Still, the springtime of their youth continues to blossom.
While there is nothing I hate more in life than working, the concept of modern parties are a close second.
I know what you're thinking. "But Hachiman, you've never been to a party, how can you possibly make such a claim?" That would be false. I've been to plenty of parties during my lifetime. Of course, this is me we're talking about, so the number of parties I've attended is still in single-digit territory, but even so, that's plenty enough to make an accurate generalization on the matter.
I'm a quiet person, as I'm sure you've noticed. A fly on the wall, a living ghost. The physical incarnation of a wallflower, so to speak. Despite this, my presence for whatever reason is highlighted whenever I enter a public setting, and double that whenever I'm at a party. I've been pulled over and interrogated more than a few times during my party-going escapades, asked if I was even invited in the first place. I apparently stick out that much.
So, what do I do at parties? Why, I do what I always do, regardless of setting—I observe.
Through my various firsthand studies at these multiple social gatherings, I've learned many things about the numerous aspects of parties. Parties and their success are wildly dependent on two factors—the type of party you want to have, and the people you invite over. For example, you can't invite people expecting a simple social get-together over to an all-night rager. That certain demographic contrasts directly with the tone of the party you're trying to set, thus creating an unsuccessful, and ultimately lame, party.
On the flipside, however, inviting all the dude-bros and popular girls in town to the all-nighter would be a surefire way to make sure your party remains, well, a party. By inviting a much more outgoing and carefree group of people, you get to have the type of party you want with the people you know will enjoy it. The invitees should enhance the party, rather than bring it down.
Of course, there isn't nearly as much thought used in selecting people to invite to a party as I might have implied there to be. Typically, people will just invite their closest friends or their relatives over, depending on the type of party, regardless of their personalities and preferred type of gathering. It makes for an interesting combination of people, most certainly.
Most of the parties I ended up attending were not planned like they were above, and were more or less planned in a "let's just invite everyone willing to come" type of format. There's little chance I would have been allowed to enter otherwise.
Back to what I was trying to say. I've more or less always found myself on the wrong side of the party spectrum—I usually got invited to the crazy parties, rather than the mellow get-togethers. Looking back, I have no idea who thought inviting someone like me to a party like that was a good idea, or why I even resigned to going in the first place. I was much more naïve back then, and had a lot more faith in the world, and people in general. In truth, though, I only really attended parties out of obligation, instead of actually looking to have a good time.
As one would expect, I'm a bad fit at these gatherings. They were all so wild, intense, and above all else, hot. By the time I would leave (which would normally be about fifteen minutes after arriving), I'd always be covered in sweat, with more than a few yen missing from my wallet.
These parties were basically what you'd expect them to be—glorified orgy-fests. It was a disgusting and equally disturbing showing of witless lust and lack of self-control. I'm no devout abstinence-touting crusader, but the sheer amount of hormones present at these gatherings were almost physically off-putting.
Such a lost and desperate attempt to find "love" was incredibly pathetic. As if you'd find the woman of your dreams rubbing her backside against every other male at the function. No, these foolish, idealistic idiots only came to wild parties to fulfill their never-ending feelings of misguided sexual frustration towards the opposite sex, regardless of gender.
Of course, not every party was a complete and total bust. I always did enjoy Komachi's birthdays, especially when she was younger. These days, she'd have a public party with her friends at some mall or restaurant, but would still make time to have a private little party with myself and my parents. They were more like small little gatherings in the living room and were a stretch to really call a "party", but it was the thought that counted.
Unfortunately, not every party can compare to my little sister's. The general consensus of parties serve as yet another measly attempt to escape from reality—a reason quite similar to the motivations people have for going to bars. And, as it turns out, I happen to know plenty about both areas in question.
Parties, in reality, are just hellish, elaborate illusions created to help one distract themselves from the day-to-day horror one endlessly dealt with by merely existing. Because of this wildly successful lie, parties will likely become a social norm for centuries to come, and will eventually lead to the downfall of humanity and the mass extinction of our species by dumbing us down to the point where we adopt the thinking capabilities similar to that of phytoplankton.
As I sat in class and sadly reminisced over my days as a party animal, Hiratsuka-sensei slammed open the sliding door (somehow—how do you even do that?), and strode to the front of the class, visibly pleased with something. Did she finally manage to get a boyfriend? Poor, unfortunate soul.
