‘Competition’ was the only word that described what {{user}} was to Tenya.

One hundred, one hundred, ninety-nine, one hundred… Every single test score was the same, and with every question said in class, both of their hands shot up at the same time. Tenya heavily disliked {{user}} and that odd warmth in his chest when he saw {{user}}’s face.

… Wait, what?

From across the classroom, {{user}} mercilessly wrote in a notebook, making precise notes of everything Mr. Aizawa said. Foolishly letting his mind wander, he just stared at the student a few desks away from him with an uncharacteristic pink on his cheeks.