Slowly but surely, Kawasaki Saki begins to believe.

Friendship is an odd, fickle thing.

There exist multiple, if not endless ways to interpret what exactly defines a friendship. It could be a physical or emotional attraction to one you feel close to. It could be a mutual liking of a certain subject in which two people discover similar taste, and form a subsequent kinship. It could even be classified as something as simple as enjoying another's presence. It was almost a given that most everyone had a differing opinion on what made a friendship, well, a friendship.

Through this, however, problems arise. With so many conflicting opinions on what defines a "friend", it's bound to create direct misunderstandings within the various relationships one might hope to create. With so many unspoken boundaries and precautions, finding a comfortable in-between is incredibly challenging to one looking for companionship. It's a dilemma I've witnessed with my own eyes, and a problem that has plagued my foolhardy generation for years at this point.

An example. Say a shy, somewhat standoffish person were to be introduced to an outgoing, energetic extrovert. While the extrovert might aim to immediately attempt to make friends with the outcast and bombard them with friendly expressions, the outcast would be quick to escape, in fear of letting someone come too close to their personal space. Through this, one can see that while the boundaries of the extrovert were almost nonexistent, the boundaries set by the outcast were near impermeable, thus preventing any sort of connection from forming between the two polar opposites. See what I mean?

With so many emotional landmines and traps to watch for, humans end up making friends with people who are exactly like them in nature, in order to avoid confusion and the possibility of a strained relationship. The problem with this, however, is that one's views never end up being challenged within this basic method. Their outlooks on life, politics and whatnot are all memorized by their carbon-copy friends and spat right back in their faces, like some sort of echo chamber. They lose the ability to think for themselves, and become just another member of their cliques' collective mindset. Like a herd of sheep, grazing in the exact same spot.

To a loner, friendship is but an unnecessary fabrication imposed on us in order to create a false sense of security within an environment. Being surrounded by people you "like" puts one at ease, and temporarily helps one escape from reality and it's many real problems (which are innumerable, but I digress). Like love—another fabrication—friendship shields one from the truth, like a safety blanket in a maelstrom of hellfire.

However, one like myself is able to harness all aspects of modern society and implement them into my own mind, without the need for petty relationships. By simply observing rather than interacting, I've been able to avoid having to talk to people while keeping in the know-how. It takes a lot of stealth, and most of the information I hear is worthless garbage you hear on talk shows (thanks, Tobe), but it helps me keep in touch with reality while I face the truth head on, rather than hide from it. And the best part is, I don't have to go through the trouble of forging friendships I could never hope to attain.

Truly, friendship is one big irony that has fooled the masses of this planet. I, however, have managed to bypass such a restriction.

Though, one would think that with all of the beautiful women (though that term is subjective in itself) I just so happened to be surrounded by, that I myself am a hypocrite in spite of my own musings. That claim is far from the truth, however—Yukinoshita and Yuigahama are clubmates, Isshiki is a kouhai, Komachi is my sister, Haruno is a yandere, and Kawasaki is a coworker. Those things were far from qualifying as friendship material. Not that I would know what would qualify to begin with.

Plus, they were women. Beings that naturally took advantage and made a mockery of men. Totsuka was all I needed, anyway.

A stray leaf blew into my face, prompting me to release myself from my thoughts and eliciting a lazy wave of my hand to remove the fragile piece of nature implanted on my cheek. In the present time, I was seated on a bench near the high school, reclining comfortably under the waning hours of the day. Club had been another boring, request-less affair, and I used the opportunity to try to catch up on sleep. Yukinoshita hadn't been too happy with that, if my scalding tongue was any indication. It was easy to forget that she could be as sneaky and underhanded as her own sister at times.

Quietly, I took another sip from my MAX coffee, my third can of the day. The rush was absolutely terrible for me, and the comedown was even worse, but it was a necessity for work. Besides, Kawasaki was nice enough to lend me a can or two every night, so it wasn't like I could just stop drinking. The stuff was like a drug to me. Maybe I really did have an addiction problem.

After a lot of awkward planning and conversing, Kawasaki and I had agreed to meet up here every evening before heading off to work. She had insisted it was much safer this way, and while I agreed with her, I couldn't help but find her unyielding forcefulness in that decision a bit frightening. The way she would get me to do whatever she wanted me to do was unsettling, to say the very least. Then again, she'd been doing a lot of weird things as of late, so I supposed I had walked right into it. Like I mentioned previously, women were evil creatures.

I sneezed. It was certainly getting colder during this time of year. Offhandedly, I briefly wondered what would happen if I were to get sick? Would Komachi take care of me, like the great little sister she was? Better yet, would Totsuka take care of me? I could see it now—his shy, petite hands shyly draping a warm towel over my perspiring forehead, before spoon-feeding me some soup he made, nervously fidgeting as he would hold the soup in his mouth before crashing his lips onto—

"Hikigaya? You there?"

I nearly jumped out of Japan as my admittedly lewd thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. Turning, I spotted Kawasaki eyeing me curiously, angling her lithe body to get a view of me.

"You alright?" She asked, concern in her tone.

Trying my best to play it natural, I stood immediately. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Feeling soup—er, super."

The girl before me continued to eye me with a look that made me feel anything but comfortable. After a brief stand off between my dead eyes and her own purple ones, she gave me a soft smile. "Well, if you're sure."

Odd. I was expecting her to punch me or something. Oh well, at least she didn't manage to discover my newest fetish concerning Totsuka. My social life would really start to plummet if that were to get out.

We fell in step with each other, heading in the direction of the Royal Okura. I knew the route there by heart now, and Kawasaki was more than willing to let me lead the way. As we walked, we idly talked about trivial, meaningless things.

"So... how was school?"

I gave her a questioning look. Since when did she care about my wellbeing? "We're in the same class. You tell me."

Her eyes narrowed. I could tell by that look that I'd gotten her angry—she usually only gave me that look whenever I insulted her trash can of a brother.

"What's with the damn attitude?"

What was what for? Did she forget who I was? I was probably the last person anyone would think of starting a conversation with. Still, I would rather she not be mad at me before work started, so I made to backtrack.

"Nothing, sorry. I'm not feeling all that well."

Kawasaki, however, managed to see through my lie and called my bluff. "Not well enough that you can't even answer a simple question?"

She got me there. In response, I angled my head towards her in a bored but leisurely motion. "Yeah, you're right. Guess I just don't feel like talking today."

This, however, only served to make her angrier. "Well, excuse me for trying to be sociable, jackass."

