Takaba was still laughing on the floor, laughing until he coughed, until his stomach hurt, until tears and snot streamed down together.
But as he laughed, his laughter slowly faded.
He sat up on the floor and leaned against a table leg, panting. The smile had not quite left his face, but his eyes had already gone blank.
He had lost both rounds.
He opened his mouth, intending to shout "Best of five!" or "One more round!" as he had the previous two times.
But the words reached his lips and stayed there.
He had no right to say them anymore.
From beginning to end, Qingxiao had not told a single joke, made a single exaggerated expression, or even deliberately tried to be funny.
He had simply followed the conversation, gone along with the situation, and then Takaba had laughed.
That was what hurt the most.
Something you had put everything into preparing, he pulled off casually-and did it better than you.
Takaba's shoulders slumped.
He had always believed that as long as he worked hard enough and kept at it, one day he could make everyone laugh.
He had stayed up countless nights thinking up jokes and bombed at countless little theaters.
Countless times, people had shouted, "Get the hell home! Even a stray dog on the street is funnier than you!" But he had endured it all.
Because he felt that, at least when it came to comedy, he was serious.
But only today had he realized that being serious was useless, hard work was useless. He could not come anywhere close to a freak of talent like Qingxiao!
"I'm not as funny as you."
He heard his own voice, very soft, as though it were drifting in from somewhere far away.
"Maybe... I shouldn't have become a