Seeing Utaha Kasumigaoka's expression soften after receiving the two plush dolls he won for her, Natsukawa Kanade seized the opportunity to strike while the iron was hot.
"Senpai, since we're already here, how about we hit up the arcade games next?" he suggested enthusiastically.
Utaha Kasumigaoka blinked, her initial reaction lukewarm at best. She had never been particularly interested in arcade games, nor was she the type to enjoy button-mashing competitions. However, seeing Kanade's obvious excitement, she decided to humor him.
"…Sure," she said with an air of indifference, shrugging her shoulders.
But the moment Kanade invited her to join him, she shook her head and refused outright.
"I'll pass. I'll just watch you play."
Kanade furrowed his brows slightly but didn't push the issue. If she wanted to be a spectator, then fine. More importantly, he was here to game.
He quickly scanned the arcade for a worthy challenge, and in no time, he found the perfect match—"The King of Fighters '97."
Without hesitation, he inserted a few coins into the machine, rolled his shoulders in preparation, and firmly gripped the arcade controls.
This was it.
An absolute classic among fighting games, world-renowned for its deep lore, iconic characters, and legendary battles. Over the years, it had cemented itself as one of the greatest in the genre, though in recent times, its spotlight had dimmed slightly due to the rise of newer contenders.
But for Kanade, this game was a timeless masterpiece.
He had owned every single installment in the series, played ranked matches online, and even treated himself to a few rounds whenever he wanted to unwind.
This should be an easy warm-up.
—Or at least, that's what he thought.
Reality, however, was cruel.
The instant the match began, Kanade realized something horrifying—he was sucking.
Badly.
Playing with an arcade joystick instead of his usual controller threw off his muscle memory completely. His movements were sluggish, his combos mistimed, and worst of all—he was getting brutally demolished by the highest difficulty CPU.
In front of his Senpai.
Kanade's eye twitched.
"This... this is really bad."
He had sat down with such unshakable confidence, only to find himself sweating bullets within minutes.
—And, of course, Utaha noticed immediately.
"I don't really get this game," she mused with a teasing smile, tilting her head. "But, Junior-kun… you seem to be dying?"
Kanade nearly choked on air.
At a time like this, shouldn't she be offering words of encouragement instead of rubbing salt in his wounds?!
—But then again, this was Utaha Kasumigaoka.
For someone like her, watching him struggle was a rare entertainment opportunity, and she was enjoying every second of it.
After all, he had looked so smug when he first sat down—and now, here he was, getting bodied by a computer opponent like an absolute beginner.
How cute~
"N-No way!" Kanade protested, his pride taking a critical hit. "This AI is just broken, that's all! Totally unfair!"
Deep down, he knew that was a weak excuse.
But he couldn't let himself lose like this. Not in front of her.
His pride as a gamer—as a man—was on the line!
So, without hesitation, he resorted to his last-ditch strategy.
—The legendary "Fireball Spam."
"I have no choice... you forced my hand!" Kanade muttered under his breath, convincing himself that desperate times called for desperate measures.
His hands moved swiftly, pressing the same fixed sequence of buttons over and over—
↓♦→ + A, ↓♦→ + A... Repeat. Infinitely.
In an instant, his character began spamming an unrelenting barrage of energy projectiles, flooding the screen with fireballs until the CPU opponent's health bar was completely erased from existence.
Absolute annihilation.
The battle was over.
Kanade let out a small sigh of relief, leaning back slightly. That was close.
But as he glanced at Utaha—
Her expression said it all.
She stared at him, eyes unreadable, lips slightly parted in disbelief.
Wasn't that... kind of cheating?
Even though she didn't fully understand the rules of the game, her instincts told her that what just happened was a little too cheap.
But before she could say anything—
"Big brother, you're so bad!"
A small voice suddenly piped up from beside them.
Kanade stiffened.
Turning his head slowly, he saw a little elementary school kid, standing there with a disappointed look on his face.
"Ah?"
Kanade was stunned. Even the children were judging him now?!
Quickly recovering, he put on his best "wise older brother" face and spoke in a calm, reassuring tone:
"Now, now, kid. In battle, the important thing is not how you win, but that you win. That's what matters."
The little boy blinked, absorbing his words carefully.
Then, after a moment, he nodded seriously.
"Oh, I get it!" he said innocently. "So as long as you win, even cheating is okay!"
Kanade: "…"
His soul nearly left his body.
"W-Wait, that's not what I meant!" He panicked, realizing he was accidentally corrupting the youth.
Quickly, he attempted damage control.
"B-But of course, it's always better to win fairly and honorably!" he hastily added, trying to fix the situation.
The little mushroom-headed kid paused, tilting his head in thought.
Then, after a few seconds, he nodded again—as if he had reached a profound realization.
"I understand now..."
Kanade sighed in relief. Finally, I cleared things up.
But then—
The kid dropped the final bomb.
"So it's because Big Brother is just really bad."
Kanade: "—!"
Direct hit.
It was such a simple, innocent statement—spoken in the most casual, factual tone—yet it landed like a devastating critical strike to his ego.
What kind of monster was this kid?! How could a child, barely out of elementary school, possess such devastatingly cold words?! Words so sharp they could cut through steel!
Kanade couldn't take it anymore. Even if the kid was young, some things just couldn't be ignored. This little gremlin needed to be taught a lesson!
"So, you think you're good at this game?" Kanade asked, narrowing his eyes.
The elementary schooler, with his mushroom-cut hairstyle swaying slightly, nodded firmly. "Yeah! I'm way better than you, big brother."