"Good morning, class!" She spoke aloud, not bothering to conceal the wide grin on her face as she spoke. A few of the other students managed to pick up on her rather sudden bout of enthusiasm, and shot each other somewhat worried glances.
Hiratsuka-sensei quickly retrieved a piece of chalk, before writing big, bolded words on the chalkboard behind her. As soon as I saw the words she'd inscribed, I immediately felt like throwing up.
"As I'm sure you're all aware," Hiratsuka-sensei boomed. "Tomorrow marks the beginning of preparations for the Cultural Festival! An exciting opportunity to showcase our proud heritage and lineage to the entire school, through entertainment and service!"
The idea of throwing a class party right after I discuss my absolute hatred for parties. How terribly convenient.
Exciting? Exciting, my ass. There was nothing fun about having to spend days on end renovating the class into some cheap restaurant, theater, or any other type of knockoff building I could think of. Backbreaking labor was such a pain, and to have to exert it for something as meaningless as a festival was just delusional.
Besides, It's not like anyone really gave a damn about the "cultural" aspect of the festival. In reality, it was just a cheap excuse to slack off and see the pretty girls in maid outfits. It was nothing but a perverted fanboy's wet dream. And I was not some kind of fanboy.
It was just my luck, really. Parties are such a waste of my youth, and yet I'm thrust into one as soon as I start remembering how bad they are. I'd like to think the rom-com gods have had more than enough fun toying with my life, yet time and time again I'm mistaken.
"I'm sure you're all looking forward to participating," my desperate teacher continued with a proud smile. True to her word, my low-IQ classmates all began to chat animatedly with each other, no doubt excited at the prospect of being able to do whatever the hell they wanted to for the next week and a half. The entire festival structure was more flawed than the actual school system itself, and that's saying something.
"I can't wait to see what you all have in store for the school this year, and I'm excited to see all of you do your very best!" Her eyes, very conspicuously, made their way over to me. "All of you."
I grunted, rolling my eyes and burying myself deeper into my desk. Very funny, you old hag.
Yuigahama gave me a somewhat worried look, mouthing the words, "Good luck!" to me from across the room. That pink-haired buffoon. Spare me your worthless pity.
"Before we get started though, we need to select a theme for our class," Hiratsuka grabbed a bucket near the front of the class, before handing each of us a small slip of paper. "Write your ideas on this piece of paper. Whichever ideas with the most votes will be what we go with this year. Go!"
I heard the sounds of scribbling fill the room, a few perverted giggles quickly following suit. Honestly, the maturity level of this class was like that of an elementary school. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that whatever would end up being chosen as our theme would be in some way detrimental to the female population's dignity.
I sighed. Well, it wasn't my problem, I took a lazy glance at my slip of paper. I didn't know what to write down. I didn't want to write anything down. This entire thing was pointless to the millionth degree, and I wasn't going to indulge myself in such a shallow development.
My eyes wandered, scanning each of my classmates. Yuigahama looked stumped, rubbing her head with an angry look on her face. Jeez, relax. This isn't some sort of test.
I managed to spot Kawasaki in my peripheral vision. She'd actually bothered to come to school today, a surprising revelation. Normally after working her night shift, she hardly cared for attending classes, which might have gone in tandem with her wanting to take more shifts at the bar.
Lately, however, she'd starting coming to class more and more often. Additionally, she'd revealed to me that her grades were steadily improving some time ago. Maybe she wanted to make up for all of the days she had missed? This sort of effort from her was unheard of previously, and more than a bit suspicious.
It wasn't like the class really minded her being here. Ebina was always thrilled to see her, at the very least. In a sense, she was like me—quiet, lonesome, and easy to miss. Of course, her social standing wasn't nearly as bad as mine was, but it was a similar principle.
I realized that I'd been staring at her back, and quickly tore my eyes away. I didn't want people getting the wrong idea. My status of a loner trumps everything in life, even if I catch myself admiring people from time to time.
My little daze had lasted a little longer than I thought it would, as I saw Hiratsuka-sensei begin to collect everyone's slips of paper. Realizing I still hadn't written anything down, I hastily folded my slip in half. I'd just have to act like I wrote something down.
After Hiratsuka-sensei collected everyone's slips (she gave me a rather nasty look as she passed me, the devil), she began shaking the bucket around to shuffle them accordingly. "Remember, the most appropriate and affordable suggestion with the most votes wins. If there's a tie, we'll vote on it as a class. Ready?"
