Disclaimer: Oregairu doesn't belong to me, all rights reserved to Wataru Watari.
I've taken an exceptional amount of imaginative liberty when writing this; so if there's anything that seems factually off, please let me know, so I can embarrassingly and discretely edit the chapter(s).
Housecall to Hikigaya
Thud thud!
The insistent knocking had brought him to consciousness. Truthfully it had awoken him only a couple of minutes beforehand, and he had huddled under his bed covers in hopes that they would go away. Unfortunately its increasing volume had since proven it wouldn't leave until it was satisfied.
Eventually, the distinct and familiar thud thud of knuckles against his apartment door had caught his interest. He sluggishly and heavily lifted himself from the bed, sweat padding his forehead and neck. Even at the relatively early time of 9:00, the weather was overly ambitious to cook anybody foolhardy enough to stay outside.
"Hachiman, open the door." A womanly, stern voice was muffled from the outside.
"Grk..." His sweat began to form again. There weren't many voices- no, not any voice on the planet that could drive him like a sledhound. This was one that had trained him overtime, demanding things from him and shattering his usually sturdy defiance every time he heard it.
After all, every son on the planet (or most of them anyway) would undoubtedly dread the sound of their agitated mother.
He opened the door to the summer heat and saw her in casual wear. A white shirt, simple loose fitting and beige cardigan, and form-fitting jeans which he immediately assumed had belonged to Komachi. This was a rare sight. He was so used to seeing her leave early in the morning and come home too late at night, both times dressed for and from her day and evening at the office. He always wondered why she and Komachi seemed to share their materialistic love of clothes, if all they would ever wear in the future was what seemed to be the same weekly rotation of business shirts, suits, and matching pants or skirts.
"Next time, answer your sister when she calls you. At least, answer her after the fifth time. You're going to drive her and everybody else to their limits."
He felt her eyes scanning his height; the deepening frown on her face had confirmed whatever was on her mind. 'Please, Komachi, you didn't actually resort to telling our-'
"Goodness, you actually are sick. All the times you cried 'wolf' at your father or myself to excuse you from school, and now when you actually are ill, you say nothing."
She lifted the plastic shopping bags and briefcase to her side and stepped into his apartment, not waiting for him to welcome her inside. It was still a foreign to her, testament to the few times she had ever been inside. He said nothing while closing the door behind her, eager to step back into bed.
"Even after all this time alone, adamantly stating that you wanted to be independent, you can't be expected to take care of yourself can you?"
Headache starting to form, he didn't even make it to his bed. He nonchalantly sunk into a table chair, trying his best not to lose last night's dinner while he spoke.
"...I didn't… ask you to come." His voice raspy, he concluded that it would be best to not speak if he was going to try to convince his mother that he felt better than he looked.
"No, but Komachi did. And that's more than enough for me."
He groaned into his arm. He cared for his little sister. On a particularly good day, he would proudly say that he loved her. But sometimes her lovely imouto-charm and care were overbearing even to him.
"Don't complain. You might look at us as a nuisance, but if you were able to take proper care of yourself as you should, neither of us would have to do this for you."
Before he could star to argue, he heard her put a glass and napkin on the wooden dining table.
"Here, take this right now so you can sleep easier. I'd rather you have breakfast first but you look like you need the rest more."
He wordlessly gulped down the two tablets infront of him, and drained the glass of water in a single shot. Despite not being cold, it was refreshing and had easily killed the dryness and thirst in his throat. The relief was enough to cool him down at least.
Soon, he felt a towel swipe across his forehead and wrap around the front of his neck. His hands reached up to the arms holding it, but they were shaken off easily.
"You don't… have to do that. I'll do it. ...Give me." He protested, slightly ashamed that his mother was doing something so elementary as drying his hair.
"Don't be bothersome, nobody is here to see you. You don't have to get embarrassed. And you're drenched too. You'll have to change out of that shirt, but sit still for now." She continued to dry his upper body with the soft towel. She definitely brought it from home; it was treated with a softener that was far too expensive for him to have purchased himself.
He sighed in both defeat and comfort. There was no point in resisting her when she became like this. Hikigaya Hitomi had to be the leading standard for the working yet doting mothers of Japan. No, it was perhaps that her worldview was nothing but being a proper wife and mother. She was intensely consistent, and showed little deviation from being such a person.
'Oyaji, how did you, with your cynicism that could smother any foolish optimist to death, find the compassionate woman under her strict shell?' He thought, while his damp head was still being dried off.
"Okay, I'm done." She said after a few more moments of patting his hair. "Get up and change, Hachi. And go lie down again. I'm going to prepare you something to eat."
He grumbled at her calling him 'Hachi.' Despite her strict nature, she held no reservations with her children. The affectionate didn't age as well, it almost felt condescending to hear her say it.
He wiped his lower back with his old shirt before tossing it onto the side of his hamper. The cool cloth of a new and fresh shirt was surprisingly relieving. He was more drained than he had thought. He couldn't recall actually telling anybody that he was ill. Komachi must have gathered it from his raspy throat and denial during Friday's phone call. The roles had reversed, it seemed. She was acting as the older sibling of the two in all aspects, despite the difference in age.
