Also, please read the Author Note at the end of the chapter as well.

Chapter 11: Admiration/Delusion

So I'm guessing a lot of you readers thought that no further mention would be made of that little shopping trip I took with Yukinoshita. But, as a matter of fact, further mention is taking place right now. You see, buying a present for Yui is kind of difficult. And in the process of doing so, I discovered a simple fact: I knew almost nothing about her. That was the reason it was hard to select a gift for her. Well, I still found a way around it. I knew she happened to be a dog owner, so I decided to get her a collar for the little one. But it felt like a bit of a copout, and I resolved to myself that I'd learn more about her.

The bit where I actually gave her the present went fairly well. All in all, it was on a pretty good note that we headed into our summer holidays. For me, this just meant a lot more time to do the things I wanted to do. I could ramp up the volume and intensity at the gym and the dojo, compensate by sleeping more, and probably increase my food intake a bit too. Plus, way more time for art. If things went well, I'd probably gain maybe a kilo or so of muscle, add a few kilos to all my lifts, finally counter that one guy at the dojo with a crazy fast jab, and also add some much needed dynamism to my art. I also planned to catch up on Kengan Omega, the amazing sequel to the awesome Kengan Ashura (which I highly recommend any adult reader who's into martial arts stories and over the top action to check out, provided you're not faint of heart). Ah, yes, things were looking good, and I was feeling great, looking forward to what was going to be the best summer holiday of my life so far.

So the last thing I was ready for was to wake up on their first morning, and get a call telling me I needed to come to the hospital.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Please, he's been asking to see you for a while now, but he's only just been cleared to have visitors. It would mean a lot if you came and saw him once. You don't even have to stay long."

So said the woman on the other end of the line, who sounded like a nurse or one of the hospital staff. It hadn't been the house phone she'd called, it had been my personal cell. For her to have that number meant that whoever it was she was asking me to visit wasn't a family acquaintance. It was someone I knew. It wasn't anyone from Soubu High, since everyone I knew from there was, to the best of my knowledge, fine. It wasn't anyone from the gym or the dojo, since they were fine too. And it couldn't be a classmate from middle school either (and if it was, I would feel absolutely no guilt for not going).

But there was one other person, only one other, that I could think of.

I hadn't met him in a long time.

There was only one meeting I remembered clearly, though the fragmented memories I kept seeing glimpses of told me that I had in fact, met him more than once.
Suddenly, my throat felt slightly, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yes, I'll come see him. Can you text me the address on this number? I should be there in around an hour."

"Oh! That's very kind of you. Yes, I'll send you the address! He'll be so happy to see you!"

There is something inherently heartbreaking about hearing that someone in hospital would be happy to see you. Especially if you happen to be aware that you're a scumbag. But I pushed aside these feelings. I needed to go. If it was really who I thought it was, then there was no way I couldn't go.

But I couldn't just go as I was.

He probably remembered everything. And I remembered nothing.

I found myself climbing the stairs up to my room. Before I had even been able to think consciously about what I was doing, I had opened my closet, and was holding in my hand the taped-shut cardboard box that contained the memories I was afraid of.

Hey, reader, you like flashbacks? Or maybe you like sudden backstory reveals.

Here's a reveal for you.

Just over a year back, I was in an accident. Well, I say accident, but the truth is, I don't remember. I woke up in the hospital. I'd had a bleeding wound and a concussion. My right biceps were torn, and I had a dislocated shoulder. Bad injuries, but none of them fatal or permanent. I would heal up quickly enough, I was told. I remember having to spend a few nights at the hospital. It was then that I had recurring nightmares. As part of my evaluation, I had to see a psychiatrist. Now I'll be very clear: I'm not a good example to follow, nor do I claim to be. But I absolutely fucking hate the idea of taking a bunch of pills that do all sorts of shit to my body and mind. I refused any psychiatric medication. Having no other choice, the guy taught me a few exercises and techniques I was to use. Without going into too much detail about it, his explanation was that I had suffered "trauma" that I wasn't ready to face yet, and trying to do so might not be a good idea. For the moment, the plan was to block it all out, not think about it at all, and instead focusing on living normally. At the time, I was fine with that. To be honest, I was scared shitless of whatever it was I had seen in those nightmares, so forgetting all about it seemed like a great idea. I pulled off the techniques he showed me, and before long, I was back home, and living normally. Shortly after that, I began going to Soubu High, and started going to the gym, the dojo, and started putting effort into my art. The idea was to have fun, and I was into that, all the way. I found that looking back too much on the past wasn't so good.

