Chapter Text
The prestigious Miya Academy had two undisputed top students: Kanade Yoisaki and Mafuyu Asahina. Their names were practically carved into the rankings, locked in a relentless battle for the number one spot.
Kanade was fueled by passion—an insatiable hunger for knowledge that burned deep inside her. She devoured textbooks like they were novels, constantly seeking new ways to challenge herself. Her mind was restless, her hands always scribbling down notes, lost in theories and compositions, determined to prove that effort and creativity could outshine perfection.
Mafuyu, on the other hand, was like a machine—cold, precise, and unwavering. Her answers were never wrong, her essays never less than immaculate. She didn’t just understand subjects—she mastered them with an eerie detachment, as if she weren’t striving for excellence, but simply fulfilling an expectation. Every test, every score, felt predetermined, as though the universe itself had scripted her path to success.
Their rivalry was the heartbeat of the academy. Every exam felt like a duel, every classroom debate a battlefield. Their peers whispered about them, enthralled by the silent war waged through stolen glances and sharp words.
“You’re slipping, Yoisaki,” Mafuyu would murmur, laying down a pristine, perfect-score test paper before Kanade. Her voice was smooth, unwavering, with just the faintest hint of challenge.
Kanade would glare, grabbing her own paper, barely a point behind. “Don’t get comfortable, Asahina. This isn’t over.”
And it never was.
Their competition bled into every aspect of their lives. Who could answer the teacher’s question first? Who could withstand the longest study session? Who could impress the professors more? Their rivalry was exhausting—too intense for anyone else to keep up with—except for their best friends, who had long since accepted their chaotic dynamic.
“She’s going to combust,” Ena sighed, watching Kanade furiously scribble notes in the library, fingers stained with ink, her eyes dark with exhaustion.
Mizuki, sprawled across their desk, smirked. “Yeah, and Mafuyu-chan’s pretending she doesn’t care, but trust me, she’s fuming. It’s kinda cute.”
For the longest time, it was simple. Kanade would chase, and Mafuyu would remain just out of reach.
But then, something shifted—not in a way either of them welcomed.
It started with frustration. The more they pushed each other, the more their clashes became personal. They stopped holding back. Mafuyu’s words grew sharper, striking at Kanade’s weaknesses. Kanade, usually so focused, found herself retaliating with venom she didn’t know she had.
One argument in the library escalated into something neither could control.
“You act like effort alone will make you the best,” Mafuyu scoffed, her tone void of its usual calm. “But passion doesn’t mean anything if you can’t keep up.”
Kanade’s fists clenched around her notebook. “At least I feel something about my work. What do you even want, Asahina? Do you even care?”
Silence.
Mafuyu stared at her for a long moment before turning on her heel and walking away.
The words haunted them both.
Mafuyu found herself replaying Kanade’s accusation late into the night. Did she care? Was she truly passionate about anything, or was she merely performing? The thought unsettled her. She was always the best because she had to be. Because that’s what was expected. But did she love any of it? The perfect scores, the praise—it should have felt fulfilling, but it was empty, mechanical. Kanade, with all her stubborn persistence, had something Mafuyu wasn’t sure she possessed at all.
And if Kanade saw her as hollow, then what did that mean about her?
Kanade, on the other hand, was spiraling.
"Passion doesn’t mean anything if you can’t keep up."
Mafuyu’s words were a relentless whisper in her mind, pushing her beyond reason.
She stopped sleeping properly. If she had to prove Mafuyu wrong, she needed to be better. Studying wasn’t enough—she needed to be perfect. Needed to outpace Mafuyu in a way that left no room for doubt.
Ena noticed first. “Kanade, when was the last time you slept?” she asked, brows furrowed as she watched Kanade rub at her temples, her fingers trembling.
“I’m fine,” Kanade muttered, flipping another page in her notes. “I just need to—”
“You need to stop,” Ena snapped, yanking the book out of her hands. “This isn’t normal, Kanade.”
“Give it back.” Kanade’s voice was sharp, her gaze dark. Ena hesitated, but Mizuki cut in before she could say anything.
“Kanade-chan, you’re pushing yourself too far,” Mizuki said, for once sounding completely serious. “This isn’t about proving a point anymore. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Kanade gritted her teeth. She knew they were right, but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, Mafuyu would win. If she stopped, it would mean Mafuyu had been right about her all along.
It wasn’t just the exhaustion anymore. Her hands shook when she tried to hold a pencil. She barely ate—food felt like a waste of time. The dark circles under her eyes were so pronounced that Ena and Mizuki had stopped joking about them.
She was pushing herself to the limit, and everyone could see it.
“Just leave me alone,” she snapped, standing abruptly, ignoring the dizziness creeping at the edges of her vision. Ena opened her mouth to protest, but Kanade was already walking away, her steps unsteady.
