Chapter 3: What Exactly is a Friend Anyway?

I've watched a lot of movies. Some of them aren't even Japanese or American. There was this one foreign film I saw, where a character who was a doctor points out that his hands were only stable during surgery because he knew he wasn't operating on someone he knew personally. Now that was an interesting line that stuck with me. On a more general level, the principle was that emotional non-attachment allows one to work efficiently, without being bogged down or distracted by one's feelings. When it comes to helping someone out, maybe being able to see the problem clearly, and being able to do the logical thing to fix it, is the best way. Now, I'm no doctor (I'm not even particularly good at biology, haha), so I won't pretend like I'm qualified to make a statement on whether that's true for practiced medicine.

But in a day-to-day sense, considering things that I can do… do I really believe in that?

Believe in not being attached at all?

That I could make the right decision with logic alone?

Honestly, I don't know. I'm sure there is a Hikigaya Hachiman in some world that considers himself a logician, someone who can come to the correct conclusion through that alone. But I'm not him. Logic is a tool to me. Nothing more. And like all tools, it has certain uses, but it cannot be used for everything. In my case, logic is a means more than an end. As I've said before, the question I always ask myself is: how can I have fun? That question, depending on the situation, leads to an answer. I then do whatever it takes to make that answer a reality. Sometimes, that involves acting logically. Well, a lot of the time. But then there are times where logic just isn't what I need.

Anyway, I've digressed. This was a bit of a rambling monologue, and you're probably wondering why I even brought this all up. To tell the truth, I was reminded of it.

After all, wasn't I in a Club whose purpose was to help people? And wasn't there a fundamental difference in how a certain person believed in doing it, and how I believed in doing it?

I shook my head. Too much thinking doesn't help anyone.

I checked my appearance once in the mirror. I'd already had breakfast. Getting out of the bathroom, I picked up my bag, and walked towards the door. On the way, I passed Komachi, who was also finishing up her food.

"Aight Komachi. I'm 'bout to head out."

She turned to me with a face of faux disgust.

"Onii chan, please stop talking in memes."

"Tch. You've got no taste, little sister of mine. But don't worry. You're growing up. Leave it to me, and I will introduce you to the world of being one of the cool folks."

"I don't want to hear about being cool from you of all people."

I consulted my mental library of images, and picked out the index finger pointing forwards pose that a certain Kujo Jotaro had made famous.

"I'm the coolest of all the folks, and you know it. Name one guy at your school who can do the stuff I can. I'll wait."

I was rewarded by the sight of Komachi visibly dragging her well of memories, and coming up without any answers.

"Thought so."

And then, the downcast look on her face turned to one of evil amusement.

"Aha, but Onii chan, a lot of the guys in my school have something you don't."

Something I don't? That's imposs-

Wait a minute.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

"Or rather," continued Komachi, "they have someone you don't."

"Well would you look at the time," I said, checking my wrist though I wasn't wearing a watch. "I should really be on my way. Sorry, Komachi. Gotta go. See ya later."

With that, I turned around and walked away quickly, but unfortunately, not quickly enough, since her last retort still ended up reaching my ears.

"Hey, Onii chan. I'll be waiting with the cool folks when you get a girlfriend!"

Shit, shit, shit.

That was completely below the belt!

Who even needs a girlfriend?

Shit, that was so lame, but I can't bring myself to roast Komachi.

Tch. What a sad world I live in, where the worth of a man is decided by whether or not he has a girlfriend?

As much as I normally preferred to walk to school while visualizing interesting stories or making elaborate plans, that little remark had started a train of thought I couldn't quite jump off of right away.

Before I knew it, I was already at Soubu, and walking through the door of my class, 2-F.

Girls are… man, I just don't know. They seem like they'd be a pain to spend time with.

No sooner had I thought this, than a pink-haired individual nearly bumped into me as she tried to rush forward in a hurry.

I sidestepped neatly, only to realize she'd actually lost her balance.

Wait a second. Did my reflexes actually lead to me avoiding the start of a shoujo manga?

I pumped one fist in a silent gesture of victory while grabbing her upper arm with the other for a second to prevent her from falling over.

Once she regained her balance, I walked away, still lost in my thoughts, to the extent that I almost missed her quiet whisper.

"Thanks,"

"It's cool," I said.

Like I said. Girls keep doing stuff like that. And while that in itself isn't a problem…

I turned to the side, to see, predictably, a few other people snickering at the little scene that had just occurred.

...That is a different story.

All that drama just isn't for me. But well, better this than that ultra-cliche of her falling down on top of me, and the artist somehow using it as an excuse for a panty shot.

Situation averted, problem solved. Now was that really so hard, all ye harem protagonists?

It was exactly as I was delivering this snappy punchline in my head that our homeroom teacher walked in, and I felt my jaw drop slightly on reaction, before I managed to collect myself.

Girls can be a pain. But a woman?

Now that's a different story.

As usual, Hiratsuka Shizuka looked amazing, carrying on the time-honoured tradition of making lab coats look sexy. Part of what made her so beautiful was that she was either unaware of it, or simply didn't make a big deal out of it. She carried it with an effortless grace, and always interacted with everyone on their level. As a teacher, she didn't talk down to students. As a member of staff, she didn't consider herself any different from the many people who worked as maintenance crew at Soubu. And I'm guessing she wasn't the type to bow and grovel to the principal or the board either.

I think that was the reason I was so comfortable talking to her.

It had been a long time since I had gotten over getting nervous with females.

I wasn't really interested one way or another in any of the girls in my class.

And I didn't really get a chance to interact with too many women besides them, unless you count purely obligatory interactions, like paying a cashier at a store.

I didn't talk much to any of the teachers either. I wasn't a genius academic by any stretch of the imagination, but I was good enough that no one saw any need to spend a lot of extra time on me.

