The hallway felt longer than usual.
Afternoon sunlight poured through the classroom windows, stretching long bands of gold across the polished floor as the last bell echoed throughout the campus. Most students had already begun making their way toward the school gates, their conversations filling the corridors with the familiar energy that marked the end of another ordinary day.
Ruko walked against the flow of students.
His footsteps echoed softly through the gradually emptying hallway, each one sounding louder than the last. The rhythm should have been ordinary, yet every step felt strangely heavy, as though the school itself was asking whether he was truly certain about what he was about to do.
His grip tightened around the phone in his hand.
The screen remained lit, displaying the article that had occupied his thoughts ever since he had seen it during class.
[BREAKING] Legendary Roamer "Mitsuru" Reveals She Is Actually a Girl
Even after reading the headline dozens of times, it still made his chest tighten.
Below it was the frozen frame from the livestream announcement.
At first glance, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary gaming setup. A mechanical keyboard rested neatly in front of the monitor, the mouse was positioned with meticulous precision, and a familiar black headset hung from a stand beside the desk.
None of those details had captured his attention.
It was the reflection.
Along the glossy edge of the monitor, barely visible unless someone looked closely, a silver-and-blue crest had been reflected by the room's lighting.
Anyone else would have overlooked it.
Ruko hadn't.
He recognized the emblem immediately.
It belonged to Seiran High School's Gaming Club.
He had passed that crest almost every day since enrolling.
There was no mistake.
No misunderstanding.
No coincidence.
Mitsuru...
...was here.
Somewhere inside this school.
The realization still refused to feel real.
For three years, he had convinced himself that everything connected to professional esports belonged in the past. He had buried the memories beneath an ordinary routine, telling himself that walking away had been the right decision.
Then a single photograph shattered all of it.
His thoughts wandered despite himself.
How many times had they unknowingly crossed paths?
Had they passed each other between classes without recognizing one another?
Shared the same cafeteria during lunch?
Waited at the same crosswalk after school?
The possibility was almost absurd.
And yet... It was real.
Ruko let out a quiet sigh and locked his phone before slipping it into his pocket.
He could still turn around.
No one had asked him to investigate.
No one expected him to reopen wounds that had taken years to heal.
If he walked toward the school gate now, tomorrow would be just another ordinary day.
He would wake up. Attend class. Go home.
Pretend none of this had happened.
It would certainly be easier.
After all, chasing the past rarely brought anyone peace.
Especially when that past ended in heartbreak.
"...So why am I even here?"
The question escaped as a quiet murmur.
He already knew the answer.
Because no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise...
He wanted the truth.
Not revenge.
Not an apology.
Just the truth.
Eventually, the crowd of students disappeared behind him.
The lively atmosphere of the main building faded, replaced by the quiet stillness surrounding the club wing. Compared to the rest of the campus, this section always felt isolated, with only the occasional breeze rustling through the open windows.
Ruko slowed his pace.
At the end of the corridor stood a familiar wooden door.
Mounted neatly beside it was a polished brass nameplate.
Gaming Club — Room 4-B
He stopped.
For several silent seconds, he simply stared at the words.
This was ridiculous.
He hadn't touched Nervanox in three years.
He hadn't watched professional tournaments.
He hadn't logged into his account.
As far as the esports world was concerned, the player once known as "2D" had vanished without a trace.
That was exactly how he wanted it.
Life was simpler this way.
No competition.
No expectations.
No teammates depending on him.
Most importantly...
No relationships complicated enough to leave scars.
A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Fictional girls were easier to understand.
At least they never lied after you confessed to them.
The thought left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
He reached toward the doorknob.
His fingers stopped just short of touching it.
"...One answer."
That was all he wanted.
If Mitsuru truly belonged to this club, then he would finally learn why she had thrown everything away three years ago.
Whether he liked the answer...was another matter entirely.
Taking a slow breath, Ruko wrapped his hand around the handle.
Before he could turn it—
"Are you serious right now?!"
A furious voice exploded from inside the room.
Ruko instinctively froze.
The frustration behind the shout was so intense that it carried straight through the wooden door.
Another voice immediately answered.
"You call that gameplay? We couldn't even beat a team of middle schoolers!"
His eyebrows rose.
"...Middle schoolers?"
The words slipped out before he could stop himself.
Silence followed.
Then came another voice, quieter but no less frustrated.
"At this rate, we'll never make it to the esports circuit."
Ruko's expression changed.