He recalled that his health had deteriorated after he passed out on Thursday. The combination of his sweat, the strong air-conditioning, and not wrapping himself with a blanket was most likely the cause of his head cold. Usually he was resilient to illnesses so he neglected to take medication on Friday morning. By midday, he was so desperate to come home that he had skipped his last class of the day.
When he remembered the events of Thursday night, he buried his head deeper into his pillow and tried to think of anything else.
He heard his mother's mumbling, briefly hearing the words "lazy" and "filthy". Soon, the sound of running water and clattering plates was the only thing in the apartment.
"What… are you…"
"I'm cleaning your dishes. Evidently you don't clean them yourself. Don't get up. This won't take long anyway. Go back to rest, I'll wake you when it's time."
As much as he loved food that he didn't have to prepare himself, and his menial work being done for him, the suddenness of his mother coming into his apartment and taking care of his housekeeping was agitating. He had already took enough charity in the form of them helping him with the rent. He didn't want anymore ontop of his conscious. He didn't know when that had changed about him.
The sound of dishes and silverware sliding against each other was quickly replaced by the sound of vegetables being chopped and the solid thunk of a kitchen knife at work. The sound had relaxed him. Nothing else could bring somebody back to being at home as a child than the sound of kitchen utensils, running water, and food cooking. He absentmindedly thought of his youth, when both he and Komachi were too young to be left alone, with his mother more present at home. He wondered if he could find an ambient soundtrack of a home kitchen at work that he could download from somewhere.
He would forget to check later, as he fallen asleep before he could make note of it.
Eyes slowly cracking open, Hikigaya looked around his apartment. The majority of the lights, save for a lamp by the corner, were off. The sun was still coming in through the windows, though judging by the direction of the sunlight it was well into the later afternoon.
The sound of flipping pages had him turn his head towards the kitchen table. His mother was still here, occupying herself with what he had drowsily assumed was her office work. Moreso than anyone in the family, she was the most diligent. He always assumed that his strength in studying (outside of the sciences and math, anyway…) had come from her. It certainly didn't come from his father, at any rate.
Hikigaya Hitomi. Early on in his youth, she had stopped coming back home early to look after him and Komachi. She had maintained her position at work, a local financing office for the various schools, districts, and other educational ventures within and around Chiba. It had been her workplace well before he was born. She had originally served as an office lady to the older staff, and after years of taking care of clerical work, it seemed she was better suited to the job than any other prospects. He overheard comments from neighbors complimenting her on achieving a feat as a woman in Japan, but he was not even slightly surprised as a child. His mother's insatiable drive was something that he wish he could have inherited.
"Hachi, are you awake? Come over and eat a little." She didn't look up from her papers once. He wondered how she was able to notice without doing so, but left it at her God-like, maternal sixth sense that all women claimed they had.
Saying nothing he got up from his bed, remarkably easier than before. He shuffled his feet over to the dining table, sitting across from his mother.
"What time is it?" It was much easier to speak as well, to his satisfaction.
"Half past five. You slept all day, but you look remarkably better."
He had hoped that he would be able to start his classwork before the next week started, but wasting a day sleeping his fever away wasn't a poor alternative. He'd just start the homework the morning before it was due. Besides, something was more concerning than that…
"You stayed? For the whole time?"
She peered up at him. "The only one at home is your father. You're fortunate that he doesn't need the car today, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to come by this morning."
"You know, you could have just left the groceries and medicine here and went back home. All I did was sleep, and I think I can handle that on my own."
She shook her head. "I had work to do with me anyway, and I can't rely on you stomping out that cold. This way, I can secure both at the same time."
He gave her a mild glare. He wasn't so inept that he was incapable of making a simple soup and lying down.
She gave him a puzzled and sheepish smile. A very Komachi-like smile, used to deflect his sour attitude whenever it appeared. Actually, it was more probable that Komachi learned it from watching his mother react to his father.
"Please don't look at your mother that way, Hachi. I stayed because I'm concerned. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep well at night."
"Fine."
"Good, just as long as you know. I'll heat up your dinner for you now."
He took the moment to observe her maneuver around his small kitchen with experience, despite her lack of familiarity with it. The way she had handled the utensils that weren't hers, knew exactly how much water to boil and how warm to set the stove. The skillset and knowledge of a mother could easily match that of a Level Five[1]. Where did it all come from?
Many boys wanted to marry someone just like their mother while growing up. Hikigaya Hachiman was far too easily embarrassed to think such a thing. Yet, his mother's qualities were admirable from any man's point of view. She was taller than most women, and her healthy frame in adulthood was a result of plenty of kendo in high school. The girl in the picture looked especially like Komachi, or at least he had thought so when he saw them for the first time. A Komachi with a sharp look to her eyes and a confident look instead of his sister's constantly bubbly and round expression.
She was the pinnacle blend between tradition and flexibility. She had respected and understood why things were the way they are, even if they had seemed archaic. She was strict, but never once accosted him or Komachi for wanting to choose their own path. He was beyond grateful, more than she would ever know unless he would feel the nerve to tell her some day. Other people may have looked at her and thought her liberty with the two was irresponsible parenting, but he never once doubted the well-being of her children was her largest and first priority.