I scoffed. "You're well aware that I'm not sociable. If you didn't already know that, you seriously need to rethink your opinion of me."

It was true. Most everyone in our class knew of the infamously lame Hikigaya Hachiman. It was like one of those school laws or codes that no one ever officially verified, but still adhered to anyway. My loner status was destiny, a product of God's very will.

Kawasaki rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know, trust me. I wouldn't ever dream of changing how others see you. You're like trash in a landfill waiting to be incinerated."

Though I'd never admit it aloud, she did have a way with words whenever she insulted people. She wasn't entirely smart, but that was just when it came to academics. The art of the insult was a different matter of skill all together, one she seemed to have mastered.

However, she needed a reminder as to who she was talking to. "Trash, you say? I'll gladly accept such a role—if I were to be burned alive and granted the sweet release of death, that in itself would be a welcome blessing."

I'd let a bit of my middle-school self seep into my own dialogue, but I played it off. That reprehensible persona would follow me to the grave, it seemed.

Kawasaki recoiled after I finished speaking, apparently unimpressed with my retort. "Jeez, you're so gross. How do those girls in that club of yours put up with you?"

A good question. One I hardly knew the answer to myself. Perhaps I'm like a zoo animal to them, one they could spectate and gaze at, and in Yukinoshita's case, experiment on and mock constantly. "Don't know. Ask them yourself."

Kawasaki shook her head, her long ponytail bouncing with every movement. "Honestly, why are you so weird? It's like you're forcing yourself to be this angst-filled, loser of a person. Like some kind of warped nihilist."

"And so what if I am?" I questioned, quickly formulating a counter in response to her own assumption of me. "What's it to you if I purposefully ostracize myself? Don't you do the same?"

Much to my surprise, however, Kawasaki wasted no time in retorting. "I keep my distance from people because I have to. Do you think I have time to juggle a social life on top of graveyard shifts while trying to earn a scholarship? I never had a choice in the matter."

Kawasaki almost looked to be scorning me as she rambled on. "But you? You don't have to really do anything," She fired off point after point, not giving me any chance to interrupt. "You live your life alone by choice. You don't know what pressure feels like, and you've been blessed to have the opportunity to choose your own life."

She then frowned at me, or rather, through me. "But you've thrown that opportunity away. And for what? For you to take the fall and accept the blame for everyone else's mistakes?"

My eyes narrowed. She was treading a dangerously personal path I think she didn't want to involved herself with.

"I've seen what you do. I know your methods," Kawasaki's eyes were locked on to me. "You think you're some kind of pariah? You think shouldering all that blame by yourself makes you a good person? Is that what self-satisfaction is to you?"

I didn't have time to wonder how she knew about any of this. I had to put an end to this—this talk with Kawasaki had gotten drastically out of hand. But, to my displeasure, she continued her tangent.

"What you're doing isn't helping anyone. The second you intervene, trying to take on everyone's burden like you're some type of savior, you only make things worse. The problems you think you're solving, aren't ever really solved, only prolonged."

I finally managed to squeeze a few words in. "You don't know that."

"I do know that," She replied with no hesitation. "I've seen it with my own eyes. Hell, it's happening right now."

I searched my mind for what that could have meant. There wasn't any request that I had fulfilled that had any means of resurfacing. What was she hinting at then?

"All you're doing is forcing this unnecessary suffering on to yourself, while the problems around you worsen. You're butchering every chance you have at happiness, and for what? A smidgen of recognition?"

"How could you possibly know?" My anger was rising. Where did she get off thinking that she knew what was right and what was wrong? She was a lot like Yukinoshita in that regard—righteous and unrealistic.

"I know, because I've done it myself." Kawasaki stood tall, but faltered for the first time that night. "I... I've taken up burden after burden, just trying to get by... I know my life so far hasn't been easy, but there isn't much I can do to change that."

That line got me. My mouth froze, giving her another chance to continue.

"So to see it happening to you... someone I care about..." Her voice trailed off. "... it hurts to see you suffer like that for people who don't give a damn about what you have to go through."

I had foregone attempting a reply at this point, choosing to silently mule her words instead. To hear that she cared for me, when her actions before her request indicated otherwise, was surprising. I hadn't even considered the possibility that she held an ounce of concern for me personally after completing her brother's request.

But she had gone and said it now. She cared about me in a way that extended beyond that of classmates. While the depth of her feelings were unknown to me (I imagined that they were, at most, that of close friends), I was curious as to why she had proclaimed such a thing in front of me.

Kawasaki managed to turn away from me, hiding her pained expression from my line of sight and effectively giving me no opportunity to pry any further. "Let's get going," she spoke somberly. "We don't want to be late."

I almost forgot that we had somewhere to be. Not wanting to make a fool out of myself any further, I wordlessly followed her, glancing in any direction but her own as we strolled to our destination, making sure to stay a few steps behind her. Things were already awkward enough as they were.

Something told me that today was going to be a rough day.

She ignored me for the rest of the walk to the Royal Okura. She didn't even stop to greet anyone as she walked through the door. Something I found rather worrying.

Of course, what was more worrying was the almost palpable amounts of awkward tension between us. I'd been in a lot of troubling situations before, no doubt, but this one was shaping up to be one of the most cumbersome conflicts I'd been wrapped into. How was I supposed to solve this? I hadn't even fully recovered from what she'd said about me earlier.

"It hurts to see you suffer like that for people who don't give a damn about what you have to go through."

Those words continued to stick with me, continuously resonating in my mind like some sort of holy enchantment. And though I was reluctant to think about such trivial things, I couldn't help but wonder—was what I was doing entirely effective?

I hadn't ever considered what others thought of me when I solved requests. That was who I was, after all. My personal feelings were disregarded when it came to my methods, because it worked. The results almost always turned out in my favor, and in turn, everyone else's favor. Because I knew what those people wanted even better than what they themselves knew they wanted.

But if my methods were, in fact, a worsening constant throughout the many scenarios I'd been forced into, what then? Though, this was just hypothetical thinking on my part. I was still rather sure that my way of doing things was what was best, despite what others told me. Old habits died hard, but lived even harder.

Of course, Kawasaki hadn't been the first to construct a negative view on the way I conducted my business. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama had called me out multiple times, the former much more adamantly and forcefully. Then again, Yukinoshita had a reason to despise how I worked—it was a direct contrast to the way she thought and operated. She and I were similar, but not when it came to how the Service Club handled its requests.

But Kawasaki didn't have a real reason. She hadn't even been physically present for when most of my solutions took place. In all likelihood, she probably just heard loose bits and pieces of stories concerning me from gossip amongst the student body. In fact, most of the stories she heard from the student body probably consisted more of fabricated lies than actual truth, for the sake of dramatization.