These weren't students casually playing games after class.
They were arguing about competition.
About improvement.
About winning.
The atmosphere inside the room was tense enough that even someone standing outside could feel it.
A chair scraped harshly across the floor like someone inside stood.
Then a calm, icy voice cut through the argument.
"I'm done."
The entire room fell silent.
"I'm not wasting any more time carrying dead weight."
Footsteps approached the entrance.
Fast.
Ruko's eyes widened.
"...Wait—"
The handle suddenly twisted.
The handle turned before Ruko had the chance to react.
The door swung open with surprising force.
"And don't bother calling me ba—"
The girl stopped mid-sentence.
"So—"
Caught completely off guard, Ruko instinctively stepped backward. His heel slipped against the polished floor, and his balance disappeared almost instantly.
"Oh—"
His shoulder struck the ground with a dull thud, followed by the unmistakable sting of pain shooting down his arm.
"...Ow."
Silence.
An almost unbearable silence settled over the hallway.
Ruko slowly opened one eye.
Four girls were staring down at him.
For a brief, embarrassing moment, his mind simply stopped working.
The first person he recognized stood nearest to the doorway.
Long brown hair, tied neatly into a high ponytail, swayed gently as she looked down at him with widened crimson eyes. Surprise had briefly replaced the composed expression she usually wore throughout the school.
Kazuha Shirogane.
The student council president.
His childhood friend.
Someone he had known for years, yet somehow never truly understood.
"...Ruko?"
Her voice carried equal parts surprise and confusion.
"What are you doing here?"
Before he could answer, another pair of eyes fixed themselves on him.
Silver hair framed a face that remained almost expressionless, while a pair of icy blue eyes studied him with quiet intensity. Rather than looking shocked, she seemed... curious, as though she had stumbled across an unexpected variable in an experiment.
Risa Yukimura.
The school's prodigy.
Rumors claimed she possessed an almost frightening talent for computations, though she rarely spoke to anyone outside her small circle.
Near the back of the room stood a girl with bright red hair tied into a loose side ponytail. Her arms remained folded across her chest as she looked at him with obvious skepticism.
Kana Fujisaki.
The campus celebrity whose food reviews attracted hundreds of thousands of viewers online.
Beside the window leaned another girl with long sapphire-blue hair and striking violet eyes. Even in the middle of an argument, she carried herself with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to cameras and attention.
Hikari Amamiya.
The school's idol.
"...Move."
The cold voice broke the silence.
Ruko instinctively shifted aside.
A tall girl with long black hair brushed past him without so much as a glance. Her expression was devoid of emotion, as though the people around her had already ceased to matter.
She paused only long enough to speak.
"I'm done with this club."
No anger.
No hesitation.
Just quiet exhaustion.
"Good luck embarrassing yourselves."
Without waiting for anyone to respond, she continued down the hallway.
The sound of her footsteps echoed through the corridor before gradually disappearing around the corner.
No one tried to stop her.
The room remained silent until even those footsteps faded completely.
Only then did Ruko realize the atmosphere inside the clubroom was far heavier than the shouting he had heard moments earlier had suggested.
This wasn't an ordinary disagreement.
Someone had just quit.
"...Are you planning to stay on the floor forever?"
Hikari's voice finally broke the silence.
Ruko blinked.
"Oh—"
He scrambled to his feet so quickly that he nearly lost his balance a second time.
"S-Sorry! I wasn't trying to eavesdrop!"
"You weren't?" Kana folded her arms more tightly.
"Funny. From where I was standing, it looked exactly like you were listening outside our door."
"I wasn't!" Ruko defended "...Mostly."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Kana gave him an unimpressed look.
"Not exactly helping your case."
Risa adjusted her glasses before speaking in her usual calm tone.
"Our club isn't open to spectators." Her sharp gaze remained fixed on him.
"Especially ones who arrive in the middle of internal discussions."
Hikari nodded in agreement.
"And judging by your reaction, you heard enough already."
Ruko rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Yeah, I guess this looks pretty bad."
"It looks terrible," Kana corrected.
Before he could think of another explanation, Hikari looked him up and down.
"You don't even play Nervanox, do you?"
The question struck him far harder than she intended.
For a fleeting instant, the noisy classroom, the clubroom, and the girls standing before him all disappeared.
He found himself standing beneath the brilliant lights of a championship stage once more.
The roar of the crowd.
The familiar weight of a headset.
Late-night strategy meetings that stretched until dawn.