She finished setting the table, arranging his bowls and plates close to him and moving her papers aside. She had prepared nothing too extravagant, most of them looked to be mild in flavor. A good call, since he probably wouldn't be able to stomach anything too spicy or flavorful like a stew or fish. The broth on his left was steaming hot, but he was eager to start off with it.
Habitually, he placed his hands together.
"Thank you for the meal."[2] He began to eat slowly, careful not to overwork his still slightly dizzy body. The food was delicious, despite being a simpler set of dishes. He was always pleased by his mother's ability to cook. He and Komachi were amateurs in the light of their veteran mother.
"When did you learn to cook?"
"Oh?" She smiled, and seemed happy her son had implied his praising of her. "Asking questions about me? This is quite unlike for you."
"It just didn't seem like you had the time to learn." He momentarily put his set of chopsticks down.
She was never fond of the fact that both she and his father had to sacrifice time with their children for their busy work schedules. She often changed the subject as quickly as she could, but he could see the guilt linger in her every time it happened. He wished he had thought his words through a second time.
"Ah… well, I had to learn quickly. Most of it comes from my own mother, you know. A girl will have trouble getting married unless they can cook even somewhat decently." She spoke knowingly, a proud look on her face that she had "passed" the test designed for all women.
"Is that right?" ...Sensei wasn't a terrible cook; she must just be cursed to only meet men with no taste in women. However, by his mother's logic, Yuigahama may as well exile herself into the mountains to learn the secrets of asexual reproduction, if she wanted her family to survive.
"...But there is a secret in becoming a great cook. It's actually quite simple, and once you know it, it's hard not to prepare every dish with care."
Oooohh! Hikigaya's brows raised and he leaned into the table. Was the tipping point, the motherly advice that he had waited so long to receive?!
"It's quite easy, really. The secret to making a good dish... is to cook for somebody you unconditionally love!" She held her face in both hands, childishly smiling at him. He was starting to worry that she was going through a mid-life crisis in a desperate search for lost "youth".
"HUH?!" He had started to choke out of surprise, much to his mother's concern and scolding. Where did that come from? It sounded like some poor, cheesy line that was dangerously similar to one in a manga[3] he had once read.
It took him a few moments to regain his composure before continuing his meal, but he managed to finish the rest of it rather quickly. He hadn't eaten anything the night prior. His appetite must have filled the space that his illness once occupied.
"Would you like more? There's plenty left if you-"
"No, no. I'm fine, that was enough. Thanks again."
She got up and took the dishes around him, returning them back to the sink. She started to clean the dishes immediately, as she always had after the family would have their rare dinners together. He got up to stop her, but she shot him a look that chained him back to his seat. It seemed her willingness to clean up after him, even without him asking, was still as strong as it ever had been.
Table cleared, he looked through the well-organized stacks of papers that his mother had brought with him. Her handwriting was still sharply clear and precise as always. The papers were sorted in groups, with different assortments of colors and side notes from the sides separating the pile into categories. It looked like she had finished before he had woken up. He always admired the nearly savant-levels of organization and preparation his mother always had with her work. He wondered if he could ever reach this level of diligence, if he had ever been put in a position to work in corporate.
"I suppose that your father and I are blessed. To have two children who had the capacity to mature early and take care of themselves like you and Komachi did." She walked over from the kitchen, sitting back down into her seat. "Though sometimes I wish you took more after me than your father, judging from the way you are now."
He wasn't sure if she was talking down to him or being playful. The thought of being closer alike to her would have meant he was closer in person to Komachi. And he was far too lazy to even try to emulate his sister's energy, much less his mother's proactive habits.
"I hardly think that it's a matter of genetics. I just happened to grow differently than Komachi to adapt to you and dad not being there."
A pang of sorrow shot through his mother's eyes. He quickly winced at his words, wishing he instead said nothing. He hadn't meant for them to sound so decisive, as if he were snidely lashing back for her and his father's lack of presence in his and Komachi's adolescence.
"I'm sorry, that was out of line. I'm not saying it was your fault, and I didn't mean for-"
"I know Hachi, I know." She rested the side of her head on her palm, a sad smile on had appeared on her face. "Sometimes a parent can be startled by how much hidden truth their child can show them."
She sighed deeply, never losing his eye contact. The apologetic look in her eyes was a clear sign of her genuflection. He never considered how much toll his mother's absence from home had taken a toll out of herself as well.
"I resented that I wasn't there for you while you had to go through so much hardship in school. I wanted to be there every day when you got home, when your father and I would get calls from your school. I've never wanted your father to be wrong more: that kindness wasn't something every child would universally receive."
"Ah, well… that's just a part of growing up. And it wasn't a problem that you could have really solved anyway."
"Ha... you really are still just a boy, aren't you? Listen to me, those words don't mean anything to a parent. No, it's probably better to say that they won't make sense to a parent. A child's problems are always and immediately a worse problem for us."
He crossed his arms. He never asked for help when he was in middle school, though he didn't know if it was because grew too stubborn too early or that he didn't know anybody to ask.
"Acting so cross, even to your mother? I hope that part of you changes, otherwise you're going to repel everybody away." She saw right through him, as always. "It's both charming and frightening that you're so alike your father."
