I’m My Own High School Rival: Nakamura’s Arc: Heritage

  “Okay, class. We have an important assessment today, measuring how well you detect mental or emotional fatigue in your male counterpart. Not saying you have male counterparts or anything.” Ms. Hoshikawa said.

  I sat across from Christina, who strategically sat Antwon next to her for some malefic reason after publicly shaming him in Ms. Igarashi’s class. The U-shaped desk formation, a formation that I once cherished, worked against my desired closeness with Antwon, not that I deserved it. I couldn’t stop her—I was too scared of what she represents, and her clan.

  She had arrived first, which had made walking into class feel like arriving at your own execution. Each step felt like a separate sentence without judicial review.

  However, I’m adept at detecting discrepancies in students, particularly young men. I noticed Antwon’s emotional shift immediately, so why didn’t I comfort him as I had when he was my student and I was his teacher?

  “Now, you may begin once you get the test. No use in cheating because each of you has her own copy.”

  Ms. Hoshikawa passed the test to Abby, then to me, and so on.

  I started writing my name on my test—I noticed Christina wrapped her leg around the leg of Antwon’s chair, causing me to drag the “N” in Nakamura farther than intended. She quietly slid him closer, and I choked on bitter regret as it lodged itself in my throat. Finally, she started biting her bottom lip in… joy, pleasure, or happiness…I don’t know—I’ve never seen Christina like this. It sickened me, causing my hair to stand on end in protest.

  Antwon’s face showed apparent discomfort; he even rolled his eyes, which… made her smile. Had he chosen to participate in her game, or was this punishment for his earlier defiance in Ms. Igarashi’s classroom?

  Antwon placed his head on the desk, resigning himself to whatever was to come. He didn’t have to take the assessment. I wanted to save him, protect him like he had protected me so many times. I’ll apologize for my deficiencies when he comes over today, if he wants to come over.

  In the future, I had surrendered any desire to have a life, a family of my own, or any attachments. Those feelings—I clenched my fist. They come back around him. And now she was taking… the boy I-I.

  I placed my hand over my mouth, wanting to voice these feelings across the room. But I couldn’t, though I wanted to.

  I focused on my assessment because seeing her with him dug a hole in my chest. I questioned whether Antwon needed to be here since we were testing.

  I had considered asking Ms. Hoshikawa whether Antwon had to be here, and having him dismissed from Christina’s clutches if he didn’t, thereby alleviating him of this twisted, maniacal game. But Christina would notice, and, right now, she had the power to do more than punish me; my entire family could be killed if she felt I challenged her while wearing her clan’s regalia. I didn’t know if this life was exactly like my original high school experience, where Christine would take out her frustrations on me after fighting with her mom. It can’t be—the regalia is proof of that.

  I glanced up against my better judgment, and she was stroking his hair, as if she owned him or they were dating. But her face was softer than when she pulled his chair, almost like she was concerned. But could Christina Tetesusen empathize with others who aren’t blood-related?

  I didn’t have the will or the grit to keep watching, yet every question I looked at was disregarded by her actions, as eyes flickered between the test and Christina’s display. But the test didn’t factor in the cold reality of Kokiri’s politics—or the immunity granted to Bloodline sprouts.

  All I could do was hope she didn’t harm him or push his fragile state closer to his limits.

  Please… don’t let her break you, Antwon.

  ***

  I felt her hand softly caressing my hair while I lay across my desk. I hated it, but I hated myself even more for mistaking her for Christine in the hallway. Ms. Hoshikawa had told me to hang out in the quad on testing days so as not to distract the girls. Christina had other plans; she had told me to come anyway, because she was feeling special.

  I lifted my head, looking to my right—I could see her and her non-compliant uniform. It was a gray, silk-like fabric with fancy black decorative trims. Her hair was in some fancy bun. I don’t know why they don’t send her home to change.

  She was focused, answering questions with precision.

  She lifted her hand to her chin, thinking about one of the questions.

  Maybe empathy was too tough for the Fan Queen; figures.

  She smiled, scrunched her nose the way Christine had when she said something smart, and went back to answering questions. I found myself amazed because that’s where Christine picked up that habit. It was cute, causing unexpected warmth to touch my cheeks. But not just the nose thing… Christine’s movements in the hallway, pinning me, and forcing closeness matched Christine’s clunky way of flirting.

  I smiled, not because I was happy, but because I began to see her daughter through her actions. So, how did someone so fair come from something so rude?

  Christina glanced at me and smiled modestly before returning to her test.

  If she weren’t such an entitled brat and a lot softer, I might have fallen for her the way I feel for her daughter in the future.

  Her hand reached over and caressed my face, tracing my contours, lulling me.

  But why would she do something like that?

  Oh, maybe it’s because I’m still smiling.

  I corrected myself and turned away from her. I didn’t want to lead her on, so I decided to remove myself from Ms. Hoshikawa’s classroom. However, there was only one way to execute this plan: by publicly shaming myself.

