The next day, the gaming club room felt heavier than before.
Not just quiet—
Tense.
The hum of the computers filled the space as the four of them sat in front of their screens, preparing.
Kazuha adjusted her mouse.
Risa's eyes were already focused.
Kana stretched her shoulders, cracking her neck.
Hikari leaned back, arms crossed, her expression sharp as ever.
And me—
I stood behind them.
Watching.
"…So this is your standard lineup?" I asked.
Kazuha nodded. "Yes. These are our fixed roles."
Risa added calmly, "We've trained with this setup for a long time."
Kana smirked. "We're just off lately. That's all."
Hikari didn't even look at me. "Try not to get in the way."
I didn't respond.
"I want to see you play."
That got their attention.
"A full match," I continued. "No interruptions. No advice."
A pause.
Then—
"…Fine," Hikari said flatly.
The game started.
At first—
They looked solid.
Clean mechanics.
Good positioning.
Then—
A delayed rotation.
A mistimed engage.
An open lane.
The first loss came quickly.
"…Again," Kana muttered.
Second game.
Loss.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
The room slowly filled with frustration.
Kana leaned forward more aggressively.
Hikari's clicking became sharper, louder.
Risa's eyes narrowed with each mistake.
Kazuha stayed calm—
But her movements grew stiffer.
By the ninth match—
The result was clear.
One win.
Eight losses.
"…That's enough."
They stopped.
All four turned to me.
I stepped forward.
"You're not losing because you're weak."
Silence.
"You're losing because your roles don't match how you play."
Kana frowned. "What are you saying?"
I looked at Risa first.
"You're too calculated to be a tank."
Risa didn't react immediately.
But her gaze sharpened.
"You wait too much," I continued. "You analyze, then act."
A step closer.
"But a tank doesn't wait. A tank leads."
Silence.
"Kana."
She clicked her tongue. "Yeah?"
"You're too aggressive to be a marksman."
She frowned.
"You push forward. You fight up close. You want to be in the middle of the fight."
I shook my head.
"That's not how a marksman survives."
Her fists clenched slightly.
"Hikari."
She looked at me now.
Cold.
"You're too inattentive to be a fighter."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You abandon your lane constantly," I said. "You chase fights in other lanes while yours collapses."
I pointed to the screen.
"You're giving the enemy free space."
"…Are you done?" she said, her voice sharp.
I didn't stop.
"Kazuha."
She met my eyes quietly.
"You're too hesitant to be a jungler."
Her fingers tightened.
"You don't contest. You don't fight for control. You back off when you should push."
Silence.
"A jungler needs confidence."
A pause.
"You hesitate."
The room went completely still.
Then—
"…So what?" Hikari snapped.
The tension snapped with her voice.
"You walk in here," she continued, standing up, "play one decent game, and suddenly you think you understand everything?"
Her glare burned into me.
"You don't know anything about us."
I didn't look away.
"Then prove me wrong."
Silence.
Her expression hardened further.
"…You're annoying," she muttered.
Then—
She turned.
And walked out.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Kana scratched her head. "…Well. That escalated."
Risa exhaled softly. "…Your observations weren't incorrect."
Kazuha looked toward the door.
"…But your timing was."
I didn't respond.
Because I knew.
That wasn't the end of it.
That night—
I walked back into the empty school.
"…My bag…"
The clubroom was quiet when I entered.
I grabbed it without thinking.
Then—
I noticed it.
A faint light.
From the storage room.
"…Someone's still here?"
I approached slowly.
Tried the handle.
Locked.
"…Hey," I called out. "Is someone inside?"
Silence.
Then—
"…Yeah."
My heart stopped.
"…Mitsuru."
The name left my lips like it had been waiting.
"…Open the door," I said immediately.
"…I can't."
My hand pressed against the cold surface.
"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why did you leave?"
Silence.
"Do you have any idea what that did to me?" I continued.
My voice shook.
"I waited."
A pause.
"I kept logging in… thinking you'd come back."
Memories surfaced.
Late nights.
Endless matches.
Her voice in chat.
Her messages.
"You used to say I was annoying," I laughed weakly.
"…That I talked too much."
Silence.
"But you still stayed."
My hand tightened.
"We played every day."
A breath.
"You said… I was easy to talk to."
The words felt heavier now.
"…So why?"
My voice dropped.
"Why did you leave like that?"
Nothing.
Then—
"…I'm sorry."
It wasn't loud.
But it hit harder than anything.
"I know I hurt you," Mitsuru said softly.
"…But I couldn't tell you why."
"…Why not?" I whispered.
"…Because if I did…"
A pause.
"…everything would've changed."
Silence filled the space between us.
Then—
"…Hey, Ruko."
"…What?"
"…Do you want to play a game?"
I frowned.
"…What game?"
A soft breath.
"…You already know I'm one of them."
My heart pounded.
"…So let's make it interesting."
My hand pressed harder against the door.
"If you can figure out who I am—"
A pause.
"—by the time we graduate…"
Silence.
"I'll answer everything."
My jaw tightened.
A game.
Of course it was.
I closed my eyes.
Then—
"…Fine."
I opened them again.
Determined.
"I'll find you."
A faint warmth lingered in her voice.
"…I'll be waiting."
The light inside the storage room flicked off.
And just like before—
She was gone.
Leaving only questions behind.