Even so, what motivated her to care so deeply about my endeavors? They didn't affect her in any way, shape, or form, so why? Someone as prideful and self-reliant as her shouldn't have even involved herself in the first place.

I sighed, leaning back into the chair I was seated on. I wasn't getting anywhere with this. If I kept it up, I'd probably be here all night just thinking of possibilities as to why Kawasaki acted like she did. I had to move on for now, I had a job to do.

Currently, I had trapped myself in the Angel Ladder's locker room, halfway clothed in my freshly ironed uniform. The room was practically empty at all times, much to my surprise—it turned out that Oshino and I were the only male workers in the establishment. Though, it made sense, from a business standpoint. Women were naturally more appealing, and could much more easily trick and coerce customers into buying more beverages. Such was the art of business.

Eventually, I got around to putting my pants on. A few short minutes later, I was adjusting my tie and checking to see if my hair looked alright in the full body mirror near the door. Even I had to admit that I looked snazzy, a far cry from my usual style of dress. In this form, I upgraded from a two to a solid two and a half, easy.

Exiting, I made my way down the hall and into the bar, a bit slower than usual. As I entered, Kawasaki was no where to be seen, much to my initial relief and later confusion. Normally, she was always ready before I was, never taking a chance to slack off on the job. Though, I could give an accurate guess as to why she was tardy.

However, in her place was Oshino, who was wiping a few glasses clean with a cleaning cloth near the spice shelves. He evidently had time to do so, since there weren't any customers that had entered yet. His eyes immediately found me, and a disgustingly large smile soon formed on his face. "Good evening, Hikigayaya-kun!"

I frowned. "You added an extra syllable to my name."

The man apologetically rubbed his head, grinning sheepishly. "Oops, I bit my tongue. Sorry!" Yes, my boss is a loser. How many times do I need to reiterate myself?

"Anyways, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino continued, correctly pronouncing my name. "I noticed that Kawasaki-chan was a little down when you two came in today."

So he did notice. The man-child was more perceptive than I thought he was, apparently. "Really?"

"Yeah, she was acting even moodier than she usual does. Which, as you probably already know, doesn't bode well for any of us." He rested his arm against the bar stand, tilting his head as he spoke. "Would you happen to know what's troubling her?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. What was he trying to play at? It was as if he knew what had happened, but choose to act negligent in the hope of getting me to fess up. Was he always this aberrant?

Before I could come up with some sort of witty retort, however, a familiar face exited the female locker room. Kawasaki entered, donning her trademark uniform and hairstyle. It appeared that Oshino knew that he wouldn't be able to press on in his verbal assault, and in turn ceased to ask any further questions. Though, he did manage to give me a vague, parting word as he made to inspect the tables.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope you resolve this little qualm with her quickly," He whispered in my ear as he passed. "It'd be a shame if you made things more complicated than they already are."

And thus, the man shot a wink at me before scampering away, leaving me to stare at him in a dumbfounded manner as he left. Apparently, there was a lot I didn't know about the man named Oshino Yakaza. That in itself was highly unsettling, in spite of the ominous proverb he'd whispered to me.

At the moment, however, I had more pressing issues to attend to. Kawasaki was currently making sure that the drinks were stocked and full, going over each bottle thoroughly. She seemed to be doing her best to avoid conversation with me, since it was fairly evident that all the bottles were full.

In that moment, I decided to make myself look busy. I walked around the bar room, tidying up random items and occasionally looking at a table Oshino had just cleaned. It was another of my one-hundred-and-eight loner skills I had managed to master in my time as an isolated loser—the art of making myself look busy, while casually sneaking glances at people.

From what I could gather, Kawasaki looked to be masking her displeasure with me fairly well. She managed to uphold that neutral look of hers she always wore. I'd openly commend her, were it not for the precarious situation we'd found ourselves in. She could rival Yukinoshita with her own ability to keep up appearances.

Eventually, though, I had to cease in my snooping, as people finally began to fill into the bar. Though the night shift wasn't nearly as bad as Happy Hour, we still received a fair amount of people. Thus, following our usual protocol, I stationed myself at the bar, while Oshino and Kawasaki made to serve the folks who'd chosen tables.

In all truthfulness, being a bartender wasn't exactly hard. Once you managed to find a steady rhythm and became comfortable with how you did your job, while figuring out how to mix all the types of drinks, it was relatively easy. In my brief time working here, I realized that people didn't want a drink that was sweet, sour, or unique—they wanted a drink that would help them forget about their crappy day, something that would give them a buzz.

That's where my use of spices came in. Spices could greatly enhance a drink far beyond its normal taste capabilities, or so Oshino had told me. A little extra bit of cinnamon here and there, a pinch of added lemon in this and that, and people would be dying for more. As long as you got the general flavor of the drink down, and added a few surprises here and there, you'd be set. Just like that.

Though, that didn't stop me from failing miserably my first couple of tries. Oshino had been gracious enough to taste-test all of my starter drinks, and had proceeded to promptly dump them in the sink. It was harsh, but I needed it. My mixing skills sucked initially.

Now, however, I was a mixing aficionado. In only two short weeks, I had mastered the Martini, bested the Bourbon, and crushed the Cocktail. Yes, if my parents saw me feeding into peoples' alcoholic tendencies in a bar I was much too underage to be working at, there's no doubt they'd be proud!

Though, with my ability to quickly create a fine beverage (offhandedly, I wondered if I could implement that into my one-hundred-and-eight loner skills), that left me a decent amount of free time. What I did most of the time, normally while I was cleaning glasses, was watch the room and spectate the people in it. I'd already seen a fair amount of categories enter the Angel's Ladder—the drunken veteran, the lonely widow, the lusting woman, and the wide-eyed teenager entering for the first time. More often than not, these people came in groups, and almost always left with someone carrying someone else. It was depressing to see, but equally as amusing.

Through my careful observation, I realized that this particular action of mine reinforced my earlier claim concerning friendship. Through me silently watching others interact, I stayed engaged and active with society and reality without having to physically be with those drunken hooligans. Not that I ever doubted I was ever wrong about my hypothesis to begin with.

I had originally planned to further investigate my claim, and spectate more people who would enter the bar. Unfortunately, my attention would have to be directed to something else tonight.

Kawasaki moved with a certain grace when she waited on customers. She walked with a purpose, and every step seemed planned and efficient. She was loud and clear when she spoke, but still managed to keep a friendly disposition, occasionally throwing in a tiny smile for effect. She was like a siren from the legends of old, drawing in customers with her efficiency and beauty, and keeping them for as long as she deemed fit.

