Every boy should play video games—it's a modern romance.
Where there are people, there are rivalries. For gamers, that means leaderboards and competitive points, while arcades are like bustling taverns, filled with unknown passersby, top-tier pros grabbing a soda and pulling off slick one-handed moves, and veterans puffing on cigarettes, eyes half-closed as they drop cash and dominate the scene.
All the clashes are hidden behind wires and networks, with flashy plays, comebacks, humiliating disconnects, and heated trash-talk unfolding every second. Grudges linger like storm clouds.
This is a brutal arena that spares no room for weakness or mercy, yet every guy dives in eagerly, faces twisted in the struggle.
But in this sacred space, like a gladiator's coliseum, there was a glaring stain.
A young couple was playing King of Fighters.
On screen, the fiery noble and the red-haired punk should have been mortal enemies, locked in endless battle, but instead they were trading gentle taps and light punches, like a mutual massage—zero tension from the side-scrolling brawler.
The guy had that normie vibe, his smile straight out of some drama where the scheming villain tricks everyone with charm. The girl was fresh and vibrant, with a sporty short ponytail and athletic wear, a bit tomboyish, but her laugh was as refreshing as an iced soda on a hot day, impossible to look away from.
'Damn it, if you're on a date, hit up a cafe or the movies—why ruin the purity of combat here!'
The hardcore players nearby seethed inwardly.
Fierce Kusanagi punches and wild Yagami martial arts turned into cutesy love taps in their hands—this wasn't esports, it was flirting disguised as offense and defense! How could the devoted tech-grinders stand it!
"I'm grabbing another drink." The girl seemed thrilled, mood upbeat as she left her seat for the vending machine.
The guy nodded in that slick, pretentious way, staying silent like some pro, casually practicing combos.
Sigh.
Takizawa fiddled with the joystick, sighing to himself.
Sakura was sharp and energetic, but she couldn't keep up with his needs anymore. Teaming up for co-op was fine—like carrying an extra challenge—but versus mode meant holding back, gentle as a kindergarten teacher, happily watching super move effects like kids enjoying cartoons.
Times had changed; his phone contacts now included a better-skilled, more synced-up partner in Shimazaki as backup number two. Sakura could gradually phase out, benched for good.
"Hello." A deep, commanding voice came from behind. "If you don't mind, how about a match?"
Takizawa looked up at a guy in a jacket with bold sun patterns, glasses on, hair over his ears, face set with determination, eyes gleaming with the fire of a lone warrior.
Nearby players turned, heads swiveling.
"You talking to me?"
"That's right. But if you'd rather not, no issue." The glasses guy crossed his arms, standing tall like a mountain.
"Sounds great, come on." Takizawa eagerly pulled him into Sakura's seat, his expression lighting up. "Want to add a wager? Tokens? Drinks?"
"I'm just here to restore the peace." The glasses guy said coolly.
The players got pumped, touched by this anonymous hero stepping up against injustice, mentally cheering him on.
"He's no scrub—I know him, local powerhouse." A sharp-eyed veteran looked serious.
The glasses guy nodded, quietly accepting the waves of support and expectation.
With the bloodiest combo, a total domination, I'll strip away your normie facade. Taste defeat's shame, then grab your girlfriend's hand and flee—this isn't a spot for romance!
"This version's not hot anymore, barely anyone plays. You should've brought friends—discounts aside, easier to find opponents." Takizawa chatted casually, unbothered.
'On death's door and still mocking my solo status?!'
The glasses guy's cheeks tightened, a hint of ferocity emerging.
'Women only mess with my frame-perfect timing!'
'To you, this is just a side dish for showing off affection, something to toss if you're full—but for a regional champ like me, it's etched glory, a lifelong bond.'
The greasy normie and the valiant dominator sat side by side at the machine, some spectators already crowding behind to watch.
Character select wrapped quick, jumping straight to the stage.
