General Summary: Character exploration of several characters, though it's mostly a study about two. This work was not, and is not, intended to be an in-depth crossover of the involved fandoms and universes, but mostly about the chosen characters and their odd walks in life. A first-person exploration of Hikigaya Hachiman's relationships and his personal desires, mostly through dialogue.

Synopsis of this chapter: Komachi isn't the only family Hikigaya Hachiman doesn't mind.

Tags: gen, slice of life, drama

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Watari Wataru, Fujimaki Tadatoshi, and Konomi Takeshi

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Someone yelled at me; not unusual.

I scoffed, and glanced over my shoulder for the briefest of moments before my eyes found their way back to the canvased walls of the school. They were nothing but white a few weeks ago, the freshest coat of paint in probably all the schools in my beloved Chiba. And then Isshiki had a project decree passed that allowed students, teachers, and visitors, to paint the walls of Soubu into a mural of the finer arts.

And ever since then, my eyes couldn't help but wander as I graced the halls with my presence. A scribble of John Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay" mesmerized me. The handwriting was familiar, though it was harder to trace because it wasn't in my native tongue. But I had a suspicion that it was one of the more troubles women I knew.

As I knocked on the door of the Service Club's room, I wondered what I was still doing here. At this club. At this school. My life had really taken a turn since high school, but whether or not it was good… well, Komachi seemed to think so.

My thoughts were interrupted when a familiar frosty voice toned out an invitation: "Come in." I pulled the door open and was met with the visage of one of my favorite persons on the planet. My cousin.

It had been a few months since I last saw him, but he hadn't changed too much. His hair got longer, and he seemed lankier than normal, though that might have been due to the slouch. He sat on the opposite side of the table from my two clubmates, and all heads turned my way as I entered.

My lips twitched into my trademark smirk, which, of course, he met. "Hey, Makoto. Enjoy the walls? They're a recent addition - you came at just the right time."

"Yeah, not bad. You catch that Frost bit?" I nodded and seated myself at the end of the table and faced him.

"I was also looking for other poems, but I saw more lyrics than I did verses." I spoke nonchalantly and settled my cheek against a palm.

"Ahem." Yukinoshita took a quiet sip of tea and set her cup down with an air of calm. She pursed her lips as she glanced from Makoto to me and back. "Hikigaya-kun, you know this… Hanamiya Makoto-kun?"

"Yeah. I told him to meet me here since he was transferring schools." Her eyebrows rose; Yuigahama looked like she was turning blue from a lack of air. The disbelief was astonishing. I laughed, and that only increased the shock value. "He's my cousin."

They both looked much more assured than before. Tch. But I did preach that I was a loner, and the evidence had always withstood any speculation, so I suppose I was doing a good enough job being who they thought I was. A moment passed before understanding registered; something flickered in Yukinoshita's eyes. "He's 'Mako-chan?'"

"Yeah." Yuigahama mouthed the nickname as she looked at my cousin.

"Anyway," Mako-chan interrupted with a drawl, "the hell're you doing in a dump like this?" Both girls seemed startled by his crassness, and more than a bit offended. "You can't seriously tell me you want to stay in this motley crew." And just like that, the two girls were incensed.

Before it could get anywhere, I coughed. "Makoto, please."

"I call's it as I see's it," he sing-songed, his voice cordial and light.

Yukinoshita's eyes narrowed. "I see that the two of you cousins share more than just rotten eyes; rotten words seem to be a common trait among the both of you. How rude of you, Hanamiya-san, for you to attack both Yuigahama-san and myself."

He stared at her with a deadeye, silent for what might have been half a minute before he broke out into a cackle. "You didn't tell me the students in this school were sensitive pieces of paper, Hatch. If you girls think that was insulting, forget the sky above the well; you guys haven't even climbed out from the bottom of the sod."

I sighed. There wasn't much anyone could do about Makoto, especially when he knew he wasn't wrong. Of course, that wasn't to say he wasn't abrasive. But if he believed himself right, or worse, knew objectively that he was correct, there were no holds barred in his words. "Honestly, Yukinoshita, he's being nicer than he normally is. Probably because I'm here, and probably because his dad knows yours."

She looked like someone slapped her. For his father to know hers… or at least as well as I was implying meant a lot of things. Things she definitely did not want to get into.

"This is him when he's nice?" Yuigahama let out incredulously. "But Hikki, his words aren't like yours; he's mean without a reason."

"Not really. To him, most people are soft; and to him, most people aren't very bright. Or worth his time." I cast my clubmates a wayward glance. "As awkward as it is to say it this way… you guys wouldn't understand."

"Oh really?" There was a manic glint in Yukinoshita's eyes.

"Yes. Really." My tone brooked no argument.

"Anyway," Makoto cut in, "you never answered my question, Hachiman. You're wasting your time doing this kind of stuff." He really needed to use some tact… but considering the amount of care he had, I wasn't surprised he gave no effort toward tact.

"It's not bad here," I tried, a classic Hikigaya smile on my face.

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, try the other one, dumbass. Why aren't you on the tennis team, Mr. All-Japan?" Che. Course he had to spill secrets.

The two girls were stunned by that revelation.

"What," I asked. "Even loners like me have talents. Anyway, Makoto, if you played Yuushi and Keigo as often as I have, or faced Syuusuke all time, you'd get bored too. Getting crushed 6-2 every set at best makes me feel like crap."

Makoto waved a hand. "Bah. Geniuses. Doesn't matter, though. I play them all the time, remember? And I get right back up. When you break them, they shatter the best; they make the best sounds when the axis shifts."

I smiled wryly. "Easy for you to say. You're one of those 'geniuses,' you idiot."

"You mean to tell me that this specimen of the male temperament is smart?" Yukinoshita snorted. Instead of exploding, Makoto eyed me.

Uh… how was I going to go forward with this one. What felt like several minutes and was more likely just half of one passed as I sat there and thought about how to go about the situation.

"Yukinoshita," I began slowly, "you know that we often take IQ tests growing up to measure where we stand intellectually, correct?" She nodded in response, waved a hand to have me go on.

"While IQ tests are not a good measure of true intelligence, due to cultural biases, if you take enough of them from around the world, you can probably have a decent estimate of where you stand. For example, one of Makoto's former teammates was lauded for having big brains because he scored an IQ of 160." Both girls were surprised at such a score, but they followed along.

"How do I put this," I mused as I ruffled my hair. "Hm… well, let's be honest. Let's be… genuine."