It was a little disheartening for me, honestly. She was such an excellent employee compared to me. Not that I strived to be a model bartender, but it was nice to be recognized every now and again.

But, in all fairness, she deserved it. She'd worked hard to make it this far, and had to put up with a lot of crap that I knew I certainly didn't have the patience and drive for. Hell, she was willing to sacrifice part of her education just to work.

I unwillingly remembered what she told me earlier. "You don't know what pressure feels like, and you've been blessed to have the opportunity to choose your own life."

Deep down, she was right. I wasn't under any sort of pressure to perform in any way, shape or form. Compared to her, I was about the most liberated thing imaginable. To have to work not only for her own sake, but for her family's? It was something I had no right to place an opinion on.

Did I feel bad for her? I wasn't entirely sure. Pity was a new emotion to me, one I hadn't really invested in. Things like scorn and disgust were more up my alley.

But as I watched her pass me by, uttering not a single word, I couldn't help but stare. To be able to shoulder all of that burden, and still manage to come to school, learn, and even make a tiny bit of room in her heart for people, was something admirable, even for someone as despicable and disgusting as me.

Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I was doing something incorrectly. Kawasaki had no reason to care for my wellbeing, but still found it in her to look out for me when she could. A person like that wouldn't try to persuade me from my methods just for the fun of it, right?

My own musings were interrupted when a group of loud voices entered the room. From the tone of the voices alone, I could smell immediate trouble. Riajuus all had a certain air about them, filled with abundant amounts of obnoxious, self-obsessed opinions of themselves. It was sickening, and through a certain blonde-haired nitwit, I'd become accustomed to their antics and presence.

A group of three walked in, and my suspicions were proven true. Three young men, college-aged were I willing to chance a guess, sauntered their way in, laughing up a storm about some dumb joke one of them had probably said. Their ringleader at the front was particularly worrying—tall, lean, and well-dressed, sporting a full head of blonde hair in addition to sharp blue eyes, and with a jawline that could cut through steel.

Larry, Curly, and Moe quickly found a seat, waving over the nearest waiter in a true display of arrogance, cackling quietly all the while. I groaned inwardly. I knew this day would come, but I'd been hoping to prolong it for as long as possible. Eventually, I'd have to make drinks for a couple of young, prideful dude-bros, who would waltz in flaunting daddy's money in front of everyone, hoping to score a free drink or two with their looks alone. Tonight was just destined to suck for me.

Unfortunately, the nearest waiter made no hesitation in attending to the young men—Kawasaki strode over, seemingly unaware of the trap she was heading towards. I felt my heart sink, and I lost the ability to focus on what I was supposed to be doing. The person I was supposed to be serving, a middle-aged donning a rather long brown coat, noticed my apparent distraction. "Hey, you alright, kid?"

My attention was brought back to the man, and I cursed mentally for losing my cool. "Yeah, sorry." I hurriedly put the finishing touches on the Classic Manhattan he'd asked for, and slid it his way.

The man gave a look over to where I'd been staring, and gave me a knowing look. "Ah. Kids these days, right? So troublesome. Makes me glad I'm an adult."

I gave a half-hearted nod, anxiously stealing glances at the table Kawasaki stood at. Her face was still stuck in neutral, and she shot apathetic looks at each of three young men. I knew that Kawasaki was hardly the type to get flustered by the actions of others, but still...

Concentrating, I focused on their conversation from across the room. The arrogant pricks were rather loud, so it wasn't all that hard to pick up.

One of them, a slender, skinny one with short brown hair and an almost insidious smile was the first to try his hand. "Hey there, cutie."

Kawasaki simply skipped over his advance, retaining her impassive façade. "Good evening, and welcome to the Angel Ladder. What can I get for you gentlemen to start?"

Another lackey, a dark-skinned fellow with a rather crude looking buzz-cut, went next. "Dunno, whaddya got?" His question was innocent enough, but the smirk he was currently donning looked anything but trustworthy.

Nevertheless, Kawasaki ignored them and continued. "Well, tonight's special is the Golden Okura, a light Tequila Sunrise with specially made grenadine and a light pinch of—"

"Yeah, cool," The blonde one cut off, leaning back into his chair with a haughty grin. "Look, I'm sure you're a busy lady and all, so I'm gonna cut to the chase. There's something else me and my boys want."

Almost marginally, so much so that I nearly missed it, Kawasaki's eyes narrowed. "Well, if there's something else you would like, you're free to choose from our wide variety of beverages shown in our menu, sir."

The leader's grin widened like a madman. "Oh, a spunky one, huh? That's okay. I love playing hard to get."

I watched tensely, almost refusing to move. I knew what was going to happen. It didn't take a genius to see that this wasn't going to end peacefully. But as I stood there, eyeing the situation like some helpless bystander, I found it impossible to engage Kawasaki. My legs were frozen, but for what reason? Was I scared? What in the hell was wrong with me?

The young men, despite their somewhat loud shenanigans, hadn't attracted anyone else's attention yet. This whole entire scene felt planned—like the three men had done this sort of thing before. And based on their sickening grins, whatever they planned on doing had probably worked more than just a few times. For now, I was the only one able to see what was happening. Where the hell was Oshino?

"How long you been working here?" The blonde asked, eyeing Kawasaki with a feigned look of curiosity. "Couple weeks? Couple months? You certainly don't look like any kind of greenhorn."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that question," Kawasaki shot back immediately. "Would you like anything to drink?"

Sighing somewhat melodramatically, the man leaned back into his chair. "Still playing dumb, huh? I get it, it's cool. Besides, we have plenty of time to work out our differences."

Surely, Kawasaki saw through what they were trying to do. Why the hell wasn't she trying to get out of there? Was her job really more important than her own wellbeing?

Slowly, the blonde placed a long finger on his chin. "Hm... if only there was a way to make you more cooperative." Almost comically, his eyes shot up in rehearsed surprise. "Oh! I know!"

The blonde reached for his pants pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for, his eyes trained on Kawasaki all the while, eyeing her like a prize at a carnival game.

"Silly me! How could I have possibly forgotten! How's... this?"

In a single, swift motion, the blonde revealed what he'd been hiding—a rather large sum of money, held together by a loose rubber band. Just by pure observation alone, I could tell that the amount of money in his hand was easily enough to dwarf about half a year's worth of work here. The stack barely fit in the palm of his hand, not that he looked too concerned.

