After receiving the two plushies from her junior, Kasumigaoka Utaha's mood visibly improved. Sensing an opportunity, Natsukawa Kanade suggested they try the arcade games.
Utaha, who had little interest in such things, decided to tag along since Kanade seemed so enthusiastic. However, when he invited her to join in, she shook her head, opting instead to watch him play from the sidelines.
Kanade didn't press further. He picked a game, inserted his coins, and quickly immersed himself—he had chosen the classic King of Fighters '97.
This legendary fighting game boasted a vast lore, iconic characters, and a loyal fanbase. Despite newer competitors emerging in recent years, it retained a devoted following. Kanade, for one, had played every installment and often participated in ranked matches for fun.
However, playing on a console with a controller was different from using an arcade joystick, and the unfamiliar controls took their toll.
The result? He played terribly—getting mercilessly crushed by the AI on maximum difficulty.
Kanade: "..."
The humiliation was palpable.
In hindsight, Kanade realized that he always underperformed when playing in front of girls. It had happened before with Mahiru, and now again with Utaha.
"Even though I don't really understand the game... you seem like you're about to die, Junior," Utaha remarked with keen interest.
Ordinarily, girls would cheer a guy on in such moments. But for Utaha, watching her junior flounder was a rare treat—especially since he had sat down with such confidence, only to end up sweating bullets moments later.
How adorable.
"T-Totally not! Look, the AI is almost done for!" Kanade protested, though he was obviously struggling.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't lose to the AI, no matter how aggressive it was. But now? He had no choice but to use that move.
Desperate situations call for desperate measures.
Muttering to himself that this was a legitimate tactic and not cheating, he began spamming the same input repeatedly:
↓↘→ + A, ↓↘→ + A…
To Utaha's view, Kanade's character onscreen started firing energy balls nonstop. The relentless barrage eventually chipped away at the opponent's health bar, defeating them.
"…"
Utaha's expression turned complicated as she looked at her junior, who sighed in exaggerated relief.
Was… was this cheating?
Though she didn't know the rules, something about this victory felt underhanded.
Before she could comment, a small mushroom-haired boy appeared beside Kanade, pointing at him. "Big bro, you're so bad at this."
"Ah?" Kanade was stunned. Never in his life had he imagined being called "bad" for defeating the AI—especially by a little kid.
Trying to maintain his composure, he responded gently, "That's not entirely true. As they say, it's the victory that matters, not the method."
The boy nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, I get it now. So even if you play dirty, it's okay as long as you win!"
"Uh…" Kanade felt a pang of guilt. Realizing he couldn't set such a terrible example, he added, "But of course, winning fair and square is even better."
The boy tilted his head, pondering briefly before concluding, "Oh, I see. So it's because big bro is bad at this game."
He said it so matter-of-factly, but to Kanade, the words hit like dynamite.
Such ruthless honesty! How could a child so small deliver such devastating verbal blows?
Feeling an inexplicable need to redeem himself, Kanade narrowed his eyes. "So you think you're good at this game, huh?"
"Yeah, I'm way better than you," the boy said with absolute confidence.
Kanade smirked. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. "In that case, I'll give you three tokens, and we can have a match. If you win, I'll give you three more. Deal?"
The boy hesitated briefly, his manners showing as he replied, "But if I win, won't big bro lose face in front of big sis?"
Kanade froze.
Did this kid… really plan to let him win?
Face flushed, Kanade snapped back, "Stop talking nonsense, kid. If I said I'd give you the tokens, I'll give them. But only if you can actually beat me."
There was no way this little kid could defeat him. Kanade had years of experience playing King of Fighters. Even with the unfamiliar joystick, he couldn't possibly lose to a seven- or eight-year-old.
No way. Absolutely not.
After inserting the tokens, Kanade graciously picked his three best characters and declared, "I'll even go easy on you and use my weakest lineup."
The boy ignored him, quietly selecting his own characters.
The match began.
Kanade focused intensely, testing the waters with cautious moves. Fighting games, after all, were essentially advanced versions of rock-paper-scissors. Anticipating the opponent's moves and countering them was key—guarding against attacks, punishing openings, and breaking defenses with grapples. Gradual control of the game's flow often secured victory.
Though he was up against a mere child, Kanade wasn't taking any chances. Losing to a kid in front of Utaha? Unthinkable.
Yet sometimes, the very things you want to avoid come rushing toward you.
Despite playing as carefully as he could, Kanade was utterly overwhelmed by the boy's aggressive playstyle. It felt as though he were a tiny boat caught in a stormy sea, battered by relentless waves until he finally capsized.
"KO!"
The announcer's voice rang out as the words "Insert Coin to Continue?" appeared on screen.
Kanade stared at the screen in stunned silence.
He had lost. Completely. Utterly. He'd been demolished with no chance to retaliate.
So this was it. He had truly… aged out of his prime.
Standing up resolutely, Kanade gathered all his remaining tokens and handed them to the boy. With a solemn expression, he declared, "As promised, these are yours. Keep it up, kid. The future is yours. This land no longer has a place for old relics like us. But I believe in your potential—you can carry this legacy forward."
With that, he turned to Utaha, mumbled something about leaving, and walked away with her in tow, never once looking back.
He needed time—to mourn the youth that had slipped through his fingers.
Which was why he didn't hear the boy's parting words, spoken with innocent candor:
"That big bro is super nice, but he's really bad at games. He probably couldn't even beat the weakest player in our class."
"…"