators.
"She doesn't always tell me she's coming, either. I'll finish a match, look toward the audience, and suddenly find her standing there. Sometimes she waits until afterward to say hello, as if appearing without warning is perfectly normal."
Inori gave a small laugh.
"She's still the same in that regard."
Ruko remained quiet, but his thoughts had already begun drifting toward memories of Ester. He remembered her laughter during their practice sessions, her complaints whenever he and Kalix argued over strategies, and the way she would scold them for ignoring their own health after spending hours in front of their screens. He could still picture her stepping between two teammates who were about to turn a disagreement into a full argument, calmly pointing out that neither of them would improve by shouting at the other.
He remembered the way she encouraged the team after difficult matches, too. Ester had rarely made grand speeches, but she had always known when someone needed a quiet word or a reminder that one defeat did not erase everything they had accomplished.
Those memories felt distant now, almost as though they belonged to another life.
The thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He had accepted that Nerva was part of his past, but he had never truly considered what it would mean to meet the people from that past again. Seeing Inori had already forced him to confront the years he had spent away from the game. The possibility of seeing Ester brought a different kind of uncertainty, one he could not solve by studying a player's habits or identifying a weakness in their strategy.
Inori watched him for another moment before speaking.
"You should probably say hello to her."
Ruko shifted his eyes toward her.
Inori shrugged, as though the advice were obvious.
"Seriously. If she finds out you returned to Nervanox and didn't even bother catching up with her, she'll be furious."
Ruko did not answer immediately. Instead, he tried to imagine what would happen if he actually encountered Ester at the City Cup. Would she be happy to see him, or would she be angry that he had disappeared from the competitive scene without keeping in touch? Would she ask him why he had stopped playing? Would she ask about Mikasa? Would she want to know what had happened to the boy who had once been so certain he would spend his life competing at the highest level?
There were too many questions, and he had no answers prepared for any of them.
"...Ruko?"
Inori's voice brought him back to the present.
He looked up.
"What?"
"Don't overthink it."
She smiled faintly, her tone gentler than her usual teasing.
"She's Ester. You know her."
Ruko lowered his gaze again.
"...Yeah."
But knowing someone in the past did not necessarily mean knowing how to face them in the present. Years had passed, and both of them had changed in ways he could not begin to measure. He could not simply assume that everything would return to the way it had been because they had once been teammates.
Inori seemed to understand that much. She did not press him further, choosing instead to pick up her belongings and stand from her chair.
"Well, that's everything I wanted to tell you."
Ruko looked up.
"You're leaving already?"
"Unless you want to keep me here all night."
"No."
"Good. I have a team to deal with, and after that match, we have a lot to discuss."
She stepped away from the table, then turned back toward him with a playful smile.
"Don't forget what I said."
"The City Cup?"
"The City Cup."
Inori pointed at him, her expression becoming competitive again.
"I expect you to show up. And don't come there half-heartedly. If we're going to fight again, I want to see the Ruko who used to make every match miserable for his opponents."
Ruko gave a small nod.
"I'll do my best."
"Your best had better be good enough."
He shook his head, unable to suppress a faint smile.
"You're still annoying."
"And you're still easy to tease."
Inori laughed softly before raising her hand in farewell.
"See you around, Ruko."
"See you."
She walked toward the entrance, and the bell above the door rang as she stepped outside. A moment later, she disappeared into the evening crowd, leaving Ruko alone with his drink and the memories her words had brought back.
He remained seated for a while, looking out through the restaurant window. The City Cup was only a month away, and his team would have to prepare for it. They had weaknesses to correct, strategies to develop, and a great deal of work ahead of them if they wanted to stand a chance against experienced opponents.
And if Ester really would be there, he would have to face someone else from his past.
He finally drew a slow breath and reached for his phone. A message from Kazuha was waiting on the screen.
Kazuha:Are you finished talking to Inori?
Ruko typed a reply.
Ruko:Yeah. I'm leaving now.
Her response arrived almost immediately.
Kazuha:I'll wait outside.
He put his phone away, stood from his chair, and left the restaurant.
Kazuha was waiting beneath a streetlight outside the building, her bag hanging from one shoulder. The light illuminated her brown ponytail and the crimson of her eyes as she glanced toward the restaurant entrance for what was probably the third time in the past few minutes. She had insisted that she would wait for Ruko, although she had not explained whether it was because she wanted to hear about his conversation with Inori or simply because she did not want him walking home alone after such a frustrating match.
When Ruko finally emerged, Kazuha straightened.
"Finished?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
"How was it?"
"Fine."
Kazuha stared at him as if he had deliberately chosen the least useful answer possible.
"...That's all you're going to say?"
"What else do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Something more informative than 'fine.' You were meeting a former teammate after a match that nearly gave all of us a heart attack. I thought there might be something worth talking about."
Ruko considered that for a moment.
"She wants to fight us again."
Kazuha blinked.
"Again?"
"In the City Cup."
Her surprise became more pronounced.
"The Nervanox City Cup?"
Ruko nodded.
"It's happening a month from now."
