As Kaitlyn carved her way through round after round of the singles tournament bracket, she couldn't help but think that Ian was right. She was playing pretty nice today.

It wasn't just in doubles, either. I'm really feeling it!

Her movement felt buttery smooth, thumbs flying across the buttons with hardly any effort. Even her confidence was at an all time high. She was successfully pulling off moves that she'd only dreamed of trying in tournament matches. At this point, she was practically styling on people.

From what she saw of Ian's matches, he seemed to feel much the same way. His CinnaBun was an unshakable threat, hounding opponents at every step—and pulling it off to amazing effect. He was playing better than ever.

Maybe we're both just pumped about how doubles went. Still… if this lasts all the way through the tournament? We could really make something happen here.

The hours rushed by as the tournament continued on, slowly whittling down its pool of entrants bit by bit. Soon, only eight remained. All of them were familiar faces, so most of the list wasn't a surprise. ZoggyWoggy, Lelas, and Ian had all made it to the winner's side of the bracket as expected. In fact, the biggest shock was that Kaitlyn was right up there with them.

Ian walked toward her, bumping her fist with his own as she finished off her last opponent. "Congrats on top eight! Not like it's too surprising, though."

"Hey, it is to me!" She chuckled as she unplugged her controller. "I really didn't think I'd get this far."

"Really? With how you do in the biweeklies?" He gave her a skeptical glance. "And you say that I don't give myself enough credit."

"Well it's true," she defended herself. "You don't. And I mean, there were some pretty rough matchups. I had to face pretty much every Arth main in the building to get here… John didn't go easy on me with the seeding."

"Yikes. You think he's still salty about you beating him with Pompuff?"

Kaitlyn scratched her cheek. "Probably. I would be. It was pretty embarrassing."

"I heard that!" John called over his shoulder from a nearby table. "And I am not salty!"

Ian just chuckled, lowering his voice. "I mean, that's what you get for bullying his Squeegee. He has to take revenge somehow."

Ha. You don't even know. She allowed herself a small grin. I took pity on him this time. I could've embarrassed him even harder.

Kaitlyn returned her attention to Ian. "How about you? Are you ready for top eight?"

"I think so?" He shrugged. "It's gonna suck, though. I have to fight Zog next, then either you or Lelas."

Kaitlyn crossed her arms and gave him a flat look. Her silent stare bored into her brown-haired friend until he blinked. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?' There's no world where I actually beat Lelas. You're insane."

"You'd better," he chastised her. "I don't wanna fight that guy. I have a way better chance against you."

Her jaw dropped. "Rude!"

"Hey, it's not rude if it's honest!" He grinned, raising his hands in surrender. "What's that saying? Better the devil you know than the devil you don't?"

"You just literally called me a devil. You're a horrible teammate. I hope Lelas creams you."

"Ouch. Now who's being rude?"

They continued chatting back and forth, waiting for the rest of the games to end. A short while later, John's voice crackled over the loudspeakers. "All right! Bash Bros top eight will start in ten minutes on the main stage! First match will be Lelas versus K!"

Ian gave her a sober nod. "Good luck. Seriously. I'll be rooting for you."

"Thanks. You too." She gave him a small shrug. "Though with how you're playing today, you might not need it. Zog had better watch out."

"Yeah?" Ian turned to look at his next opponent. The hunched figure sat in a nearby chair, looking up at the stage as he waited for his turn. "That's what I'm hoping for."

***

Stepping onto the main stage was a strange feeling. Kaitlyn had never been up here before, not for tournament matches or any other reason. Still, the few feet of elevation that the platform of polished wood gave her shouldn't have been that disorienting. Yet it felt like so much more.

A single table sat at the center of the stage, a solitary PlaySphere and monitor perched atop it. From this distance, the menu screen of Bash Bros shone brightly and clearly. Even if it hadn't been so visible, though, an image of the screen itself was projected overhead for all to watch, its size many times bigger than the one below. The tinny sound of the game's background music pumped through the speakers, competing with the constant buzz of conversation welling up from the rest of the ballroom.

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Her eyes swept across the rows of folding chairs arrayed before her, their seats occupied by a sparse crowd of spectators. She gulped. Not even half of the chairs were filled, but it was still far more eyes than she'd ever had to play in front of. Like most people, she wasn't a fan of public speaking or being the center of attention like this.

It's… it's ok. Kaitlyn squared her shoulders. I'll be facing away from them, anyway. So it'll be like they aren't even there. I can just ignore them. Yeah.

Crossing the open space between her and the setup, she saw that her opponent was already there. Lelas sat in the far chair, a slightly bored expression adorning his face. As she sat down and plugged in, his eyes didn't even flick over to her.

Still rude, but whatever. Doesn't mean I have to be, too.

Extending her fist, she offered an obligatory fist bump to her opponent. Finally, he pulled his eyes away from the screen to look at her. His eyes went to her fist, then her face. With a snort, he turned back toward the monitor, leaving her hanging.

Kaitlyn's smile stiffened into a wry grimace. Evidently, she'd underestimated the guy. Lelas apparently had all the social graces of a decomposing rat.