I didn't bother nodding in response. I shut my eyes and laid into my arms on the desk, hoping to catch a quick snooze while the voting unfolded. Maybe if I was lucky enough, that old hag wouldn't notice me sleeping, and I'd somehow manage to sleep through the entire period. Ah, what bliss that would be.
Hiratsuka-sensei began reading off all of the slips. "Gaming arcade... a little pricey, but I'll think about it... a movie theater? Interesting idea, I like it! Next... a maid café? Tobe, this isn't an anime."
Said idiot guffawed in mild embarrassment, while rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry teach! I just, like, couldn't help it you know? It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!"
I groaned internally, trying my best not to vomit on my desk. Why was everyone in my class such a horny idiot?
As more and more generic suggestions came and went, I felt the urge to sleep becoming increasingly hard to ignore. My sleeping schedule was still as unstable as it had been since I started working, and consistent opportunities to catch up on any well-deserved rest were becoming fewer and farther between. I was beginning to fall asleep in the most random of places—my lunch spot near the tennis court, the bathtub, and even the clubroom had become impromptu bedrooms during my random fits of slumber.
Of course, it wasn't like I could help it. Sleep was a fundamental necessity for human beings, and even an energy-conserving master like myself couldn't properly function without it. Though, I openly questioned how some people (namely a certain silver-haired coworker of mine) managed to operate without occasional breaks.
Hiratsuka-sensei droned on and on, and I felt my mind begin to clear itself of any and all thoughts. The mere thought of even moving my body seemed unrealistic and tiresome to me now. Maybe a few minutes of shut-eye wouldn't hurt.
Drifting into unconsciousness, I felt my soul become at ease. Yes, this was what I had always yearned for. A laid back, easygoing existence, free of worries, stress, and above all else, riajuus. If I could, I would let myself be overcome by this euphoric feeling for the rest of eternity.
"Hikigaya Hachiman."
Well, it was worth a shot.
Hiratsuka-sensei was standing directly above my desk, leering at me like some kind of malicious predator—probably a cougar, were I forced to pick one (good one, Hachiman!). I admit, I'd have been a bit scared if not for the lingering feeling of pleasure from the solid three minutes of sleep I had managed to get. Maybe next time, I'll get three and a half minutes. A man can dream, can't he?
Not even bothering to hear what I had to say (as was the norm these days), Hiratsuka-sensei gave me her best Gendo Ikari impression as she glowered down at me with eyes barely concealing her outright anger. "I see you've finally awakened, Hachiman."
Choosing to remain silent, I elected to just stare at her and pretend that I didn't understand the problem. Feigned ignorance was hardly a tactic I hadn't been exposed to. In fact, it was a trademark move of a certain kouhai of mine, whom I had picked up the habit from after repeated exposure. It turned out that lousy puppet of a student council president was good for some things, at the very least.
Of course, the sudden attention entirely focused on me was hardly desirable. There were mixed emotions from my classmates, based on what I could see. Some were quietly lamenting my impending doom, while others were trying their hardest not to burst out laughing. Yeah, laugh it up while you can, fools. It won't be so funny once I mentally obliterate you with clever quips and disses, and subsequently think up of ways to make you suffer in the multiple imaginary scenarios playing in my head where I preside over you all.
"Care for an explanation?" Hiratsuka-sensei offered, though with a noticeable lack of sympathy. So she was going to give me a chance to clear myself, then? She must be feeling extra generous today. All that smoking must have finally gotten to her.
Lamely, I shrugged my shoulders as I stretched, trying my best to ignore the tension building in the room. "I was tired," I answered her casually. What? It was the truth.
Her eye twitched, indicating that I'd chosen the wrong answer. "Were you, now?" I kept my mouth shut, choosing not to risk being gut-punched into the wall behind me. My teacher's strength was unparalleled, though her fists were just the start.
The borderline hostility in the room was almost palpable now, even compared to before. My eyes nervously shifted away from my enraged teacher, and momentarily fell onto Kawasaki's frame. In contrast to how she usually acted in class, her attention was fully concentrated on me and Hiratsuka-sensei, while her eyes revealed traces of genuine worry. At least someone was concerned for my wellbeing. Not that it would help me in the eventual ass-kicking I'd receive, but it was still an appreciated gesture.
I silently grumbled. Yukinoshita was going to have a field day once she heard of this little scandal. I could already hear her blasting me relentlessly with lethal insults. Such was the depressing life of Hikigaya Hachiman.