In particular, anything that had to with him set off all kinds of warning signs. Around the time I was still actively blocking off my memories, I remember taking every object I owned that might remind me of those times, and put them into this box, so that I wouldn't have to look at it. The idea was that eventually, when I was better, I'd see the doc again, and he'd gradually help with the process of coming to terms with stuff. Of course, that never happened.

I guess… I was a coward here too.

I was happy with my new life, happy with the few memories of him that I did have.

And I didn't want to ruin that.

Maybe it wasn't meant to last at all.

A year went by peacefully. But since joining the Service Club, more and more memories have been coming back. I even felt like I had to remember what his face looked like, and I'd opened the box to find that out.

And now, all of a sudden, I had to go see him.

I couldn't even remember his name.

But I couldn't run away. Not anymore.

This wasn't how I wanted to face my past. It's all rushed. Unplanned.

But I have no choice.

I took a deep breath, but my heart was still hammering away. With equal parts anticipation and dread, I tore off the tape, and opened the box. Right on top was the photo I had seen last at one of those photo booths meant for couples. I think we'd done it as a dare or something, to prove to ourselves that we wouldn't be embarrassed, and we didn't care what anybody watching thought of us.

Yeah, that's definitely him. In the photo, he was a little bit taller than me. A lean guy, slightly on the skinny side. High cheekbones, sharp features, spiked up hair that had been dyed blond. No wonder I thought he was a delinquent. We were both wearing our middle school uniforms, though we had the top open to look like jackets, and show off the t shirts we were wearing underneath. Looking at it now, I could see how naive I was, how little I knew. As for him… his smile looked invincible, didn't it?

I put the photo aside, and took out a leather bound journal.

I had one of these?

No, wait. That's not it.

That was one of the exercises, one of the techniques.

"Why do I have to keep a diary?"

"Think of it as transferring files from a computer to an external hard drive. You're putting your memories into this diary, so that they won't be on your system anymore."

I actually bought that explanation? But who am I kidding: it worked. I remembered nothing.

Opening the diary, I came to the very first page.

My eyes widened.

If you are reading this, you must have become stronger. If not, then you've made a mistake. You should stop.

Still reading?

Well, you've been warned.

This is the story of how I killed my best friend, the man who saved my life.

What the hell?

Killed?

I don't understand. He was clearly alive, wasn't he? In the hospital? But what if the guy in the hospital was someone else?

A cold chill passed through me as I realized: I was out of my depth here. I had no idea what was inside this diary. Whatever is in here was so bad that I had no choice but to forget about it simply in order to keep living.

But it was too late. I couldn't turn back now.

Trying to stay strong, I turned the page.

To begin with, I should introduce myself. My name is Hikigaya Hachiman. But you already know that, don't you, my future self? Unless, you reached the point where you even needed to forget your own name.

But you don't remember his name, do you?

Well, I'll start at the beginning.

In my final year of middle school, I asked out a girl named Kaori Orimoto. She turned me down. Looking back, if you remember this, it might not be a big deal to you. But I don't know how much of your memory of that incident remains, or if any of it is real. But here is the truth: things got bad. Really bad. Orimoto spread the word, and before the day was out, pretty much everyone in school knew. I'd asked her out before classes began, so for the rest of the day, all kinds of people I'd never spoken to came after me. Mostly just to laugh, call me weird names and throw stuff at me. But some of it was bad. Some of those guys were trouble, and they'd had their eye on Orimoto for a while. Long story short, I got beaten up. Three times. I should have told someone. But then, can you really trust teachers who turn a blind eye to you? I realized something important that day. The people I thought were my friends had been using me for a long time. And adults would have been smart enough to see that. And they did nothing about it. I didn't want to trust in people like that. No, if it came down to it, I'd just have to survive on my own. That was what I decided.