I noticed Kawasaki's eyes widen, and felt my worry levels shoot through the roof. I'd been expecting something like this, but not to this extent. That was a lot of money in the man's hand.

But that wasn't the point. They had her attention now. Hell, I would have probably been tempted by such an effective use of bribery. The situation had turned from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.

"Do you really enjoy working here?" The man drawled on, casually waving the wad of cash in his hand back in forth, like some sort of chew toy. "It must suck, having to work here for hours upon hours at night, only to be rewarded with such terrible pay. Wouldn't you agree?"

This time, Kawasaki remained silent. I couldn't get a good enough angle to see her face.

"You look young. Like a high school student." The skinny one reentered the conversation. "You're probably thinking about college, yeah? Though, if you're working here at this hour, I'd guess that you're in a crunch for... let's say, sufficient funds."

"It's a shame, really," The blonde plastered a sickening look of dramatic sadness on his face, to which his buddies chuckled at. "I've turned over a new leaf recently, and found no such need for things like money or luxury. Though, I have all of this money already... I simply don't know what to do with it all!"

His eyes sharpened as he returned his gaze to Kawasaki. "So, I've decided to be charitable. Give to the needy, you know? The less fortunate are always thankful, no matter what I give them!"

My brain was shorting out. This was real. This was actually happening. An acquaintance... no, a friend was being assaulted. But I wasn't doing anything. I was watching from afar, like I'd been doing for all of my pathetic life.

I had always prided myself on knowing how and when to act. But when the chips were down, I wilted. Like I always had, and always would. "You don't know what pressure feels like."

"Though, I am a selfish man, unfortunately," The melodrama returned to the blonde's voice. "I cannot give away my money so freely. I'm simply too attached!"

His dark-skinned friend picked up where he left off. "So, we've settled for a compromise. In exchange for our generous donations, we only request certain... favors."

For the first time that night, I heard Kawasaki speak with uncertainty in her voice. "... what kind of favors?"

The blonde's eyes widened maniacally. "Oh, I'm so glad you asked! See, isn't cooperation fun?"

"It's nothing much, honestly." The skinny one shrugged, acting helpless. "All we want is to have some fun, you see. Hit the town, catch a movie, and have a good time, you dig?"

"He's right!" The blonde took over from there. "A good time is all we ask for!"

"But see, what I enjoy the most about having fun are the sleepovers." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just love bonding with people I've never met before. It's a great way to make friends, you know? And you..." His eyes traveled down Kawasaki's body with a hungry gaze. "... would be a fine addition to our group of friends."

So their intentions were finally known. Not that I hadn't seen it coming, though. Frankly, I was much more worried about Kawasaki than anything else at this rate. I was pretty sure I was sweating profusely, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

Kawasaki had barely spoken. In all honesty, she seemed rattled. I'd lost a visual of her face, and that worried me even more. Was she tempted? Would she accept the offer that she knew would eventually come? The very thought of it made me want to throw up.

I finally made to move, but a cough nearby garnered my attention. As I turned to the source, I realized that it came from the man I had served earlier, though he wasn't looking at me. He kept his eyes forward, his steely gaze not moving even an inch. I was confused, most certainly. Had that been intentional?

The sound of a voice picking up again drew my attention once more. It belonged to the blonde. "So, how about it? Wanna have some fun with us?"

Kawasaki didn't respond at first. Slowly, I felt myself becoming more and more enraptured in my own despair. Despite all the false bravado I'd displayed earlier, and despite how uncaring I made myself out to be, in the end, I wasn't able to accomplish anything. Not because I chose not to, but because I couldn't, even if I tried.

I was too weak to proclaim how I felt, and even weaker to try and bring about change in my own circumstances. I was too afraid to go against other people, and fight for what I believed in. My teeth were clenched, and I felt all the confidence from before quickly draining out of me. Like I was some pathetic, worthless balloon.

At the end of the day, I was ultimately a coward. And nothing I did would change that fact.

I saw Kawasaki slowly and tentatively reach out to the blonde asshole's hand, which held the ridiculous amount of cash. The shit-eating grin he donned prompted me to turn away and close my eyes. I couldn't bear to watch this.

And yet, as I wallowed in my own grief, a sudden sound compelled me to begrudgingly open my eyes—the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Slowly, my eyes turned towards the commotion. The young blonde man had his head turned at an odd angle, as if he were looking down at something. Upon further inspection, however, I saw a different story. His left cheek was colored a nasty shade of red, and he looked visibly shocked. What had happened?

Kawasaki was standing tall, her hand raised high and upwards for all to see. The sound had drawn the attention of the entire room, but I wasn't paying attention to that aspect of the situation. Rather, I was staring at her now visible face, and the expression it was currently wearing—one of unadulterated rage and disgust.

She... slapped him?

"Let's get one thing straight," Kawasaki spoke, not bothering to hide the immense amounts of anger in her tone. "You're being a damn nuisance. You have no right to be making demands in my workplace during my shift."

The blonde man stuttered, completely dumbfounded. "W-Wha... what the—"

"Don't you dare open your fucking mouth. If you so much as cough, I'll beat your face in."

Needless to say, the room was stunned. To see this high school girl verbally beating up on this group of college-age boys was like something out a movie. Hell, I was shocked out of my pants myself. Though, it was more of an stunned admiration more so than a horrified silence.

She leaned in close to the group of young men, primarily to their leader, eyes blazing as she spoke each word with a fury straight from the soul. "Listen close, jackass. If you think that waving around a wad of cash in my face is enough to make me get on my knees and beg, you're sorely mistaken. I would never whore myself for anyone, much less to the likes of you. Nothing you offered me in this world or the next would prompt me to even look at that measly thing you call a penis."

Like I said previously, she had a way with words.

"Fun? With you idiots? If you wanted me to kick your asses for money so badly, you should have just asked!" The tiniest of smirks then began to spread across the former delinquent girl's face. "Hell, I'd do it for free if you asked politely."

This must have been only a snippet of what she used to be when she was younger. If I weren't so shocked at the moment, I would have been tempted to silently thank the lord above that I never crossed paths with her in middle school.

"I don't know what possessed you to think that I was just another easy women willing to spread her legs for anything with cash and a torso, but know this," she let pride swell into her voice, not even trying to hold back at this point. "I'm strong. Real strong. Stronger than the three of you maggots put together, and then some. I've earned my keep in the world, and there's nothing any of you limp-dicks can do to take that away from me. Throw all the money you want at me. I'm fine with how hard I've worked to make it to where I am now."

