Author's note: My next big story is taking considerably longer than I'd hoped for. For now, here are some sketches.

When I learned janken-pon, I learned it as "janken-poi". I don't know why that pronunciation stuck with me. Were people actually saying it like that? Or did it just sound like that to an American kindergartner? The world may never know.

"I'm not budging," said X. "We need to find a different way to settle this."

Zero grimaced. X could be accommodating, even passive, on a lot of things. When he dug in on an issue, though, he was impossible to shift short of orbital bombardment. Even then, Zero could easily imagine X still standing in the midst of smoldering ruin, that stony expression still on his face, saying, "No, you move."

'Kill him' was an option that immediately presented itself, but Zero had grown used to smushing that instinct when it came to X.

Still… a pointer in the right direction? "Spar you for it," Zero said.

"That'd take too long."

"This is taking too long," said Zero with a scowl.

"I want to get away from the idea that everything has to be settled by fighting," said X.

"But some things do have to be settled with fighting," Zero objected.

X gave an extremely reluctant nod. "Yes, but… not this. There are other ways of resolving conflicts. Neutral arbitration, for example."

Definition not found. Typical. Zero tried to puzzle it out. "So… we each fight a common opponent, and the one that wins in a better time wins the argument?"

"No, no," said X hastily. "Not at all. Like, we both submit our arguments to a third party, and that person decides."

"That sounds suspiciously like a debate," said Zero.

"So?" said X innocently.

"Do you think I'd volunteer for a swimming competition with Klaxon Crab? Do you think I'd volunteer for a flying competition with Shriek Skyray? Do you think…"

X winced. "I get it, I get it. So… a different sort of neutral arbiter, then."

"Like what?"

"Chance."

Zero cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"We do something with even probabilities, and we both agree that whichever result turns up we'll go with that outcome. The classic example is flipping a coin, but I don't have one. I don't think you do, either."

Zero frowned. He didn't want to say why.

"I suppose there's always janken," X said, almost chuckling.

This time Zero couldn't restrain himself. "What?"

X reacted to that. "Janken-pon?" he tried. "Rock-paper-scissors?"

Definition not found. "Explain it to me."

X's expression changed. "Alright," he said, suddenly enthusiastic. "It's conflict resolution, but with no hint of violence. The two of us say together, "jan, ken, pon", and we shake our hands on each beat. On "pon", we both reveal one of three shapes.

"Rock," he said, holding up a closed fist, "paper," his fingers splayed out, "and scissors," two fingers stayed up in a 'v' shape. "The shapes have different relationships that determine who wins. Scissors cut paper, so if you show scissors and I show paper, your scissors would win. Rocks crush scissors, so rock wins that matchup. And paper… uh… wins against rock."

"Why?" said Zero, worried he'd missed something.

"You know, I'm not sure," X said uncertainly. "I've wondered about that myself. I guess it wraps the rock up or something?"

"But the rock maintains its integrity," said Zero, frowning. "The scissors and the paper are destroyed when they lose, but the rock is the same as it was before."

"It's just to make the game make sense," said X. "It's… symbolic."

"Oh." Zero didn't ask what it was symbolic of. He hated metaphor.

"And if we both make the same symbol," said X, recovering his footing, "it's a tie and we try it again, but this time we say "aiko desho"—on the beats again, like "ai, ko, desho"."

Zero began to fret as to whether he'd remember all of this. It seemed simple, but that hadn't helped before.

"Want to give it a try?" X offered. "It's easier to learn by doing."

"What should I choose?" Zero asked.

"Whatever you want," said X, affably and unhelpfully.

Zero closed his eyes. He was very good at math—so much so that he kept going over it and over it, convinced it couldn't be so simple. There didn't seem to be any way to gain advantage. Any choice he picked had a one-third chance of victory, one-third chance of defeat, and one-third chance of a draw. That was basically random, wasn't it? That wasn't right. Games should be winnable.

Unless he'd misidentified what kind of game it was…

"Ready," said Zero.

X balled up his fist. Zero matched him. "Jan-ken-pon!"

Immediately X frowned. "Zero, you're not supposed to change your choice."

Zero affected blankness. "I thought it was a reflexes game," he said. "You try and counter the enemy's attack as it's happening."

"It's not," said X. "Once you make your decision, ahead of time, you can't change it."

Rust. That took things back out of Zero's comfort zone. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "Let's try again."

"How about we do… nine rounds?" said X. "Or two sets of five. That'll let you get the hang of it. Then we'll do it one more time to settle the argument."

"Okay," Zero said.

"Jan-ken-pon!"

Zero won the first set, three-to-two. That was reassuring. X took the second set by the same margin. It helped assure Zero that things were, essentially, random.

"This one's for real, then," said X, looking suddenly determined. "Ready?"

Zero closed his eyes. If things were truly random, it didn't matter which one he picked. In that case, he could pick whatever he wanted. Whatever made sense.

Scissors. It had to be. You cut through the weirdness of the world to get to truth. Scissors.

"Jan-ken-pon!"

And X was already smiling. Rock. "I win," he said.

Zero frowned. "Just one pass?" he said. "Even in sparring we do more than one pass."

"Best two-out-of-three, then," said X agreeably.

"Jan-ken-pon!"

"Best three-out-of-five," Zero hissed.

"Jan-ken-pon!"

"Jan-ken-pon!"

Zero looked disbelievingly at his own hand, as if it had somehow betrayed him.

"I think I win," said X. "Unless… you want to keep going?"

Zero bridled. Was there something about the game he wasn't getting? Or… or maybe this was just random variation working in X's favor, a bit of small-sample-size theater. Yes. That had to be it. Because even if it was a game of chance, Zero couldn't lose. He just… couldn't.

The original source of the argument long forgotten, Zero balled his fist up and set his face determinedly.

X cracked the smallest of smiles, and acted in kind.