Lesson Learned

Things could be worse

Her father tilted his head as he stared down at her.

Her smile wavered, holding up the small silver trophy.

Gakushuu was sitting opposite her, poking at his string beans.

"Oh..." Mom quickly became disinterested. "Well, that's nice, dear," she said while her finger traced the outline of her wineglass.

"Not first place?" her father asked lightly.

She lowered the trophy to her lap. "Um...well..."

Her mom sighed. "Gakuhou, do you really have to do this now?" She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Let it go."

Their father raised an eyebrow at his wife, before he glanced down at Mitsuko. "I was only asking because I was curious how you could be so calm about it, Mitsuko?"

"C-calm?" Mitsuko's brow furrowed.

"You seem so willing to accept your failure." His eyes looked strange in the dim light. "And, allow those stronger to humiliate you." He smiled coldly. "Are you proud of your failure?" His gaze narrowed at the trophy on her lap.

She flinched, gripping the small trophy tighter. "Um..."

Gakushuu looked back and forth between her and their father.

Their mother groaned, rubbing her eyes. "I can't believe you." She stood up and took her plate. "You can do the dishes tonight," she said, taking her glass with her. "I'll be in the in the living room."

Their father didn't reply or even acknowledge she'd spoken. "Well, Mitsuko?"

Mitsuko was pale, with shaking hands. "I..." She winced. "No, I'm not proud!" She felt tears prickle in her eyes. "I just..." she trailed off, staring at the trophy in her lap.

"Then why would you want to be reminded of your failure?" her father asked smoothly.

She knew he was looking at the trophy again, this small piece of fake silver. Mitsuko swallowed a bad taste in her mouth. Suddenly the shiny silver just appeared like cheap junk, second hand.

Failure.

Mitsuko slipped off her seat and ran over to the kitchen bin, tossing the trophy inside, and then she ran back to her seat, afraid to look back.

Gakushuu's eyes were wide and cautious, but their father's gaze held the faintest signs of approval.

***

Mitsuko stabbed her pencil into the crappy wooden desk while Ms Yukimura gave another motivational speech while making references to how being positive was important and...

Mitsuko sighed and closed her eyes; she'd stopped listening ten minutes ago when she realised Ms Yukimura's speech wouldn't help her on the actual Japanese exam.

"Um, excuse me?" A boy behind her whispered hesitantly.

She scowled looked over her shoulder.

The boy had strangely light violet hair and was hunched over his desk.

Who was he again?

Mitsuko raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Um, can I borrow a pen? Mine kind of..." There was black ink splattered on the edge of his desk and a broken pen next to the dark stain; there was a notepad on top of his books with a few sketches already illustrated.

How did he even break it?

Her lips thinned disapprovingly. "...Alright." She turned around and lifted the lid of her desk, taking out a spare blue pen. "Just don't break this one," she couldn't help but comment, handing it over.