The only exception to these rules… was Hiratsuka Shizuka.

I found myself admiring the smooth curve of her face, and the trademark determined glint in her eye, the slight grin she wore.

What am I even thinking?

Fantasies are cool and all, but there's no way that route has any kind of basis in reality.

I smiled slightly and shook my head.

Well, a man can dream, if nothing else.

Speaking of which, she decided to start the class, and I soon found my attention occupied by several tasks. Time passed by, with a lot to do, and seemingly in the blink of an eye, an entire school day had gone by.

There was still Club though. I packed up my supplies and decided to head to room 303, which was our headquarters. I had already made up my mind to waste no time. If no one turned with a request (which was quite likely), I had a few character designs to work on. It's the 21st century, and I actually do most of my drawing on computer with a tablet, but practicing regularly on paper has its benefits. It's a stable medium, with comparatively less reliance on technology, and a need for strong fundamentals and hand control. Plus, there's just something about pencil on paper, you know?

All right. I'm feeling inspired. Could get a good song going in my head. Lemme see… ah, yes. This'll do.

[Guilty Gear OST: Lily]

Hedonist tip: If you can picture stuff, or keep a tune in your head, you should. Carry the soundtrack to your own life with you, phone or no phone.

In a few minutes, I'd arrived at the Service Club's room. I slid the door open, finding Yukinoshita there as expected.

"Yo."

"Good afternoon. Have you considered learning a proper greeting?"

"Good to see you too, Yukinoshita."

I made my way over to my end of the table and sat down. As I was about to get down to work, however, the door opened again, and I looked up to see…

The pink-haired girl from this morning?

Well, if we're being really specific, maybe it'd be more correct to say this was the pink-haired girl from that morning a year ago, whose dog was almost run over.

That is a phenomenally shitty nickname.

"The Girl Whose Dog Almost Got Run Over."

Anyway, she was here now, and waving excitedly to the ice princess.

"Yahallo, Yukinon!"

I cringed slightly.

As cute as Strawberry was, that greeting was pushing it.

Unsurprisingly, Yukinoshita sighed.

"Good afternoon, Yuigahama san. Please consider learning a proper greeting."

Zero discrimination, huh?

Yuigahama casually ignored the request, and took a seat next to Yukinoshita.

Wait, what's this? They're interacting like they know each other? Can it be? This Ice Princess has a friend?

"So miracles do happen, huh?" I said aloud.

Both girls turned to me questioningly, but I shook my head.

"Nothing. Anyway, why is Yuigahama here? This is the Service Club. Did you have a request?"

"Eh? You mean you don't know, Hikki?"

"Don't know what? Also, wait a second. 'Hikki'?"

Yuigahama evaded my second question expertly.

"I'm a member of the Service Club!"

Eh?

"Eh? Since when?"

"Well, I joined just this morning…"

I scratched my head.

Well, it seems obvious that Yukinoshita and Yuigahama know each other. Maybe that near-accident caused them to form an acquaintanceship of sorts. And then they stayed in touch and eventually got closer. If that's the case, then I can see how Yuigahama might find out about this new Club, and ask to join it, maybe as a way to spend more time with her. Yukinoshita agreed. She takes this Club seriously, and would probably take this as a chance to help Yuigahama "improve".

Well, that's fine. Another member makes no difference to me.

I reached for my bag to get out my drawing materials, when the door opened once more.

Interrupted again? How many startup frames does this animation have?

"Sensei, please knock before entering."

"Eh, but you never answer."

"That's because you enter without giving me a chance to."

Ignoring this objection, Hiratsuka Shizuka came forward triumphantly.

"Well, I have good news. I've found your first 'client', so to speak."

I became a little more alert.

Facing the open door, she called out.

"Why don't you come in?"

The sounds of ominous (not really) and highly exaggerated laughter entered.

"Muhahahahah!"

I already knew who this was.

Which meant, I'd have only one chance to do this… and I was going to take it.

Rising from my chair, I walked out from behind the table and took a dramatic stance, facing away from the door.

"So you've come to face me", I said.

Heavy footsteps were heard, and I turned around to look at a guy who was a little taller and a lot heavier than me, and for some reason, wore an overcoat though it was summer. Needless to say, we knew each other already.

The glasses wearing giant grinned broadly.

"Fight me!"

We'd done this a few times before, but never in front of an audience, and it's actually hard to choreograph in a way that looks both realistic and dramatic. I'm pretty sure the only reason we were able to pull it off was because I practised mixed martial arts, and Zaimokuza was a Judoka.

Entering close range, we both fired off a series of rapid punches that were all pre planned. Zaimokuza wasn't actually much of a striker, but he had better movements than one would think for someone that size. Of course, our fists crashed into each other. Jabs, crosses and hooks, all colliding. We both had to hold back. Zaimokuza was heavier, so he could push me back, and my fists were better conditioned, so I could end up hurting him.

Fortunately, neither happened.

What did happen was a spectacular re-enactment of a classic battle.

To end the pre-arranged sequence, we both stepped past each other, and collapsed to one knee at the same time.

"Impossible… you have Musou Tensei too…" I said, pretending to cough up blood.

"I too have tasted sorrow," said Zaimokuza.

We held that pose for a bit longer, and Sensei applauded enthusiastically.

"9/10!" she said. "Actually, 9.5! Fantastic work on the choreography."

I stood up and bowed, with Zaimokuza doing the same.

Hedonist Fantasy #457: Always be yourself. Unless you can be Kenshiro. Then you should definitely be Kenshiro.

All this time, the two other members of the Club had been staring at our antics, dumbfounded.

"What… what was that?" Yukinoshita managed to say.