For the first time in what felt like forever, I fully began to acknowledge the mental and physical strength of Kawasaki Saki. To be able to stare danger and possible temptation right in the face and spit in it was something I'd never dreamed of seeing, much less doing.

In a way, I was a bit jealous, though I'd never admit that aloud. She was everything I quietly wished I could be. Strong, determined, and able to stand by her beliefs and attain what she wanted. In that sense, her strength was unmatched by anyone I knew.

"I'm fighting the temptation to beat you senseless, so pay close attention," Kawasaki, as it appeared, made to finish off her opponents. "Take that wad of cash in your hand, shove it up your ass, and crawl back to daddy or whatever hole you came out from and never come back." For emphasis, she cracked her knuckles in a rather menacing display. "Got it?"

After she finished her (admittedly refreshing) rant, no one said anything for what felt like an eternity. I guess even rich folks knew when to shut up. Though, even I knew this momentary lapse of drama wouldn't last forever.

As if on cue, the dark-skinned guy immediately stood up from his seat, about as angry as I had assumed he would be. "Y-You... you fucking bitch!"

Kawasaki, despite the pressure in the room, allowed a dry, humorless laugh to escape her lips. "Aww, did I hurt your pwecious widdle ego? Don't worry, I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there looking far and wide for a good two inches."

The blonde, still reeling a bit from his fresh verbal scars, made to his feet next. "Shut up, slut! I'll make sure you never open that fucking smartass mouth of yours ever again! Do you know who I am?! I'll fucking ruin your—!"

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" A cool, collected voice made its presence known. Much to my surprise, I saw a familiar face I'd expected to see long before the situation spiraled into chaos—Oshino was standing right behind the three men, not looking to be fazed in the slightest. His usual smile was gone, however, replaced with a rather disapproving frown. "Goodness, I take one little smoke break and the entire bar goes straight to the crucifix. I just can't catch a break these days!"

The skinny brunette, in a fit of barely contained rage, seethed as he glared in Oshino's direction. "Who the hell are you?"

Oshino received the question as if he'd been asked to a picnic brunch. "Who am I? Oh, no one special, truly." His face continued to juxtapose his tone, as he chose to keep the frown while he spoke with his normal, cheery tone. "I'm just the manager of this fine establishment, that's all."

"So you're the manager of this shithole, eh?" The blonde man spoke dangerously. In my eyes, he looked to have long lost his cocky, surefire façade from earlier, as well as all forms of common sense. He simply looked desperate now, like a wild animal on its last legs.

Though, I couldn't say I felt bad for him. Hell, he deserved a good beating or two in addition to jail time, in my humble opinion. But hey, who am I to play the prosecutor?

"That'd be correct." Oshino replied the blonde's threatening question, not batting an eye.

"So you're the shitbag who hired this whore, right?" The blonde switched his gaze from Oshino to Kawasaki, and back again. "If you hadn't hired the bitch, I probably wouldn't have been in this situation! She must have given you a pretty good fuck if she got a stick-in-the-ass like you to hire her!"

I was really starting to get tired of this guy. Not only was everything he said totally and outrageously false (he even managed to screw up Oshino's personality—that man was the farthest thing from a stick-in-the-ass), but the sexual insults were just plain crude and unnecessary. Hearing him call Kawasaki multiple derogatory terms was making my blood absolutely boil, especially when she did nothing to deserve such tacky labels.

Good god, I'd been standing here for long enough. It was finally time to get off of my ass and do something about this whole dilemma.

"Hey, dumbass." I called over, my throat a bit dodgy from misuse. The blonde, his gang, and Kawasaki all turned to me at the same time, along with the rest of the room. It seemed the floor was mine.

"And just who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, no one special, truly." I spoke, copying Oshino's line from earlier. I knew he wouldn't ever let me live that one down, but now was hardly the appropriate time to think of that. "I'm just here to tell you that calling people whores and sluts isn't really a nice way to make friends."

"You...!"

"Also, stop trying to compensate. I know some of us aren't as fortunate as others when it comes to certain... bodily advantages, but throwing money in people's faces is hardly an effective coping mechanism."

The blonde looked ready to tear my head off, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared. Even so, I'd also be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this moment of power. Yes, this was one of the rare times I was actually proud of myself. Tonight hadn't been such a bust after all.

"Are you mocking me, you damn clown?!" The blonde shrieked. Seriously, how did he still have the energy to keep yelling?

Though, his anger simply made my next line that much more satisfying. "Of course not. All I want to do is have a good time, you dig?"

He wasn't a very big fan of that.

It all happened so quickly. In the blink of an eye, the blonde sprinted right at me, hurdling over tables with an intent to kill, suddenly revealing a pocketknife previously concealed within his jacket. I could practically feel the hostility oozing from his body, and I knew that even if I somehow managed to establish some sort of defense, I'd probably end up with more than a few broken bones and gashes.

As such, I threw my arms in front of me in a defensive stance, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping for the best. In the back of my head, I managed to register Kawasaki screaming desperately for me to get out of the way. Not that I had much of a choice.

Then, for the second time that night, another surprising development occurred right before my eyes.

Slowly opening my eyes, as to make sure I wasn't already dead, I was confused when I saw the blonde man pinned forcefully against the ground, struggling with all his might yet unable to squirm more than a few inches. On top of him was a figure that I could have sworn had faded from my sight for the past fifteen minutes, and had only just reappeared.

The man in the long coat I had served before held the boy down with a strong grip, quickly removing the knife from his grasp. Thankfully, the blonde's buddies were much too shocked by what had just happened to do much of anything, rendering them completely useless as their faces were glued on to their idiotic friend's prone body.

I made no effort to move, and simply chose to let the man do what he had apparently been waiting to do. I watched silently as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and strapped them on to the blonde's wrists, sighing with a tired grunt as he did so.

"Man, all I wanted to do was get wasted and go home. Honestly, the nerve of some of you young people is baffling."

He apparently noticed my cautious staring, and immediately reverted back into his more relaxed posture. "Oh, sorry kid. I should probably explain before you start getting scared."

Fumbling around in his pocket, he eventually grabbed what looked to be a badge, with his face imprinted via photo on an extended section. "Isshiki Saito, Chiba Police Department. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hikigaya Hachiman."

I felt a strange but oddly familiar jolt run through my body at the sound of my name coming from his mouth. "How do you know my—?"

"It's nothing of great concern, I assure you." The man chided with a nonchalant wave of the hand. "My daughter does enjoy talking about you, though."

His daughter? Wait... that name... Isshiki Saito...?