Kazuha had known that the City Cup was approaching, but she had not expected Inori to bring it up so soon after their exhibition match. The event was considerably larger than an ordinary school competition, and the thought of Seishin entering it raised a number of questions. They had barely managed to coordinate their efforts against Ishika, and their club's future had been uncertain even before the match began.
Still, the idea of competing again stirred something in her chest.
"She wants us to participate?" Kazuha asked.
"She wants us to meet her there."
"That sounds like her."
Kazuha began walking, and Ruko naturally fell into step beside her. The streets were gradually becoming quieter as the evening progressed. Shop windows reflected the streetlights, and the distant sound of traffic followed them as they made their way along the sidewalk.
For a little while, Kazuha thought about the match. She remembered Inori's overwhelming control of the battlefield, the way her attacks seemed to arrive whenever Seishin made a mistake, and the frustration of realizing that even a good decision could be punished if the opposing player had enough experience to anticipate it.
She also remembered the final moments of the game.
For a brief period, she had been the last member of Seishin's team standing. She had fought through the pressure, defeated multiple opponents, and even managed to bring Inori down. The shutdown had given her a chance to turn the game around, and for one exhilarating moment, she had believed she might actually do it.
Then she had made her mistake.
One misclick. One hesitation. One moment in which the enemy fighter had found the opening she had left behind.
The match had ended before she could recover.
Kazuha's fingers curled slightly around the strap of her bag. She was proud that she had fought as hard as she could, but that pride could not erase the memory of the final seconds. She had been so close to saving the team, and the knowledge that she had fallen short was still difficult to accept.
Ruko glanced at her.
"So, she wants a rematch?"
"Pretty much."
"And she expects us to fight at full power?"
"Those were her exact words."
Kazuha let out a quiet laugh, though it lacked some of its usual lightness.
"She certainly doesn't lack confidence."
"She has a reason to be confident."
"That's true."
Kazuha looked ahead, watching the pools of light cast across the pavement. Inori had been frighteningly strong, and Seishin had struggled to contain her even when all five members were working together. Every mistake had been punished, and every opening had been exploited. The match had made the gap between their team and an experienced competitor painfully clear.
Yet it had also revealed something important.
They had fought back.
Risa had adapted to unexpected situations and forced Inori to change her approach. Kana and Hikari had created opportunities, even if their coordination had not always been enough to capitalize on them. Ruko had broken Inori's killing spree by recognizing the weakness in her weapon rotation, and Kazuha herself had nearly turned the final battle into a victory.
They had not been helpless.
They had simply not been good enough yet.
Kazuha turned toward Ruko.
"Do you think we can win next time?"
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he considered the question with the same seriousness he would have given a difficult decision during a match. A month was not a long time, and their weaknesses could not be solved merely by telling everyone to practice harder. Their coordination needed to improve, their individual skills had to become more reliable, and Inori would certainly continue developing as well.
Still, the exhibition match had given them something they had lacked before.
They now understood what they were missing.
They had seen what experienced players could do when given even the smallest opening, and they had discovered that some of their own unusual approaches could become genuine strengths if they learned to use them properly. Most importantly, they had a clear goal ahead of them.
"Yes," Ruko finally answered.
Kazuha looked at him.
"We'll have to improve a lot, but it's possible."
She studied his expression for a moment, searching for any sign that he was merely trying to make her feel better. There was none. Ruko was not promising that they would win simply because they wanted to. He was telling her that victory was possible if they put in the work required to earn it.
That distinction mattered to her.
A small smile appeared on her face.
"That's more like it."
Ruko glanced at her.
"What?"
"I was worried you'd spend the entire walk home thinking about how we lost."
"I am thinking about how we lost."
Kazuha's smile immediately faltered.
"...Of course you are."
"But I'm also thinking about how we can win next time."
She looked at him again, and this time her smile returned with a little more warmth. The disappointment was still there, but hearing him speak so confidently about their next challenge made it easier to imagine moving beyond the loss.
"Then I guess we'll just have to work harder."
Ruko nodded.
"Yeah."
They continued walking beneath the streetlights, their footsteps falling into a comfortable rhythm. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence was not unpleasant, and Kazuha found herself appreciating the rare opportunity to walk beside him without the demands of student council work, club practice, or an approaching match forcing them to hurry.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of her.
"By the way, did Inori mention anything else?"
Ruko hesitated.
The memory of long, light-blue hair returned to his thoughts, followed by the title that had once been spoken with respect throughout the competitive scene.
The Support Queen.
Ester.
"...She said someone might be at the City Cup."
Kazuha tilted her head.
"Someone?"
"Ester. An old teammate."
"Oh?"
Kazuha waited for him to explain, but Ruko offered nothing more. He seemed to have retreated into his thoughts again, and the way his expression changed made her realize that this was not simply another former player he had happened to know.
She had never heard him speak about Ester before.
She did not know what kind of person Ester was, how close she had been to Ruko, or what their relationship had been like when Nerva was still together. All she knew was that the name had changed something in him. The moment Inori had mentioned it, his confidence had given way to a quiet, almost painful uncertainty.
