The empty classroom settled into silence once more.
The afternoon sun stretched across the polished wooden floor, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. Outside the windows, the sounds of students enjoying their lunch break drifted faintly through the open air, but inside, only the soft ticking of the classroom clock could be heard.
Kana lowered her gaze to the phone resting in her hands.
The defeat screen from her latest ranked match still illuminated the display.
She didn't press the button to queue again.
Not this time.
Her fingers rested motionless against the edges of the device as if she had finally run out of strength.
Across from her, Ruko remained seated with his arms folded.
He didn't rush to comfort her.
He knew empty encouragement would accomplish nothing.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Your hard work will pay off."
Kana gave a tired smile.
"...That's what everyone says."
"It isn't just something people say."
Ruko leaned back against the chair.
"It just doesn't happen as quickly as most people want."
Kana quietly listened.
"No one develops skill overnight."
He looked toward the window as memories of his own training resurfaced.
"People only see the result."
"They see someone making impossible plays."
"They see tournament victories."
"They see highlight reels."
"They don't see the thousands of mistakes that came before them."
His voice remained calm.
"They don't see the matches lost."
"They don't see the frustration."
"They don't see the nights where nothing seemed to improve."
Kana stared quietly at the floor.
"...Even so..."
She hugged her knees against the chair.
"I'm still..."
She hesitated before letting out a small sigh.
"...Normal."
The word lingered heavily between them.
"I'm average."
She looked toward the rows of empty desks scattered throughout the classroom.
"When I look at everyone in the club..."
Her voice grew softer.
"I can't help comparing myself."
She counted on her fingers unconsciously.
"Risa is a genius."
"She understands things after seeing them once."
"Kazuha can naturally keep everyone together."
"Even when she's overwhelmed, everyone trusts her."
"Hikari..."
Kana smiled faintly.
"She has so much talent."
"She's improving every single day."
Kana looked back down at the phone in her lap.
"And then..."
"...there's me."
She laughed quietly, though there was no happiness in it.
"I'm not some hidden genius."
"I don't have incredible reflexes."
"I don't learn things as fast as Risa."
"I'm not dependable like Kazuha."
"I'm not talented like Hikari."
She slowly clenched the edge of her skirt.
"So if I stop working harder than everyone else..."
"...I'll just become..."
Her words barely escaped her lips.
"...ordinary."
Silence settled over the room once again.
Ruko watched her for several seconds.
Then...
He let out a quiet sigh.
"...You're wrong."
Kana blinked.
"Huh?"
Without answering immediately, Ruko reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
His thumb moved quickly across the screen.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Kana tilted her head.
"...What are you doing?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he continued typing into the search bar.
Several pages appeared.
He opened one.
Closed it.
Opened another.
His eyes scanned through paragraphs of information before moving on again.
Kana leaned forward slightly.
"...Ruko?"
Still no reply.
Only the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the screen filled the room.
Her curiosity slowly replaced her earlier sadness.
"...You're making me nervous."
Nothing.
He continued searching with complete concentration.
Kana puffed out her cheeks.
"...If you're looking up 'How to Replace a Bad Roamer,' I'm leaving."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Ruko's mouth.
"No."
"Then what?"
He finally stopped scrolling.
The screen remained fixed on a page.
After reading it one final time, he nodded to himself.
"...Found it."
Kana blinked.
"...Found what?"
Ruko stood from his chair and walked toward her.
He held the phone out in front of her.
"I wanted to show you something."
Kana accepted the phone with both hands.
"...What is this?"
"You said you're ordinary."
Ruko folded his arms.
"I wanted to check something before I argued with you."
Kana looked up, puzzled.
"...Argued?"
He gave a small nod.
"Because I don't think you've been paying attention to the kind of player you actually are."
Kana's eyes widened slightly.
"...What do you mean?"
Ruko looked toward the phone in her hands.
"Take a look."
Kana slowly lowered her gaze to the screen.
Whatever Ruko had found...
It was important enough for him to interrupt her self-criticism.
The classroom once again fell silent as Kana began to read.
Kana tilted her head.
"What are you looking for?"
"You'll see."
His fingers moved quickly across the screen, opening one page after another before finally stopping.
"There."
He turned the phone toward her.
"Watch."
Kana accepted it with both hands.
The screen displayed an old online video.
Its thumbnail immediately caught her attention.
A younger Ruko sat on the stage wearing Nerva's team jersey while large red text covered the image.
"Nerva's Worst Mid Laner?"
Kana blinked.
"...Eh?"
She tapped play.
The recording showed clips from one of Nerva's early tournament matches.
The commentator's voice echoed from the phone's speaker.
"Ruko misreads the rotation here."