Meanwhile, Mafuyu sat at her desk, unmoving. She hadn’t touched her textbook in minutes. Her mind was too preoccupied with Kanade’s words, with the way they had burned into her like an accusation she couldn’t ignore.
What do you even want, Asahina?
She didn’t know.
She thought about Kanade, about the fire in her voice, the determination in her eyes—even when she was exhausted. Kanade wanted something. She had dreams, ambitions, a goal beyond just being first.
Mafuyu had never thought of anything beyond winning.
And now, she wasn’t sure what she was chasing at all.
Kanade was running on empty. She had barely eaten, barely slept, and the weight of exhaustion pressed down on her like a crushing force. She didn’t notice where she was going until she crashed into someone—someone solid, familiar.
Mafuyu.
Her breath hitched. Before either of them could say a word, Kanade’s body wavered—and then collapsed.
Mafuyu caught her just before she hit the ground.
Mafuyu stood frozen, still holding Kanade in her arms. The weight was unfamiliar, and yet, it felt as though Kanade was lighter than she should be. Too light. Mafuyu’s mind raced, looping back to the sight of Kanade collapsing against her. The exhaustion in her face, the unnatural paleness of her skin—was this her fault? Had she pushed Kanade too far?
Shaking away the thought, she adjusted her grip and began walking. The halls of the academy were eerily quiet at this hour, the soft shuffle of her footsteps echoing against the walls. Mafuyu tightened her hold.
Reaching her dorm, she carefully maneuvered Kanade through the door, shifting her weight as she gently lowered her onto the couch. Kanade stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Mafuyu lingered for a moment, just watching her. Her hair, usually neat despite her overworking habits, was a tangled mess. The dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced under the dim light of the room. Mafuyu hesitated, then turned away, stepping into her bedroom to look for spare clothes.
She didn’t understand why she was doing this. It was just practical, wasn’t it? Kanade was drenched in sweat, her clothes are rumpled from how she had collapsed. If she didn’t change, she’d be uncomfortable. That was all there was to it.
Yet, as she rummaged through her drawers, the question gnawed at her. Was this her fault? She replayed their last conversation in her head, Kanade’s words cutting into her like a dull knife. ‘You don’t have any passion in the first place.’ Was that true? Had she just been performing this entire time, an empty shell chasing something she didn’t even care about? And if she didn’t care, why did Kanade’s words sting so much?
Before she could spiral deeper, a sound from the living room snapped her attention back. Turning, she saw Kanade shifting, groggy but attempting to sit up. Mafuyu’s brows furrowed as she quickly stepped forward, placing the clothes on the table beside her.
Kanade blinked, looking disoriented before her gaze locked onto Mafuyu. Her eyes widened in confusion, a flicker of awareness settling in.
“Why... why did you bring me here?” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. She made a weak attempt to push herself off the couch, but her arms trembled under her own weight. “I need to— I need to go—”
Mafuyu’s hand moved on its own, pressing lightly against Kanade’s shoulder to keep her in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Kanade tensed under her touch, looking up at her with something unreadable in her tired eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she just stared at Mafuyu, bewildered, as if struggling to comprehend why she was here in Mafuyu’s dorm instead of her own.
“I told you to leave me alone,” Kanade muttered, though there was no real strength behind her words.
Mafuyu met her gaze, her expression unreadable. “And yet, you collapsed in front of me.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain. Kanade looked away first, her exhaustion winning over whatever protest she had left. Mafuyu simply exhaled softly, reaching for the spare clothes beside her. “You should change,” she said, her tone quieter now. “Then you can rest.”
Kanade hesitated before reaching for the shirt Mafuyu had handed her. It was an old archery uniform, the fabric soft from wear, and far too big for her. The name "Asahina" was printed across the back in bold letters, with the number 27 just below it. Kanade briefly wondered if it had any significance, but she was too exhausted to ask.
Slipping the shirt over her head, she felt how loosely it hung on her frame, the sleeves nearly reaching her elbows. Mafuyu had sports, too—of course she did. She wasn’t just good at academics, she excelled at everything, didn’t she? Meanwhile, Kanade only had her studies.
Well, music too, she supposed—
No. Scrap that. Music—music did that to Dad.
She swallowed hard, shoving the thought away as she tugged at the oversized shirt, grounding herself in the fabric. Academics. That’s what mattered. That’s what she had to focus on. Nothing else.
Meanwhile, Mafuyu sat quietly on the other side of the room, watching as Kanade moved sluggishly, her exhaustion evident in every slow motion. The sight should have made her feel victorious—hadn’t she wanted to prove herself better than Kanade? Yet, there was no satisfaction in it. Instead, a hollow feeling settled in her chest.
Even after everything—after moving away, after breaking free—she was still just an empty husk, wasn’t she? She did what her mother wanted for years, followed every expectation without hesitation. And now? Even without her mother’s orders, she was still moving, still performing, still existing only for someone else’s expectations.