"Nothing," I said. "Don't worry about it."

"Ehm… Hikki, you two know each other?"

"Pretty much. We're active on a lot of the same forums and sites."

"Well, that should make things a lot easier!", said Sensei.

I turned to Zaimokuza.

"So, what did you need help with?"

Now that the dynamic intro was over and done with, and we were getting down to business, I noticed that Zaimokuza actually looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable being here.

"Actually, I did not think I would find thee here. I had no idea that thou too art a member of the group called the Service Club."

Wait, hold on.

I'm the reason Zaimokuza's uncomfortable?

That's frigging absurd.
He's awkward as hell around girls, and most people can't even make out what he's saying, since he only uses his messed up version of old Japanese when talking to other students. I can't imagine him telling Yuigahama and Yukinoshita about whatever problem he has that brought him here.

Besides, why would he be uncomfortable around me?

We've known each other a year. As a matter of fact, I first ran into him at a convention. It turned out we were into a lot of the same anime and games, and we both recognized each other from school. So we ended up hanging out, and stayed in touch online. At the time, I was playing Tekken a lot, so we would face each other in a bunch of matches over the Internet. Later on, we'd recommend other interesting series we found, whether it was an anime, a manga, a light novel, or a game. Around six months back, I started a few accounts in art sharing sites, and started posting my illustrations. Some people liked my work, and I ended up opening commissions. For a fee, I'd draw original characters for them. Zaimokuza, being one of the few people I knew, was someone I told about this. He checked out my art.

Now, this should be pretty obvious, but we were both into *ahem* the more cultured branches of art. We'd both recommended plenty of doujins to each other before. So, when Zaimokuza commissioned me to do some hentai art, I saw it as a win-win. I did a few pieces for him.

Time passed by, and I noticed my accounts were gaining followers.

I still wasn't a big name by any means, but people were telling me I was good.

I didn't let that get to my head, but it felt good.

And art was something I wanted to do. So I doubled my efforts.

Started studying more, drawing more, checking out more artists. And I found I liked coming up with worlds and characters of my own.

I seriously started considering a career as an artist. Being a mangaka wasn't the only way to do that, but I wanted to send in at least one submission while I was still a high schooler, and had the time. So I got to work on a story that I'd been thinking of for a while.

Once more, Zaimokuza being pretty much the only one I could talk to about this, I showed him the sketches I'd made of the main cast, and a text version of a pilot chapter.

In hindsight, the idea was still pretty raw at the time, and that was my very first draft. It wasn't hard to see why someone might not get too excited at reading it, so I wasn't surprised when Zaimokuza didn't exactly have a big response to it.

I decided to go back to work and make it even better, and we didn't really discuss that again.

Life continued as usual. We continued to play each other online, and met up at one or two conventions.

And now, here we are, face to face in the Service Club's headquarters.

I didn't really know how many friends Zaimokuza had at school, but I couldn't think of a reason why he would specifically be uncomfortable with me helping him out.

Hiratsuka Sensei, observant as usual, noticed it right away.

It was only the first request, and I was already losing to Yukinoshita. The person who'd come to the Club didn't even want my help.

Was I going to have to eat my words?

Perhaps out of sympathy, Sensei chose a roundabout way of saying what she had to say next.

"I just remembered, I have some equipment that needs moving. Hikigaya, why don't you come give me a hand while your friend settles down?"

I nodded and followed her out of the room.

Once outside, I couldn't quite resist making a bit of a smartass comment.

"So, where's this equipment that needs moving?"

Sensei gave me a deadpan stare.

"The girls dig you for your humour, huh?"

Ouch.

She silently gestured to follow her, and we took a walk down the corridor.

"You and Zaimokuza know each other. I wasn't aware of that. I didn't even know you had any friends."

"Real funny, Sensei."

"I wasn't joking."

I blinked.

"I'm glad you have a friend."
A friend, huh?

I'd never of thought of it like that.

Was Zaimokuza a friend?

Certainly, we knew each other, to an extent, and got along, to an extent.

But is that really enough?

I don't really have a lot of experience with friends. But I ask myself: how exactly does someone become a friend?

Don't overthink the answer.

"One chooses to be a friend."

I said that part out loud. Sensei didn't reply, but I knew she was listening to what I had to say.

Did I consider myself Zaimokuza's friend? Did I consider Zaimokuza a friend of mine?

I couldn't answer that.

Sensei shook her head.

"So all that confidence was a lie, huh?"

I glared at her.

"I have no doubts."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly.

"Really? Because it seemed to me like you look a little uncertain. Like you were maybe thinking that Yukinoshita was going to get the lead on you"

"That has nothing to do with me," I said, more forcefully than I intended. "I can't control the external. I can only control me. And in myself, I have no doubts."

"Hmph. That'll do. So what exactly is the problem?"

"I don't understand why Zaimokuza wouldn't want my help. Even if we weren't friends, he knows me better than he does those two. That alone, from a practical point of view, should be reason enough for him to prefer asking me for help."

Sensei looked at me as if I had missed the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hikigaya… have you considered the possibility that the very reason he might not want your help is because he knows you better?"

My eyes widened momentarily.

What exactly went wrong?

The only situation where I could consider something like that happening, was if I did something to turn him against me.

But he did not seem to have anything against me.

Was he… hiding his problem from me?

"Hikigaya… as hard as it may be to accept. Friendship can only exist between equals. If something were to happen that were to skew one's perception of the other as an equal, then that friendship would also cease to exist."

"Friendship this, friendship that. You keep assuming we're friends. You don't even know me, Sensei."

I realized I'd stopped walking. I was standing still, fist clenched.

When did I get this angry?

What was I hoping to achieve, anyway?

Was I angry at Sensei?

At myself?

