Chapter 1 - The Transfer Student
In the short beginnings of our lives we call youth, you can either choose to live a grey colored life, or a rose colored life. Those who wish to secure a successful future by cutting themselves off from social contact in school live grey colored lives; they never get to experience the beauty of youth that many adults wish they could relive. Those who socialize and put a lot of effort into their everyday looks and demeanor live rose colored lives; they get to experience youth to the fullest, but regret it when they become adults with little experience in the real, harsh world. There really is no option where you won't regret something you've done. The dilemma that every human faces when they enter school is to choose what kind of regrets they want in the future. And either way, you will suffer at some point in your life. It seems that the many rose colored lives going on around me are short sighted enough to not see the outcome of their colored lives that will certainly fade into grey with the coming years.
April, 2000
"Class, today we have a new transfer student. Please, introduce yourself."
A tall, slightly slouching boy entered classroom 1B of Sobu High School. Unkept taupe-brown hair draped over his face, reaching just below his eyes. Bangs of twisty hair was swept away, letting his asparagus colored drowsy green eyes peer into the silent, curious classroom. A slight frown was worn upon his face, not out of disgust or anger, but simply out of pure boredom. It looked like he hadn't gotten good sleep for days. His demeanor didn't seem very social or extroverted, rather a quiet, calm boy that keeps to himself. Reminds me of a certain someone that I know very well.
"Hello. My name is Houtarou Oreki. Pleasure to meet you all." His monotone voice barely made an echo in the spacious, dead silent classroom, and didn't wait for the teacher's permission to take a seat. His facial expression had remained completely unchanged during his introduction. Hm, even a little rude. The only empty seat in the class was right beside me, as cliche as could be. To be honest though, I didn't mind as much as I usually would have, considering the attitude he's worn ever since entering the class. Quiet but unbalanced footsteps made their way towards me as I leaned my head up against my right hand, not looking at the boy but rather the wall to my right. The chair was noisily pulled from underneath the desk as Oreki took a seat, sliding his blue shoulder bag beside it. Immediately, he took up the exact same pose I did, balancing his head lazily up against his left palm and staring towards the front of the class. I averted my gaze from the boy as he took a look to his right where I was sitting. My ears began to feel hot as Oreki didn't look away from my direction. What was with him? Did he suddenly take an interest in me after ten seconds of coming into the classroom?! That's a new record. Wait, that might be the only record. Finally, in my large peripheral vision, he finally took his eyes off me and turned his head towards the window to his left. Then the teacher began to talk again. I let out a breath I didn't know I had held. The boy was certainly much different than any other transfer student I'd ever seen in this school. He wasn't enthusiastic and bright like Hayato Hayama, nor passionate or happy like Yui Yuigahama. And his presence in class was almost nonexistent, like there wasn't even a transfer student in the first place. A ghost just came into the class and took up the empty seat to the left of me. No student had their eyes on him after he took a seat, only catching the attention of some when he walked in.
"Please take out your English textbooks and turn to page 102." The teacher said. I displaced my odd interest in the boy and fished out the heavy, blue and white colored english textbook from my shoulder bag on the ground. Well, on with school again. It didn't seem like I would ever talk to Oreki personally over the course of the school year, which was fine by me. The interest I showed was only brief like anything else new, person or product. What was different with this than getting a new cellphone? I sighed, drowning out the sound of the old Sensei and closing my eyes, trapped in my thoughts.
The bell rang after what felt like five minutes later, signaling our lunch break. The teacher reminded us of our homework assignment, which I briefly noted in the empty notebook on my desk. Despite being lazy and not paying much attention to schoolwork, I wouldn't leave a homework assignment undone. I looked to my left, where Oreki was noting the homework assignment similarly to how I had done it in a neat, organized study notebook. What the hell? Does he actually put effort into remembering his homework assignments?! That theory was immediately abolished by the fact that the notebook was labeled and organized by not him, but by a person who labeled their name on the front cover; "Tomoe Oreki". I cracked an imaginary smirk by that fact; How lazy could someone be that they would get a relative to label the cover and the inside of a study notebook to write homework in?
He packed away the notebook and pulled up a simple bread lunch, wrapped in plastic. It was clearly purchased off the school store. I removed a similar article from my own bag, however with different ingredients. The boy, taking notice of it, turned his head and talked to me.
"Nice lunch," he remarked in comparison with his own, before turning back to his meal and unpacking it slowly. I stopped halfway through tearing the plastic from the bread: Did he just talk to me or am I imagining things? I slowly twisted my head in the direction of Oreki, who took a bite before returning eye contact. "Pleasure meeting you."
"Yeah..." I replied, pulling the bread out of the wrapper. Was that the part I was supposed to introduce myself?
