YOUR REQ FOR ACADEMIC RIVALS WITH ISAGI FROM MAY 1ST APPEARED IN MY INBOX JUST NOW, I AM SO EMBARRASSED AND I FEEL SO BAD, I AM SO SORRY THAT I AM ONLY GETTING TO YOUR REQUEST NOW, I SWEAR I DIDN’T SEE YOUR REQUEST UNTIL TODAY
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FORGIVE ME
the first time you realized yoichi isagi was going to ruin your life, it was over a poetry essay.
you’d turned yours in with confidence – three pages of tight analysis, your thesis sharp enough to cut glass. but when the grades came back, yours was marked 97. and right below your name on the posted scores: 98, isagi yoichi.
it was only one point, but you swore you saw him smirk when your eyes landed on his score.
from that day on, everything was a battleground. math, history, even participation points - -if you raised your hand to answer, isagi’s went up too. if you wrote a five-page essay, he’d hand in six. he wasn’t arrogant about it, not exactly, but there was a gleam in his eyes every time he pulled ahead.
and that gleam irritated you to no end.
eventually, finals season rolled around, senior year, the school hosted its annual “academic decathlon.” ten students, two from each grade, battling through trivia rounds, essays, and presentations. naturally, you and isagi were both selected. naturally, you were on different teams.
“perfect,” you muttered when you saw the team sheets. “now i can finally destroy you in public.”
he raised an eyebrow, sliding his backpack onto one shoulder. “destroy me? that’s funny. you’ve been trailing me for weeks.”
“trailing? i beat you in chem last month!”
“by half a point. congratulations.”
you wanted to throw your notebook at him.
the competition was brutal. fast-paced questions about everything from 18th-century literature to obscure physics equations. you could feel the tension humming under your skin as isagi’s team stayed neck-and-neck with yours. he answered quickly, confidently, his voice calm even when the questions were ridiculous.
halfway through, the moderator asked: “who wrote the republic?”
your hand slammed the buzzer first. “plato.”
a beat later, isagi’s hand landed on his buzzer, too, almost simultaneously. his eyes flicked to yours across the stage.
“correct,” the moderator said.
isagi smiled at you. smugly.
you smiled back, smugger.
it wasn’t until the essay round that things took a turn. you were assigned the same prompt: ‘is competition ultimately harmful or beneficial in the pursuit of knowledge?’
you caught isagi glancing at you as you started writing.
competition harmful? not a chance. you wrote with fire in your veins – about how rivalry sharpened ambition, drove progress, turned potential into achievement. every word you wrote, you thought of him. his stubborn glare, the way he refused to let you slack, how he pushed you harder than any teacher ever had.
when you finished, you risked a glance at his paper. his handwriting was slanted, fast, but you caught a few words. cooperation… shared pursuit… beyond rivalry.
your heart stuttered. he wasn’t writing about competition at all.
after the decathlon ended (a tie, of course), you found him outside under the courtyard lights, sitting on the stone steps with his essay in his lap.
“so,” you said, walking up with your arms crossed, “you’re a hypocrite.”
he looked up, confused.
“you fight me every day like your life depends on it,” you continued, “but then you go and write about cooperation? what, trying to score pity points with the judges?”
he let out a soft laugh, surprising you. “no. i just… meant it.”
that threw you. “you? mr. ‘i’ll die before letting you win’?”
he shrugged. “yeah. because i realized something. i don’t like competing against you. i like competing with you. you’re the reason i’ve gotten this far. every time you push me, i push back, and it feels–” he paused, searching for the word, “–it feels like progress. like we’re both climbing higher, together.”
for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. the night air felt sharp in your lungs, your pulse racing in your ears.
“isagi…” you started, then stopped. you were never at a loss for words, but the sincerity in his eyes knocked them right out of you.
he tilted his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “what? shocked i can be honest?”
you laughed weakly. “a little. i was expecting another smug speech about crushing me.”
“nah,” he said softly. “not anymore. i don’t want to crush you. i…” his cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away. “i think i just want to keep chasing you.”
your heart did a dangerous little flip.
for once, you didn’t answer with sarcasm. you sat beside him on the steps, close enough for your shoulders to brush.
“fine,” you murmured. “but don’t get too comfortable. i’m still beating you on the next exam.”
he grinned, relief flooding his face. “good. i’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
from then on, the rivalry didn’t disappear – it shifted. you still fought over test scores, still snatched each other’s notebooks, still muttered petty insults in the library. but now there were study sessions that ended with coffee runs, debates that dissolved into laughter, glances that lingered a little too long.
and every time the score sheets went up, whether you were first or second, you knew one thing for certain: isagi yoichi wasn’t just your rival anymore.
he was the person you were choosing to chase, too.
#cats of tumblr
#lana del rey
