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It was one of the peaceful days at the Blueberry Academy. No exams, no homework, no big battles, just a quiet, relaxing day at the BB league club. Ophelia was lounging on the couch, doomscrolling on her Rotom phone. Oktavia, her best friend and rival, had gone to watch a concert by her favourite classical musician in Nimbasa City with Lacey. Ophelia wasn't a huge fan of classical music, so she passed on that. Amarys and Carmine are off to spend some time together.
At one point, Ophelia noticed the sound. The music, synthetic punches, over-the-top announcer voices, and button-mashing. It was desperate, uneven. She didn’t look up from her phone.
“HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THAT MOVE?!” Kieran snapped from across the room.
Ophelia looked up from her phone.
“I already told you,” Drayton said, way too relaxed for someone who is literally destroying a kid's ego. “Quarter-circle forward. It’s not that deep, bud.”
“It is that deep when your character keeps backflipping into death!” Kieran retorted.
“Skill issue.”
A sharp KO! rang out.
Ophelia looked down at her phone, thumb hovering mid-scroll. She exhaled slowly through her nose. "That's absolutely not my problem." She thought to herself. She kept scrolling. Another round started—more button mashing.
“DRAYTON, YOU JUST STOOD THERE!”
“I was giving you a chance.”
“I DIDN’T ASK FOR ONE—”
Another sharp KO! rang out.
Ophelia’s eye twitched. She finally glanced up once again. Kieran was… bad at this. Not Bad in a 'I'm still learning' bad. It's more like 'he sucks ass' kinda bad.
Kieran was a little hunched, still tense, but it was more than that. There was something fragile in the way he held the controller, as if he squeezed too hard, it might snap, or worse, he might instead.
And Drayton? Drayton looked like he was playing a rhythm game. Effortless and untouchable.
It was funny. Arceus, it was hilarious. But still… Ophelia clicked her tongue softly and looked back down at her phone. It’s none of her business, none of her problem.
KO!
“…Again?!” Kieran groaned.
Ophelia sighed. She turned off her phone and stared at her reflection for half a second.
“…This is stupid,” she muttered under her breath.
Drayton finally noticed Ophelia, glancing between them and her phone. Drayton wasn’t stupid. Lazy? Yeah. Unbothered? Absolutely. But stupid? Not really… You don’t survive this club without picking up on patterns. And Ophelia? She was being really slick about it. Too slick, in fact. At first, it was small things. Easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. She’d leave a room a little too early. Show up a little too late. Conversations would end just before Kieran could join in, like someone was always hitting an invisible “skip cutscene” button. Never being rude. But it was never obvious. It’s like smoke slipping through fingers.
Kieran, on the other hand? That kid was trying. It’s awkward and painful to watch, like someone walking into a glass door, apologizing to it, and then trying again. He’d sit near her, and she’d get up to grab a drink. He’d start a conversation, then she’d get “called away.” He’d joke, and she’d already be halfway across the room.
And the worst part? She wasn’t doing it to hurt him. That’s what made it obvious. If Ophelia hated you, you’d know. She would be loud and clear about it. Probably wouldn’t mind involving her fist. But this? This was a restraint or measured distance, like she’d drawn a line in the sand and refused to step over it, no matter how harmless things looked on the other side.
Drayton leaned back in his chair, watching Kieran get absolutely folded for the third time in a row.
KO!
Yeah… this was getting sad. He glanced over at Ophelia, phone in hand, scrolling, completely chill. But her eyes would flick up for half a second, just long enough to catch Kieran fumbling another input. Then back down. Like it didn’t matter or he didn’t matter.
Drayton huffed a quiet laugh. Because here’s the thing, Kieran thought he was being subtle about trying. Ophelia thought she was being subtle about avoiding. And both of them were failing spectacularly. It wasn’t a grudge anymore. Not really. More like… awkward leftover static. A bad connection that hadn’t quite cleared up. And neither of them knew how to fix it without making it worse. Drayton cracked his knuckles, already deciding. Time to intervene. Not for them. Of course not. Just… For his own entertainment.
