Seishiro knows he can do better. Your game style has so many weaknesses. He's pretty sure you're just randomly mashing buttons at this point. Most Smash Bros players he knows are like that.

And yet, he loses five times out of six rounds.

"Again...," he mumbles, deflating against the edge of his bed. He wasn't even looking at the TV this time, just at your face. Your damn face. The gleam in your eyes when the golden win shines over your username.

"I wonder why..."

Maybe it's because he's not looking at the screen at all. He's just looking at you.