Heartbeats and Illusions

There's a peculiar charm to things that feel fresh and exciting when you first encounter them. But the magic dulls after too many repeats. That's how Natsukawa Kanade felt about movies, particularly ones like Titanic.

Sure, it was a good movie. A great one, even, if you went by its enduring popularity. But to Kanade, it reeked of commercialism—an overly-polished tale about a poor but talented boy who wins the heart of a wealthy young lady. Predictable trials and tribulations ensue, feelings are confirmed, and whether the ending is happy or tragic doesn't seem to matter much. The audience eats it up every time.

For Kanade, though, it wasn't about the romance. His focus fell on the forgotten faces in the story—the childhood sweetheart left behind, the fiancé painted as a villain simply for existing. These people were often more real than the glossy protagonists.

"So yeah, I don't like this movie," Kanade declared bluntly, stepping out of the theater with Isshiki Iroha.

Iroha, his mischievous junior, tilted her head, her golden hair bouncing with the movement. She let out an exaggerated gasp. "Senior, you're so straight-laced! Can't you just follow the girl's lead for once?" she teased, her fingers poking at his arm like an impish woodpecker.

Kanade sighed. "What's next on the agenda?" His tone was detached, as though he were completing a mandatory task.

Iroha pouted, her amber eyes narrowing. "Tsk... Such a boring reaction, Senior."

She quickly regained her enthusiasm, pointing toward a nearby gymnasium. "Let's go exercise!"

Kanade raised an eyebrow. "Right before lunch? You sure about that? Aren't we supposed to, I don't know, relax and reflect on the movie or something?"

"That's exactly why! A little workout will make lunch taste amazing!" Iroha insisted, her confidence unshaken.

Kanade couldn't argue with her logic, but he could grumble about the lack of consultation. "So you weren't planning to ask my opinion at all, were you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he followed her into the gymnasium. After scanning the options, the two settled on table tennis—a sport that struck the perfect balance between fun and low effort. At least, that's what Kanade thought.

"If you lose, you're treating me to lunch!" Iroha announced with a devilish grin. "But just so you know, I haven't played since junior high, so be gentle!"

Kanade's eyes narrowed. He could already see through her plan. She was setting up excuses for when she lost—a classic little devil tactic. "Fine," he said simply, hiding his smirk.

What he didn't expect was just how bad she was. Iroha couldn't even return a basic serve.

"Wait… You're not serious, are you? You don't actually know how to play, do you?" Kanade asked, his tone incredulous.

Iroha flushed, her cheeks puffing up in embarrassment. "Don't underestimate me, Senior! I'm just a little rusty, that's all!" she shot back, grabbing the ball and preparing for her serve.

Kanade held his paddle loosely, unimpressed. "Go ahead."

With an exaggerated wind-up, Iroha served the ball… straight into the net.

"That's... unfortunate," Kanade muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't look down on me!" Iroha snapped, her fiery spirit reignited. "Alright, Senior, answer me this—do you have someone you like?"

The sudden question caught Kanade off guard, but not in the way she'd hoped. He returned the ball with practiced ease and replied, "No."

"..."

Iroha froze, staring at him like he'd just insulted her entire family lineage. She slammed her paddle onto the table and planted her hands on her hips. "Seriously? That's how you respond? No hesitation? No awkward stammering? You're supposed to at least pretend to be flustered, Senior!"

Kanade shrugged, unfazed. "There's nothing to think about. I don't like anyone right now."

His bluntness made her pout even harder, but he wasn't lying. Relationships weren't exactly a priority for him, and even if they were, he wouldn't lie just to indulge her antics.

"Fine! Keep playing!"Iroha declared, determined to salvage her pride.

Her strategy shifted to distraction tactics—making faces, pulling exaggerated poses, and trying to catch him off guard. None of it worked. Kanade's focus was unshakable, though he did notice the occasional flutter of her skirt as she darted around the table.

"This makes it 3:0. I win," Natsukawa Kanade declared, lowering his paddle with an air of nonchalance.

"Ugh… I barely scored a few points," Isshiki Iroha groaned, her shoulders slumping in dramatic defeat. She looked every bit the picture of disappointment, her pout deepening as she glanced at the scoreboard.

To be fair, the match had been completely one-sided. Kanade hadn't even needed to try hard, and yet, Iroha's loss meant she'd have to treat him to lunch—a fact that clearly weighed on her mind.

Kanade wisely chose to remain silent.

The truth was, he'd gone easy on her. If he'd given it his all, she wouldn't have scored even a single point. But telling her that would only rub salt in the wound. After all, she was just a playful junior who liked to show off. Crushing her ego wasn't exactly on his to-do list.

"Senior, isn't your ability a little too ridiculous? At this level, you could join the school team!" Iroha exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"No, you're just too weak," Kanade retorted flatly, adjusting his grip on the paddle.

Join the school team? Him? That was laughable. His interest in table tennis was purely recreational, and he wasn't about to embarrass himself by competing with people who actually trained for this.

Iroha, however, wasn't about to let it go. "Hmph! I don't care! It's clearly Senior's fault for being too strong while pretending to be a beginner. You're just trying to make me treat you!"

Her teasing took a more mischievous turn as she jabbed at his waist with her fingers, her voice lilting with mock indignation. "Could it be… Senior likes Iroha? You're trying to impress her with your skills, aren't you? Even if you do this, Iroha won't like you, you know! You should've been gentler with me. Maybe then Iroha would've noticed your 'kind heart,' Senior."

Kanade sighed, brushing away her poking hands as though swatting at an annoying fly. "That's absolutely impossible," he said, his tone resolute.

This was just Iroha's way of coping with her loss—spouting nonsense and creating wild scenarios to make herself feel better. But Kanade wasn't about to let her win this verbal match, either.

"For lunch, I'm thinking omelette rice," he said casually, ignoring her antics.

Iroha's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Kukuku… Senior, you're too naive. I only said, 'Senior has to treat me if he loses.' I never said I'd treat you if I lost!"

Kanade raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. "…"

For a moment, the gymnasium seemed to fall silent, the tension building between them. Then, Kanade turned his head fully toward her and stared—really stared.

Iroha froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "W-What are you doing? Even if you stare at me like that—"

"…stare…"

"Ah! Fine, fine! I'll treat you!" Iroha finally caved, her voice rising in mock despair. She crossed her arms in defeat, muttering under her breath, "Iroha's poor little pocket money… wuwu…"

Only then did Kanade nod in satisfaction, his intense gaze softening.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to let things go. But a win was a win, and there was no reason to forfeit a well-earned lunch. Of course, he figured he could let Iroha have her way in the afternoon activities. Maybe then he'd treat her to something in return.

For now, though, he'd enjoy his victory—omelette rice never tasted so sweet.