When we finally got out of school, I decided to head over to the arcade. Maybe get some little enjoyment out of an overall shitty day. Pay attention. This is where I met the man who saved my life.

His name is Kamishiro Kazuya.

This part you may or may not remember, but he challenged us to a match at Street Fighter: Third Strike. Guy was an absolute beast at the game, could have beaten us any time he wanted. But he decided to play a game within the game. He told us he was going to do a super, and if we could parry it, we could win. And maybe it was blind luck, or maybe it was destiny, but we pulled it off.

After the game, we ended up talking.

Somehow, this guy was different from everyone I'd met before. I trusted him, in a way I didn't trust anyone else.

So I told him. Told him everything. Who I was, what I was, and everything that had happened.

Yes. As I read every word, I could see it all happen, as though right in front of me, as the memories returned.

"There is only one thing worth living for. And that's to have fun."

But that hadn't been the only thing he'd said to me.

"Is that it, then? You don't have any friends? That's a shame. You're a cool guy. How about this, then? I'll be your friend. I'll show you how it's done: how to have fun."

I continued to turn the pages as I read my own story.

We met several times after that. Street Fighter was just the start. I could talk a lot about how many video games and anime he introduced me to, but there are other things we did too. It wasn't about being an otaku. It was about freedom. I'd never had a friend before that, so I didn't really know what to expect. Looking back, it's crazy. We barely knew each other for a month. I think maybe he knew that was all the time we were going to get, because in that one month, he taught me everything a friend was supposed to be.

We did all kinds of crazy shit. It's a miracle no one from school called home what with how many classes we bunked. There must not have been a corner of Chiba we hadn't visited. Kazuya was an intelligent guy. But he was reckless as hell. Maybe that's why I was drawn to him. I was scared of everything, and he was scared of nothing. I wanted to be like that: able to stand my ground when I want, step forward when I want, no matter what was in the way. And when we were hanging out together, I felt like I had some of that courage.

The pages listed many things we did. A lot of it was humorous, much of it was downright stupid and dangerous. Sneaking into bars, trying to drift cars, pulling all nighters where we wandered around on the streets of Chiba, we had done it all.

Kazuya, it turned out, was an orphan. He was a first year high schooler, so a year older than me. The topic of his home life never came up much. He wasn't eager to talk about it, and I didn't care. To me, he was the greatest man to ever exist, and that was all that mattered.

Just as his courage could be his strength, so too could his recklessness be his weakness.

And as I turned the pages of my journal, I realized how that led to our fall.

We used to get into plenty of fights. The greatest part of fighting is courage, Kazuya said. If you're brave, and if you have the will to win, you'll come out on top. I guess that's the only explanation for how a weakling like me was able to beat the shit out of every guy who'd beaten up on me after my confession to Orimoto. Of course, all of that happened outside school. We tracked those guys down, and gave 'em hell. They came to school with bruises for weeks. Kazuya backed me up, and no matter the numbers we were up against, we found a way to win. We were the kings of Chiba, and nothing could change that.

Of course, I backed Kazuya up in his fights too. Guy had so many people who hated his guts, it's a miracle he was even alive.

Yes, we thought we were invincible. And that was our mistake.

Do you know what it takes to win a fight? Maybe a lucky punch to the head is all.

Do you know how often you can get lucky?

There were twenty guys coming after us.

Like idiots, we tried taking them on first, and we nearly got killed. There was no other choice, we ran for it. These guys were real bad news. High schoolers with ties to local gangs and shit. We couldn't go to the cops. Not with Kazuya's history. So we thought we'd hide in the mall instead. No way those guys would attack us in broad daylight, in front of everyone.