“Alright,” Drayton said, stretching his arms over his head like he hadn’t just demolished a child’s self-esteem. “I’m bored.” He stood up.
Kieran blinked. “You’re—what?”
“I said I’m bored.” He stood up, cracking his neck. “Gotta go do… some napping. Haven’t done that for a while.”
Kieran’s grip tightened. “Wait, another round—”
“Nah.” Drayton waved him off, already stepping away. He looked over his shoulder, right at Ophelia. “Ophelia can take over,” he said casually.
Silence….
Ophelia looked up, confused. “…Excuse me?” she said as if someone had insulted her.
Kieran froze, seeing her reaction.
Drayton grinned like a guy who had just lit a match and tossed it into a fireworks factory. “You heard me. She plays this way more than I do.”
“That is not-” Ophelia straightened, glaring at him.
“Why not?” He shrugged. “You’ve been watching the whole time.”
“I was doomscrolling. There’s a difference.” Ophelia replied
“Mhm.”
“Don’t ‘mhm’ me, you toothpaste-haired bozo.”
Drayton was already backing away. “Have fun, you two.”
“Drayton!”
He saluted without turning around and left, clicking the door shut.
...
Ophelia stared at the door for a long moment. Then slowly, she turned her head toward Kieran. He looked like he wanted to evaporate.
“…You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “It’s fine. I can just—practice or something.”
Ophelia held his gaze. She looked at him for a while before she exhaled.
“…You’re holding the controller wrong,” she said.
Kieran blinked. “I…what?”
“Your grip.” She walked over, stopping just beside him. She flopped down a cushion next to him. “You’re tensing up. That’s why your inputs are sloppy.”
He looked down at his hands. “Oh.”
“…So you’ll play?” he asked, quieter this time.
Ophelia hesitated.
Arceus, she should just leave. This was exactly the kind of situation she’d been avoiding... But her eyes flicked to the screen. Then back to him.
“Alright,” she sighs, “but only this time.”
Kieran’s shoulders straightened slightly. “Okay.”
She held out her hand. He passed her the controller like it was something fragile. Ophelia positioned herself and rolled her shoulders once, then cracked her knuckles.
“Don’t expect me to go easy on you,” she added.
“I wouldn’t,” Kieran said.
There was a hint of something there. Not arrogant, but not quite confident. But… trying.
The match loaded.
Three.
Two.
One.
Fight!
Kieran lunged first. Predictable, messy, sloppy in fact. Ophelia dodged without thinking and countered him with a clean hit. Another… Another… and KO! That round only lasted about 20 seconds.
She clicked her tongue, slightly annoyed. “You’re panicking.”
“I’m not panicking!” Kieran tried to defend himself.
“You are.” She didn’t look at him, eyes still on the screen. “You’re pressing everything at once. That’s not how this works.”
“…I just don’t want to lose immediately.”
“You already are.”
He flinched, “…Right.”
Ophelia leaned back slightly. “…Look,” she said, voice a little less sharp. “It’s just a game.”
Kieran let out a small, humorless laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
“It is.”
Another round starts. This time, Ophelia didn’t attack immediately. Kieran hesitated.
“…What are you doing?” Kieran asked.
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to stop freaking out.”
“I’m not—”
“Just breathe,” she cut in.
He stopped.
“…Okay,” he said after a beat.
He moved again. Slower this time, more deliberate.
Ophelia nodded once. “Better.”
She met his attacks, lighter now, testing, guiding, but almost not enough to let him win. Yet she is not crushing him either.
The round stretched longer.
25 seconds… 30 seconds, 35 seconds…
Kieran landed a critical hit. His eyes widened. “I—”
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Ophelia said immediately, knocking him back. “Focus.”
“Right.”
Another exchange. Another. He lasted longer this time but still lost. But this time, not instantly.
Kieran exhaled, staring at the screen. “…That was better,” he admitted.
Ophelia shrugged. “Bare minimum.” But there was no bite in it.
The rounds kept going. And somewhere between the losses, between the messy inputs and the almost-there moments, something shifted. Kieran got better. Not dramatically or in some sudden, cinematic power-up. But little by little, he stopped mashing and started thinking.