The replay slowed.
Ruko stepped into the river without vision.
The enemy jungler immediately punished him.
Defeat.
The next clip began.
"Another positioning mistake."
Ruko overextended.
He was eliminated before the team fight even started.
Another replay.
"He's struggling today."
Another failed rotation.
Another missed opportunity.
Another mistake.
The video wasn't trying to praise him.
It was criticizing him.
Comment after comment appeared across the screen.
"Why is Nerva keeping this guy?"
"Their mid laner is holding them back."
"He'll never become a top player."
"Replace him already."
Kana's eyes slowly widened.
She continued watching in silence.
The person in the video...
Didn't resemble the composed player she had imagined.
He looked nervous.
Unsure.
He made obvious mistakes.
Some of them were almost painful to watch.
"..."
Kana unconsciously whispered under her breath.
"...I've forgotten about this..."
The words slipped out before she realized it.
"Hm?"
Ruko looked at her.
"What was that?"
Kana immediately shut her mouth.
"N-Nothing."
Ruko narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I couldn't hear you."
She quickly shook her head.
"It wasn't important."
She looked back at the screen for another moment before slowly locking the phone.
Then she raised her eyes toward him.
"...You weren't always the best mid laner..."
Her voice carried genuine curiosity.
"...Were you?"
She hesitated.
"...Back when you were still with Nerva?"
Ruko smiled.
It wasn't the proud smile of someone remembering glory.
It was the quiet smile of someone remembering just how far they had come.
"No."
He chuckled softly.
"Not even close."
Kana waited patiently.
"In fact..."
He scratched the back of his head.
"...I was one of the worst players on the team."
Kana stared at him.
"...Seriously?"
He nodded without hesitation.
"There were days when I wondered if everyone online was right."
He gave a small laugh.
"I'd read comments saying I didn't deserve my spot."
"I lost lane."
"I made terrible calls."
"I got caught out for no reason."
"There were matches where I felt like I was dragging the entire team down."
His tone remained calm.
Matter-of-fact.
As though those painful memories no longer hurt.
Kana slowly smiled.
"I guess..."
She looked at the phone in her hands.
"...My situation brought back some memories."
"A little."
Ruko leaned back against the desk behind him.
"I wasn't born as the player people remember."
"I became that player."
He folded his arms.
"I spent countless hours reviewing replays."
"I practiced the same mechanics until they became muscle memory."
"I lost more games than I can remember."
"I made mistakes."
"The same mistakes."
"Again."
"And again."
"And again."
He smiled faintly.
"The only difference..."
"I didn't stop."
Kana quietly lowered her eyes.
The words settled deeply within her.
Ruko looked directly at her.
"So don't compare your Chapter One to someone else's Chapter One Hundred."
Kana blinked.
"...Chapter One Hundred?"
He nodded.
"You're looking at Risa after years of sharpening the way she thinks."
"You're looking at Kazuha after years of carrying responsibility."
"You're looking at Hikari after years of chasing a dream inspired by someone she admires."
"They didn't become who they are overnight."
He paused before pointing to himself.
"And me?"
"I wasn't the best mid laner from the beginning."
"I also had to work hard to get where I ended up."
Kana's grip around the phone loosened.
For the first time that afternoon...
The weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter.
Ruko suddenly grinned.
"If a loser 2D simp like me managed to become a decent player..."
He shrugged dramatically.
"...I wouldn't be surprised if someone like you ends up making a name for herself someday."
Kana stared at him for a second.
Then—
A laugh escaped her lips.
It started quietly.
Before growing louder.
"Hahaha..."
She covered her mouth, trying to hold it back.
"You actually called yourself a loser."
"I've accepted reality."
"You really are hopeless."
"I've been told."
The classroom, heavy with frustration only moments ago, now felt lighter.
Kana wiped the corner of one eye.
"...Thanks."
Ruko pretended not to hear her.
Instead, he looked toward the afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows.
"You know..."
He spoke with a teasing smile.
"We normal people have to stick together."
Kana tilted her head.
"In a club filled with gifted people..."
He pointed between the two of them.
"...Someone has to represent the average crowd."
Kana laughed once more.
"Average?"
She stood from her chair, a renewed determination shining in her eyes.
"I don't know about you..."
She held up her phone with a confident smile.
"...But I'm going to become an extraordinary average person."
Ruko smirked.
"Now that's more like the Kana I know."
The frustration that had consumed the room half an hour earlier had disappeared.
In its place...
A small but steady confidence had begun to grow.
It wasn't the confidence of someone who believed they had already become strong.
It was the confidence of someone who had finally accepted that becoming stronger was a journey worth continuing.