“FINISH HIM!”

“What? How?! I was winning?” A short, brown-haired woman exclaims, denying her utter defeat.

“Hehe, sorry Ms. Kumon, but you’ve lost,” I say as I tuck my blond hair behind my ear before executing her character with the most complicated combo in the game, just to flex on her.

The screen zooms in to show the absolute brutality of her custom character’s back getting broken and windpipe getting crushed. Oh, it goes on, but I’ll spare the details. I honestly question why this gruesome of a game was the one I chose to play with my teacher. Eh, it’s not like Ms. Kumon is the kind of person to scold me for it. In fact, she was playing it with me as we waited for the rest of the class to board the airplane.

It’s the end of our junior year, and we are going on a “class expedition” (field trip) to the capital. We are coming from the other end of the country, so it’s going to be a long flight. You would think that would mean that I should wait to start playing games on my Kindeto Shift, but I brought so many battery packs that it’s not even funny.

After twenty or so more minutes, the rest of my class had boarded the plane. Since all of our tickets were bought at once, We are all sitting around each other, So I can tell who’s doing what.

Ms. Kumon is sitting next to me, desperately trying to beat me in Fight Brothers. Of course, I am able to fend her off while still looking around the plane. Come on, what kind of true gamer isn’t able to do this much?

Arthur and Darius are sitting a few seats ahead of me talking about something or the other. Arthur is the definition of a class president. Remarkably ordinary, and yet he’s intelligent, charismatic, and good-natured. Darius is the kind who follows him around. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s what he does.

On the other row and seats closer to us, there’s Anna and her crew stealing glances at Arthur while gossiping. If we are talking about character tropes, then Anna is the “mean girl,” though that doesn’t really fit her. Sure, she’s annoying, but she’s a good person at heart. To be honest, she’s a bit of a tsundere.

Opposite to me and Ms. Kumon is Wren, the nerdy girl. Well, I’m a nerd, but she’s a book nerd. She also wears glasses and sweaters, so she fits with the title more than me. She’s reading something, probably a romance novel, if I had to guess.

I’m pretty sure that Josh is sitting somewhere behind us, as I heard a few other students laughing. He’s the “class clown.” To be honest, he’s more of the mood maker. He knows how to get people to laugh, and how to cheer people up. Well, he wasn’t that good at figuring me out, but he eventually figured out that, to cheer me up, you just need to play video games with me. What can I say, I’m a simple girl.

If you haven’t figured it out by the terms I’ve been using and my love of games, I’m the “geek.” Although, if it were in Japanese terms, I would be more of an otaku. Of course, I’m still a good student; everyone in this class is. We are the top class at Sierra Academy, an elevator school. The school offers large scholarships, so, as long as you were really smart, you wouldn’t need to worry about the tuition.

My ghost parents are paying for my tuition, so I guess I should be happy about that. See, I’m smart, but I’m not brilliant like some of the other students here.

Oops, I accidentally let Ms. Kumon beat me in a round, I need to focus back on the game. Let’s see, ice blast here leading into a grab, and then throw her off the map to finish her off with a ledge guard. Ez.

“Come on? How are you so good at this?” Ms. Kumon asks with a frustrated voice, but her eyes show she’s impressed.

I look her straight in the eyes with a deadpan and say, “100 pushups, 100 situps, 100 squats, and a 10 kilometer run every day.”

She starts laughing at this. A couple of years ago, I introduced her to anime, and she’s been watching it ever since. She tends to enjoy the historical ones more than me, but there’s no surprise there, saying that she’s a history teacher. She’s even used certain anime scenes to help teach a class. I was simultaneously cringing, embarrassed, and impressed when she did that.

Point is, she gets my references. Well, most of them. She’s a bit mainstream, but it may just my taste being too eccentric. She also doesn’t read much manga or light novels, but that’s fine.

“Master, you’re so… full of crap!” she continues through her laughter. I join her, realizing that I accidentally set myself up and gave her a chance, and she lept on it. Now we’re both cracking up. However, all too soon, the plane begins to lift off; the change of gravity causing us to have to stop our laughter.

I hand her some gum before she asks for it. She nods thanks towards me before chewing the gum. I’ve been on enough field trips with her to know what to do. She’s been our teacher for more than a couple of years. Honestly, she’s my favorite teacher I’ve had like, forever.

The general noise on our part of the plane quiets down as the plane continues to lift off. Conversations die down and people prepare themselves for the 10-hour journey. We’re making a stop somewhere, and the flight is in the middle of the night; these tickets were cheaper. We might be a rich school, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t frugal. Well, most of the time.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

There was this one time I wanted to start a video game club, and the planned budget was ridiculously large. The only reason I wasn’t able to start it was because no one wanted to join. The school admins forced it to be a competitive club, and not enough people were able to balance homework with practicing for the club. That’s not even mentioning physical sports.

In the end, I decided not to start the club. It would’ve been sad if Ms. Kumon and I were the only people to show up at every meeting. She wouldn’t take it as well as I would, as she’s much more of an extrovert than I, the natural introvert bordering on being a recluse.