A puppet, long after her master had cut the strings.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, back to the suffocating presence of her mother. The fake smile that never quite reached her eyes, the carefully measured tone of her voice as she dictated every aspect of Mafuyu’s life. ‘I know what’s best for you, Mafuyu.’ That phrase echoed in her skull, a cold whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.
Her mother had always spoken as if she knew everything—what Mafuyu should wear, who she should talk to, what she should study. What she should feel. Even when Mafuyu had wanted to scream, she had smiled instead, nodding obediently, playing the role assigned to her.
Because if she didn’t, what then?
She clenched her hands into fists, staring blankly at the floor. Even after leaving, even after all this time, was she still trapped? Had she ever truly escaped?
Kanade shifted on the couch, breaking Mafuyu out of her thoughts. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her movements sluggish but determined. "I should go back to my dorm," she muttered, voice hoarse from exhaustion.
Mafuyu frowned, watching her struggle to stand. "I’ll walk you there."
Kanade shook her head. "I can walk alone. It’s not far."
Mafuyu opened her mouth to argue, but something in Kanade’s expression stopped her. It wasn’t just stubbornness—it was a quiet, tired insistence, a need to hold onto what little independence she had left. Mafuyu exhaled, pressing her lips together before nodding slightly.
"Alright," she said, though the tension in her chest remained. She watched as Kanade took a shaky step toward the door, barely steady on her feet.
Kanade winced as she stepped out, realizing with a sinking feeling that it was already morning. The soft glow of sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the campus in a way that made her head pound even more.
Going back to her dorm now would be pointless—she wouldn’t get any rest. Instead, she decided to head to the library, still caught up in the haze of exhaustion and determination. She hardly noticed how disheveled she looked: her hair tangled, her dark circles deep and prominent, her body slumped with fatigue. Her oversized shirt, unmistakably Mafuyu’s, only made things worse. Her last name was printed right across the back for anyone to see.
But Kanade didn’t care. Not about the stares she might get, not about how awful she looked. She had more important things to focus on. She had to keep pushing forward.
As she made her way through the campus, a fellow student hesitated before approaching her. "Hey, um… are you alright?" they asked, concern evident in their voice.
Kanade blinked at them, then quickly forced a small, sheepish smile. "It’s alright," she murmured, waving a hand dismissively. "Just a little tired."
The student still looked unconvinced but nodded slowly, stepping aside as Kanade continued on her way, her pace sluggish but unwavering.
Meanwhile, Mafuyu remained seated in her dorm, unmoving. She was supposed to be in class by now, but she hadn’t even thought about leaving.
Kanade’s words from the night before echoed in her mind: "You don’t have any passion in the first place."
She had dismissed it at first, brushing it off as frustration, but the more she thought about it, the more it gnawed at her. Was it true? Had she ever truly cared about anything? Or had she only ever done what was expected of her?
Even now, with no one telling her what to do, she still moved like a machine. A perfectly functioning, hollow machine.
For the first time in a long while, Mafuyu didn’t go to class. Instead, she sat there, lost in thought, unable to shake the weight of Kanade’s words.
[]
Mizuki returned to the dorm, stepping inside only to find Mafuyu sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. Her expression was eerily blank, her hands resting limply on her lap as if she had completely disconnected from the world around her. Mizuki’s brows furrowed as she took in the state of the room—Mafuyu’s room door was ajar, an unusual sight in itself, but the real shock was the disarray within. Clothes, normally folded with precision, were strewn about, some spilling out of half-open drawers.
This wasn’t normal. Mafuyu never let things get messy. Even when she was tired, even when she was stressed, everything stayed perfectly in place. Mizuki felt a pang of unease in her chest, stepping forward cautiously. "Mafuyu...?" she called softly, but there was no response. Mafuyu didn’t even flinch, her gaze fixed on something distant and unseen.
Meanwhile, in class, Ena had finally had enough. She grabbed Kanade by the wrist and practically dragged her out, ignoring her weak protests. Their professor barely batted an eye, actually sighing in relief, fully supporting Ena’s intervention. Once outside, Ena turned to face Kanade, arms crossed, an exasperated yet worried expression on her face.
"You need to get yourself together," Ena stated firmly. "Look at you! You’re a mess, Kanade. Even your own rival is concerned about you." She gestured sharply at the oversized archery shirt Kanade was still wearing—Mafuyu’s shirt, the one with "Asahina 27" printed on the back.
Kanade looked down at herself, suddenly hyper-aware of how she must appear: tangled hair, deep-set exhaustion in her eyes, and someone else's shirt draped over her frame. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Ena’s words settle deep in her chest.
[]
"Mafuyu...?" she called softly, but there was no response. Mafuyu didn’t even flinch, her gaze fixed on something distant and unseen.
Mizuki hesitated before finally speaking again, firmer this time. "Why are your clothes like that? What happened?"
Mafuyu blinked slowly.