Please, can someone tell me what Haruno is doing here?

Today didn't exactly start like most days. The classrooms were lie-velier, more so than usual, because a certain everything-goes-my-way Normal's birthday next week. The Lord must be proud of his squires, those wretched insects still buzzing about his birth so long ago. Somehow, even those of us with contempt were forced into knowing of its occurrence. All day I waited for him to blow a conch shell and have these fakes perform a sacrifice for his Grace. In retrospect, that was a far-fetched and unwise fantasy. Far-fetched, because they would never be so honest as to perform for him – unwise, because I would have ended up being the pig they mercilessly prodded with spears. Without a doubt the entire school would sacrifice me to their savagery, but that probably would have worked out better for me in the short-term.

I knew something went wrong when Komachi showed up to the Service club with a request. "I want to buy a gift for a friend's birthday . . . next week . . . a boy." I was anxious up until I found out she was looking for a gift for a boy – it was too coincided – after, I felt a sickening rage. Had Hayama really managed enough suck to compel juniors in lower schools? Worse yet, I couldn't figure how Komachi would have fallen for it.

I thought I had prepared for all possibilities, y'know, for when the world got tough. I would just get into a commercial red-eye, open the emergency exit, and be pulled out into the pacific. Damn it, I can't do anything right. I should have prepared to take my lil' sis with me, but my secret stash only had enough money for one ticket.

"Where have you been getting your water?" I stammered first lowly and then too loud. It was a strange last question to hear before being shoved into a suitcase, but for her, it was truly life or death. Komachi seemed not to mind, because she admitted to drinking bottled water. Care-free girl didn't realize I drink the same stuff. It seemed death was both of our choices. Can't have Hayama taking us all over. Before I knew it, I had pulled her halfway down the hallway. A sick unwritten haiku flashed brilliant before my eyes.

. . . Another haiku,

Give me another haiku,

Another haiku,

Give me another haiku . . .

"Bu-b-b-but-BUT I don't know Hayama!" Her shout gave it away. I can't believe she would be so obvious, there is no way she would have known it was his birthday and his name. She was stuttering, that means the virus has already spread to the prefrontal cortex, soon she will be catatonic and popular. I am still not sure which one frightened me more.

Yui caught up with us and informed me I was muttering about a surprise visitor from the sky attending his birthday, they were flying in on a cheap gull-plane. Well, two visitors – apparently, I wanted to know what Hayama would think of that - man was I embarrassed. Wait, had I really seen Yukino spit out her water?

Needless to say, after that commotion we had no problem fulfilling my sister's request. I felt I should still be jealous about her giving a gift to a boy, but I had just experienced my second self or communion with the three gods of destruction. The come down gave me a new found perspective on the issue: hitherto, Komachi is allowed to be cute, even when I am not around, enough said, signed Hikigaya Kachiman.

My nightmare continued even into the mall. Komachi had snuck off with Yuigahama to look at clothes her older brother shouldn't see. All previous contracts were voided at that instant, but I didn't want to make another scene and I let them go. Yukino and I found a nice place to sit and read in the food court. It wasn't too much different from the Service Club, but there was too much eye contact when we scoffed at the local consumers.

We were on our way to the small bookstore at the other end of the mall when we happened upon Hayama's entourage ad Yuigahama and Isshiki. It seems like all of my buttons were pushed today, but I found a moment to be grateful the three gods were still on my side and Komachi had already went home. All contracts are hereby reinstated, addendum: stop making promises, signed (blank). It certainly wasn't a very legal contract.

Hayama passed judgment on Yukino - I was found guilty by association - and we were annexed to his entourage for their dinner. I should have figured out where we were headed when everyone called me Hibachiman, but I was too busy dreading the upcoming evening. Rightly so, as I judge it now. We ended up here in a large round corner booth, but our table was too small by one person. I thought twice about volunteering my seat for the commonwealth, then I remembered all of the help I have already given Miura, Ebina, Isshiki, and even Kamehayama himself. I solved the problem with equal parts chagrin and awe from the involved parties. I suggested we depose King to the outside corner; after all, it was his birthday. If I understood correctly, this was the real birthday celebration. The throne is his.

Our seating arrangement actually wound up quite nicely. Going around the clock we have Hayama on a chair, then me – Ebina was already suspicious I was trying to take him for myself and this arrangement had fit her fantasy – then Yukino, Isshiki, Ooka, Yui, Yamato, Miura, Tobe, and finally Ebina – apparently its perverted for me to sit near Hayama, but perfectly normal for her to want in on the action.

It may appear somewhat scandalous, our mostly boy-girl-boy configuration, but it resolves a whole lot more issues than I first thought it would. This isn't the sort of thing I like using my gift of sight for, but: Miura and Isshiki are apart while maintaining almost equal distance to Hayama, Tobe is near Ebina casually, Ooka and Yamato are both nice guys who should get along perfectly with Yui. Lastly, there is me breaking the pattern at the edge of table. I am actually grateful for Isshiki always suspecting my perversion because I really attained a silent victory in switching places with Yukinoshita. Now we both have plenty of room and I don't have to worry about Yukino's icy gaze if I were too close. To top it all off, Hayama is the outcast at my request, it is seriously the best, even if it is only in symbol…

Woh, is that what fake feels like? Maybe it is only this something pulling on my shirt and the faint scent of flowers whispering in this steakhouse.

Eikyuu Kesshin, lend me your sobriety.