"My cousin makes Seto's brain seem like a pea. His scores across multiple exams were consistently at least one degree of aptitude higher, and that was because he literally filled out the exams faster than anyone else. Ever. He hasn't scored beneath a perfect mark on any exam, or assignment, since the time he intentionally left a year's worth of work blank just to spite everyone who attended the same school. He literally is only in high school because he wants to play basketball."

That shocked them. "What! Hikki, that's not fair! How come everyone here is so smart? Why did none of the kami-sama give me any..." I stifled a laugh. Never change, Yuigahama; never change.

Yukinoshita, on the other hand, looked like she swallowed a frog. Even though she disliked him, she started to see him in a new light. Sort of. She definitely had trouble believing me, which, of course, Makoto recognized. Not that he cared.

Said cousin of mine yawned as he leaned back. "S'not like that makes me perfect, though I come damn close. Tests don't really mean much to me, and they're really boring. Aside from physics and mathematics, I guess. And you're not wrong, Hachiman. I lose to people in basketball, so that makes it at least worth sitting through high school for. Anyway, like I was saying, you should go and do something with you life, Hatch."

I smiled at him. "But I'm happy here, Mako-chan."

He cast a wayward glance at the two girls. "If you say so."

The expression 'news travels fast' could not, did not, begin to cover the speed at which the Soubu high school rumour mill operated. Whispers dogged me with a vengeance, and I heard things like "Look at him! See those eyes? They both have such a dark look on their faces. I guess that rottenness runs in the family."

And I also heard things like, "If Hanamiya is a genius, I wonder if Creepy-gaya is, too?" Whispers of a supposed list of sorts (the illegal kind - the one the feds would come in an get you for) was in my possession, and that my evil, genius mind was going to do something unforgivable to the populace of Soubu.

Not that many of this bothered me. I was more interested in the paint across the walls than the gossip that plagued the school. My day was going just fine, until a strong and clearly female voice brooked with anger cut into my thoughts.

"Oi! Hikigaya, come with me." Before I could protest, I felt my will, and my body, tugged away in a strong, firm grip. Ah. Good old Hiratsuka-sensei.

"Yes, sensei? How was your weekend; did you enjoy yourself? See anyone new?"

She flushed red. "Shut up, Hikigaya. No need to make me feel more depressed than normal. Of course, my date had to cancel because he found 'the love of his life' an hour or two before our appointment. And how, you might ask?"

Her voice took on a crippled monotone as it continued, "Apparently, if a cute woman spills coffee on a guy and he looks at her, he's undoubtedly going to fall in love because apparently, after offering to help him clean up and talking to him for thirty minutes, they can become a couple."

The strength of her grip on my shoulder increased marginally with every sentence that passed. I was going to need some ice for her burns.

"Cheer up, Shizuka. If everything doesn't work out in the future, just give me a few more years. After all, there's no need for me to go fishing when the best catch just needs a little patience," I whispered into her ear. I winked at her subtly as her jaw dropped.

"Hikigaya, you…" she struggled to find words. Her last words were barely audible. "You don't play fair, do you.."

No, ma'am. No I did not, I thought to myself. Outwardly, I said. "Hiratsuka-sensei, we're here."

The teacher's lounge was cleaner than it was the week before, I noticed. She led me through to our usual place. Unsurprisingly, I guessed what she needed me for. Makoto sat there, waiting. A surge of pity for my favorite teacher would have coursed through my body, if she hadn't made me rewrite an essay for the third time last night.

Makoto gave me a lazy wave, along with a "Yo, Hatch."

Hiratsuka glared at him, and he gave her a deep smile. One full of warmth, open arms, and an unrestrained cackle of glee. It took a few seconds before she cracked. Sensei threw her head into her hands. "Why are you cousins so troublesome," she moaned. "I thought the Yukinoshita sisters were bad enough…"

"Haruno's not bad once you get to know her," Makoto let out casually. That made my eyebrows raise. Huh. So I guess he wasn't just familiar with their dad.

"Ahem," I coughed. "So uh, what do you need me here for, Hiratsuka-sensei?"

"Well, my original plan was to ask you how to deal with your cousin. The other was to somehow get him under control." That was easy. Somewhat. The idea of Makoto being controllable though was so laughable that he struggled to keep an even expression.

"Has he asked to be given the basketball team yet?" Rather, had he stormed in and demanded that they be subservient to his royal self. My thoughts turned toward another individual with a similar attitude. Ugh. There was enough narcissism in the world between the two of them.

"Yes, but we can't just-"

"Just give it to him. It'll make him a lot less rambunctious; trust me. He's literally only in school for basketball. Otherwise he'd be at the arcades or at a library." I'm not sure how much Hiratsuka, or the staff, really know about Makoto, but if they looked at any of his scores, they probably realized how bored he was, no matter how insulted they felt.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and shut her eyes as she clearly counted to ten. And back. A few times. She let out a snarl of frustration. "... I'm going to need a smoke. And a drink."

"Probably several," I agreed. "Just be careful about your health, sensei. We wouldn't want you to be the one missing school all of a sudden."

"Cheeky brat. Whatever. You guys are free to go, then. Hanamiya, I'll talk to the managers and adviser for the basketball club later. If you want to run it, you're also going to have to talk to the team. I don't care how good you are, how smart you are, or how charismatic you might be. You're a lot of things, and you think you're a lot of things. But if you really want to lead the team, they need to accept you. Otherwise, at best, I'm going to have to disregard what your cousin said, consequences be damned. You don't own the school, and you don't own the basketball team."

He scoffed. "Yet."

His confidence would be his undoing… if he wasn't as good as he was. Arrogance was arrogance, but might made right, and being right meant that you're not wrong. There really wouldn't be much of a fight between him and the club members, I assumed, if they wanted to play basketball for Soubu. But I could tell he respected Hiratsuka-sensei at the very least and so would abide by her request.

"See you later, Hiratsuka-sensei." We walked out of the lounge and looked more at the walls than each other as we perused the halls.

"Are you seriously not going to do anything besides being in that club?" It wasn't like Makoto to be so persistent, but I could understand. He was just looking out for me. Sort of.

"Yeah. I like it, you know. Fewer people. Way less trouble."

"Haruno's little sister? Less trouble than other people?"

"She's by far less troublesome than her older sister. The older Yukinoshita bothers me often, the younger one bothers me only during club activities and isn't as unreasonable. A bit stubborn, but she's not that bad. She's just a bit more sheltered, and honestly, she feels… well, if you look at Haruno and then you look at her, you can see what I mean."