"Oh, I'm sure he appreciates that. He must brag about me to his coworkers every night."
His relationship with his father worsened as he got older, making it inverse of him and Komachi. The two of them being so alike inevitably meant that his father would seldom ever have answers that he wanted to hear in his adolescence. His father never ever held back his words: Life was tough, and sometimes you're dealt a bad hand. Sometimes, some people were dealt bad hands most of the time. It was just a matter of perspective.
"Hachi, he loves you as much as I do. You don't need me to tell you." His mother's voice brought him out of his train of thought. "You of all people should understand that people show it in different ways."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't get the idea that you two were ever terrible parents." He didn't want to feed into her idea that not seeing either his mother or father often as a child had caused him distress, as pointless as his attempts were.
"You and him were in a rough circumstance," he continued, "neither Komachi and I understood what work meant back then. You both worked those abominable amount of hours for our sake. A spoiled child might have complained, but the smart ones would know that's all they ever needed."
"No, you're wrong." She immediately replied. "There's more to parenting than putting a roof over your children's heads and feeding them. There's so, so, so much more, Hachi, that we should have done." Her hands expertly twirled the pen she was holding, as though doing so would give her the answers that she had always wanted.
After a pause, she looked back up to him and continued.
"There are no utilitarian experiences in parenting. Everything and anything you neglect from your child has an infinite amount of consequence to. You can feed them, clothe them, discipline them, protect them, wipe their tears and bandage their injuries..."
He met her eyes and saw a myriad of emotions that he couldn't recognize, save for one. A smudge of self-loathing and disappointment that he was so familiar with. He had worn it long enough for it to become a part of him. It looked terrible on his mother.
"...but the moment you leave them alone to fend for themselves? When your child has to bear the brunt of the world, when the parents should have been there to soften the blows… if you ever let that happen, then you've failed your child a thousand times over, Hachi."
He grimaced, yet couldn't bring her to stop, as much as he wanted to. Not after he hadn't spoken to her for months, much less physically seen her in almost a year. She had a look of concern; he couldn't have been more hopeful that she might have read him.
"I'm sorry, you don't want to hear this, do you? Sometimes, I forget the most important rule. A parent can never show their troubles to their children."
"Seems like I got it the other way around then." His nature had prevented him from ever directly telling his mother and especially his father about his troubles. They had found out indirectly, and neither pressed him about it until after it was too late.
"It works both ways, you know. Only the child can ever cry and complain. The parents need to convince their children that nothing is ever wrong at any point. We have to lie a little to get around that, as much as you might hate that in people."
For a while, the two stayed silent. The sudden transition to the sensitive discussion was unexpected, and neither truly knew how to break the awkward silence until his mother had done it for them.
"...Did I ever tell you, Hachi? When Komachi told me about your teacher making you join that club, I was actually initially a little agitated. I'm sure she was doing it out of her duty, but to make you stay somewhere you didn't want to be? And the thought of another woman taking an aggressive stance in doing what's best for you…"
She let out out a short chuckle, more breath than laughter. "But it turns out that it was the best decision that could have ever been made. When Komachi told me you actually went out shopping with a girl for a present. And the club existed to help others? It…" she paused, resuming her laugh with more strength. "It was so surreal and unbelievable! She said you were happy, even if you didn't always want to be there at the beginning. You found something there, in that club."
He wouldn't go that far. By the end, the club was just a means to meet the two people who meant more to him than he would ever admit to anybody. It was the people he met that mattered.
"Yukino-san… she was quite beautiful in every way. The way you had described her made it seem like she was just a rich, stuck-up heir with an overly zealous superiority complex. Yet, when we met her for the first time… I couldn't have imagined a more perfect person for you. The way she shamelessly and fearlessly put you in your place infront of her boyfriend's parents. It might have been hard to see, but I could see that she was incredibly kind. Perhaps too kind for her own good."
If she noticed the look of pain forming on his face, than she clearly had ignored it in her nostalgia.
"Any woman who had fallen in love before could have seen herself there. I wish… no, everybody wishes, that she were still here, Hachi."
"Hey, kaa-san... Let's not dwell on the past anymore." He interrupted her out of desperation. He had to stop her before he did something ultra embarrassing like tear up infront of his mother. Above anyone else, he hoped that his family wouldn't know of the despair he put himself through whenever he thought about her.
She scrutinizingly looked at him before continuing. "Mmm… alright. That's fine. Yes, we don't have to talk about her if you don't want to." She looked to the side, her thoughts unfinished. "But Yuigahama is a different story."
"I didn't think you two were still in contact."
"You don't know? Figures that you wouldn't. She's finishing her program right now. She'll be assisting as a student counselor soon. Scouted by one of the international schools we collaborate with frequently. As a result, we have been seeing each other quite often."
Yuigahama had chosen to study and work in education at her university, from what he remembered. It wouldn't be surprising that she and his mother would be acquainted, one of his mother's roles was to represent her firm to the various schools they worked with.
"She'll probably stress the kids out more than anything, with they way she acts…" He chucked at the thought. He wondered if somebody so clumsy and dependent on others was capable of taking of kids. She was more likely to cry alongside the children instead of wiping their tears.