Tch. Kanade had been waiting for those words. He smirked, his eyes flashing like a villain about to unleash his ultimate move.
"Oh? In that case... I'll give you three game tokens. Let's have a match. If you win, I'll give you three more. How about that?"
A perfect trap. Taking advantage of the young and weak? Maybe. But Kanade was left with no choice! His pride demanded retribution! If he let this go, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night!
The little mushroom-head hesitated, looking somewhat torn. "But... wouldn't big brother losing in front of big sister be really embarrassing?"
Kanade's smirk froze.
Utaha, who had been quietly spectating from the side, suddenly covered her mouth, her eyes full of amusement.
This brat… was sharp.
Kanade forced a smile and took a deep breath. "Hah… kids sure say some crazy things these days. But don't worry. A promise is a promise. If you can actually beat me, I'll give you the tokens."
He wasn't worried in the slightest. There was no way he'd lose.
Sure, he wasn't used to arcade controls, but come on. This kid was at most seven or eight years old. How could he possibly match the skill of a seasoned player who had been grinding this game for years? The experience gap was at least 10:1!
No way. Absolutely impossible.
Kanade confidently inserted the coins into the machine. With a generous expression—one that completely ignored his true intentions—he picked three of his weakest characters.
"I'll go easy on you," he said, looking completely benevolent. A true senior, full of compassion.
The little mushroom-head didn't even acknowledge him, quickly selecting his own team.
The match began.
Kanade immediately switched into serious mode.
The key to victory in any King of Fighters match was all about strategy—analyzing your opponent's tendencies. Was this kid an aggressive button-masher? A defensive counterattacker? Or… could he actually be a monster in disguise?
In fighting games, it was all about reading your opponent's habits. If they liked to attack recklessly, you could bait them into whiffing moves and punish them. If they played defensively, you could use throws to break their guard. Slowly building up an advantage was key to winning.
And Kanade was no amateur.
Even though this was just a casual match against an elementary schooler, he wasn't about to lose.
…Or at least, that was the plan.
The problem was—
As soon as the round started, Kanade was getting destroyed.
The little mushroom-head was relentless. His attacks came like a hurricane, each move precisely timed, each counter perfectly executed. Kanade tried to read his patterns, but it was like trying to read a blank page—no openings, no mistakes.
This… this wasn't a normal kid!
Kanade's fingers danced across the controls, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't gain a foothold. He was like a tiny raft caught in a storm, desperately trying to stay afloat—until, in a blinding flash, the final blow landed.
"KO!"
The screen flashed. Kanade's character crumpled to the ground.
Silence.
Utaha blinked, a slight smirk creeping onto her lips.
Kanade… had been utterly annihilated.
Not even close. Not even a sliver of resistance.
His fingers stiffened over the joystick, his soul seemingly floating out of his body. He stared at the "Insert Coin to Continue" message on the screen as if it were his own epitaph.
So… this is what it feels like.
To be old.
The cold, unrelenting truth settled in his chest like a lead weight. He was old.
There was a time when he was the one sweeping through arcade challengers, making kids cry as he obliterated them with perfectly timed combos. But now?
Now he was the kid getting wrecked.
A deep sigh escaped his lips.
But no… no, it wasn't just a sigh. It was the sigh of a warrior acknowledging his defeat, the exhalation of a samurai before laying down his sword.
With newfound resolve, Kanade stood up. His eyes were firm, burning with an intensity as if he had just sworn allegiance to some ancient warrior brotherhood. He turned to the little mushroom-head, who was still clutching the arcade joystick with innocent triumph.
A new era had begun.
"...As promised," Kanade said solemnly, placing all the remaining game tokens into the child's small hands. His movements were steady, almost reverent, as if bestowing a sacred relic upon a worthy successor.
The little boy blinked in surprise.
Kanade took a deep breath, then gently patted the kid on the shoulder, speaking with the gravitas of a seasoned veteran passing the torch to the next generation.
"Go forth, young warrior. The future belongs to you now. This land… this battlefield… is no longer meant for relics like me."
He clenched his fist, his voice filled with emotion. "But I believe in you. With your potential, you will surely lead the new age of warriors to even greater heights!"
The little mushroom-head looked at him with wide, shining eyes.
Kasumigaoka Utaha, who had been spectating this entire tragic drama, finally broke into a wide smirk.
This guy… was so theatrical.
Kanade turned, his heart heavy with the weight of lost youth. He squared his shoulders, let out another long sigh, and then—
He walked away.
No… he strode away. Like a wandering samurai leaving the battlefield for the last time, like an old gunslinger hanging up his revolver, like a retired master watching his disciples surpass him—
He didn't look back.
His steps were steady, his movements filled with silent dignity. He needed time.
Time to reflect on his glory days.
Time to mourn the passing of an era.
Time to come to terms with the cruel, inevitable truth—he wasn't young anymore.
—And then.
Just as his dramatic exit was reaching its peak—
Just as he was about to disappear into the depths of the arcade, vanishing like a forgotten legend—
He missed the most devastating blow of all.
The little mushroom-head, watching Kanade's retreating back, tilted his head and spoke, his voice filled with genuine, childlike curiosity:
"That big brother was really nice, but… his skills were really bad. I don't think he could even beat the worst player in our class."
Utaha paused.
And then—
She burst into laughter.
Loud, shameless, merciless laughter.
Kanade, who had already taken his first steps into the world of introspective self-discovery, suddenly stumbled mid-step.
His whole body twitched slightly.
He didn't turn around.
He refused to turn around.
He just kept walking.
Because if he turned around now—
His dignity would be completely obliterated.