And suddenly, it all fell into place.

That horrible vision I'd seen when I'd been out shopping with Yukinoshita.

That must have been the same mall we'd tried taking refuge in.

We were out of luck. The place was closed down for emergency construction. But there was nothing we could do. We ran in anyway, hoping we could hide inside and throw off their pursuit.

I'd thought these were some batshit crazy guys Kazuya had gotten involved with during the insane solo shit he pulled all the time.

I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

Remember those guys we'd gotten revenge on for beating up on us after the Orimoto incident? These were their friends.

I would never have known. Kazuya knew from the start. Guy had so many contacts, he probably knew everything happening in Chiba.

I'd never been fighting his battles.

He'd been fighting mine, from the very start.

Helping me out, getting involved, ignoring the costs to himself.

A splitting pain erupted in my head, and I closed my eyes instinctively as I struggled to fight it.

I was remembering. I was remembering it all.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me those guys were after me?"

Kazuya smiled his invincible smile.

"What would it have changed? I'd still be fighting by your side anyway. That's what friends do. Besides, I'm older than you. If anything, I'm the older brother here. It's my duty to take care of you."

"Y-you!"

"HEY! THEY'RE HIDING HERE ON THE TOP FLOOR! GET OVER HERE!"

"Shit!"

Exposed, we both ran for it, but we had nowhere to go. Since the place was under construction, the elevators were inactive. We could only use the inactive escalators as staircases, but those were blocked off by our pursuers. They had us surrounded. We had nowhere to go.

It was at this point that I made my mistake.

In hindsight, if we had stayed and fought, we'd have been beaten up, but we'd survive with minor injuries.

But here too, I was a coward.

"No! There's one more way out! That fake chandelier!" shouted Kazuya.

He pointed to the massive structure. It was true: There was a temporary multi-level mobile staircase next to it, in order to allow workers to get to it. The chandelier was level with the floor we were on, and just a few feet away. An easy enough jump. It was also huge, with plenty of room to not fall off if we were to jump too far.

As if to set up a QTE in a video game, there was no safety railing up on this floor either, nothing to stop us from making that jump.

I saw the boys closing in on us, and I looked down.

And I was scared.

"Kazuya… I can't do it. You should go without me! Get out of here! I'll be fine, I can fight my own battles. Isn't that what you've always said? A man should fight his own battles."

Just for a second, my words caught him off balance, as I used his own ideals against him.

But immediately, absolute great as he was, he countered.

"A man never abandons his friend either! Make the jump, Hikigaya, it's easy! I won't leave ya here, buddy."

It wasn't a difficult jump at all.

The me right now would do it without a second's hesitation if I needed to.

But to the me back then, it was terrifying.

I hesitated.

We were running out of time.

"Hey, Hikigaya. You believe in me, right? Well, I believe in you. You got this!"

And in clutch, Kazuya's faith in me was what saved me, just as it had saved me before.

I nodded. It didn't matter if I didn't think I could do it. Kazuya thought I could, and I believed in him.

Turning to the edge, I ran towards it, and jumped. My heart stopped for a moment. I was sailing through the air, more than a hundred feet above the ground. And then I landed, heavily. I stumbled and came to my knees. And then, relief surged through me. I had made it.

I turned around and looked at Kazuya!

"I fucking made it!"

"Hell yeah, dude!"

"Come on, it's your turn!"

Kazuya began to make his run for the jump. But the boys had caught up to him. Were they actually trying to kill us? I don't know. Maybe the guy who did it had just lost his head in the heat of the moment. But he rushed forward and managed to clip Kazuya with a punch to his back just as he was about to jump, and it pushed him off balance.

Time seemed to slow down and I looked on in horror as Kazuya flew off the edge. He had still managed to put some power into the jump, but he wasn't going to make it.

"KAZUYA!"