  I raised my hand, grabbing the room’s subtle attention.

  “Yes, Mr. Carter?” Ms Hoshikawa said.

  I didn’t make eye contact with Christina again, fearing being read.

  “May I… use the restroom?”

  The testing girls giggled, and somewhere, a sigh of relief was heard.

  “O-of course, Mr. Carter. Honestly, you don’t need to be—”

  She glanced in Christina’s direction, slicing her momentum in half.

  “Make sure you hurry back, Mr. Carter.”

  Something in me wanted to scream. Can one of the adults in this school act like it?

  “Yes, Ms. Hoshikawa.

  I stood up, pausing after Christina tugged my sleeve. I dreaded the thought of looking down, but I knew she wouldn’t let me go without reassuring her that I’d return.

  I sat back down and faced her.

  I whispered, “What is it?”

  She stared with eyes like knives.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “The Veil won’t bother you—they don’t want to die.”

  I… found appreciation in her words, but would she, too, kiss the Veil with bloody lips like Christine?

  “Um, thanks, but I’m not afraid of the Veil.”

  I started to get up; however, she grabbed my hand this time, curling her fingers around mine, as if to officially tether us together.

  “You don’t have to act brave, Antwon. I’m protecting you now.”

  She squeezed, but not to hurt me.

  Act brave? Protecting me—when you’re the biggest threat to my safety?

  I slowly pulled away so as not to make a scene.

  I could feel her watching me as I walked toward the door; closing it felt refreshing.

  I had broken away from the Fan Queen with my integrity in place, and I wasn’t going back.

  I hurried to the bathroom because I had to go. My mask, though fractured, wasn’t broken… I wasn’t broken.

  ***

  I burst out of the bathroom stall refreshed. I walked across the brightly lit restroom to wash my hands and splash some water on my face.

  I thought my weekend was garbage—now, I think I’d rather be stuck in the house with Sakura.

  I turned the faucet, and running cold water flowed in endless streams.

  As if dreaming about Christine wasn’t bad enough, now her psycho mom is reminding me of her.

  I gathered soap for the dispenser and rubbed my hands together, lathering the soap until it was foamy.

  It’s strange how Christina’s hair is blond, while Christine’s is brunette, although they do look similar. They have the same facial structure and jawline, but Christina’s eyes are sharper.

  I started to guide my hands to the flowing water, but paused.

  That wall pin maneuver had to come from Christina, but I liked Christine’s execution more… did I? I mean, that was the first time a woman pressed me in any world.

  I brought my hand to my chin, but then remembered the foamy hand soap.

  I'd better not touch my face while there was soap because... If I do, I’ll make a mess of everything. And even if I wash them, it won’t be the same.

  Something caught in my throat; something I thought I had suppressed.

  I dipped my hands into the cold water.

  The nose scrunch caught me off guard, but it was nice to see it in real life one more time.

  I watch the soap rinse away behind blurry eyes.

  Damn it… Everything was nice, but it wasn’t from you.

  Dissonance built in my chest, disrupting my natural cadence.

  That second wish really wrecked everything for us.

  The back of my throat prickled, as if the air had turned sharp.

  I thought I was done with doing this—being weak, but how can I stay strong when my strength in this world came from holding your hand?

  I swallowed hard and brought my hands to my face with cool, refreshing grace. I held them over my eyes, feeling my shaky resolve.

  Not here… Sakura… where are you when I need you?

  We’ll never be together in this world—you won’t even know my name, but I’ll still love you, even if I can’t be your…

  I felt the strength in my legs give way, as if they vanished, and nothing was supporting me because nothing was.

  We weren’t a story with a name, just pages kissed by passing rain… Christine.

  ***

  “M-Ms. Tetsusen… he’s in the boys' bathroom, and you can’t—”

  “Drop it, Hoshikawa!” It doesn’t take anyone this long to relieve themselves.”

  I walked out of the stupid Softness Training course. I wouldn’t have stayed in there if we didn’t get a test dummy.

  I marched down the hall, head held high, as passing students cowered away to the far side of the hall as I passed, but I didn’t have time for grandiose displays of power. I told Antwon to come back when he was finished. He’d better be in the bathroom on this floor, which isn’t far from Hoshikawa’s room.

  As I approached, I recognized the orange-haired girl who sat with Antwon during lunch. She was hanging outside the boys' bathroom.

  I approached, and she didn’t flinch or panic. The last time I tried to pull authority over her, she hid her lunch.

  I’ll deal with you later.

  What do you think you’re doing hanging around the boys' bathroom?

  She pretended not to hear me.

  I grabbed her arm, forcing her attention. “Answer me!”

  Her eyes shot to me like a rocket on a collision course with a keg of powder bombs.

  “I am certain our goals are adjacent. However, causing me harm shouldn’t be your primary focus while Mr. Carter is unraveling.”

  I slowly let her go, and she pointed at her ears. I stepped closer to the entrance of the boys’ bathroom—I listened. Soft sobs faintly echoed from within.