"Don't be so presumptuous, Hachi. I hear that the kids absolutely adore her, and that she has an exceptional talent working with children."
At the same time, he could see nobody else better suited surrounded by children. He couldn't imagine her as some shrink, psychoanalysing every potential trouble that small children would have, but she was never short of empathy or compassion. Of the three in Sobu's service club, she prized the gratification of helping somebody the most.
"Certainly, she's still very… eccentric? ...and even downright clumsy, really."
His wry smile had turned into a softer one. He hoped in earnest that Yuigahama hadn't turned into a workaholic after high school. He was glad to hear she hadn't torn herself apart after their falling out. There was no reason to, if it was just him, after all.
"She sounds like she's doing well."
"She's more than eager to tell you herself." His mother narrowed her eyes at him. He couldn't tell if she was disappointed or angry.
His prior guilt compounded twicefold. He was never was eager to find fault in himself for his shortcomings. Even so, he could do nothing but painfully look into the table. He knew full well that his actions were reprehensible.
"I started to worry for her. I considered calling her family at some point. She was weeping like a child when I drove her home, that day we learned about Yukino-san."
She paused, chewing her bottom lip momentarily.
"She asks about you. She brings you up at least once almost every time. The same questions. 'Is he well?' 'How has he been doing?'"
Even a loner like him could look at somebody who threw their friends away and easily call them the bottom-most trash of people.
"What am I supposed to do? Awkwardly stumble into her and pretend we've known each other this entire time?"
"You just do. That's all. Let her handle the rest."
He felt his mother's hands reach across the table for his own.
"When I found out, I was furious. I told her that I was going to drag you across Chiba; to apologize to her and make up for your thick-headedness. But she refused to allow me to. She stood her ground as though I suggested something terrible."
She squeezed his hand for his attention.
"She smiled through the obvious heartbreak and told me that you would come through."
His eyes widened, his frustration disappeared almost instantly. He stopped clenching his fist, ignoring the pain from his nails digging into his palm.
"She was adamant that 'Hikki' would definitely follow through and say hello to her again. I saw strength in her that night. How could I say no when she had that much faith in you?"
How many hours had he spent, walking through or practicing a scenario to approach her again, only to cower away at the thought of her not reciprocating any of it? He was as frightened to talk to her as he was talking to a girl in middle school. No, even more so than that. Yuigahama Yui's rejection would be more potent and harming to him than anyone else's in the world.
So it was no surprise that he was torn between feeling elated or foolish.
"...Dumb girl."
She was relieved once she saw his face, the hint of a smile she hadn't seen for years was present.
"That's not something you should say so easily about your friend."
"It's because we were "friends" that I can say it so easily."
He was too cowardly to ever approach her. The longer it had been, the more hesitant he had become until he was practically fearful of the thought. Knowing that she wasn't bitter, at least outwardly bitter, was all that he needed to know.
Satisfied with the answer, his mother stood up from her chair, and lifted her briefcase from the side.
"I lost track of time. I told Komachi that I would be preparing dinner tonight." Pensive, she suddenly paused and stopped gathering her things.
"Come home, Hachi. Have dinner with us, just once."
He shook his head. "Sorry. Monday is my earliest start of the week. I'd rather not get back any later than I'd like to."
With a disappointed sigh, his mother nodded her head in agreement. "Then don't stay up; go to sleep early. And take your medication. You look much better than before, so you'd best get rid of it as early as you can."
He too had gotten up from his seat, helping his mother with her briefcase on their way to the apartment entrance. He took the time to observe her as she put her shoes on. He was starting to see the compounding effect of time and long hours age his mother. He wondered if it had the same effect to his father.
"Ah, it looks like I forgot. There's one last thing, Hachi."
She had taken out a parcel from her briefcase. It was thick enough to make him realize that the amount of papers that she brought for herself was actually very little in comparison.
"This arrived in the mail a couple of nights ago for you. The return address is from Berlin. The sender must not have gotten notice of the switch in address when you moved out."
He took the package from her. The first thing he had noticed was that it was covered in postage stamps and marks. For the most part, it felt like a stack of papers, easily at least a few centimeters in thickness. The most prominent label on the package had three names in English… no, German?
"'Baasch'… 'Fürst'…'Dieter'...? What is this supposed to be?" He didn't recognize any of the names. Frankly, he would have been amazed if he managed to pronounce two of the three even slightly correctly. He tried to recall an event that would warrant him receiving mail from overseas, but nothing came to mind.
"I don't know. It was specifically addressed to you. I asked your father, but he said it was best if we left it to you alone."
"Feh..." He tossed it behind him, carelessly topping it onto his kitchen counter.
"...You won't even think to look what it is?"
"It looks and feels like paperwork to me. What am I receiving mail from Germany for, anyway? Probably a mistake." In honestly, he was hoping that it was indeed sent to the wrong person. It felt like a really thick stack. With incredibly thin sheets too. Enough for him to not want to be anywhere near associated with it.
"Well, promise me you'll at least look at it. It looks like it had quite the journey here." His mother was looking up at him while she was putting her shoes on. "Besides, for it to address specifically to 'Mister Hachiman Hikigaya,' address and all, should tell you they didn't make a mistake."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll look at it."