"Hah. She seemed confident enough to me, but I guess so. You're not like her, though, even with me in your life." That was true.

"That's because… well, there are other reasons for me being me, you know."

We separated at the stairwell; he headed up for the third years' classes. He needed some beauty sleep, he said. My legs took me downstairs as I walked out back and stretched. I watched the birds and heard their chirps turn into a lovely little tune. The world was green and full of life. The sun bright and the clouds wispy-

"Oof!" Was this real life; or was it just fantasy? Only one person I knew was this tiny and excited. Totsuka, of his own volition, hugged me? If this was a dream, then I would rather dwell here - and if this was real life, I dreaded for when karma would return in vengeance for this abundance of loveliness.

"Hachiman! I heard, I heard! Yui-chan told me." Pouting that cute should be banned. After today, of course.

"So I'm guessing you want me to join the tennis club then?"

He declined with a shake of his head. "Un! I think you should stay with Yui-chan and Yukinoshita-san; but I think it would help if you gave us advice. Not like an adviser or coach, but… you know, on occasion?"

"I s'pose I could do that," I grumbled. Though only because it was Totsuka who asked. "Just don't make it too often. 'Sides, not like I can do that much for you guys; I can say all I want, show you all I want, but if none of you guys ever make your own moves and decide that you want to be better, it's all going to be for naught. Sure you'll be fine though, Totsuka."

The smile he gave me lit the heavens as though the world renewed itself and the Morningstar had been reborn pure. I couldn't resist; I had to do it. His hair was soft as my fingers patted it down. "Thanks, Hachiman."

"No problem. Just don't go 'round telling people." My voice felt the absence of my mind as my thoughts turned. Tennis was a bittersweet story for me. It was fun while it lasted, really. But it was frustrating to remember my past accomplishments, and my failures more so.

I really, really didn't need people bothering me to go back to a sport that I couldn't excel at. All-Japan or not, none of it mattered when in the end, I couldn't, didn't, climb to the top.

It wasn't just about talent, I discovered at the All-Japan, but mentality.

Players like Tezuka Kunimitsu, Yukimura Seichi, Sanada Genichirou… they were of complete focus and single-mindedly dominant, which translated into their play. The last time I played each of them, I didn't even manage more than a game. It was humiliating; it was humbling.

Not that I disliked or disproved of people shooting for their own goals - my waning interest in tennis stemmed from that I couldn't be the best, and that was the only goal I ever cared for as a competitor. Not like Makoto. 'Uncrowned General' (some even call them 'Uncrowned Kings!') or not, his talent was distinct.

It also wasn't that Makoto needed the recognition of a title like 'the Generation of Miracles.' He could compete with the best of them, and if he had a good enough team, he would win. Now that they were broken up into separate teams, at least.

The difference in athleticism was great, but again, it wasn't just the body. The mind was the body's best weapon, and I'd seen enough athletes to know that Makoto wasn't an elite in terms of being fit, but he knew how to make the most of his tools. That advantage had led him to become one of the youngest FMs in chess history, though he dismissed that passing fancy when we were younger.

The taste of ashes filled my mouth, and I felt myself hacking a cough. The bitterness lingered, a tangible, unpleasant aftertaste every time I thought about my own limits. I knew that, no matter how well I used my tools, I wouldn't, couldn't, compete with a prodigy. It took me sometime, but I accepted reality.

"... I really don't feel like going back to class," I mumbled. I hadn't even noticed that Totsuka left until I registered that the bell rang. I sighed. To the rooftop, then.

.

.

.

"Loner-san, Yuigahama-san says that you missed the rest of your classes today; were you creeping around and stalking girls, Creepy-gaya-kun?" If I was any dumber, I would have felt irritated, but the concern in her voice was warming.

Were we becoming friends, finally?

I settled for a semi-smile. "No, I was just very tired, and I wanted to save all my energy for you girls." The flushes I received in return were worth it. I guess the thought of me saving myself for them was insulting, considering how red they turned.

Finally, Yuigahama found the energy to voice some words. "Hikki, don't worry us like that."

"Don't be worried, then. I don't cut class much nowadays, but honestly, in middle school I was quite known for it." I added a smugness to my voice to mask my distracted thoughts.

"I can't imagine why," the Cold One sniffed, though the ghost of a smile danced on her face.

"Me either," I responded with a yawn. "Anyway, have we received any requests today? I checked the email last night, and we didn't get anything. Well, anything reasonable at least." One compromise that Hiratsuka-sensei gave us was that if the request was literally a waste of time, we didn't have to go through with it. Service Club we may be, but we weren't maids or do-ers for people with no ethic or effort.

"No one has come in yet, though it's only been fifteen minutes. " Yukinoshita rose to make my cup of tea. "What are you reading today?"

"Ah." I held up a copy of Lovecraft's The Shadow over Innsmouth. "Makoto told me, 'Read this shit, or I'll bother you until you do. And don't forget, I have a Komachi on my side.'"

I shuddered. That should have been illegal; weaponizing Komachi was my right. She was far too dangerous in the wrong (Makoto's) hands.

Yukinoshita wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Lovecraft, really? That's… not to my liking, but it was well-written."

"Didn't even know you bothered with horror," I said genuinely surprised. "I'm not a big fan of Lovecraft myself, but I can admit some things he wrote were great. Bigger fan of Poe, though."

Yuigahama peered over at my book. "Do you often read in English, Hikki?"

"No, but considering I've been looking at American universities, and I like literature, I picked up English over the summer. I've thought about French next; I'm honestly not sure why, but I feel like it's a 'flavor of the month' sort of thing, though I know it would take more than just a month for that one." Both of them looked at me like they saw a ghost when I said I was thinking about American universities. Their eyes and expressions transitioned into shock by the end of my speech. I could feel my face scrunch up in confusion as I asked, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Hikigaya-kun," Yukinoshita started, "most people don't simply… 'pick up' languages over a summer." Was it really that unusual? Perhaps it wasn't Japanese that my talents were limited to, but linguistics and language themselves.

I shrugged. "Most people also aren't as nerdy as me and don't have as much free time. Besides, with Makoto as my cousin, it wasn't too bad. He's been teaching me bits and pieces for a long time, so maybe that's why. He spent most of his early years in America so that helped when it came to pronunciation and some slang. Remember, I told you that he could have skipped grades; I didn't mean in just brains, I meant it literally."

