==|Chapter 01 -1: Failure|==

Water splashed into a basin as he opened a tap, and he proceeded to grab the water messily and rinse his face with it.

Breathing heavily, the young man continued to splash his face until the tap had stopped. He then rested his arms on both sides of the basin, before raising his head to look into the mirror.

A clean-shaven face wearing a pair of spectacles and a mop of messy black hair stared back. Under it, he was wearing a smart but messed-up school uniform, parts of his shirt hanging loose from his pants, the tie twisted in various places and the jacket hanging open. Over it was slung a heavy black sling bag, which helped to crumple the uniform even more.

Staring at his messed up visage even more, the youth raised his hand and slapped the tap, causing it to spew out another burst of water. Grasping at the stream of water, the youth rubbed his face with twice as much ferocity as before, nearly causing his glasses to slip off.

Mental images went through his mind as continued to wash his face. He recalled sitting at a table, staring horrifically at a chess board as his king was caught in a trap by his opponent. The laugh and cheers of his opponent and his team as they walked away with victory in their grasp, and the disappointment on his teacher's face as he looked at his failure.

Those images, with the embarrassment and shame that came with them, burned brightly in his mind like a burning red-hot iron.

The bitter taste of defeat continued to build up in his mouth, until it became too much to bear. With a infuriated roar, he slammed his fists on the marble tiling of the sides of basin, trying to release the accumulated stress from something.

Moments later he retreated, as the pain on his hands finally appeared, causing him to hold them together, hissing in agony.

For a drawn-out period of time, he held his hands together, silently thinking of what happened earlier.

"Where did I mess up?" He croaked, grief and shame in his voice. It echoed through the empty washroom, the silence afterwards providing little balm for his feelings.

For a couple of minutes he leaned against the wall of one of the toilet stands, sulking in his lonesome. Suddenly, a loud, sonorous classical piece rang through the restroom, coming from his left side pocket.

The youth made no motion for the first several seconds, and the sound of loud drums and brass continued for several seconds before stopping. The boy waited for a few more seconds, and the piece repeated.

It continued on for yet longer until the youth acted. Reaching into his pocket, he twisted his hand about before finally retrieving a battered phone from it.

Opening the cover and flicking a finger across the screen, he answered the call.

"Hello? Daniel, where are you?" The worried voice of a teacher filtered through the speakers.

"I'm in the toilet, just relieving myself." The youth spoke, betraying no emotion in his voice..

"Look, don't give me that. You are still sulking from being beaten, aren't you?" Blunt and professional with only a hint of worry in his voice, the teacher got straight to the point.

The youth didn't answer, and the teacher continued. "Really, how many times do I have to tell you this? Don't keep taking all your losses so personally. If you keep seeing things this way, you are just going to keep giving yourself pain from now on. Just calm down and get over it."

"How can I 'get over it' when I was the only one who didn't manage to get to the end of the competition?" The youth growled, the bitterness evident in his tone.

"Look, not a lot of people got to the end of the competition too. I understand it's a disappointment that you didn't make it to the finals, but ultimately it's just a competition. Just learn to get through your mistakes. And no, I don't see any of you in any worse way just because you didn't make it into the finals." Exasperation was in the teacher's voice, as if the same conversation had been repeated over and over again.

"This isn't about how others see me - this was my only chance at competing and I lost it! I can't learn from this mistake, you know! It's the end, kaput, gone!" Angry and upset, the youth lost his composure, yelling into his phone.

Silence answered him, and his teacher simply replied. "...look, Daniel, I don't have time for this. Are you coming back or not?"

Realising he had gone too far, Daniel simply replied, "No."

"Alright. See you tomorrow, then." The line closed with a click.

Numb from the sudden rejection, the boy stared at his phone for a few moments. Dazed, he turned and made his way out of the restroom, bumping against the doorframe as he did so.

Did...did I just…

Slipping through the halls of his school and out of the main gate, he ignored the calls of goodbye from the security guard, and continued to the bus stop located beside the school walls.

Finding a seat at the stop, he stared at the phone he was holding in his hand, and began berating himself.

What were you thinking, you idiot?! You could have not vented on him! Good fucking job, there goes another friend!

He raised his head. ...Man, I really suck at everything. From studies to chess...

Soaked in irrational self-loathing, the youth remained silent and alone, until the bus he was waiting for arrived.

His shoulders slumped in defeat, he stepped onto the open steps of the bus -

And a sharp pain struck his body, like a spear had been driven straight into his heart. Letting out a scream, he collapsed onto the steps of the bus, clutching his chest.

As he gasped painfully on the ground, the bus captain called out to him, clutching the steering wheel of the bus, concerned. "Boy! Are you alright?!"

"Urgh...ow...I think." Wincing, the boy slowly got back onto his feet. What was that? What hit me?

"Are you sure? You don't need an ambulance or anything?" The bus captain asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just let me get off the ground-"

A second pain came - it was as if a harpoon had been plunged into his body and was now being pulled out of him, threatening to tear his internal organs out. Screaming again, he writhed and shook on the floor, grasping his body, crying in fear of the pain that coursed through his body.

As the passengers and bus captain called for help or came along to watch in horror, the youth passed out from the intensifying pain.