Finally, with briefcase in hand, shoes on, and everything else collected, Hikigaya Hitomi took one final look at her son while standing outside.
"...Are you certain you won't come for dinner, Hachi? I can bring you back, if you want."
He had to give her a smile for her undying persistence. Komachi is definitely her daughter, he thinks.
"Like I said before, my Mondays start early."
He shifted in place. It wouldn't be right to end the conversation at that.
"But, one day, soon. I'm honestly getting a little tired of cup ramen every night."
"Don't make promises that you can't keep. Especially to your family."
He brushed away her scolding with his hand. "I will. Seems like you and everyone else won't leave me alone unless I do come home some day, isn't that right?" He couldn't help but smile as he said it.
With a knowing smile, his mother affectionately squeezed his arm before turning around and walking down the steps of the apartment complex. Hikigaya stood and watched her walk the entire distance down, until she had gotten inside the family car and drove off.
He took a deep breath, leaning against the railing of his apartment complex. He was still thinking about Yuigahama.
"I just do?" He recalled his mother's instructions.
It wasn't about tact or class to him. There would be no convenient way to go out of his way and speak to her. If time had even slightly changed him, then he would have no surprise if Yuigahama had as well. He had no footing or preparation, and no amount of risk calculation would help him if she wasn't the same Yuigahama he had known.
"Well, one more day can't hurt." He walked back into his apartment.
He stretched his arms and closed the door behind him. He felt restless. All things considered, he was exceptionally better than before. He couldn't rely on his parents for all his needed answers, but speaking to his mother had been refreshing. That, and the comfort and relief knowing that Yuigahama hadn't forgotten him gave him enough motivation to feel proactive. He used to mock it relentlessly, that nice girls would either unknowingly or willingly string their victims along just for their own gain.
But to do so for five years? Yuigahama was a good person, not just a nice one. He could say that with little effort.
Looking at the parcel on his kitchen counter, however, seemed to remove all hope from his mind. Had someone purchased and mailed him a dictionary without the binding? He could throw it out into the bin, and no one would be the wiser…
"Ah, well whatever." It was best to leave it for another day. He had plenty of classwork. It would be easier to deal with that first instead.
Before he could gather his bag, a familiar sight of papers and color-coded tabs caught his attention.
He wondered, that despite her virtues, how did she become so forgetful? And with something as important as work, too. He scratched the back of his neck, wondering what to do. Certainly, the work she had done looked important, with how many forms she had signed her name onto.
Grumbling, he took his phone from his nightstand and called her. It took longer than usual for her to answer.
"Hello. This is Hikigaya."
"Ah, it's me. Sorry I'm calling while you're driving."
"Not at all. What is it?"
Did she really need to drive back though? He felt bad enough that she spent her sunday morning and afternoon ensuring he was fine. And at the moment, he was more than that. The second wind from the first decent meal in weeks and a reassuring conversation was enough to restore his spirits, even if only temporarily.
"You left your work here."
He heard her exhale sharply. He could see her blink her eyes in frustration.
"So that's why I felt like I was missing something. Alright, thanks for letting me know. I'm coming back now."
Maybe there was an easier solution for both of them.
"Actually, I don't think you have to worry about it. You don't need them until Monday, right? I'll take them to your office. The same one, isn't it? It's not that far from my place, if I remember it correctly."
"No, that's alright. You were right not to go out tonight, you're just now getting-"
"Look, I just really want to get out of the house for once. Haven't you always wanted me to get more exercise? I'm feeling better and the walk sounds like something I need."
"Huh?! You have a fever again, don't you? You never want to go outside if you can't help it."
He ground his teeth together. "I'm. Fine."
He heard a sigh from the other line. "You won't let me pick them up myself, will you?"
Not a chance.
"Okay, Hachi. Dress warmly and immediately call me if you start feeling unwell. You can leave it at the front, tell them to reserve it for me until tomorrow morning."
They hung up, and he started to dress himself out of the comfort of his sweatpants. The sooner he got out, the faster he could walk his troubles away before he decided to change his mind.
He stepped into the train car with a messenger bag strapped around his chest. It was a good thing he decided on wearing a thicker pair of jeans and a sweater before he left. It was deceptively cool in the evening despite the heated temperature in the day.
It was easy to find a seat on the weekend, though in most circumstances he would never take advantage of that. There was nothing more pleasant than to spend the weekend on a couch, with handheld or smartphone in hand. It was the truest definition of leisure. Everybody else insistent to exert their energy on the weekends surely wasn't aware of that one fact. The entire working week was devoted into mindlessly pouring effort into tasks that, ninety-seven percent of the time, weren't of any significant interest, and were only forced upon the poor people that had to do them. So why waste the precious time of rest and relaxation?
He stared across the train car into the rapidly passing lights of buildings and streetlights. Buildings swept past him, but one particular building was still in his field of view. A ridiculously tall and lavish building, centered downtown. A new hotel, he recalls seeing in the news only a few years ago. Yet another landmark that the city had built in an attempt to woo wealthy travelers or overpaid businessmen. It was a collaboration between the city, diet, and plenty of contracts and investments made outside of Japan. The campaign was built in order to 'revitalize' the urban market in Chiba.