Ophelia noticed. At first, she kept it light. Like a predictable pattern, openings he could recognize or punishments that stung but didn’t crush. But then quietly, she turned it up. Like, a faster combo here or a tighter window there. It’s less hesitation, more pressure. But not enough to overwhelm, just enough to test. Her fingers moved fluidly across the controller, expression unreadable, eyes locked onto the screen, but her attention wasn’t just on the game. It was on him. Watching, measuring, waiting… “Will you snap like before?” Ophelia thought to herself.
Kieran lost again. He exhaled. “…Again.” No frustration in his voice. No sharp edge. Just… determination.
Ophelia said nothing and started the next round. This time, she didn’t hold back as much. He stumbled, recovered, blocked… late, but not too late. A hit landed. Then another. Ophelia’s brow twitched. She was Interesting.
Round four. Ophelia pushed harder. No mercy now, faster inputs, tighter reads, forcing him into corners. Kieran’s character staggered under the pressure. The health bar is dropping. Closer… Closer… And he slipped.
KO!
Kieran leaned back slightly. Ran a hand through his hair. “…Okay,” he murmured. “That was on me.” No excuses, no anger. He just acknowledged.
Ophelia’s grip on the controller tightened for a fraction of a second. Then, Round five. She went all in. No more training wheels, no more invisible safety nets. If he broke here, that would be the answer to her question. The match started. It was faster, more brutal, and relentless. Kieran got cornered almost immediately. Ophelia pressed forward, unyielding, every move calculated to suffocate, to overwhelm. And then, he adapted. A clean dodge, then a counter. It was shaky, but timed. He didn’t panic or spiral. He stayed focused. Even as his health dropped into the red, even as the pressure mounted, he clammed up.
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. “…Huh.” He still lost. Barely… But he lasted longer this time. And when the screen flashed the result. He was so close.
He smiled. “…One more.” There was no desperation, no frustration. Just… wanting to try again.
Ophelia stared at him for a second longer than necessary. Then she selected rematch.
Round six.
Three.
Two.
One.
Fight!
Everything sharpened. Every input precise. Every movement is deliberate. Kieran moved differently now. Still not perfect, still rough around the edges, but grounded himself. He didn’t chase every opening. He didn’t flinch at every hit. He waited, watched, and planned. And when the moment came, he took the chance. A clean combo. Not flashy, not overwhelming, but critical.
Ophelia’s character staggered. Her health dipped and then dropped.
KO.
…
For a second, neither of them moved. The result screen lingered. Kieran blinked. “…I—” He let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I actually won!”
Ophelia didn’t respond. She was still staring at the screen. Then, slowly, she leaned back. A quiet breath leaves her.
“... Well then...”
Kieran glanced at her, unsure.
Ophelia tilted her head slightly, studying him like she was seeing something new. She finally got her answer. A small smirk tugged at her lips. “So,” she said, tone light, but softer than before. “You can learn, huh?”
Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Took me long enough.”
“Yeah. It did.” But there was no bite to it like Ophelia usually would, but it was something warmer underneath. Ophelia stood, stretching her arms over her head. As she turned away, she paused, just briefly. “…So, he did change, huh?” she murmured under her breath, almost too quiet to catch. A faint, satisfied huff. “Heh… about time.”
This time, when she walked off, it didn’t feel like avoidance. And for once, she didn’t keep her distance.
Kieran glanced at her. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“…Then why did you?”
Ophelia was facing away from him. She stood there for a bit before finally turning her head to look at Kieran… really look at him. “…Because,” she said slowly, “watching you get destroyed like that was getting annoying.”
Kieran blinked. “…That’s it?”
Ophelia shrugged. “What, ya want a speech?”
“I—no, I just—”
“It’s just a game,” she repeated, tossing the controller lightly onto the cushion. “Don’t make it deeper than it is.”
She turned to leave. Then stopped just for a second. “…You’re not as bad as you think,” she added, not looking at him. “You just rush.” And then she walked away.
Kieran sat there, controller in hand.
The TV was finally turned off. He looked down at his fingers, adjusted his grip. He took a breath before setting the controller down.
“It’s just a game…”