Was I trying to rile her up in turn?

Usually, I'd say Sensei was more of a hothead than me.

Today, she wasn't looking at me with the anger or the annoyance she had when she read my essay. Nor the sadness or disappointment when she'd thought I wouldn't join the Club.

No, it was a gentle smile, as if I was missing something obvious, something right in front of me.

It wasn't hope that was in that smile.

I find it hard to put into words.

But it was as if… she knew I'd be able to see it, if I just tried? Yeah, that's it. She knew I'd be able to figure this one out.

"Hikigaya… I've never seen you truly angry before. I like that look. It suits you much better than the false apathy you wore the first time we met."

I was lost for words, but she went on.

"It probably bothers you, not having the answer. And maybe, if this were a story, I'd be the all-wise teacher who'd have it. But the truth is, I don't! I don't know you better than you know yourself. But it's obvious that you want to know. You want to why your acquaintance wouldn't even choose to ask for your help. The Service Club is meant to deal with the requests of those who come to it.

But Hikigaya Hachiman is always free to do whatever he wants, isn't he?"

My eyes widened and I shook my head to come out of my daze.

"What a sad day. To think I'd need to be reminded of my hedonism by someone who doesn't even believe in it."

Sensei walked forward. Quite suddenly, we were only a few feet apart.

I felt my face heating up.

She didn't seem to have noticed, however.

"Oh, I don't believe in your hedonism. But I've got plenty of faith in you. Now, isn't there something you need to be doing?"

"Tch. Should you really be doing this? You're supposed to be an impartial judge, remember."

She winked.

"Teacher first. Made up competition judge second. Also, I know Zaimokuza's request, and I know what Yukinoshita's like, so I know that she's about to fail. So I gotta make sure that the one who can do this has his head in the game."

I could see a hint of worry on her face.

"Can you do this, Hikigaya?"

I'd joined this Club for her, right?

The goal of my greater happiness involved making sure this Club succeeded. My own personal squabble with Yukinoshita came second.
I stood up straight.

"You bet I can. I'll make sure the Service Club you worked so hard for doesn't fail!"

I turned around right as I said that, and marched right back towards room 303.

We'd actually been away for a decent while. As I approached, I could hear the sounds of Yukinoshita's voice from inside the room.

"... absolute trash. Most of it is derivative, and the grammar is terrible too. It's as if you collected all the tropes, and put them together, in hopes that it would be something good. You should work on all of that, and especially on originality."

"... ne, Yukinon, there's no need to go that far…"

I ignored all of this.

Whatever Zaimokuza had said so far, whatever was Yukinoshita was saying in reply, was none of my business. That was between him and her (and Yuigahama).

But I gathered enough to know that Sensei had been right. Yukinoshita hadn't succeeded in fulfilling Zaimokuza's request, by the sounds of things. It was time for me to have my turn.

Good, because I'm well and proper pissed, and I dislike having to cut in line.

I slid open the door.

Zaimokuza nearly jumped. There was a clip file with a lot of papers open in front of Yukinoshita, and his eyes darted to it.

Ignoring this, I walked up to them.

"So, Yukinoshita? Did you solve his request?"

Ever to the point, she replied shortly.

"That's something only he can answer."

I looked at Zaimokuza.

"Well?"

He hesitated. His regular flair was missing, as were his dramatics. Good, straight to the point then.

"Excellent," I said aloud. "I'll take over from here. You and Yuigahama are free to take a break."

"I don't mind staying," said Yukinoshita curiously.

"I insist," I said.

Cut to the quick, both girls were a little surprised, but left nonetheless, Yukinoshita closing the door behind her with a final glance.

"Stand up," I said to Zaimokuza.

"Comrade in arms, what are you talking about-"

"Stand up. I won't punch someone who can't fight back."

His eyes widened, and more surprised than anything, he stood up.

"Hikigaya dono-"

"Drop the act!"

For a moment, I feel the urge to rush forward and hit him.

But I resist.

"What are you hiding from me, Zaimokuza?"

"I'm not-"

"DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME!"

He actually takes a step back, surprised by the force of my outburst.

I continue.

"I can understand not coming to me for help. But you come to the Service Club, you find me here, and you prefer that it's anyone here but me who does the job? I want to know, Zaimokuza. I want to know why."

"You wouldn't understand."

Oho. He's reverted to normal speech, huh?

"Try me."

"I said you wouldn't understand!" he said, likewise raising his voice.

"Why wouldn't I understand?"

Unbidden, thoughts that hadn't come to mind before came now.

I wouldn't understand?

The guy wandering around alone at a manga con, who met your loner ass, also wandering around alone.

Was I just reaching again?

Imagining something that didn't exist?

The same way I did with Orimoto?

I saw someone I liked in her, and the possibility that maybe she liked me too.

I was deluded.

When I saw Zaimokuza, and got to know him… was I deluding myself into thinking that we were friends?

So that was it then.

"I thought we were friends, man."

"IT'S BECAUSE WE'RE FRIENDS, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Zaimokuza was breathing hard after his shout.

He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing.

"It's because we're friends, Hikigaya. That's why I could never show you. I thought that maybe, if I did, I'd fuck this up too."

I stared in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Hey, you remember six months back? You showed me this idea you had for a manga. You'd already done concept art for the characters. You even had a text version of the first chapter. You showed it all to me, remember?"

I frowned.

"Yeah, I remember. You pretty much ignored it, that's what I remember."

"That shows how little you know!" he shouted.

I took a step back at the surprising force of that statement.

"I took it all in, man. Do you even… do you know how good your work is? How many people would kill to be able to draw like that? Or write like that?"

"The heck are you talking about! I'm average, and trying to get better-"

"You're not average! Stop pushing the rest of us down, Hikigaya!"