Their eyes understandably widened. In Japan, skipping grades could only happen after a student had enrolled and completed two years of high school. And even then, it was rare; it wasn't so much a privilege as it was unusual.

Even Haruno, who was offered the chance, turned it down. That was something that surprised me, but I guessed the Yukinoshitas were traditional, and Haruno didn't want to break the bubble of her life before reality trapped her any further. A (rare) twinge of sympathy settled itself in my gut for said girl, but it left as quickly as it rested.

It was completely different from what Makoto told me about the rest of the world. Students in other countries jumped at the chance; it was a dog-eat-dog world out there, and any leg up on you could get was worth the trade, even if it didn't always look it. At least, that was the general consensus.

"But why wouldn't he do that, then..?" Yuigahama was confused. If he was really as smart as I said, as arrogant as he seemed, what reason could he have. "No offense, Hikki, but he doesn't really seem to uh… people very well."

"Basketball. I told you guys, he's here for the sport. If he went too far ahead, he'd never be able to compete with anyone. He'd literally be a boy among teens and a teen amongst men at the very best. So yeah, e has to sit through school. You'd be surprised to know that he actually does find it worth it to sit through school for basketball. According to him, in basketball he'd have a challenge, unlike in classes. Even if he's a genius, sports are a meeting of heaven and earth - having one isn't enough."

They looked at me to explain a bit further; I guess I was being a bit abstract.

"Look, I'm saying in the reality of sports, he's not physically dominant enough for him to consider it a major advantage. Makoto's blessed to be one hundred and eighty-eight centimeters, which is beyond rare in Japan - even my one-eighty is considered 'tall enough' - but in America, that's not unreasonable."

My fingers absently combed my hair, my thoughts adrift once more. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but players in the NBA, America's basketball league, come out to be about one hundred and ninety-eight centimeters on average. But disregarding professional sports, quite a large number of athletes our age tower over the both of us around the world. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I'm not even the average height for an American male."

Yukinoshita looked thoughtful, whereas Yuigahama was clearly trying to picture people so much taller than those surrounding her. It was kind of cute.

Makoto relished the challenge of not having the best cards, for once, but being given enough cards to play the games out. It suited a nut like him.

I went on, "Even if he's tall for a Japanese person, he's still not the tallest, for sure. Let me dial things back a bit. There's a school in Akita whose basketball team has starters who almost all exceed the two-meter mark. From what I remember, the tallest member is two hundred and eight and his wingspan… well, I'll cut myself short. You guys can imagine the rest."

Neither of them said anything; I guess they didn't know how to deal with me being so vocal. Usually it was the other way around, and I was the one who inserted complementary snippets though this didn't feel too bad if I was being honest.

Watching them reassess me made me wonder if I should have spoken more frequently, and if I should open up to them at all.

"You know so much about this sport; why didn't you pursue it? Or rather, why don't you? Is it because of tennis? Why don't you continue to play; Hanamiya-san said that you were an All-Japan junior, so clearly you have some … talent there." Yukinoshita was confused; complimenting me was uncommon after all. The taste of the words must have been strange.

My smile was nothing but wry. "Because I can't be the best. Well, I guess if we put it that way, not even Makoto is guaranteed to be the best in Japan. In fact, there's a phenomenon in our year, from when we were in junior high school. There was a team of six rotating players credited as super geniuses in basketball - forget losing games, they made jokes of regularly scoring dozens and sometimes hundreds of points beyond their opponents.

"For me to switch sports would be laughable in the face of competition like that. But you might say, 'Isn't it worth it to try? Isn't it fun if you love it?' To me, that's fair; I can understand where people come from. But to some of us, winning is the fun - being the best is the fun. And to the maddest of all, winning is the only fun - to those driven only by victory, there is nothing else." My gaze was distant, my mind awash with the memories of watching and participating in the junior high nationals.

But instead of basketball tournaments and my cheering on Makoto, my mind turned to the humiliation that was my own. The complete and utter dominance of Rikkaidai-Fuzoku, and the insatiable lust for the championship throne. Inconquerable, unmovable in their pursuit. My fingers twitched and my arms spasmed as I remembered how suffocating Sanada's tennis was. Neither of my clubmates brought it up.

"In my experience with tennis, however... knowing that I couldn't be the best no matter what I did or what walls I thought I could climb made me realize that there was no value in what I loved because I lost something I loved. I was one of the best players in our nation for our age group for two years in a row. But that's if you considered being sort-of scouted for some regional clubs as being an up-and-coming star.

"Sure, it looks like I might be above thousands. But I'm behind so many others. It's like… how to explain it. Ah. How about we look at Usain Bolt - the world's fastest man. He races in the one hundred meters and the two hundred as well. For him to cut down his time, to improve, is so hard just for a small amount of tenths of a second or smaller; yet that struggle is so much harder because he is at his utmost limits and the limits of humans. For me, it's pretty similar; that small amount of people is beyond difficult to walk past, and there is no realistic chance I ever could.

"The question remains: How could I know without trying, though? Because I've played the best in my age and seen the best of the ages above me. I couldn't win any sets, and I struggled to take games off any of the more recognizable players at the camp - and no, it wasn't a mental block. It was a talent block. A skill block. An experience block. Whatever reasons you could come up with, I just couldn't do anything.

"Sure, time could change that. Sure, effort could change that. Sure, mindset could change that. But people say to trust your gut, and mine only told me that there was nothing I could ever do and everything I could do would only be swept away; no proof of me closing any gaps."

Silence met with the huffing of my chest, the rant taking a load off my shoulders and thunder out of my heart. I don't think I've ever spoken so much at once in their presence. The rawness of my own voice has left my throat hoarse, and speaking every syllable hurts.

My voice felt like it teetered on the edge of oblivion as I closed my eyes. "I couldn't win. I wouldn't now. And that… that just made me feel so powerless. I hated it. I still do. It felt like ashes in my mouth and a burning rage that roasted every cell of my skin, every motion of mine caused a crackle, a spasm of energy that roared in my body… only to be swatted away carelessly as I poured everything I had, over and over again, against the face of an immovable mountain. I envied them, you know? Almost as much as I loathed them."

Yukinoshita's jaded eyes stared back at me. Her voice was soft as it whispered an unhearable "Oh. I… see..." Her own voice now distant, I could see the jaded glaze over her eyes.