He wasn't an expert in real estate, but he wondered if the monstrous amount of capital spent would pay itself off. By no means was he educated in economics, his trouble with his own bookkeeping was enough to tell him that he would have no success as any financier. Despite this, he wondered if there were enough upper-class individuals in the prefecture to fill a hotel of that size. That, or if a hotel was enough to bring prospective travelers over to Chiba rather than Tokyo.
By the time he moved onto thinking of something else, he was already off the train and walking towards his mother's office. It was the same station he got off on the way towards his university, and he could rely on habit to take him where he needed to go. The only difference was taking a turn halfway through the walk.
Judging from the decreasing amount of couples and increasing amount of suits, he was approaching his mother's office. There were significantly less people here than the shopping district he was initially walking through. Had he not called beforehand, he would be wondering whether or not anybody would be present at her office on a sunday.
Turning the corner, he found his destination in view. Despite his mother having worked in this office for the majority of his life, he had never actually stepped into it before. It wasn't the largest or newest office, since it was largely ministry-funded, but it was as office-like as any other building could be. There was nothing spectacular about it. It lacked the modern design and clean aesthetic that newer locations all seemed to have.
He looked around as he walked in. The lobby was empty, save for one individual sitting in an enclosed area. As he got closer, her features became more clear. She looked to be about his age. A fresh graduate maybe? She wore a nice suit jacket which only a father would be able to afford for his working daughter. The remnants of hair-highlights from her college years were still there, but it looked like she abandoned them for the sake of a more acceptable look in the office.
She was definitely new. The look on her face had told him that she wasn't broken in yet by the demands of being a corporate slave. More specifically, it was the nervous-but-upbeat look she had in her eyes, with dreams of maturity and success in them. He wondered how long it would take her until-
'Whoops,' he thought. She was giving him a more quizzically paranoid stare as he got closer and the longer he looked at her. Better to get his business out of the way before she calls security.
"Ah, I'm here to make a delivery. Sort of. It's for somebody that works here." He awkwardly stumbled in his bag, taking out the folder he placed his mother's papers in.
Suspiciously, the girl across the desk had slowly taken the folder. She briefly opened it to see the contents, and immediately went back to looking at him. He was starting to get uncomfortable. Why was she so intent on staring at him?
"It does look like our stationary, but… I'm sorry, may I ask who you are, and who this is for?"
"Oh, sorry. Those are for Hikigaya Hitomi. She accidentally left them in my home… I'm her son."
The look of suspicion was immediately replaced with one of discovery. Like she had just remembered a fact that eluded her for days. The look on her face was so joyful that he thought about backing away.
"Oh! So you're the boy in that picture!"
"Uh?" Picture? And was this something to get so happy about? And why was she getting so close to him andsofast-
Clutching the folder between her crossed arms and chest, the girl gave him a quick bow and introduced herself with her name. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
'Hey now,' he thought, 'I don't even work here, but you're introducing yourself like we're suddenly coworkers?'
"A-Ah, yeah… you too."
"Well, right this way then! Her office isn't that far off. We can easily take the stairs."
"Actually, since you already have them, I'd think it be best if I just…"
Before he could say anymore, the sleeve of his sweater was gingerly being pulled into a direction, and he found himself walking alongside the office girl. Was it really okay for her to abandon the front desk like that?
"Hikigaya-san is amazing. She's so proper and hard-working, but she's not nearly as stern or mean as the others in the office. And she's really quick to praise or reward you for doing good work. I was only half as dependable as her…"
He wondered if the girl even remembered that he was bringing work that his "dependable" mother had left on his kitchen table.
There were still a few people remaining in the office, though the atmosphere wasn't that of a busy night, appropriate for a sunday. Whether they were catching up on late deadlines or performing some other menial task, most were engaged in small conversation with another.
"...and this is her desk!" She stopped him at a cubicle. It was slightly larger than the others, and there were clear signs of it having been hers for a while.
Surely enough, a photograph of his younger self and Komachi was on the desk. His sister might have been too young to remember; his mother and father had taken him to a resort in Shirahama. Taking a guess, he had to have been about five or six years old at the time. The boy in the photo looked remarkably liked him, but was a different person altogether. He didn't learn his lessons at this point in time.
He glanced at every perfect corner and shining spot on her desk. It seems that she was as meticulous about cleaning here as she was at home. While the office in general wasn't dirty by any means, he could see a few trashcans brimming with crumbled papers and pens lazily assorted in cups, even some small amounts of pocket change sitting on shelves next to tilted and old office books. His mother's desk, on the other hand, looked like it was built and setup for the purpose of being photographed and uploaded onto the internet as a stock photo for office desks.
"Hikigaya-san? Did you hear me?" The voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was distracted by… err, what was that again?"
"I asked you if she, Hikigaya-san- your mother that is, had any particular instructions on where to put these."
"Nothing specific. You can probably just leave them on her desk."
"Hm… is that so?"
The girl had opened a side drawer, neatly placing the folder inside before snapping it shut. She took something about of her pocket and starting writing into it.
