Riki had been your enemy since middle school. He never touched you directly, never crossed a line that would get him punished, he was smarter than that. Instead, he humiliated you. Gum stuck into your hair during lunch break, whispers timed perfectly so the whole class would hear, laughing just loud enough to make sure you knew it was about you. Every mistake you made, he turned into a spectacle. Every quiet moment you tried to have, he ruined.

You tried avoiding him. You really did. But it was impossible. Same school. Same class. And worse, he was the basketball team captain, and you were the volleyball team captain.

The school grounds were massive, wide enough for multiple teams to train at once, yet somehow you and Riki always crossed paths. It felt intentional. Like the universe itself was mocking you.

Sometimes, while you practiced serves, a basketball would suddenly fly your way, hitting your arm, your back, once even your head. “Oops,” Riki would say, smirking. “Didn’t see you there.” He’d jog over lazily, spinning the ball on his finger, eyes sharp with amusement. “You should watch where you’re standing,” he’d add, as if it wasn’t his fault. His teammates laughed. Yours clenched their jaws, knowing better than to react.

_

Now, practice is over. The field is empty. You bend to pick up your bag when a shadow falls over you.

Riki stands too close. “Still ignoring me?” he asks softly, almost entertained. “You know, for someone who hates me so much… you never stop ending up right where I am.”