My eyes widened.

Zaimokuza continued.

"I've read a lot of manga in my life. Seen a lot of art. And yeah, I'm a proud Otaku who goes to all the cons I can afford. And I watch every trash Isekai out there. You think I don't know it's trash? That it's a bunch of cliches stuck together with duct tape? I know that. I know that better than anyone. But I've read good things too. So when I see good art, I know. Not that weak bullshit we get nowadays. Real art. Like the greats. You're not there yet. You're still raw. But I can see the beginnings. You're still young, and you're already drawing things that are better than most of the trash out there. And then I look to the future, and I realize you won't stop. Ten years, twenty years later, you might be one of the greats. Hikigaya, you don't even frigging use an anime style. You draw faces. Actual, human faces! And that story you showed me? You took a Shounen formula, and you showed its dark side. Flipped it on its head. A protagonist who rejects the idea of one for all. A protagonist who has to get stronger by his own effort. No nakama boost, no nothing. Just sheer talent and effort. A guy who has the potential, but still has to work his ass off, like in the real world. And you show the dark side. You show that when you're a guy who fucking wins every fight, you don't end up with a goddamn harem. You end up alone. Alone at night, alone in the gym. You're at the top and you're fucking alone. He's not the fantasy for every guy looking to place himself into while he rubs one out. You didn't create a bullshit harem MC, Hikigaya. You came up with a living, breathing, human being, with flaws. Immense power at the cost of humanity. Godlike skill at the cost of a borderline anxiety disorder. This guy might be breaking walls one second, and beating himself up the next… like us.

You got all that across in one measly chapter.

And it was nothing but a rough draft to you.

Something you wanted to make even better. You were studying. Learning the art theory, using it. And you had a plan. An actual plan for a legit manga.

I looked at that, Hikigaya.

And I looked at what I wrote.

And I realized the world of difference between us.

How could I ever show you what I came up with?

After I saw how childish it looked compared to what you created?"

Zaimokuza had said it all at once, poured it all out.

His anger, his frustration, his jealousy, his sorrow, and eventually, his resignation.

He was smiling bitterly now.

"I thought you'd laugh, Hikigaya. Or worse, maybe you'd give a fake smile, like all these normies. But you'd never really acknowledge that we were doing was the same. Friendship… isn't that something between equals?

If I came to you for help with this naive little dream of a light novel I had…

Would we still have our friendship?"

I couldn't reply to that.

Zaimokuza picked up his manuscript.

"Even Yukinoshita, who's never read a light novel in her life, could tell that I had no substance. This is just trash."

Before I could stop him, he ripped it all to shreds.

The pieces floated slowly to the ground, even as Zaimokuza walked past me, out of the room.

I stood there, slightly numb. A moment later, I heard footsteps, and a soft voice.

"Hikki… is everything all right?"

Even Yukinoshita, who said nothing, seemed concerned.

"I-"

Failed.

That's what I was about to say.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't let the Service Club fail.

I couldn't let Sensei down.

But right now, none of that was the issue.

There was something else I couldn't let happen.

I couldn't lose the first real friend I had ever had.

You're going to fight for that fucking loser?

Shut up, I said to the voice in my head.

This has never gone well! All the times you've gone out of your way, put yourself out there: has it EVER fucking ended well for you? They blamed you for not being good enough, and now they blame you for being too good? And you're going to bend over and get fucked again?

I crouched and began to gather up the pieces of torn paper, one by one.

What are you doing?

You loser.

You FUCKING loser… you're putting someone ahead of you again!

Stop it!

Stop it right now!

The only one who's a loser right now is you.

Why you-

I have no expectations, remember? That's why I'm never disappointed. If Zaimokuza lied… if we were never friends at all, then I'll just get up, and move forward. I'm invincible, remember? The veteran of a thousand lost battles. When it comes to losing, there's no one stronger than me.

But I will fight for my fun.

I won't stand by and just let things be.

Whether it's someone I believe is a friend… or a teacher who genuinely cared, I'll fight for them. Even if it comes to nothing, I'll be happy fighting for them.

This is my way. My Hedonist way.

Fuck apathy. Fuck indifference.

I continued to gather up the shreds of Zaimokuza's manuscript.

Giving up… is for weaklings. I'll fight, fight for every last piece. Fight until the absolute end.

Midway through, I realized that I wasn't alone.

Both Yuigahama and Yukinoshita were also picking up the pieces that Zaimokuza had scattered. It took hours. Hours of painstaking work, but we were able to put the whole thing back together.

As much as I disagreed with Yukinoshita, she had earned my respect.

Not once had she complained throughout the whole task.

Neither had Yuigahama.

When it was done, I bowed.

"Thank you both."

"Eh, don't mention it, Hikki."

"I would have done it anyway, Hikigaya kun. The Service Club doesn't give up without helping those who come to it."

I grinned.

"So it seems. Yukinoshita, you already read the manuscript, didn't you? With your abilities, I'm pretty sure you still remember the gist and major details of the story. You read plenty of literature. Whether it's a comic book, a light novel or classic literature, it doesn't matter. The elements of a good story are the same. Could you create a list of Zaimokuza's technical weaknesses, and provide some suggestions on how to improve, and bring all of it tomorrow?"

Yukinoshita seemed slightly surprised, but nodded.

"I could. And what about you, Hikigaya kun?"

"Remember your fishing metaphor? Well, today, you're the one who's teaching Zaimokuza to fish. Me… I'm just the guy who's going to show him there's a reason to fish. A reason to eat, and live on."

Yukinoshita blinked.

"I… I see. Well then… good luck."

I nodded.

"Yuigahama… you've already done a lot. But if you still have time-"

"I haven't done much," said Yuigahama with a smile. "If either of you need help, I can do it."