I eventually connected the dots, and I felt my brain almost explode from the realization. There were a ton of questions I wanted to ask, like how the hell Iroha, and in turn her father, knew I was working here, but all I could manage to form with my mouth were the basic statements. "You're Isshiki's dad?!"

"Details, details." The man, Mr. Saito, didn't really seem to care that much at the current moment. "Go on, take a break. I texted headquarters the situation earlier, so they should be here any moment now. You just go and relax, kid."

I was still a tad shocked, honestly. A friend of mine's father, who was apparently a cop, just so happened to be seated by me while I was being attacked by random college boys, and managed to save me from what looked to be certain death. It was too much of a coincidence for it to just be coined to luck. Perhaps the rom-com gods had finally taken pity on me and found it within themselves to spare me a single, meager blessing.

It was all such a hassle, though. The non-existent bastards apparently hadn't even considered the possibility that I perhaps wanted to die. Inconsiderate jerks.

I managed to take a quick gander around the room as my previous tension left me. People were beginning to file out of the bar, not wanting to involve themselves in matters requiring the authorities. For once in my life, I related to those drunken fools. This night had been eventful, and by no means in a good way. In the back of my mind, I was tempted to sneak out with them.

Even if I had wanted to stay, however, Oshino wasn't having any of it. "Hikigaya-kun," The man called over to me, a bit frantically. "I want you to take Kawasaki-chan with you to the back room. Don't come out until I say so, alright?"

I wondered what had managed to get the man so worked up. He'd been doing fine just before. Maybe the cops scared him?

Seemingly reading my mind, Oshino made to elaborate. "It's nothing too serious. I just want you two to be out of the way when the authorities arrive."

I quirked an eyebrow at his response. "That seems rather shady."

"Just take her and go, please. I'm not in the mood right now."

Deciding to heed his word rather than displease him further, I made my way over to the back hallway, looking through the area in an attempt to find Kawasaki. To my surprise, she was waiting for me at the beginning of the hallway, eyes down and donning a permanent scowl. Yeah, she was still in a bad mood.

Wordlessly, I followed her into the comfort of the break room, making sure to keep my eyes away from her right hand.

Needless to say, sitting quietly in the most run-down and spacious room in the entire bar was awkward for the both us. My eyes refused to leave the ground, and I could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on the top of my forehead. Oh, what I'd do to be in bed right about now.

After safely analyzing all aspects of the night's events, I could confidently conclude that tonight was close to being one of the worst nights I'd ever had to have gone through. I'd been verbally abused by a coworker, then been forced to watch said coworker almost be forced into what looked to be a prostitution ring, and had a quick brush with death not more than fifteen minutes ago.

I just wanted to go home. I was confused, sweaty, and above all else, tired. Even now, I was fighting the urge to shut my eyes and fall asleep on the tacky pink loveseat I had found myself sitting on.

I briefly wondered what was going through Kawasaki's head at the moment. I mean, it wasn't everyday that you got sexually assaulted by a group of rich college students. I wondered if she was as badly shaken up by the entire ordeal as I was?

Slowly, I angled my head upwards to get a good look at Kawasaki. She was seated on an old wooden chair across from me, legs folded in a proper manner. Her arms were crossed defiantly, and she looked to be heavily interested in the wall beside her. Her face was expressionless, but still rather unwelcoming.

She looked as tired as I did. Guilt began to wash over me as my eyes lingered on her form. Here I was, complaining about how tired I was, when the girl across from me had gone through the entire thing firsthand. I hardly ever felt genuinely sorry for someone else, but seeing Kawasaki sit with such a tired expression made me rethink bypassing this whole thing quietly.

Before I could even open my mouth, Kawasaki beat me to the punch.

"Tonight sucked."

For once, a reply came easy.

"I agree." I responded, rubbing my eyes. Seriously, I needed a blanket.

I thought the conversation would die there, but Kawasaki continued. "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that." I shot her a gaze, trying my best to look worried. Such a feat was hard to accomplish this late at night, however.

Her eyes met mine, a whirlpool of emotions I couldn't decipher. "Oh, so now you want to care for others?"

So she was still mad. Yeah, I probably should have seen that coming.

Kawasaki released a long sigh of resignation. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just been a long day, and I'm still kinda pissed."

I honestly didn't know what to say, so I settled for a cautious answer. "It's fine."

"I mean, seriously. I'm just trying to earn a paycheck here," Kawasaki began to start another tangent, tapping her foot angrily on the ground as she spoke. "And as it turns out, I can't even do that without attracting trouble. Like, of all the women who work in bars across Chiba, why am I the one targeted by spineless horndogs with nothing better to do?"

Sitting and watching Kawasaki verbalize her anger was oddly refreshing for me. Seeing her release all of that pent up frustration she'd been forced to hold in for the sake of her job was, in all likelihood, the healthiest thing to do in times like these. Plus, it was surprisingly soothing for me to hear. Like white noise playing in the background during one of the many naps I'd taken in my lifetime.

"I just don't understand," She continued, rubbing her temples in exasperation. "It's not like I'm super pretty or anything."

"Nonsense, you're gorgeous," I realized the possible implications of what I'd just said aloud all too late. In hindsight, I didn't know what had washed over me. My mouth just moved on its own accord, like it had a mind of its own. Funny how that worked.

Kawasaki suddenly became very quiet. In all honesty, I was expecting to receive a lashing similar to the one I'd received earlier today after my careless comment. I was sure Kawasaki was fed up with being hit on by guys today, and for someone as gross as me to follow up to what had happened earlier was practically asking for a beating.

When I wasn't introduced to her fist, though, I carefully looked up. She was gazing at me in a rather confused look, as if she was making sure I was real. As we stared at each other, my eyes began roaming the mostly unnoticeable parts of her figure—she'd let her hair down, her long azure locks falling over her shoulder, and had rolled up her sleeves, revealing the spotless, porcelain skin of her arm.

I'd been taking more notice of Kawasaki recently. Well, then again, I hardly knew her name not that long ago, so I guess any type of attention would have been sufficient enough to qualify as more. It wasn't just the emotional characteristic of her, either. While I normally disregarded the superficial aspects of a person, I'd found that I'd become more aware of Kawasaki's more... physical attributes.

What? I'm a healthy, teenage boy. Even someone as anti-people as me can't help but notice a pretty girl's figure. I mean, it's not like I actually like Kawasaki, right?

Said girl across from me finally managed to escape from her dazed stupor, and leaned back into her chair muttering under her breath. "Oh... thanks."

I'd been anticipating my own verbal beating, so I was a fair bit shocked. That was it? Really?