He just barely managed to hit the chandelier, crashing into it chest first as he struggled to get a grip on it with his arms. But he was exhausted after all the fighting and running, and pulling oneself up in that position is much harder in real life than the fucking movies make it look.

He slipped and lost his grip almost right away.

I rushed forward and managed to grip his hand. But I had ended up sprawled on the floor, holding on to his sweaty hand with my own, while trying to use my other to push myself upright.

It was impossible.

I was a guy who hadn't lifted a day in my life, trying to pull sixty kilos of weight with one arm.

Kazuya's own strength was at its limits, and he was losing his grip fast.

I had done this.

My hesitation had brought us to this.

If I had made the jump right away, there would have been plenty of time for Kazuya to follow, without having that asshole catch up to him and disbalance him during his jump.

Kazuya had given me everything.

A way of life to believe in, yes. Life lessons, yes.

But above all, when I had needed it the most, he had been a friend. The only one I'd had ever had at that point, and the best one I would ever have.

And I had repaid him by failing.

I struggled. Trying my hardest to hold on.

Every muscle in my arm felt like it was on fire, and I could feel my shoulder crunching as the metal floor pressed against my armpit.

I already knew, somewhere, that I couldn't do it.

Fittingly, my past self had recorded every thought I'd had in the journal, with unfailing accuracy.

I must hold on.

I'm failing.

Must hold on.

Not strong enough.

I can, and I will.

I must, I must, I must, I must, I must.

Arm's tearing. No, it'll hold. Gotta push myself up, and Kazuya with me.

Yeah, I'm managing to do it. Come on.

No, no, no, no, no!

Grip's slipping!

My nails are cutting into his hand. He's bleeding, but he'll slip. I can't do it.

He is looking up at me.

And as he smiles, I realize.

This was never an invincible smile. It was broken from the start.

Unable to do anything more, I try to say everything I need to, but no words will come out. Maybe, just maybe, it's all written on my face, because he seems to understand anyway, as he always does.

"Hikigaya… this is the final hedonist lesson I'll give you.

Hedonist Rule #1: Live with no regrets."

His hand slips, and he falls.

I've failed.

I've failed.

The journal ended there, and all the pages that followed were blank.

The rest of the box was filled with things that would, back then, have meant the world to the two of us. A bunch of DVDs he had loaned me, obscure cheat codes for fighting games no one even played anymore, and a bunch of timestamps to pause various episodes of certain anime in order to spot hidden easter eggs.

As I put the journal away, the door opened.

"Onii chan, I'm going to the market. You want me to pick anyth- Onii chan?!"

Komachi, as usual, didn't knock before entering.

"Onii chan… you opened it… so you know now."

I didn't answer.

I didn't really have any words to say.

The time for that had long come and passed.

"Onii chan, please don't cry, it makes Komachi sad."

But try as I might, I couldn't stop.

"Just leave me alone. I've already failed. None of this matters anymore."

"Onii chan-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I snapped out.

I knew I shouldn't do it. I knew she was the last person I should snap at. But I couldn't deal with her right now. No, it wasn't just her.

It was me.

I wasn't all right.

Author's note: Well! Here we are. I'm guessing a lot of you have conflicting feelings about what this chapter means for the story. Many of you probably weren't expecting any tragedy when you started reading. Rest assured, this is not a fic where everything ends up going to hell. I cannot promise a perfect ending, but I do hope you won't drop the fic because of this. I normally don't do this, but I'll let you in on something. So far, we've had a lot of chapters where someone needed help, and Hikigaya was there for that person. From this point on, the POV characters WON'T be 8man! He is the one who needs help now. Who will be there for him? Will he be able to bounce back? Is Kazuya in fact still alive? Find out by continuing to read this story! I put a lot of effort into it, and I'm so happy whenever I see a review where someone just gets Hikigaya's character, and what he represents! I flatter myself by thinking that this is because this story and these characters mean something to all of us. Hedonist Hachi's story still has a way to go! Don't give up on him!