The oily normie went full tryhard, picking meta powerhouses. The glasses guy played it cool, random select with a question mark.
Seconds later.
"Whoa, random pulls those three? Hacks?" Takizawa stared at the opponent's Iori Yagami, Chizuru Kagura, Goro Daimon—stunned.
You glue those to your hand or what?
"Hmph, a true fighter's picks are fated. My mains answered the call." The glasses guy said profoundly.
What a blazing fighting spirit—the watchers teared up.
A real pro.
Takizawa got serious.
3, 2, 1, Ready—Fight!
As it dropped, Takizawa's Chizuru shadow-jumped into a swift blessing, closing distance like a phantom. The glasses guy blocked instinctively, years of experience dodging the probe. But the white-robed Kagura head, seeing no opening, pulled back and hit a command throw that ignored guard, hurling the burly Goro out.
The judo champ rolled into a seamless recovery, but before regrouping, white flashed again—Chizuru right in his face, light combos into another command throw, tossing the big guy across.
Seizing the initiative right off.
Hmph, cheap tricks, all flash no substance!
The glasses guy stayed calm, fingers flying—Goro rose into an earth-shaker, quaking the stage to interrupt the repeat, then charged with a leaping heavy press.
Time to test fundamentals—if he connects, it's a storm of combos! A normie sunk in distractions might land moves, but reading openings? Dream on!
The judo beast collided with the slender woman, inches apart, trading pushes and strikes in a blur... and it was the big guy's pecs that got tagged!
A light chop cracked the guard, and the frail-looking woman unleashed killer intent, Kagura ancient arts exploding in full—robes fluttering, shadows dancing, butterfly grace channeling force into the foe, invisible devastation.
Goro's health plummeted.
Watchers gasped, stomping in frustration.
The glasses guy was surprised but a tournament vet—he quickly pieced it together. The first two throws, opponent scouted his go-to blocks and habits over two probes, then switched rhythm on the third for the hit.
Flawless combos, silent mind-games—this flirt looked like a bona fide fighter!
Lightning analysis done, the glasses guy's drive surged.
Down half health? Even on sliver, if you can move, miracles happen—that's fighting games!
He waited for the turnaround, meter building. Picturing a triple storm mountain reversal.
Ding—
Screen flashed white, Chizuru crouched low, unleashing the family ultimate.
Super special move: Uramen 85 Katsu Reigi no Ishizue!
Goro got finger-poked flying, sealed with an unhealthy blue glow over his body.
"..."
Chizuru's super special move is perfect for high-powered storm combos and massive damage.
But nasty effect—debuff seal, no skills rub out, reduced to a walking dummy.
The glasses guy eyed his nearly full, now useless meter...
Damn!
The judo moves wiped from mind, the sealed beast collapsed under the opponent's rabid assault, blue fading only on knockdown—seal lifted.
Crowd wailed, pounding chests, cheering him on wildly.
The glasses guy pursed lips, fire raging as he mashed skip on entrance animation.
His purple Chizuru took the field.
Countdown ended, fight.
But first seconds, identical chars stood still, like masters clashing in mental realms.
The glasses guy thought, sent a phantom probe—opponent mirrored, shadows passed through, both hurt and down synced. Quick rise, repeat, down again.
He frowned, rolled to dodge shadow, closed for real-man melee—but white Chizuru swapped aggressive style for evasive, rolling and blessing away.
Chase forever, no catch. Hesitant pause, he sent another shadow.
Sure enough, mirror response—both eat damage, down again.
"..."
Screw this!
"Shameless!"
"Cowardly!"
"Not how a real man fights!"
Watchers jeered the normie's dirty tactics.
What do you know?
Takizawa smirked, enlightened amid the blind.
Close? Anti-air. Far? Projectile. The ultimate kid-taught wisdom—wave anti-air flow!
In the end, second-round full-health purple Chizuru grinded out the win. But the glasses guy's face darkened, mood sour.