He was going to tell her that it was unnecessary, but thought it best not to intrude. Though, he was certain that his mother could put two and two together when she saw the folder on her desk the next morning.
"Okay, I think that's good as it is. Thank you for bringing those over, Hikigaya-san! I'll be sure to let her know tomorrow." She backed away from the desk, and motioned over back outside to the office, leading him outside. He wondered if she would be upset if he started to walk around on his own. He was starting to feel like a pet being walked. The girl seemed overly eager to do her job.
The two walked through the office in the opposite direction. He was glad to see the office, in retrospect. There wasn't particularly anything interesting about it, but even so, seeing his mother's desk gave him the impression that he had a little more insight about her than before.
He was relaxed, now. The thoughts occupying his mind in his home had long passed, and he started to think about what snack he was going to bring home from the nearest convenience store.
"...and again, thank you so much for coming by tonight. We really appreciate it, Yuigahama-san." An apologetic male voice came from the hallway the two were walking towards.
"No, it's fine! I was around the area anyway, so it wasn't much trouble, really, haha..."
Hikigaya Hachiman stopped moving, brows furrowed and his mind replaying the voice over.
It was indistinguishable. The overly youthful and humble tone. It was a feminine voice that could range from being whisperingly quiet to obnoxiously loud. Even the statement that was just spoken was characteristic of the voice. It was a clear lie; she had definitely went much out of her way to take a train into the office.
"Hikigaya-san, is there something wrong?" The front desk girl had stopped to look at him from infront.
He didn't respond, but he shook his head. He didn't believe in coincidence or fate, but he was starting to believe that something was trying to convince him they were real.
"...we're really sorry, again. Then, please have a good evening, Yuigahama-san."
"Mm! Good night!"
She entered his view as she walked past the door. Her attire was much different, along with the longer length of her hair. It wasn't sorted in the bun he was so used to, instead tied up a bit more gracefully. The nicely-pressed shirt and skirt she was wearing was far too business-casual for her usual taste, but she wore them in comfort and confidence. The teenager in him noticed that she still held her curvy figure, though she had grown slightly taller. 'Did they get bigger?' He managed to ask to nobody in his still-shocked state.
"Ah, Sachiko-chan! It's rare to see you outside of the first floor!"
"Good evening, Yuigahama-san! Is something wrong? We usually don't see you outside of Tuesday."
A nervous laugh came from the girl who had just entered. "No, no. Just a small favor, but it's all taken care of now. I just had... to..." She stopped speaking as she looked aside from the girl. Her closed hand gradually moved toward her chest.
As quickly as she walked into the office to greet the front-desk girl, she stopped. He could see her pupils slowly dilate when their eyes met. He was certain that his own, however impossible it may have been with his eyes, did the same.
"Oh, Yuigahama-san, this is-"
"Hikki." Her voice was quivering and unprepared.
He knew, at that point, he was definitely right about coincidence and fate. They didn't exist, and were merely illusions of pure chance. You only saw events as coincidences because they happened to be on your mind beforehand, nothing else. It was just a delusion, all of it.
And so, the only remaining answer out of elimination, was that there was most definitely a higher power. And it thrived on irony, or a twisted sense of poetic justice.
.
.
I fibbed about introducing Haruno earlier. And now that this is here, I'm having to reconsider the original length of this arc, and the story overall. But this is all for the better, I promise!
The problem with introducing pairings early is that you either give away or hide too much before the whole story is finished. And, it was every intent of mine to make Yui a prominent figure here. Enough so that I'm actually considering putting her in the pairings, but I think I can still delegate her to a more supporting character. Either way, she's here now.
Sorry this took a little longer than I had wanted. I actually had some trouble with this particular update, because I wasn't entirely sure how to tone or pace 8man and going forward. The two-day skip in time lazily takes care of that. I'm pretty sure after the first few chapters, most people got the hint that he's miserable. Actually, this is probably the first chapter that goes past exposition. And I'm glad it is, because I'm excited on where it leads.
I won't promise any scheduled updates from this point forward. My schedule and time is so loose that it's uncertain whether or not I can be reliable about that thing anymore. What I will say, is that I have a fairly good amount already written in advance. Or, at the least, drafts of the more important moments in 8man's arc. Most of which involve my attempt at his monologue.
And on his monologue, while it's surprisingly interesting and entertaining (maybe even shamefully so, given his nature…) to write it out, I actually wondered if going into a third-person perspective throughout was a better option. I deliberately tried to separate myself from the light novel narrative, and it turned out to be better for me in general. I don't want to imagine the effort it would take to write in Hikigaya's perspective in the place that I had put him in. As lazy as it is, the third-person perspective at least lets me play around with a slight shift in perspective depending on who the chapter is oriented towards. That was something I tried earlier with Haruno, and it worked pretty well, I thought.
Still wondering if I'm in the wrong for writing in his mother. But it's fanfiction, right?
Thanks for making it out this long as always.
Edit: Aside from grammatical errors, I'm noticing the unintended phone-themed chapter titles. That is not in any way intentional, but now I think it might be.
1. In Toaru Majutsu no Index, "Level Five" is considered the highest echelon of the esper power ranking.
2. "Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the-" itadakimasu. But you probably knew what he said.
3. Shokugeki no Sōma