The quiet voice that always congratulated him after every victory.
Mitsuru.
"...See?"
Kana sighed.
"I knew it."
Ruko blinked, pulling himself back to reality.
"What?"
"You went completely blank."
She shrugged.
"Obviously you have no idea what we're talking about."
Before he could answer, someone suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Hey—!"
Ruko instinctively turned.
Hikari had seized one arm.
At almost the same moment, Kana caught the other.
The strength behind their grips caught him completely off guard.
"W-Wait a second!"
"We're removing a distraction," Hikari said matter-of-factly.
Kana nodded.
"Nothing personal."
"LET GO OF ME!"
He instinctively struggled, only making their grip tighten further.
"I haven't even explained why I'm here!"
"Wait."
The single word wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The room immediately fell silent.
Hikari released his arm first.
Kana let go a moment later, though not without an annoyed sigh.
Kazuha stepped forward.
Unlike the others, she wasn't glaring at him.
She simply studied his face, as though searching for the reason he had appeared after all these years.
"...Let's hear him out."
Kana frowned.
"President, seriously?"
"Throwing someone out without listening isn't fair." Kazuha answer was simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Exactly the kind of response Ruko expected from her.
Kazuha turned toward him.
"Please."
She offered a small, reassuring smile.
"Just tell us why you're here."
Once again, silence settled over the room.
Eventually, Hikari let out a resigned sigh.
"...Fine."
Kana shrugged.
"You've got one chance."
Ruko quietly rubbed his sore wrist.
That had been closer than he cared to admit.
If they threw him out now, the only lead he had would disappear with them.
His eyes drifted across the room.
Four girls.
One hidden identity.
Somewhere among them...was the person he had spent three years trying to forget.
He drew a slow breath.
"...I know how to play Nervanox."
For a moment, no one reacted.
Then Kana raised an eyebrow.
"...That's it?"
"Everyone here plays Nervanox," Hikari said, folding her arms across her chest. "That doesn't make you special."
"I'm not saying it does."
Ruko met each of their gazes without flinching.
"I'm saying I can help you win."
Silence settled over the room.
Kana was the first to react. She stared at him for several seconds before letting out a short, incredulous laugh.
"...You?"
There wasn't even an attempt to hide the disbelief in her voice.
"You've been here for less than five minutes," Hikari added. "And now you're saying you can help us?"
"And?" Ruko replied calmly.
Risa tilted her head, her expression unreadable behind the lenses of her glasses.
"You're claiming you can contribute at a competitive level?"
"I can."
She studied him for another moment before giving a small nod.
"Then prove it."
There was no hesitation in her challenge.
Hikari walked over to one of the gaming stations and pressed the power button. The monitor flickered to life, followed by the familiar startup chime that echoed quietly through the clubroom. Within moments, the Nervanox launcher appeared on the screen.
Ruko's breathing unconsciously slowed.
Three years.
It had been three years since he had last touched the game.
Three years since he had buried every memory connected to professional esports.
The login screen appeared.
His fingers twitched ever so slightly.
"...You hesitated."
Risa noticed immediately.
Her observation was so matter-of-fact that it almost sounded like she was recording data rather than making conversation.
Kana leaned against a nearby desk.
"Well? Sit down." A teasing smile crossed her face.
"Unless you're bluffing."
Ruko remained standing for another moment, staring at the monitor.
A part of him wanted to walk away.
The moment his hands touched that keyboard, everything he had spent three years trying to forget would come rushing back.
The championship.
The late-night practices.
The endless strategy meetings.
The confession.
The lie.
He closed his eyes for a brief second before quietly pulling out the chair.
"...Fine."
As soon as his fingers rested on the keyboard, an unexpected sense of familiarity washed over him.
The texture of the keys.
The weight of the mouse.
The distance between his hands.
His body remembered every movement with effortless precision, even if his heart wished it didn't.
"What are we playing?" he asked.
"A custom match," Risa answered. "I want to evaluate your map awareness and decision-making."
Straight to the point.
Exactly what he expected from someone with her reputation.
The lobby loaded quickly, and the familiar hero selection screen appeared.
"Pick anyone," Kana said casually. "If you can't survive lane phase, the hero won't matter anyway."
Ruko's cursor drifted slowly across the roster.
Every portrait carried a memory.
A tournament.
A draft.
A strategy discussed late into the night with someone who had always sat on the other side of a headset.
His hand stopped for a moment.
"...You're thinking too much," Hikari observed.