She misunderstood, though. It wasn't that I lived in an overwhelming shadow; it was that I stood before a sun so overwhelming, it smothered all that graced its presence. That was the disparity between me and the top.

Yuigahama turned away and I could hear her sniffle as she undoubtedly thought about the cracks in my voice, the resignation, the tension.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the club's hours. Yukinoshita sipped at her tea, the pages to her novel absently being turned. Yuigahama's swipes at her phone barely registered as I leaned into my chair and let my dreams, hopes, and despair seep into the pores called the holes of my heart.

"Pass the ball properly, you idiots!" Makoto's screams rang out from the sidelines as he coached the miserable Soubu team. They moaned about the work and ranted about how unfair and how harsh his style of teaching was. Or so I imagined.

Surprisingly, the majority of the team was disciplined enough to accept his demands. Though to be fair, it had been over two months since he transferred and I guess they were used to it by now.

There was a determined glint in their eyes that I had often seen in the mirror, but the fire that they carried was much less selfish. I attributed that to the difference between our sports, but it seemed sad to watch them somehow. The Soubu basketball team moved with much less grace than I thought, but they practiced with diligence and I found myself unable to look away, a sinking feeling in my gut as I saw them exert their energy. I was interested, but definitely not invested enough.

"Trying to switch to a fast-break style, Makoto? Not sure if these guys can handle it; they're not as nimble as you are, and if they're going to get there, it's going to be a while because they have to stretch at home too." It wasn't a bad idea, honestly, but I wasn't sure it was going to work. Teams like the monstrous Touou, the recently crowned Seirin, and the ever-present Rakuzan would sweep them away if they ever got far enough in competition.

"Run-and-gun is more so for the practice; can't let these bums get complacent - their bodies just have to be better, have to be used to the pace. I mean, we'd never be a world-beater. Hell, we can't even be best in the district if their bodies aren't capable. Plus, they need to be more on the fly." His eyes never left the players, no doubt scanning and replanning. His brain was probably moving more meters in a moment than I ever could, his hands scribbling arrays of lines, shapes, and chicken-scratch.

"They have no offensive skills, reall," he continued. "None that stand out anyway. The team seems to do well within the district, but they get destroyed with relative ease as soon as they play teams with a bit more oomph in their steps."

"It's better if you go for a defensive focus," I interjected. "You see that guy? He's about your height, maybe four centimeters taller at most. Not too tall for a baller, but he gets a pass because we live in Japan. And he's got hops. Well, on his right leg at least. I think he strains it a bit much, considering he's not comfortable with his left. Move him around a bit, make him dance so that he won't cramp up. His handling is also awful, though."

I went on, my eyes chasing jerseys as I rattled off my observations. "That guy wearing the number thirty-three isn't too shabby as well. Hits a fair amount of threes, got a jumper. I think he made something like five out of his last eleven. His biggest issue is that he's short. Probably wouldn't have him as a starter, unfortunately. The rest of the guys, I'm really not sure where they go - honestly, half of them can't do more than layups and shoot from the mid-range."

"Yeah, at least this shithole doesn't have any stat-padders. Did have to kick quite a few people out of the team though," Makoto grumbled.

The managers for the basketball club stared at me as though I'd grown another head. Of course, being in my periphery they were nothing more than blurs and ants; i.e. dismissed.

"Ugh," I winced, my attention back onto the game. "That was ugly. Doesn't he know anything, Makoto? The guy who just shot, he holds the ball too low. His hands don't even palm the ball properly."

Makoto sighed. "Damn. You're not wrong, but we only have about two weeks and a half before the real competitive season starts. I mean, with me in the mix, we'll probably steamroll anyone we play for a while, but it'll only serve to be a barrier later on. If only Seto was here."

"He wasn't a bad guy. Decent taste in music, decent taste in literature. Knew when to stop talking, or even better, not to bother at all."

We both laughed, but the bench quieted. Silence rang over the next few minutes. Suddenly, my cousin stood up and I knew it was time for me to go. He was going to grill his teammates, and anything that was a distraction was unwelcome. I sent a silent prayer to the skies, but I wasn't a believer, and they would need more than divine intervention to save them from the torture he was going to make them endure.

A yawn broke free as I checked my watch. Barely past eight-thirty on a Saturday morning. What was I doing awake at this ungodly hour, bursting with energy from the seams and pores of my battered form when Saturdays were often spent in bed, back against the board with the sound of pages turning or the symphony of my beloved Vita-chan ringing through my earbuds? Unfortunately I had to help out with the literature club and the basketball club, as per business and personal requests, respectively.

Shiromeguri-senpai and, surprisingly, Miura were both insistent that we help them submit a proposal for the literature club to have its own library - no more than a bookshelf or two - in their clubroom with support from the school. One book a month if all members had passing marks was what they proposed.

Soubu's disciplinary board rejected it, half of the teachers approved of it, and the student council had mixed feelings about the funds. Personally, I thought it was more because Isshiki didn't want to agree with Miura having a good idea, but I wasn't going to put money on that.

Makoto's request was easier to deal with: hang out with him while he watched his minions, or else. At least until he was done being bored and had to actually do something with them. He wanted a third eye for the feedback, I supposed, but didn't want to admit it.

Both of these situations were funny, but dumb - though much of high school embodied that statement. I liked Makoto, and basketball, enough that his request wasn't too much of a pain, but honestly, it wasn't my job to be his watchdog.

On the other hand, the second request, even though we were meeting at a more reasonable time of day, was nothing short of annoying. There were far too many variables and groups involved; coordination was going to be nothing short of typical bureaucracy.

Still, because the request was put forth to us, I had to do it. And if I didn't, Ebina would kill me. Or at least she wouldn't save my life in the most desperate of times. She was the best healer our guild had in a secret-not-so-secret-secret raid group in an MMO that we both played.

"Ah… I wish things in life were simpler."

"Oh? What's that, Senpai?" The mischief in her voice made me sigh even further. And there went the rest of my morning before the big meeting.

"Hello, my cute little kouhai." Note the sarcasm. She wrinkled her nose, and I laughed. "So, what reason do you have for declining Miura's request? You've let far more outrageous things go through." I pointed towards the walls.

Isshiki hummed. "Don't you know? She's my rival, and I can't let my rivals win."

The lilt in her voice made me twitch. Huh. How annoying. "Cut the crap… this idea's a good one, and you know it. Don't let pettiness get in your way of doing something genuine."

We fell into synchronized steps.