  I clenched my fist.

  I told them not to touch him. Did someone else have to die today?!

  I started to enter when the same orange-haired girl stopped me with a hand.

  “What do you think you're doing?” I softly growled so as not to disturb or alert Antwon.

  “Please,” she whispered, “consider his fragility when approaching Mr. Carter. He has experienced a series of shattering moments, culminating in a public emotional break without proper support.”

  I gritted my teeth because I didn’t understand why she knew so much about what he was going through.

  Fragility...

  I placed a hand on her shoulder, which she noticed with a glance.

  “Fine… Now get… out… of my fucking way.”

  She stepped aside, and I went in.

  ***

  There he was—right where he said he’d be, but not like this. He was sitting on the floor sobbing into his hands, muffled by the sound of running water.

  He hadn’t noticed me entering the bathroom… How could he with his face buried in his hands?

  I should… What should I do?

  His sobs came in bursts, increasing sporadically, muffled by a series of softer sobs.

  Did I cause this? I couldn’t have. He had been like this before I got here this morning. I could see it in his gaze when I kicked his desk.

  I don’t remember telling myself to walk, but I found myself drawing closer to him.

  Every sharp word and rude gesture had made the armor he wore so well, but it had disappeared. What could have caused this?

  I kneeled next to him.

  Maybe… he was testing me—boys like to play silly little games to test their partner. No, it can’t be.

  His breathing was jagged, and his heaving was worrisome.

  Get it together, Christina. You are the daughter of the Iron Fan Court in full regalia, kneeling on the boys’ bathroom floor. Do something.

  I-I wrapped my arms around him, but my touch scared him out of his hiding place.

  “W-why are you here… it can’t be you…”

  His tear-wet eyes meant he was crying for a while, but what did he mean it can’t be me… Why not me?

  “Antwon, I—”

  He pushed me away, causing me to fall back.

  “What the hell, Antwon?”

  His shoulders shook as if he were caught in freezing rain. I sat up.

  “It can’t be you because… I have to protect her future.

  He broke down again, crawling away from me, running on all fours.

  Her future—who did he mean—me? But he said her future, as if she wasn’t present. So not me?

  I gazed deeply into his drenched eyes, looking past the sobs, but I could only see myself in soft reflections.

  Fragility… I can’t be too rough with him— boys were always softer and needed more emotional care.

  I hovered by him, wrestling with ways to snap him out of this poor state, but I had never been in a situation where I had to comfort a boy. I thought about what my Mom did for Jade during her mom’s funeral: a hug, that should do it.

  I hugged him from behind, bringing him back to me, but he clawed at my arms, trying to escape. I didn’t let go—I didn’t understand what was going on. I turned him to face me, to talk sense into him. But I was met with defiant eyes filled with rage.

  He grabbed the sleeves of my regalia and pulled me closer.

  “Y-you don’t understand… I have to stay away… or else…”

  His rage turned to weakness right before my eyes, as the ire in his face softened and gave way to sorrow’s grin.

  I thought about yelling at him, threatening his world, but I couldn’t fix this situation without understanding his pain. And right now, he needed something I’ve never given to anyone to protect myself.

  I reached up, holding the sides of his face, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  I blinked slowly, seeing his eyes widen as they did outside of Igarashi’s classroom.

  “It’s okay, Antwon. I’m not going to hurt you,” I murmured, feeling his breath tremble against mine.

  His gaze flickered, and his cheeks warmed.

  Antwon touched the back of my hand and softly pressed his cheek into my palm.

  “But… I’m going to hurt you if you don’t let me go.”

  Antwon’s grip loosened, leading his arms to drop. My throat tightened. What does that even mean?

  Then… I saw it. The fight, the fire — everything — draining from his eyes until all that was left was something hollow.

  I pulled him in, embracing what was left, holding on to his shattered self, hoping it was enough.

  Thank you for reading today’s chapter.

  This was one of the most emotionally volatile moments in Antwon’s journey so far. His sense of dissonance, the weight of the wish that reset his world, and the echoes of a future only he remembers finally collide in a way he can’t mask. Christina, for all her power and pride, now finds herself face-to-face with something Kokiri never trained her to handle: a boy breaking.

  Nakamura’s helplessness, Antwon’s fragility, and Christina’s confusion are all pieces of a larger tension that has been building since the reset. From here, every interaction between these three is going to matter. Every choice has weight.

  If you noticed small parallels between Christine and Christina—the habits, the mannerisms, the way Antwon responds—you’re meant to. The past and present are bleeding together for him, and chapter by chapter, the consequences of that second wish continue to unfold.

  Thank you for sticking with this story through its slow burn, psychological beats, and character-driven worldbuilding. Your comments help shape the path forward, and your support means more than you know.

  Let me know your thoughts —

  ? Did Christina surprise you?

  ? Did Antwon’s breaking point feel earned?

  ? Are you starting to see where Nakamura fits into this arc?