“Alright! The third and fourth participants, get ready!”

The coach, who seemed amused and satisfied with our match, shouted to prepare the next matchup of the tournament. And the loud noise coming out from his lungs snapped me out from my train of thought. Realizing that I was still standing in the middle of the court, I immediately rushed out of the field. And right after, Silvi followed and did the same.

I walked towards outside of the court and sat down on the ground where no one was particularly near, making sure that it was comfortable for both me and anyone who would have not favored me sitting right beside them. Surprisingly, Silvi also did something similar. She was sitting alone at the very back of the crowd, clutching both of her legs as if she was hiding something behind them. Yet her covering efforts were futile as I could see that she looked comparable to a sobbing infant. Not that I meant the description as an insult.

Thus, the second pairing went forward and initiated their match. The tournament continued with the battle of one pair to another pair, to another. Unlike how my match with Silvi went, each time a victor has been named, the audience would clap their hands and shout the usual lines of, “You did great!”, or “You can do it next time!”, depending to whom it was meant for. And through all of this, Silvi did not move from her initial spot. Even though I knew that I did not do anything wrong, I found myself somewhat sympathizing with her.

As time flew by, the sky had turned its color warmer, yet its breeze now a tad bit chillier. Without realizing, it was already close to nightfall. With the sun setting, the light that was illuminating the court was now being slowly replaced by shadows. As it was getting darker by the minute, even the coach’s obsession with competitions was not able to cover him from the truth.

“Oh god! Is it already this late?”

The coach was shocked as he picked up on the gradual lessening of the court’s visibility, something that he further confirmed through the time shown from his wristwatch. Looking slightly baffled on what to do and say, he scratched his head and came up with a shortly-thought solution.

“Well, I guess we have to wrap this up.”

“But we’ve only gone through the first stage of the tournament!”

However, it seemed that the coach’s decision sparked some dissatisfaction for some of the members. To which I think, “They usually do not care this much about badminton”.

“I know, I know! It’s all my fault. I didn’t expect that each game would take this long.”

Without any efforts to read between the lines, our coach decided to immediately apologize, a perfect representation of adulthood.

“But we need to have a winner!”

Yet even with the apology, the students were still dissatisfied. They would pout and constantly nag at the coach. The other members who did not say much at first also decided to ride the wave, voicing their opinion with nods or sighs of agreement.

“But, we’re all winners! Because we all had fun!”

If this was an episode from Yu-Gi-Oh! This would be the time where the coach drew his trump card from the deck. The legendary Egyptian God card, Pharaoh’s Speech! The card can be special summoned at any time the duelist was losing a match.

I can feel it. Here it comes.

“And the important thing is that we are able to compete and sharpen each other’s skills through healthy friction! That is what’s important for our youth!”

Take every bit of my life points already. I would rather lose a card game than having to hear that again.

“You’re so lame, coach.”

For the first time, I actually ended up agreeing with the badminton club members. Hey, there is always a first time for everything. And for a legendary card, the effect was terribly subpar. Might want to switch your strategy up next time, coach.

“Fine, fine! I’ll clean up the court to make up for it.”

“You’re the best, coach!”

In such a sudden manner, the students changed their tone, now chuckling joyfully as they thank the coach. Now, this was closer to heart.

So that was the motive? The fact that all of you did not want to pick up a few shuttlecocks?

As the contract has been signed and agreed upon, everybody stood and left the badminton court, leaving the coach, who was standing in the middle of it, alone.

“Ck, cheeky teenagers.”

Knowing that he had been deceived and used, the coach let out a sigh and whispered a complaint. However, due to the loud noise coming from everyone else, I was the only one who was able to hear the coach’s grumble.

They are, aren’t they?

In the end, what was once considered as a tournament ended up being a letdown instead. It was more appropriate for it to be called as a 1 on 1 practice. Without even being able to finish the rotation of the initial pairings, I, who went up first, did not even get to play a second match.

I found myself walking towards the girl’s locker room, where I had placed my belongings beforehand. It is quite a simple space with nothing really fancy going on. Not to mention, the smell accumulating from every individual was not something I would particularly define as fancy. Moreover, the cramped space does not really help the atmosphere. Although, what I usually find most annoying about the room is when someone elbowed me, and there is no possibility of me knowing whether an ulterior motive existed behind that contact.

Fortunately, I have the option to not stay long.

The locker room is one of those places where its setting allows people to chatter with each other as personal space becomes non-existent due to the tight space. And usually, the users of the girl’s locker room would use that opportunity to range topics from High school dramas to gossips. But the fact that I, nor them, consider each other as friends; means that I do not have to talk about the silliness whatsoever. And for them, they do not have to feel the need to include me within their conversation. Well, not that they were going to in the first place.

My willingness to leave early is good for me and them. It is all mutual.

As I was trying to collect my belongings and quickly dash out from the place, I heard a call towards my name. And it was not a particularly pleasant interruption.

“Oy, Gwenius! Must be feeling ecstatic after winning, huh?”

Suddenly, Silvi came up to me, spouting a sentence that sounded petty.

Ugh, what does she want now?

Well, of course, I got the gist of what she wanted. But that did not make it all the less irritating. And hell, that nickname is even known by the upperclassmen now? Am I the celebrity over here? Most probably, the junior members are to be held responsible for this.

“Ah, whatever shall you mean?”

Once again, in an effort to not create unnecessary friction, I replied as cool as I could be, trying not to show any sense of fear nor threat. Truth be told, there always exists a possibility of me being wrong. It is possible that she merely wanted to invite me to a drink or something.

“Oh, don’t try to mock me, bitch. You think you’re so great just because you won a couple of sets?”

Oh, who am I kidding? This woman did not even try to conceal her intentions in the slightest.

“If you are the variable of our comparison, that may arguably be correct.”

Without thinking all of it through, my pride swallowed me whole. I did not understand what was happening, nor the reason why I responded with such snark. I mean, I did not have enough time to. In that split second, I knew that I was igniting something foul.