I glanced at my wristwatch. We still had about half an hour before we all needed to meet. "Isshiki, what's wrong? I'd like to not walk into this mess as unprepared as I am now," I added drily.

"Well," she mumbled. She gave me those sly, shy eyes and I held out my hand. Of course, she grabbed my cuffs instead with a giggle. This kouhai of mine… really. "Soubu doesn't want to give out more funds, even though it can because they don't see a point. We have kids in the main library all the time, and that has a wide selection. They'd rather allot funds to that."

That made was logical. She continued, "And not only that, they understand that the library for the literature club would be very niche, even if every book would be chosen by a group instead of an individual. Grades don't matter because, well…"

She paused, her voice trailing, "You know what happens when people don't score well anyway. You don't last long here."

I nodded. As much as we made fun of Yuigahama, she wasn't as dumb as she often felt. Students who failed more than two exams in a row were given remedial classes after school, and if they made no improvement within three months, they were quietly expelled at the end of the year.

"Politics as usual, I guess. I'm sorry I put you in such a situation, Isshiki."

She pouted, her face huffed and pink. "Stop saying that! I was the one who chose to run, you know?" She poked my face; I didn't get it, but I supposed it was true.

"Yeah, but as my kouhai, I should have thought about your future more before doing something that turned out to put so much stress on you. I'm amazed by you," she pinked even more at this, probably because I didn't give out compliments too often, "because you constantly struggle and then exceed expectations. I don't think your popularity has waned at all in the monthly surveys, and the teachers speak highly of you."

She mumbled something about me not being fair - what was that about? - and let go of my cuff, only to slip her fingers between mine. I indulged her attentions; this could have been the last time I got this privilege besides with Komachi, after all. "Don't ever change, Senpai."

"I will, though." Time stops for no one; and Time, that cruel Father, has nothing but a stern hand. "I'll try to be me as best I can," I said, a smile as plastic as a bag on my face.

We made it to the debate room and sat along the circle of long-desks, though we were still the first ones there. The rest filtered in around us, but oddly enough, no one sat at the table Isshiki and I were at. It was helpful though. People's eyes were directed at the big players, and Isshiki was one of them.

He who strikes first strikes twice; I caught Yukinoshita's eye before I stood to make my points. She gave me the silent nod of approval, not that I needed it.

"The first order of business," I began, "is to address the fact that the Soubu High School Literature Club has made rather few requests in the past, both to the Service Club and in official school business. And for starters, I'd like for you to look at the proposal again. It's academic in nature, even if a bit selfish; who isn't selfish? Who doesn't want something for themselves or their friends?

"The Literature Club wrote that 'We ask of Soubu High School and its dictating bodies, please allow us the purchase of one book a month under the proviso that we, the Literature Club of Soubu High, score passing marks in all of our classes for that month. The texts will be voted on and chosen by the group, and they shall be approved by the Board and all associated bodies. They can include novels, anthologies, textbooks, biographies, and more.'

"If you look at how small and simple it is, you might scoff at it or brush it off. But me? I actually enjoy reading. Anyone who knows me even a little can see that much. And I want to admit my biases upfront, but I also want to be clear - as someone who loves Chiba and understands what Soubu represents to a lot of people here, I think it's an admirable goal, what the Literature Club is striving to do. They aren't asking for much, and they're putting their own feet forward to better themselves and the school."

I said my peace and left the pieces for the wolves to snatch up; Yukinoshita pounced on the openings and began to guide the sheep to the light. After all, people loved to listen to money talk. That and charisma. Things I certainly lacked.

They were drawn, not like moths to the flame or sheep to the slaughter, but like the children of the Piper. Miura began to interject as well, and they corralled the group into the right direction. At least that's what I thought.

It turned out that interrupting my natural Saturday cycle had some interesting side-effects. Namely sleepiness and the willingness to let my body relax itself in its chair, which, comfortably had arms and enough cushion to support me leaning into it.

My vision faded in and out. I caught Isshiki's worried glances, though she kept looking ahead - I had such a thoughtful kouhai, though those thoughts were full of things that mostly meant bothersome effort for someone like me. I thought I caught a smile before blackness met me.

Luckily, when my eyes opened people were too caught up in spitting heat at one another to notice my disappearance. Heh, one of my one hundred and eight skills: stealth, seemed to prove useful in my loner-ness.

Things passed blandly until my ears caught something interesting, and I couldn't resist. Makoto would never have let me live it down if I told him I let these thoughts fly.

One of the teachers made the point that Soubu shouldn't bother to waste resources and its effort into such a small portion of its student body. Was he an idiot? That was basically any club activity, then. Student body included. Sports teams were pretty much the only exception to some of his statements, and that was only those with a fair amount of popularity.

I cut in. "So, Professor, you think that a club between the size of ten and twenty isn't enough? If so, why is the club that I participate in, the Service Club, constantly receiving overwhelming help from Hiratsuka-sensei? We are only three, but more often we are involved with other organizations and we have even cooperated in helping the student council from this school and our neighbor, Kaihin.

"Despite that, Sensei has shown she's more than capable of pouring in loads of time and effort into organizing trips for us all and being the only staff manager to even lift a finger for so many people - yet none of the others can say the same? Don't you think that's a bit strange? Or slightly unfair to give her so much to handle?" It was a good thing Hiratsuka-sensei wasn't at this meeting, otherwise her ego would have expanded beyond the size of Saturn's rings.

"Oh, but of course," my smile was sadistically grim. Huh, I guess seeing the world like Haruno did was more fun than I thought, "nothing in life is fair. But still, the Literature Club is proposing that it earns its merits; they're not asking for handouts. This is a testament of dedication and wit, as well as leaving a legacy for future members or even just for future students. What kind of legacy do you intend to leave in Soubu, sir?"

He swallowed thickly and refused to meet my gaze. His eyes cast astray, I brought my cup of tea to my lips and took a sip that dispersed a sizzle into dead silence.

People began to mutter, their eyes and voices more demure and tamed than before. Even more like sheep, I scoffed internally.

Overall, I had to admit the meeting went as well as expected, though I couldn't help but notice that both Miura and Yukinoshita were oddly cooperative with one another. They also shot me weird glances that I couldn't place.

The Service Club, Miura, Shiromeguri-senpai, and Isshiki stayed behind in the debate room. We had told everyone else it was for wrapping up some more mundane aspects of the deal, as, surprisingly, it had come out during the meeting that Miura was going to inherit the presidency of the Literature Club from Shiromeguri. Obviously, our staying wasn't for anything of the sort.