Well, then. She pulled her hand back and selected her character. I wanted to win before, but now? Now, this is personal. I'm going to DESTROY this guy.

The pair loaded in for the first game. Kaitlyn focused on the monitor, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the applause and hollers that surged up behind her. It made it that much harder to truly pretend like it was just her and her opponent. But there was nothing to be done. It was time to go.

The game began.

***

Throughout Bara Bash, Kaitlyn had taken on a wide variety of opponents. She'd seen her share of different playstyles, tactics, characters—the whole nine yards. In fact, between all the loops that she'd spent attending the tournament, she was fairly certain that she'd played each player here a minimum of three times. It meant she had a lot of specific matchup experience, especially with the clever tricks or unconventional tactics they used to catch her off guard. Those became less and less effective as time went on and she learned how to deal with them.

But fighting Lelas was different. He was just better.

A green-clad Corgo grabbed Kaitlyn's red one, hurling it into the air with one hand. She steered sideways, trying to direct her arc away from the opponent and prevent a follow-up attack. But the green dog leapt into the air and kicked her character in the face with the very tip of his boot, following her path like a homing missile. After a few more kicks that sent her Corgo sailing uselessly into the air, a final uppercut sent her hurtling off the screen to her death.

She swore internally. Dangit. I knew there was a gap, but I didn't think it was this big. He may be the cockiest guy ever, but he's got enough tech skill to back it up.

He didn't use any real tricks. It didn't even feel like Lelas was trying to feel her out, get in her head and predict what she might do next like most people would. It was pure fundamentals. He just played better, and there was nothing she could do about it. She just had to be even more optimal.

Unfortunately, Kaitlyn was not.

Between the nerves of being on stage and the absolute dominance of her opponent, she felt her fingers begin to betray her. Tunnel vision set in as she began to focus on survival rather than winning. Loss after loss came her way until her red corgo hurtled into the abyss for one last time.

She slumped into her chair, defeated. He'd beaten her handily in a 3-0 rout. And in front of all these people, too…It was enough to set her cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

This is not how I wanted to start top eight. Not at all.

As expected, Lelas stood and strode off the stage with hardly a glance her way. The casual dismissal sent her frustration flaring even further, but it quickly guttered out. Why wouldn't he be dismissive? She had lost pretty badly, after all. She was pretty demonstrably beneath him—for now.

After a moment, she stood and walked down the steps. Ian waited for her at the bottom, a sympathetic look on his face.

"That was… rough," she told him. "Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize to me," he replied. "You tried. Though you did look pretty nervous."

"Yeah…" She sighed. "Playing on stage is… different."

"Yeah? Guess I'll find out soon." He gave her a quick fist bump before passing her. "Wish me luck."

She gave Ian a nod as he climbed the stairs for his own match against Zog. Stepping back into the crowd she found an unoccupied seat to watch from. As CinnaBun and a blue Corgo began to clash on the projected screen, Kaitlyn's thoughts started to wander a bit.

So… I'm in losers' bracket now.

In reality, she couldn't feel too disappointed. She'd made it this far without dropping a match. Her luck was bound to run out some time. Still, the idea of being one loss away from getting eliminated removed that slight bit of safety net she'd had before.

It's only gonna get tougher from here. Next round shouldn't be too bad—either of the two guys I'd be facing are good matchups for me. After that, though… On screen, CinnaBun hurled a shuriken against Corgo's shield in midair, following it up with a series of flying kicks. I've gotta face one of these guys.

Unlike her, Ian was playing just as well as he had been all day. His relentless assaults were giving Zog a hard time, pushing him back toward the edge of the stage far more often than not. It seemed pretty clear already who had the upper hand here.

…So I'll probably be facing down Zog.

The thought made her grimace. Despite how easy Ian was making it look, ZoggyWoggy was still one of the best players around. She'd taken games off of him, but never a full match. Even if she'd pretty much learned Corgo from playing against him, usurping the master was not so simple.

A few minutes later, her expectations were proven true. Ian took out Zog in a convincing 3-1 set, sending him to losers' bracket as well.

Well, that settles it, she rolled her shoulders. Time to really show up, I guess. I need to make a plan. Assuming I win here.

The other losers' bracket matches flew by quickly. Kaitlyn managed to win her next match against Acetyl—some Lieutenant Sparrow main unique to this event— in a 3-1 set. Now that they were nearing the end of the tournament, there was no more easy mode. She had to work for every game.

The time helped her to calm her nerves somewhat. Sitting in the audience, she could see that people weren't paying nearly as much attention to the game as she'd expected. Many had wandered away to check out the rest of Bara Bash's offerings, much to her delight. Between that and another game played on stage, she felt a little less uncomfortable about the whole situation. Just in time to face Zog.

She sat down with trepidation. In past loops, she'd faced the guy down plenty of times. Even though she had her own playstyle, it was one that had been heavily influenced by his. That meant she was intimately familiar with his own tricks and habits.

I know how he plays. Now it's time to see if I can put it to use.

With a rather unenthusiastic fist-bump, the game started.