Kazuha had seen Ruko frustrated by a match, irritated by a teammate's mistake, and focused to the point of ignoring everything around him. She had even seen glimpses of the loneliness he tried to hide behind his dismissive comments about other people.
But this was different.
For a moment, she wondered whether Ester was someone Ruko had cared about in a way that went beyond friendship. The thought came unexpectedly, and she immediately felt foolish for making assumptions about a person she had never met. She had no reason to believe that Ester was anything more than an old teammate.
Even so, the possibility remained in the back of her mind.
Ruko had a past that Kazuha knew very little about. Before returning to Seishin's Gaming Research Club, he had belonged to a world she could barely imagine, one filled with professional players, major tournaments, and people who had stood beside him long before she had understood what Nervanox meant to him.
Some of those people were returning to his life now.
Inori was one of them.
Mitsuru was another, even if Kazuha did not yet understand the full nature of their connection.
And now there was Ester.
Kazuha tightened her grip on her bag, feeling a small, unfamiliar ache beneath her ribs. She had been beside Ruko for years, ever since they were children, and she had believed that knowing him for so long meant she understood at least the important parts of who he was.
The exhibition match had reminded her how much she still did not know.
She glanced at him again, hoping he might offer some explanation on his own.
He did not.
After a moment, Kazuha decided not to press him.
"Well, whoever it is, I hope they're someone worth meeting."
Ruko gave a quiet nod.
"...Yeah."
His answer was so subdued that Kazuha almost asked another question. Instead, she looked ahead and forced herself to smile.
"Then we've got a month to prepare. We can't afford to waste it."
Ruko's expression grew serious again.
"Agreed."
The exhibition match had ended in defeat. The Gaming Research Club's future remained uncertain, and they still had a great deal of work ahead of them. There was no guarantee that the school would allow them to continue, much less give them the opportunity to enter another competition.
But the City Cup had given them something they had not possessed when they walked away from the stage: a new objective, a chance to challenge Inori again, and a reason to keep improving even when the result of their previous match still hurt.
For Ruko, it also meant that the past was no longer something he could simply leave behind.
He had thought his days with Nerva were over. He had convinced himself that the people he once knew belonged to a chapter of his life that had already ended, and that returning to the game did not necessarily mean returning to them.
Yet one by one, those old connections were beginning to reappear.
And before long, he would have to decide what to do when the past finally stood before him again.
Kazuha did not ask any more questions that evening, but the name stayed with her long after they parted ways.
Ester.
She repeated it silently as she walked home, trying to imagine the girl who had once played beside Ruko on the biggest stages of Nervanox. She pictured someone confident and talented, perhaps the sort of person who could understand his decisions without needing them explained. Someone who had seen him at his best, back when he had been a professional player rather than the guarded boy who now sat beside her during club practice.
The thought left her feeling strangely distant from him.
She had always known that Ruko possessed a side of himself that he rarely showed to other people. His years in competitive Nervanox had shaped him in ways that even she, his childhood friend, could not fully understand. Until recently, however, those years had felt like a distant part of his history rather than something that might affect their lives now.
The City Cup changed that.
If Ester attended the event, Ruko would have an opportunity to see another former teammate. If she spoke to him about the years they had shared, she might bring back memories that Kazuha could never hope to share with him. And if the other members of Nerva began returning as well, how much of Ruko's attention would remain with the people who had only recently become part of his life again?
She disliked the thought.
Not because she wanted him to abandon his past, and not because she believed she had any right to decide who he could meet. She knew better than that. Ruko's history was his own, and the people who had shared it with him mattered in ways she could not simply dismiss.
What troubled her was the realization that she might have mistaken familiarity for understanding.
She had known Ruko since childhood. She knew his habits, his stubbornness, the way he avoided difficult conversations, and the way he pretended not to care when something clearly mattered to him. She knew how to provoke him into responding when he became too withdrawn, and she knew when to leave him alone.
But she had never known the professional player he used to be.
She had never stood beside him during a world championship, never shared the pressure of a major tournament with him, and never experienced the years when Nerva had been his entire world.
There were people who knew those parts of him better than she did.
The thought hurt more than she expected.
Kazuha slowed beneath another streetlight and looked down at the pavement. She wanted to believe that the time she had spent beside Ruko meant something that could not be erased by the return of his old teammates. She wanted to believe that, whatever happened at the City Cup, she would still be someone he could turn to.
Yet she could not ask him to remain the same person simply because she was more comfortable with the version of him she knew.
If he was returning to competitive play, then she would have to accept that he was also returning to a part of himself she had never seen.
Kazuha drew a quiet breath and lifted her head.
"One month," she murmured to herself.
She had a team to help prepare, a club that still needed saving, and a match to win. Whatever feelings the name Ester had stirred within her, she could not afford to let them interfere with the work ahead.
Still, as she continued walking, one question lingered in her mind.
When Ruko finally meets Ester again, what will he look like when he sees her?
She had no answer.
And the fact that she wanted to know frightened her more than she cared to admit.
For now, she could only move forward and hope that, when the past returned, there would still be a place for her beside him.
The City Cup was a month away.
And neither of them yet understood how much that single event might change.