With the last of the peanut gallery gone, we let out a few sighs of relief.

"Good job today, Hikigaya-kun," Yukinoshita said appraisingly.

I waved a hand. "Bah, some of the stuff that guy was saying was super annoying. Not to mention dumb. Outright illogical. I hate when people like that pretend they have value."

"T-Thank you for today, Hikio," Miura's voice was quiet and subdued; so unlike what I remembered about her. The shyness creeped me out.

"Honestly, what's with everyone today? I already said it wasn't a big deal."

"Hikki, that's because you should accept credit where credit's due."

"Yeah, asshole, listen to people." All heads whipped towards the door. "I heard what was going on." Makoto plopped himself into the chair next to me, shit-eating grin and all. "How you doin' t'day?" He yawned.

I palmed my face. "Makoto, really? Since when were you listening?"

"A while ago. Wrote a bug and set a timer for your phone to call mine so I could hear the details of this tripe. You said that the shit your club does is fun, so I figured I'd get in on the action and see what some of the stuff is like. Wasn't too bad, really."

"You could have just told me you were worried, you know."

"Bah. Me? Worried?"

"Ho… I guess you guys really are cousins." Miura stared at Makoto like he was a piece of meat. Huh, guess she really liked her men fit. Hayama, you might have competition! (Though, I'm honestly not sure this was more relieving this than not).

He spared her a quick glance before he laid an arm around my shoulder "Course we are. Don't we look it?"

"Well, you're better looking than he is and you don't have rotten eyes, so no." Ouch. Way to be blunt. I clutched my heart in false pain.

"Yeah, but come on now, it's not fair to compare us," he boasted, winking at her as he did so. "You just need to see that we're alike!"

Yukinoshita snorted and brought herself into the conversation. "You both are cruel, and strange, humans, for one. Another is that, although it pains me to admit it, seemingly intelligent."

"Excuse you, I'm the smartest person in … well, I'd like to say this country, but that's probably not true. There's got to be someone, at least one, in this place that's probably smarter than me. Probably." He scratched the bottom of his chin in thought, as though he remembered something unpleasant. "I don't even think I'm the smartest kid our age, but I might be."

I was surprised he was being that humble. "Well, among the people I know," I interjected, "you're probably all close. The best bets are Keigo, Yuushi, and Akashi. Seto's closer than most kids I know, but… well, all of you guys are on another plane."

Yukinoshita twitched a frown onto her skin as she looked upset that I didn't even mention her. Yuigahama was simply bouncing back and forth between the speakers.

Miura looked like a light just went off in her head. "How do you know so many people, Hikio? I thought you were a loner." Both Yukinoshita and Yuigahama's eyes widened and their attention snapped back to me. Damn it, Miura; why were you so observant?

"Err… Well, I've known some of these people for a long time, particularly through my family so… they're more like an extended family than what people call friends. But I suppose you can be friends with your family."

Makoto laughed some more. "Yeah, if you call being chucked together and told to make nice or suffer the consequences, we all pretty much agreed it was better to do stuff to make our lives less shit."

"Not like my life is really that bad. Yuushi's parents work him to the bone," I muttered. "What a ridiculous family they are…"

"Yuushi... say, he wouldn't happen to be Oshitari Yuushi, would it?" Isshiki chirped. Crap. How did Isshiki of all people know him? I hoped Miura didn't recognize the name...

I kept my face calm as I asked, "Oh? You know him?"

"Yeah. He dated a friend of mine once, but called it quits after two weeks."

"Sounds like Yuushi. He's a bit picky, and he's not one to waste time. As soon as he's done with something," at the glares, I amended my statement, "or realizes it's not for him, he's quick to flee the scene."

Yukinoshita thoughtfully tapped a cheek. "Hikigaya-kun… this… Keigo you mentioned. Is he... extremely flamboyant?" I nodded slowly. "And this Yuushi… is he always condescendingly smiling down at people while quiet?" The temperature dropped a few degrees as Yukinoshita struggled to keep the her eyes from freezing me on the spot.

"Uh… Probably," I let out slowly, ignoring Makoto's outroar of laughter as I did so. "They're characters alright."

She clicked her tongue. "If those are your friends, it's no wonder you guys get along so well. You would be better off a true loner than with friends like those," she scoffed. "It turns out that every male seemingly related to, or close to you, Creepy-gaya-kun, is rotten to the core."

"Hey!" My voice held its edge. Assholes they might be, but they were my assholes. "Keigo's been… spoiled all his life, to a certain extent. I won't excuse his behaviour, but it's not his fault he was born with all that he has and that definitely has impacted him. Yuushi… well, he's a proud individual to say the least. Considering the people I'm thinking of are more than likely the people you're thinking of, you've attended some of the same events, so you might think you know their stereotypes. You can judge all you want, but you don't know them."

Keigo, I couldn't say much for, but Yuushi… I wasn't going to let her image of him be marred. Not him of all people. "And like I said, while I'm not going to make excuses for either of them, I'll have you know that Oshitari Yuushi is incredibly hard-working. Everything he has on his back, despite his family's status, is his own. From his clothes to his scholarships, to his skills in all sorts of things.

"In fact, your family life is easier than his. He's the eldest and has to lead by example, but only because the first two heirs died recently. Before that, he was a third son." Yukinoshita turned her head. She of all people understood the implications. "His parents didn't spare him any thought at all, and told him only two words before removing all the privileges of his childhood glory: 'Work hard.' And yes, I mean that. Quite literally."

Everyone in the room winced at the image; Yukinoshita was abashed for once. Silence wasn't pervasive this time, but rather a welcomed guest. Awkwardness settled steadily, and all of us fidgeted. Except Makoto. He was just bored.

Miura seemed to be in deep thought. It wasn't long before she stood up from her chair, hands thumped against the table. The cogs finally clicked, and I sighed.

"Atobe Keigo and Oshitari Yuushi? Those two are some of the best tennis players in this country, Hikio..." Unfortunately, she wasn't as dumb as she looked. A flicker of hurt pasted itself against her face before it was overwritten by a furious rage. "How good are you at tennis, really? How much pity," she spat venomously.

"Not enough, apparently," I spat back, my eyes deader than ever, and my heart still thumping with a cold vigor. Everyone was shaken by that. But a viper bore its fangs when provoked; enough was enough. I was no saint, and I wasn't going to be intimidated by anyone. "You think I tried, would bother trying, against someone who doesn't even play the sport at the same level I do? That's like asking Makoto to dunk against toddlers."