Then seeing opponent's second as the lead, Kyo Kusanagi, he grinned uncontrollably.
Beating the protagonist!
Countdown over, Kyo straight-up BC'd in face, energy surging, aura terrifying.
That aggressive?
Perfect!
The glasses guy BC'd back.
Bring it, fair and square—like men!
Kyo and Chizuru charged with crackling fight energy, flames and illusions set for earth-shaking clash!
Two rounds in, he'd gauged the level. Mid-tier at best—for an Evo regional like him, hard clash meant execution!
Chars tangled.
Come on, read me again if you can!
Light punch, jump kick, drop, axe slam... all predicted and perfect-blocked by low-health purple Chizuru, slipping two throws too.
Hmph, that's it.
The glasses guy sneered.
Real pros adapt—same tricks won't land twice. I've seen through you! Meter max, BC time left, combo incoming!
"Maybe not." Takizawa said, hands blurring inputs.
"What?!"
Flame-wreathed Kyo's hands blazed scorching fire, banishing darkness, purging gods. Fierce swings whipped fire curtains, crimson engulfing him, eyes turning deep red.
[This is the Kusanagi Fist!]
Heat wave detonated, pillars piercing sky, golden-flame forged man stepped forward.
Uramen 31 Katsu Kyuusen no Jouhari!
Purple Chizuru blocked early hits but drained stamina on the hundred-style ghost burn end, flames consuming her—defeat.
"..."
The glasses guy twitched at the downed shadow.
This jerk stalled forever, not for fair fight—building meter for super nuke.
Crowd erupted.
"Too dirty! Raw super grind-out!"
"Where's your honor!"
"You call that a win?!"
"What's going on here?" Sakura returned with drinks, squeezing through the wall of people.
"Oh, playing a random—almost done." Takizawa waved.
"Indeed, almost." The glasses guy eyed his anchor role, voice low.
Red hair, pointless headband, flared pants, cocky strut.
Rivals meet, special intro triggers.
[Let's end this, Yagami.]
[With your life—]
As anchor Iori Yagami entered, the glasses guy's presence faded distant, radiating unmatched aura and confidence.
As they say, every KOF player knows how to wield destructive blue flames.
No more laughs.
This round, Takizawa got floored from start, never landing a hit.
Final round, twin Ioris, mirror match.
Glasses guy big shadow jump, amid cheers: lily fold reverse into sunflower triple corner press, rise instant dust wind heavy claw sweep, frames into finisher.
Kin 1211 Shiki Ya Otome!
Claw by claw, flesh tearing, blue flames surging wounds, scorching innards.
His mood lifted with the slaughter, even laughing the character's manic three-part cackle.
K.O!
Watchers screamed like fans at an underdog championship win, hugging, whistling, clapping—he'd crushed the normie!
The glasses guy felt transcendent.
And right in front of the normie's girlfriend!
Now, the radiant solo hero stood at the world's center!
"Hmph, miss, see that?" He aimed to twist the knife.
"Yeah, total loss." Sakura chuckled.
"Sigh, lost fair and square—great play." Takizawa thumbs-upped.
"Let's go then? Out of coins." Sakura handed the iced tea.
"I've got a photoshoot later, might need to rent clothes first. Maybe call it for today?" Takizawa suggested.
"Something that big, renting? No way, I'll help pick—come on, I know a great menswear spot!" Sakura eagerly grabbed his hand.
"Hey, nothing too pricey—I can't afford it."
"No worries, I've got you! For a friend's shoot, I'll back you up!"
Crowd watched the pair vanish quick.
Somehow, the vibe cooled flat.
The glasses guy stared at the paused victory screen.
'I beat him, reclaimed the peace, basked in cheers and praise. Meanwhile, the greasy normie slinks off defeated, shopping and dining with a cute girl, in fresh clothes.'
'Did I win?'
***
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