By last period, I was nodding off in class. What an unlucky seat, being surrounded at all four sides. How was I supposed to pretend to be doing work when I'm surrounded by eyes at all angles? In middle school, I conveniently had the window seat by the back of the class. There, you have a view of the field and courtyard, and be able to pretend-write and nap whenever you wanted. Here, it's difficult when the teacher has direct view of you, being only four rows back in a six row class. I guess I had to put up with it until second semester. The final bell signaling the end of the day rang out, prompting the rise of all the students in class, who immediately began their own private conversations with one another in their energetic, hyped demeanors. What a waste of energy, expending the rest of what you have by the end of the day on petty conversation and human contact in "hang out" spots like Karaoke. The only person in class that didn't immediately indulge in these activities was the boy beside me; a quiet, somewhat awkward boy that always had his eyes away from other people in class. He had somewhat short black hair with an irritating cowlick poking up by his forehead, A set of gray eyes peered at the person in front of him, talking ecstatically to the girl beside her; somehow, they reminded me of dead fish eyes both in color and shape. He had a slight grimace that appeared to not be at fault of his facial features, rather an actual expression. Why would someone strain the muscles in their face just to pull off a grimace when it isn't even going to be seen by anyone or get a point across? Well, none of my business, really. I slid my math textbook into my bag on the floor, and packed up my pencil and eraser with it. I picked up my belongings inside the drawer and headed out the class.
The first day in my new High School was even more boring than I had previously anticipated. Nobody stood out particularly in terms of personality other than the boy to my right, who instead said nothing at all. Well who was I to complain? Everybody acted pretty much the same, all living rose colored lives. I rubbed the bangs on my forehead out of habit as I walked down the hall; being one of the only people in class who wasn't an extrovert wasn't going to pan out well in the long run, but then again, dealing with other people constantly was a hassle. It's not like I'm against socializing, so long as it's not tiring.
I passed a bulletin board on my way to the staircase at the left bend of the hallway. I eyed it lazily, glancing over the bold characters that titled the board "Club posters". Oh right, I need to join a club. In Sobu Highschool, it was mandatory to join at least one club each year during your three years of highshool. Since I was here, it would spare me the effort to come back this way another time since I had taken a wrong turn on my way to the shoe lockers. I stopped, eyeing over the board to see if anything caught my eye. Almost every poster was brilliantly colored to the point of over-saturation, at least in my eyes. A poster, in my opinion, shouldn't be something more interesting than what the poster itself provides. Half of the things splayed on the wall were for clubs like the Kitty club, or the Astronomy club, or other popular ones like the Manga club. But to be honest, none of them really caught my attention. The genuinely interesting clubs wouldn't be so over plastered with colors and images, they would be simple pieces of paper advertising their appeal and interests since they would be run by real people with a genuine passion for what they were based on. Genuine passion doesn't necessarily equate to more ink used in the printer.
I stood in front of the board for a good twenty seconds, scanning over the mess of colors and Kanji until I spotted a simple white piece of paper that was barely sticking out from underneath another larger poster covered with it's false glory. I lifted the corner of big poster, reading the messy handwriting in permanent marker that detailed the club on the piece of printer paper.
"Service Club: Helps people with their private/personal problems by offering advice or physical labor. In desperate need of members!"
That one simple passage was all that was written. To be honest, I'd rather join this one than any of the others listed on top of it, but the only part that turned me off was the mention of "physical labor". Hopefully that was a slip-up by the designer, as unlikely as it seemed. It was enough however to catch my attention, so after about two seconds of thinking, I decided I would join it for the heck of it. My sister, Tomoe, forcibly told me to join a club, so why not. After all, this was the only one here that didn't seem to involve much work other than giving people free, cheap fluffy advice.
I straightened my back, leaning back up from having hunched over to read the small slip of paper hidden under the horde of posters and turned towards the staircase. There, at the end of the hallway, was the back of the boy that sat to the right of me in class. He had his hands in his pockets and his bag slung over his shoulder, slouching from either the weight of the bag or habit. I wonder what club he'll join.
Hello readers, I'm back with another story! This time, it's a crossover between Hyouka and Oregairu. If you haven't seen my other story, SAO: Void Hearts, go check it out! I'd greatly appreciate it! For now, I'm bringing you a whole different story and setting. This one will be much more character based rather than story based, so I hope you'll enjoy that.
Please note that this series won't be as frequently updated as my main series, as my primary focus is SAO: VH. If you enjoy this story, I'd love it if you could drop a review, favorite, or a follow! But please be aware that updates will take place at a slower pace than usual. I greatly appreciate your support and patience, and I'll see you in the next chapter!