I slammed my own palm against the table as I rose up, only to sit down after the shock wore off. "As a tennis player, who in this school is my equal? Who in this school could say it - go on, I dare you; who in this school could get me to lift a finger enough to pretend like I care I about any game I play with them? You? Don't make me laugh. We're worlds apart.

"But hey," I laughed crookedly. "Look on the bright side; you're probably the best player this school has… aside from me, that is. You're popular and well-liked. People will believe that you're someone who has your skills, people will tell you you're good. So maybe you had the right to be confident. But you're in no position to demand anything from me, especially not after today."

Miura was shell-shocked. Her lips tried to form the shape for syllables, and I saw her muscles stress themselves. But no sound broke the air.

"... you really are cousins," Yukinoshita whispered, her eyes darting between Makoto and myself. "How callous."

"The truth bites, don't it? But because it's the truth, there ain't nothing wrong with it." Makoto's bored eyes cast a judging look on the people in the room. "You guys wouldn't get it. Hatch over here may have been All-Japan, but that don't mean he gotta play like an All-Japan. 'Specially not against you," he sneered. I heard about that match, you know. People talk. And fast. And the moment I heard about it, I almost punched Hachiman's lights out."

Several people looked disturbed at Makoto's quick turn to violence. I, on the other hand, knew what he was about to say.

"What a waste of his time! I couldn't even fathom one of you small minnows trying to pretend you're a sand-shark. The water's deep, and none of you have left the well. Hell, even I haven't left the well," he sneered. "But at least I understand that there's more to life than the bubble. That's why I explore.

"And that's also why none of you guys really understand, and why I don't really bother to know too many of you. You just don't see the world for what it is, and I get that. We're all kids. The world's not out there yet when we're in here. And most of us don't have to deal with a whole lot of issues in life considering we live in a first-world country, so we don't. But that's part of the problem. You think you're bigger than you are. Well, newsflash: if I'm possibly not the smartest fucker in the country at my age, what makes any of you think you're great? Back in America, we always used to say 'There's always someone better than you.'"

"Oh yeah?" Miura interjected. Her eyes were red. "You think you're hot, don't you; well what about that 'Generation of Miracles' or whatever - I heard they were the best in Japanese basketball, unbeatable. And I heard that even after they all split, you couldn't win! If I'm not mistaken, you lost to two of their teams, back-to-back. What do you know?"

"I know that I'm not the best high school basketball player in this country," he admitted easily. "But I know that I can be. I can count the number of players better than me with less than two hands. I can even give you their names. But I digress. I've lived in America and even traveled to Europe before; I can tell you that these 'Generation of Miracles,' who are definitely freaks of nature, would never have been so dominant in another country.

"And you know what? I did lose. But I'm not ashamed of it; I'm just infuriated because I know I could have done better. But I'm not disappointed because I know there's a whole world of ballers out there for me to constantly struggle against, and I know that I have the skill and potential to keep going because I'm more than a bit crazy."

He sighed. "The point isn't whether or not you're the best or whether or not you're good relative to your place - my point is, well, there's always more fish in the sea; even if you're big fish, fast fish, or smart fish, there's always some different fish out there. And acting like you own the place when you don't even know that your Garden of Eden has yet to fall just pisses me off."

"But one could argue that you don't know your own place with that arrogance; that you're not going to succeed anywhere but the high school level," Shiromeguri-senpai interjected, a Haruno-like grin on her face. I'd almost forgotten that she was there. "You don't know what's going to happen. And what's with the hypocrisy and double-standards; just because you 'know your place,' you can go around acting like you do? What kind of nonsense is that?"

He shot her a lazy look. "Girl, I've heard about your from a friend of mine. I think you've got your head in the right places, but you're still missing a few screws." She frowned, but looked at him to go on, quietly sipping her tea as she did so. "I act like I do because I am superior to almost everyone. I'm different. Hang around me, or read something about me; doesn't matter how you find out, but you will if you try. I'm not saying I'm the best in the world. I'm saying that I can be, and that's the difference between me and you."

Makoto gave me a harsh glare, one filled with a rare semblance of pity. "And it's not just about having talent, or how much of it you have. It's about being able to continue to pursue your goals and know that you can reach them." He cut Yuigahama off before she could protest. "Obviously, I'm not saying that being uncertain about your future makes you an idiot or a failure. But you have to have awareness.

"Hatch over there, for all intents and purposes, is just another trash like you guys." I'd barely flinched this time as he said it, though my I gripped my right elbow a bit more harshly. "He might have a little more shine, but he'll never be a match for someone like me. He'll waste his life trying to do so. Here, I'll give you an example. How many people do you think can become a professional in a sport? Well, considering usually sports have a 'top one hundred' lists, you'd assume hundreds or thousands.

"But let me ask you this: How many of you guys could name every single 'top one hundred' in a single sport? Probably none of you. Still, if you saw a game between someone barely even in the top thousands, they'd more than likely crush the average person, even if that person's striving to become a professional. So how big do you think the gap is between number one hundred and number one?

"I said it before - it's not fair to compare me and Hachiman… because obviously, he's not good enough to reach the pinnacle of Japanese tennis, let alone the world. Sure, if you're the best in the country people from said country might think you're their next big thing, their next, or only ever, hope for something.

"And yet, that rarely pans out. On the other hand, you could ask someone like Michael Jordan when he or how he knew he would sink a shot, and he would stare at you like you were dumb. Sometimes, it's honestly nothing more than the mind and your gut; you don't always need proof for others, but the others will see the proof eventually."

Makoto rose up and dusted himself off. "Well, I have to get back to practicing now. I've slacked off enough today, and time wasted is time we'll never get back." He cast me one last glance. "Hachiman, you honestly… even though you're not Tezuka or someone like Oni and Byoudouin, you should probably at least enjoy your life. Live well, you know? You've already seen the outside of the well; but figure out what you want to do with your life."

Even though it was quiet after he left, there was a rumbling between us all that wasn't there before. Miura's eyes were definitely puffy. Yukinoshita seemed numb and Yuigahama wasn't able to bubble us back to normal, her fingers barely swiping back and forth on her phone. Isshiki and Shiromeguri, on the other hand, looked thoughtful despite being shaken.

"Senpai," Isshiki asked. "Was anything with you ever real?"

I felt their eyes all drawn to me as I laughed. My smile never wavered.