Yukinoshita shook her head.

"My task will only take a few minutes at most."

I shrugged.

"I can handle my bit alone, but I don't mind some help."

With that decided, we decided to head home to finish this job.

As we exited the room, we found Sensei waiting outside.

"Hikigaya, can you do this?" she asked again. There was no doubt on her face.

"I will do this."

She patted me on the shoulder as she took the keys from Yukinoshita to lock up.

I made my way to the gate, accompanied by the two girls. Once outside the school, we parted, with Yukinoshita going one way, and Yuigahama and I another.

The sun was already setting.

"You sure you're all right with going over to a guy's place after dark? I might be any sort of sleazy scumbag, you know."

Yuigahama shook her head.

"I don't think you are", she said simply.

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's it? You're coming along because you think it'll be safe?"

This girl was living dangerously.

"I don't do it for everyone," she said.

A moment after the words had come out, she realized their implication, and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, blushing.

"Eh…. ah… I didn't mean-"

"Ah… i-it's OK," I managed to stutter out.

I could feel the heat rising to my own face now.

What the hell, woman! I just monologued this morning about how you were annoying! Don't go making me change my mind! What's with this ridiculously misleading situation?!

We took the bus to my place. Normally, I would have walked, but there was a lot of work to be done, and we were already running late.

Getting down, we approached the door, and I opened it with my key.

"I'm home," I announced.

Yuigahama entered as well.

"Pardon the intrusion."

The lights were on in the living room, and I could hear the sounds of an idol anime, meaning Komachi was at home. My parents seemed to be out, as expected, which was good, because I'd have a hard time explaining why I was bringing a girl over.

Of course, that didn't mean all would be smooth sailing.

Komachi, who had heard Yuigahama's voice, came bounding over.

"... thought I heard a girl's voice-"

The words stopped dead in her throat when she saw Yuigahama, who waved slightly nervously.

"This is my sister, Komachi," I said to her. "Komachi, this is Yuigahama Yui from my class. We'll be doing some stuff in my room."

The colour drained from Komachi's face.

"Doing some stuff?"

"Yeah. A lot of work. Honestly, I don't mind doing it alone, but I guess it can be more fun with someone else? Anyway, it's worth a try."

Komachi was completely red now.

"This… this is going too fast. Did you take me seriously earlier this morning. Ooohh…. My head hurts…"

Yuigahama looked at me worriedly. I, however, knew that Komachi was fine, and had no idea why she was acting so strangely.

I patted her head as I walked past her.

"We'll be done in a few hours. See you then."

Yuigahama followed me, and we went up the stairs, even as I heard an exclamation.

"A few hours? Onii chan, what sort of drugs-"

I closed the door.

Drugs, really? Doesn't she know I don't do those?

Yuigahama looked around my room.

"Woah, it's… different from what I expected.

Well, I guess one could say that. My room wasn't overly neat. A lot of space was taken up by things I needed for my activities. There were dumbbells in one corner, and pull bar hanging from the ceiling. Right next to it was a heavy bag, currently held in place by a harness that kept it from swinging.

This was one side of the room. On the other, was my workstation. A desk with my PC and drawing tablet on it. There was another desk which I used for traditional drawing work. It had various gradations of pencils, G-pens and Microns, rulers, paper and other materials.

Next to my bed was a bookcase filled with paperback manga collections. These days, I mostly read up and coming series online, especially webcomics, many of them made outside Japan, but I liked having physical copies of some of my favourite series.

"Hikki is into a lot of things, huh?" said Yuigahama in a quiet voice.

I shrugged as I took off my blazer and shirt. I looked around for a comfortable t-shirt. I was pretty sure I left one lying somewhere on my… aha! Found it.

As I reached for it to put it on, I found Yuigahama staring at me with with wide eyes, face red.

"What? What's wrong?"

She muttered something that sounded like "abs".

I frowned and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Oi. Anyone home?"

She blinked, blushing furiously.

"W-w-w- put something on, Hikki! Jeez, you can't just call a girl into your room and then start getting naked!"

"I'm not naked though… sheesh, what's your problem."

I put on the t-shirt, then reached into my bag and pulled out the manuscript we had painfully reconstructed.

I turned on the PC and took a seat in front of it.

"Feel free to sit down," I said. "It's a little messy, but it's all clean."

"Oh- Ok…"

Yuigahama pulled up a chair next to me.

"Did you read this too?" I asked her?

"Bits and pieces of it," she said. "Yukinon had it open in front of her, so I read along with her. She reads fast though."

I nodded. That sounds exactly like what would have happened.

"What do you think of it?" I asked.

"Eh? Hikki I don't really understand that genre…"

I smiled at her.

I hear this statement a lot. But…

"Yuigahama, that doesn't matter. I just want to know what you thought of it."

"W-well, it doesn't make a lot of sense. Like why does a guy who die end up in another world as a warrior?"

Of course.

"And why do all these girls like him? I mean, he was just some guy who used to sit around and play games all day. There's nothing wrong with that, but he acts, like, totally unpleasant once he ends up in the new world. Like why does he have to go around killing these tiny little mushroom thingies for EXP? They never hurt him."

God damn it, Zaimokuza.

"And why does everyone's clothes keep falling off? I mean, I sort of understand that guys like that kinda thing, but if it happens in every scene, isn't it kinda repetitive?"

Yuigahama, I suddenly respect you a lot more.

"I get it," I said aloud. "Was there a part that you liked though?"

Yuigahama shook her head.

"Not really… but, I mean… there was one thing I liked."

I was listening intently now.

"The story itself wasn't really saying much, at least not to me. But, if you put aside the weird and deliberately contrived bits-"

Wait, Yuigahama knows words like that?