"Maybe."
He exhaled softly.
Then he made his choice.
Kana's eyebrows shot upward.
"Seriously?"
Even Risa leaned forward slightly.
"That's an extremely demanding hero."
Hikari's expression shifted from skepticism to curiosity.
"...Interesting."
The match began.
The first minute wasn't impressive.
His movements lacked their former sharpness, and his timing was just a fraction slower than it should have been. Years away from competition had inevitably left their mark.
Kana smirked.
"I knew he was all ta—"
She stopped.
Without warning, everything changed.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
Ruko's posture straightened ever so slightly.
His fingers began moving across the keyboard with increasing confidence, each keystroke flowing naturally into the next. The hesitation disappeared, replaced by a rhythm that looked less like conscious thought and more like instinct.
The rust was gone.
He sidestepped an incoming skill shot by the smallest possible margin before immediately repositioning to pressure his opponent. Rather than chasing the obvious kill, he backed away two steps, forcing the enemy laner to overcommit.
"...He baited that," Risa murmured.
Five seconds later, Ruko disappeared into the river.
Without vision.
Without hesitation.
He arrived at the exact moment the opposing jungler attempted to contest an objective.
A perfectly timed interception.
The enemy had nowhere to escape.
Kana's eyes widened.
"...He predicted the jungle rotation."
"He didn't predict it," Risa corrected quietly, her gaze fixed on the minimap.
"He tracked it."
From that point onward, the pace of the match accelerated.
Every movement seemed to happen one step ahead of the enemy.
He appeared in lanes before ganks could begin.
He abandoned losing fights moments before they became unwinnable.
He traded small advantages for larger objectives with a level of discipline that felt almost mechanical.
Nothing he did looked flashy.
Yet every decision quietly expanded his lead.
The room gradually fell silent.
No one commented anymore.
They simply watched.
"...His map awareness is ridiculous," Kana whispered.
Risa nodded almost absentmindedly.
"No." She adjusted her glasses.
"It's his information processing."
Her voice carried genuine admiration for the first time.
"He's making decisions before the situation fully develops."
Hikari frowned.
"...That's honestly disgusting."
Ruko barely heard them.
For a fleeting moment, he wasn't sitting inside a high school clubroom.
He was back beneath the blinding lights of a championship stage.
The roar of thousands of fans echoed around him.
His headset rested comfortably over his ears.
Someone was laughing softly over voice chat after another successful team fight.
Then—
"...Ruko."
His hand froze.
The voice was quiet.
Gentle.
Familiar enough to send a chill through his entire body.
"...You've gotten even better."
His heartbeat stumbled.
"...I'm surprised you found me."
Ruko turned so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
The match continued on the monitor.
No one had spoken.
All four girls stared back at him with expressions ranging from confusion to concern.
"...Ruko?" Kazuha asked carefully.
"You okay?"
Kana blinked.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Risa observed him with unsettling focus.
"Your pupils dilated."
Hikari sighed.
"That's such a creepy thing to notice."
"I'm making an observation."
Their exchange faded into the background.
Ruko's thoughts were racing too quickly to process anything else.
That voice...
It wasn't identical.
Three years had blurred countless memories.
But it was close.
Close enough to make his chest tighten.
Mitsuru was here.
He didn't know who.
He couldn't prove it.
But for the first time since walking into the clubroom, his conviction became certainty.
She was somewhere inside this room.
The match finally came to an end.
VICTORY
The word stretched boldly across the monitor.
Ruko leaned back in his chair and released a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"...Is that enough proof?"
No one answered immediately.
Kana was the first to break the silence.
She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Okay... you're actually insane."
"Annoyingly useful," Hikari admitted with a reluctant shrug.
Risa gave a slow nod.
"Your fundamentals are well beyond the amateur level."
She paused.
"...Honestly, they're closer to professional standards."
Only Kazuha remained quiet.
She looked at Ruko for a long moment before a small smile appeared on her face.
It wasn't exaggerated.
It wasn't triumphant.
It was simply warm.
"...Welcome to the Gaming Club, Ruko."
For reasons he couldn't explain, that smile affected him more than all the praise that had come before it.
His chest tightened.
Not because he had joined the club.
Not because he had returned to Nervanox.
But because he understood something now.
This wasn't coincidence.
One of the girls standing before him was Mitsuru.
The person who had broken his heart three years ago.
The person he had never truly forgotten.
Whether he wanted it or not, the game he thought he had left behind had already begun once again.