Where was the anger from before? The defiance to be labeled as anything by a member of the male species? The quiet, tired mess in front of me was like nothing from what I saw in the bar! Was it too hard for her to be like a normal girl and not do anything I wouldn't expect her to do? She was making this whole thing so much more awkward for me than it had to be!

Why was it like this? Rationality, reason, logic, it was all thrown out the window when I was with her. Why?

I sighed. I just had to let it go. I was overthinking this whole thing.

"You're welcome." I replied as casually as I could. It'd be best to just act as if nothing had happened.

But, there was something I wanted to ask her. Something that had been plaguing my mind ever since we'd entered the room.

"Hey, Kawasaki."

"...Yeah?"

I gulped. This was a lot more nerve-racking than what I'd anticipated. "Back there, in the bar. Were you seriously considering... you know..."

Almost immediately, Kawasaki replied in a spell of fury. "Considering actually going with those freaks? Is that even a question?"

Scratching the back of my head, I continued. "Yeah, I know, it's stupid. But that was a lot of money. More than enough for your education, I'm sure."

Kawasaki made a low humming noise in her throat, a sign of annoyance. "Sure, it was a lot of money. But I have self-respect, and people to take care of. I can't afford to be whoring myself to people when I have my siblings to feed and watch over. I meant what I said in there."

On a somewhat lighter note, she pressed on. "Besides, I want to be someone Keika and Taishi can look up to and be proud of. Not some low-level women scraping for money from the inside of a man's wallet."

I should have expected as much from her. I'd forgotten that the pride of Kawasaki Saki was almost immeasurable. Someone like her would have never accepted such a proposition, and I was a fool for thinking otherwise.

Adjusting her posture, Kawasaki looked at me with curious eyes. "Why'd you ask? Were you worried at all?"

Duh, of course I was worried. Why would I ask if I wasn't worried about you?

"Yeah, I guess you could say that..." I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. Was it hot in here, or was it just me?

Uncharacteristically, I saw Kawasaki actually smile softly at my response. Despite the current setting and my own fatigue, I found myself looking away in embarrassment. I still wasn't accustomed to being surrounded by pretty girls all the time.

"Hachiman," She called out to me, and I felt a tangible shift in the room's mood. "Thanks for sticking up for me. Seriously."

"Stop, I didn't do anything." She shouldn't have been complimenting me. I'd been chastising myself for a good portion of the fiasco, so I was under no eligibility for praise. "You solved that entire thing yourself."

"But you still stuck up for me." She retorted, albeit in as kind a manner possible. "You put yourself in danger for my sake. I appreciate that a lot, really."

Why was she trying to hard to make me sound cool? Let me be a loser, damnit!

"I guess I was wrong about you," She continued, a bit of a laugh making it into her voice. "You do know how to solve problems without making yourself everyone's personal doormat."

I shot her a glare, but that only served to make her giggle even more. This girl was seriously testing my ability to restrain myself. She was about as irksome as Yukinoshita, in some ways.

Still, watching her quietly laughing to herself was conflicting for me. Everything I'd been criticizing and defying about the world and people in general was beginning to look faulty. I found that I was actually able to tolerate Kawasaki's presence, and that I maybe, kind of, sort of... liked hanging out with her.

It was odd. No one made me question my own ideologies before, ever. Even now, I still had a hard time comprehending the idea that the claims I had made, backed by firsthand accounts and an abundance of evidence, had the chance of being incorrect. The modern world was a bottomless pit of despair and fake relationships, and I'd acknowledged this truth for years now.

But the introduction of Kawasaki into my daily routine was changing things. Now, I had a job, a social life, and what I guess I could call work acquaintances (I'm still hesitant to call Oshino any type of "friend"). Before any of this, I would have detested the idea of even stepping foot outside past sundown. I was aware of my own change, but I didn't know whether or not this change I was experiencing contradicted everything I stood for in my life.

All this questioning and thinking was making my head hurt. It was way too late to be pondering whether or not I was slowly becoming a normal member of society, as disgusting as it sounded. For now, I was just focused on the present. Which apparently involved me humoring this silver-haired enigma, who was still snickering at me from across the room.

Though, watching her enjoy herself was comforting, as much as I wasn't willing to admit it. Perhaps, in the grander scheme of things, changing wasn't the absolute worst thing to ever happen to me. Maybe I could just call it "adapting to my surroundings". Yeah, that sounded better. I was still as much as a loser I always was, and I would continue to be for the rest of time.

In regards to what I stated earlier, I still believe it to be true. Friendship and camaraderie is, generally, still a farce created by hypocrites, for hypocrites. Misunderstandings will still occur between polar opposites, and people will still get hurt. It is the way life tends to go, and one of the few irrevocable truths of the world which cannot be changed.

Yes, friendship truly is a fragile, fickle and useless thing. But as I stared at Kawasaki Saki, I thought that maybe it wouldn't hurt to try it out.

"Can I just say something?" I called out to her as she finished laughing. Her mirthful expression made its way over to me. I felt myself becoming increasingly self-conscious.

"That... was pretty badass."

Kawasaki's eyes widened slightly, before her smile grew. "You think so?" Obviously, woman. Why would I tell you otherwise?

"Don't do that again though," I quickly added. "That's bad for my heart."

"I'll try not to attract too much attention," Kawasaki relented, though she couldn't help but sound pleased with the fact. Serves me right for complimenting someone else.

"But if it does happen again, I know I'll have you backing me up, right?" Her eyes drifted over to me. How sure she sounded of that suggestion. As though she already knew I wouldn't think twice of helping her were she to get herself in another pinch.

Well, it wasn't as though it weren't true. I was still technically obligated under the club to do so, anyway. "Sure."

Kawasaki smiled.

"That's all I want."

And that's that. Good grief, this took forever.

Fun fact, this is the longest chapter I've ever typed up. 11k+ words is a lot of reading, so I do hope that you don't mind the length. If you do, then hey, at least you made it to the end.

This chapter was a little different from the general theme of the story, I know. I promise this will be as angst-filled and dramatic as this story will get. Next chapter will be much more lighthearted, so stay tuned.

On another note, I do hope you enjoy the little references I throw in here and there. Though most authors tend to point them out, I'd rather you find them for yourself. It's much more fulfilling that way.

Again, thanks for reading! I appreciate all the feedback you've given me so far. Your reviews have served as great motivation for me, so keep them coming!

Well, that's it for now. Hope y'all will stick around for the next chapter. Have a great day!

~Slalem

EDIT 04/29/2019: Minor changes to dialogue and text.