"-It was comfortable. Like, the guy and his friends and everyone. They're all just together, and they're adventuring, right? It's like this world they're all in, and they seem to having so much fun. It's something one would want to get lost in, just a for a little while."

Bingo.

Zaimokuza, you always were long-winded.

It was never about the cool fights, the elves, the monsters, the RPG elements, or even the fanservice.

This was the core of your writing.

Anime, manga, light novels… they were your refuge, weren't they?

From a reality that can majorly suck at times.

And you wanted to offer a place like that to others.

You just wanted to share that joy, to someone else who needed it.

"Hikki… are you crying?"

"Just something in my eye."

I had work to do.

I read through Zaimokuza's manuscript. Hearing Yuigahama's thoughts on it were fine, but I needed to read it for myself.

It didn't take long. It was a simplified, almost summarized draft.

It turned out Yuigahama's synopsis was quite accurate.

She'd managed to see what Yukinoshita had either missed, or chosen not to comment on.

Yuigahama Yui, I respect you a lot now.

I solemnly gave her two thumbs up.

"Ehhh?! What was that for?"

"Nothing. You keep being you. You're doing it right."

All right. Gotta decide what to do.

If I increased the duration of time between the panels appropriately, chose scenes well, and composed properly, I could adapt his entire manuscript into a comic. The pacing would be very different from an episodic series like a manga that releases a new chapter weekly. Since I'd have to contain an entire story in just a few pages, it'd be more like those books which you can find, graphic novel adaptations of folk tales and the like. Incidentally, some of those have amazing art.

But is that really what I wanted to do?

Honestly, Zaimokuza's protagonist was an obnoxious piece of trash. Reading about him made me want to punch him in the face. I couldn't bring myself to draw someone like that and make them look badass. Also, if I adapted his story as it was, it'd be, honestly, terrible.

But if I changed everything, then it wouldn't be Zaimokuza's story anymore.

I needed a balance.

This had to be the story that Zaimokuza wanted to tell. Not the one he ended up telling.

I know it's arrogant.

To assume I knew him that well. To assume I knew what he wanted. What he felt. What his vision was.

But maybe I was arrogant like that.

I'd have to own that too.

I formulated the idea in my head.

Instead of creating a summarized graphic novel, why not create a single chapter, showing an important scene from the story?

I'd get to do it in more detail.

If I pulled it off right, I could reveal a lot about the characters and world by showing the reader, rather than telling them.

Yeah, I'll go with that.

And Zaimokuza, being ultimately the Shounen obsessed guy he is, can appreciate the same things I can.

Off the top of my head, the most shounen thing I can think of, is not a guy who has a harem.

But a guy striving against unimaginable odds, for a dream that might not be possible at all.

What's the most precious thing in Zaimokuza's story?

The world he creates. A world that acts as a safe haven for his protagonist, who died without having been loved in his old world. And by extension, a world that acts as a safe haven for the reader.

I can't imagine that protagonist being such an asshole.

If it were me… I'd be fighting to protect a world like that. I think anybody could picture themselves in those shoes.

Fighting to protect one's new home.

Yeah, a battle against a dragon that threatens this land of fairies.

The only thing standing between this world and the fire… is a lone samurai (because this is Japan, and we use katana here, not longswords).

"All right. I have it. Let's do it!"

I decided on ten pages. I'd work on paper first, then scan in the drawings, and do the final art digitally. This way, as soon as I'm done doing the draft for a page, I can show it to Yuigahama, who can look at it with a fresh pair of eyes, and give an unbiased opinion.

This is why having her here is invaluable.

It makes sure I have someone to compensate for the skewing of vision that happens when one draws for a prolonged period of time. I'll clarify that: your physical vision doesn't worsen. It's just that you tend to not notice certain errors or certain things you could do better. A viewer who isn't a trained artist might not know what's wrong with a picture exactly. But they'll know something's wrong.

This is how I'd do it.

By preventing overthinking and overanalysis, I'd turn out a ten-page one shot… in one night.

I realized Yuigahama wouldn't be able to stay over. But that was OK. As long as she looked over the drafts, which would have all the construction, all the foundational work, the most important part of the job would be done.

I got to work. I didn't use a ruler. Staying loose and fluid, I roughly planned out the panels on each page, the shots I'd be using, what would be happening in each frame. I roughed out the forms of the characters, the perspective of the backgrounds, and the placement of the speech bubbles. I even filled in the words roughly, so Yuigahama would know exactly what was happening. I worked fast. That was key.

Actually, I should work that differently.

I didn't work fast. I worked smart. That meant, focusing on the big picture, not overthinking the details. Speed was the effect, not the cause.

Each page took around fifteen minutes to rough out completely, and I handed each one over as soon as I was done, starting work on the next one while Yuigahama checked the one I just finished. Occasionally, she would point out something I could do to make the action clearer, or point out something that looked weird to her, and I would make some changes if I saw fit.

In this manner, in around two and a half hours, we finished off the drafting.

When we were done, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could catch my breath and refresh my mind a little before I started inking everything in and putting in the details.

"Hikki… this is… do you even know what you've done?"

I turned to Yuigahama, who was holding the ten draft pages, looking at them. She went through them again, before holding them close to her chest.

"Yuigahama? Is everything OK?"

She put the pages down quickly before wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"I'm all right," she said. "Hikki, this is… you're…"

She took a deep breath.

"This isn't even my story," she said. "But why does it make me feel like this…?"

"Feel like what?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but ultimately closed it, shaking her head, eyes shining, as she smiled.

"You'll see. Hikki… don't ever stop doing what you do. And… I hope you get your friend back."

My eyes widened momentarily.

I'd gotten plenty of compliments online, but it's different getting one in person. I felt humbled.