I played a few more games of Fight Brothers once the plane was at cruising height. After about an hour and a half of this, I had to play a turned-based tactical RPG against her, and the tides began to change. I won around half of the time. I usually won using game mechanics, and she would tactically crush me. If I was good at the “RPG” part, then she was good at the “tactical” part.

It was one of the reasons why I absolutely refused to play chess against her. I would lose. No, I would get demolished. I won’t, and never will, stand a chance against her in real strategy games. She’s just too good. I have a feeling that it’s somehow related to her being a history teacher, but she neither refuses nor denies that guess. It would make sense, right? History, tactics, you know… whatever, it doesn’t matter. 

There was this one time where she tried to get me to play by bringing up how a certain duo of gamers beat a god at chess, and how they are great at other games too. I had to remind her that that was an anime, and I am nowhere near as good as those two. I then started to explain the reasons why I was inferior to them, starting with me not being a hikikomori, and moving on to how my foot dexterity is too low to use a keyboard and mouse.

Eventually, she gave up; I had successfully been so annoying that she stopped trying to get me to play chess. It also taught her to be better at using anime to convince me. If she’s going to do it, she’d better do it right. Was I being childish? Without a doubt. Do I care? No. I don’t hate losing, but I hate not standing a chance.

Anyway, that’s why we don’t play chess.

As I was reflecting on this, she had used my distraction to flank me, wiping out my characters, spelling my defeat. See, this, I can take. I lost due to my own lapse of judgment; my own mistake. I didn’t lose because of some factor outside of my control, like Ms. Kumon’s godly chess skill.

“GG,” I said, taking a sip from my Pipsi, which is undoubtedly better than Coola Cola.

“GG to you as well,” Ms. Kumon responded, drinking her Coola Cola. She disagrees with my opinion on sodas. We’ve already had a bunch of arguments on it, but we’ve never come to an actual conclusion.

“I thought I had you there,” I said with a sigh as I put down my drink.

“Haha, you’re 100 years too early to beat me at strategy,” She bragged, puffing out her (small) chest.

“Maybe, but it seems like you’re 100 years too early to beat me in this department,” I responded, puffing out my own, larger chest. She had a confused expression on her face, before getting flustered and opening her mouth to retaliate.

At that moment, a strong shaking reverberated through the plane, spilling our, and probably everyone else’s, drinks. Ms. Kumon closed her mouth and looked around with a serious expression on her face.

She knew that turbulence was nothing to worry about, but her students didn’t. Well, I did, but others would panic. As the teacher, it was Ms. Kumon’s job to calm everyone down and control the situation.

I began to clean up her and I’s drinks as she spoke up.

“Alright students, stay calm. It was just a little turbulence. The pilots are professionals. Everything is going to be fine,” Ms. Kumon comforted, seemingly nipping the rising panic in the bud. I don’t understand how she does it. Whatever, it’s not like I care or anything. Soon after, the Pilot’s voice came in through the intercom.

“Hello---------ou’re having----ve--ng. We’ve------across some---ild turbulence. We---h----al---u---c--trol. W------going-----tur-------seatbelt lights----. Thank you for flying with Daedalus Airlines.”

I almost starting laughing at how not convincing that was. The only thing I managed to get out of that was the airline promo. In fact, Wren seems to get more panicked after hearing the name of the airline name, for some reason. Ms. Kumon seems annoyed at the pilots but continues with a smile.

“Well, I managed to hear the word ‘turbulence’ in whatever that was. I might’ve heard the word ‘control,’ but then again, it could have been ‘casserole,’” she jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Taking the opportunity, Josh speaks up.

“Who knows, maybe the pilot was hungry ‘cause he missed dinner,” he said, earning more than a few laughs. People were loosening up, and the panic was gone.

Well, until it came back.

A larger, much more violent shake rocked the plane, and the cabin began to tilt to the left. Next came the loss of altitude. Lastly, the panic spread throughout the passengers like a wildfire. Some of the families hung onto each other in desperation, and Ms. Kumon quickly sat down. Panic was etched on her face too.

Oh great. Even the always smiling teacher is worried. It’s not like I don’t get it, anyone would be panicking in this situation. The situation has gotten worse. 

What? The situation is evolving!

Congratulations, your “TURBULENCE” has evolved into “PLANE CRASH!”

You’re “PLANE CRASH” wants to learn the moves “Instant Death” and “Catastrophe,” what should be forgotten?

I selected the moves “Safety” and “Flying.” We don’t need that anymore.

The plane is losing altitude even faster, and we are at an angle where anything that was on the tables is falling off. I look out the window and see the full moon peeking through the clouds. Out of the left corner of my eyes, I see an incoming shadow, highlighted by the moon in an otherwise pitch-black night.

“It’s a wonderful day to die. Or night, rather,” I say, Ms. Kumon looks at me horrified. I continue, smiling slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation. Seriously, plane crashes are supposed to be crazily rare or something. Oh well, “Game over.”

With that, the plane smashes into the mountainside, and the world goes dark.