And in a way, a weight I'd been carrying felt like it had been lifted off.

I drew to make myself happy.

But… I wanted my art to mean something to others. Something good.

To Zaimokuza, it had only brought pain.

Hearing Yuigahama now convinced me, that it could be different.

That my art could mean something good.

"Thank you, Yuigahama."

She smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hikki."

"Yeah. Can you get home by yourself?"

"I'll be all right. I generally get home later than this anyway."

Wait, what?

Without waiting for an answer, she rushed down the stairs.

I shook my head, smiling for some reason that even I didn't know.

I stood up, stretched my neck, back and finger, and loosened my arms a bit.

I had to be careful. When doing long drawings, I generally went into quite a bit of detail. I wouldn't be able to spend that much time on each frame here. I'd have to find a balance between time and detail. Some frames I could afford to do more gesturally. Others, I'd spend a little more time on. I had one night to get it all done.

"Let's bring this one home."

By the time I looked up from my work, sunlight was streaming in through the window.

My eyes were exhausted, and I don't think I could have cross-hatched another tight spot. My hands were tired, and I felt twitchy.

But looking at the pages I had done, I felt satisfied with the quality. There were things I could have done better with more time, and probably other mistakes that I didn't even know about. I'd study and find out later. But for now… I was happy with what I'd done.

Tired, I put the paper in, and was about to hit the print command, when something occurred to me.

This was a bit of a risk, and a last minute addition to the plan.

But I was proud.

I was damn proud of what Yuigahama, Zaimokuza and I had achieved together.

And I was confident in it.

I hit the print command, and while the printer got to work, I loaded up a web browser, opened up a popular social networking site that Soubu students were pretty active on, and hit the upload button.

"Well. Here we go."

There was nothing adult in any of the pages, nor was there any kid of profanity, or anything else that might get us in trouble. So I wasn't risking anything on that front. The post went up. Without waiting to see how it would be received, I closed the browser, and decided to go shower.

I had some coffee with my breakfast, but I knew I'd still be feeling sleepy during classes.

Ah well. It's just one day.

"Onii chan."

" 'Sup."

"..."

I looked up and saw Komachi sitting silently, looking strangely downcast.

"Are you and that Yuigahama girl going out?"

"Eh?

EHHHHHHHHHHH?

"What gave you that idea? You know your brother avoids unnecessary drama."

"Really?" she looked up at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course."

Looking much happier, she went back to eating.

"I actually wouldn't mind if Onii chan were to date someone one day. Just… let me know, okay? I don't want to find out from someone else."

I rolled my eyes.

"On the off-chance that that particular miracle happens someday, I'll blab to you about it for sure."

I arrived in school and took a deep breath before walking through the gates.

In my bag, I was carrying a single printed version.

Zaimokuza was in Class 2-C. I'd never actually been there, just as he had never been to 2-F.

I could wait until classes were over to do this, but honestly, I didn't want to.

I found the right class. Since students were still coming in and it was pretty early, the door was open. I paused at the entrance, looked around, and saw Zaimokuza at his desk. He looked quite downcast, lacking his usual energy and focus.

I decided to walk up to him.

A few people noticed, but went back to doing whatever they were doing.

One person mentioned something about all the freaks congregating.

"You look like dog shit smeared on regular shit," I said to him without dropping a beat.

Some snickers accompanied the comment.

Ignoring all of this, I stopped in front of Zaimokuza's desk.

"Yo."

"What do you want?"

"Well, you sort of left without giving me the chance to answer yesterday."

I paused slightly.

"I didn't just start drawing yesterday, you know. I've been doing it for years. I only started studying properly a year back. But if you consider everything before that, I've been doing it for around seven years now. Back when I started, I'd just try to draw Goku, like all the other kids."

"Is there a point to this story?"

I sighed.

"Zaimokuza, why do you think I'd ever look down on you for doing something you're passionate about? Wanting to get better at it? Everyone starts somewhere. I'll say it now: no true artist will ever look down on another artist."

He finally looked up at me, eyes slightly wide.

"For the record, why would any of this mean we wouldn't be equals, or friends? Zaimokuza, I'm not a school. I'm not here to grade you on stuff, just like I don't want you to grade me on stuff. Not for the right of qualifying to be a friend."

His mouth trembled slightly, but I continued before he could speak.

"You should come by to the Service Club's room after classes today. Yukinoshita can be rude, but she means well. She'll have a paper with some useful advice on it. As for me, well, I have some things for you too."

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out his taped up manuscript and handed it to him.

"You should take better care of it. It's got the single most important quality of any story or work. Genuine love for what you're doing."

Finally, I pulled out the ten page manga I had managed to forge by combining my art and his writing.

"This is something I made based on your manuscript. It's not an exact adaptation. In my personal opinion, there were things I liked about your story, and things I disliked. But there was some stuff in there that meant something to me. And I have a feeling I'm not the only one who feels that way. So that's the stuff I took, and worked with."

I handed it to him, and with wide eyes, he flipped through the pages.

As he read, I saw his mouth open slightly.

"This is… incredible. How did you even know?! It's different from the words I wrote, but this…"

He wiped his eyes.

"This is what I imagined."

I smiled slightly.

"Tell the story you want to tell, Zaimokuza. Not the one you think light novel readers want to read. I'll be waiting. Feel free to share more manuscripts with me. I'll read them all."

Without waiting for an answer, I walked away, stumbling slightly.

"Hey, you OK?"

"I'm all right. A little uncoordinated. Pulling an all-nighter can do that to you. I'll be all right after some sleep."

I turned around.

Zaimokuza's voice didn't crack, despite the fact that he was still wiping his eyes.

"You're fucking insane, anybody ever tell you that?"

"I live for the fun, and I'm damn good at living."