"You know something," Hiratsuka-sensei started. "I don't believe I read what your idea was for the culture festival. Would you mind telling the class your suggestion?"
As if you hadn't embarrassed me enough already. You know what, I take back what I said about marrying you when I got older. You deserve to rot as a single woman for all of eternity.
What was I supposed to say? I hadn't given any thought to this particular scenario. Perhaps I should answer with something super simple and basic, like everyone else had done? That might have helped me escape this fiasco.
Though, with Hiratsuka being as knowledgeable as she was, she would know immediately that I had lied if I gave her a normal-person answer. She probably already knew that I hadn't written anything down, and was just toying with me in order to force me to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone. She might have been single, but she was cunning to some degree.
Hiratsuka-sensei, along with the rest of my classmates, was still waiting for an answer. Guess I'd just have to wing it, then. I decided to settle for the best answer that popped into my head during those next couple of seconds.
"How about an older singles' speed-dating restaurant?"
"..."
"..."
The human brain is made up of about 86 billion brain cells, along with 100,000 neurons and one billion synapses, all of which are fundamentally unique and constantly communicating with each other. Information can transfer through the brain at a maximum of 240 miles per hour, and it's storage capacity is practically unlimited. On average, humans can generate around 70,000 thoughts per day, and knowledge is constantly being added to our brains via outlets like school and the internet. It is widely believed and accepted that the human brain is the smartest thing on the planet when used to the fullest of its capabilities.
Additionally, the brain can process thoughts and questions in a matter of milliseconds, and formulate responses and thoughts just as quickly. Before I had managed to respond, my subconscious had likely thought up of thousands of possible acceptable responses that could have been used, and subsequently ended this situation on a rather happy note.
An older singles' speed-dating restaurant.
Out of all the possible responses I could have picked from, my brain had chosen that one.
Quietly, I sighed and awaited my doom. The rom-com gods strike again.
Hiratsuka-sensei, meanwhile, looked furious. No, not furious. Furious was much too tame a word to appropriately describe the look currently burning in my teacher's expression. The word "furious" probably couldn't even describe a tenth of the feeling Hiratsuka-sensei was feeling right now. In fact, I'd be willing to argue that there wasn't a word in any language or dictionary in the world that could describe the violent spasms currently coursing through my literature teacher's body.
My classmates, meanwhile, were all collectively horrified. Even the most obnoxious and unruly of my classmates didn't dare utter a word, or a breath for that matter. I wondered if they would all attend my funeral?
I shot a final silent prayer to Yuigahama, then to Kawasaki, and lastly to Totsuka. May we meet again in another life, my beautiful angel. I'll watch over you from heaven, or painfully dream about you in hell, or do whatever it is you do whenever one dies. Honestly, I wasn't a real big fan of any kind of afterlife, but it wasn't like I had the option to pick.
"Hikigaya Hachiman..." Hiratsuka-sensei's voice was the lowest I'd ever heard it. I'd be impressed, if I wasn't scared shitless. She'd gone from Gendo Ikari to Johan Liebert in the span of a few minutes.
Her nails (claws, more accurately) dug into my desk, and she spoke with barely restrained rage. "That was a rather funny joke, my dear student. I had no idea that you were such a class clown."
I felt offended. Class clown? Me? That was almost derogatory.
A wicked grin soon formed on Hiratsuka-sensei's face. From Gendo Ikari, to Johan Liebert, and now Alucard? If teaching didn't work out, she could definitely try her hand at cosplaying. She'd make a killing.
"But I've got something better that'll tickle you pink," She taunted. Well, that didn't sound ominous. "Wanna hear it?"
Her other hand slammed onto my desk, making me jump as I reflexively shielded myself with my hands. "Answer me, Hachiman."
"..."
"Well? I'm waiting."
"...yes, ma'am."
"Yes ma'am, what?"
"Please... continue, Hiratsuka-sensei."
An almost feral smirk made its way onto Hiratsuka-sensei's features, and she spoke with audible enjoyment. "Well, if you insist!"
"Since you're so adamant on participating in the cultural festival," She began. "I'll be appointing you as the head of our classroom's festival committee! That means that you're in charge of managing the class before, during, and after the festival!"
I had trouble processing the words she was spewing at me. The meaning of what she said was lost on me, but the sheer potency of them washed over me like a tidal wave. Like my comprehension was moving at a slower pace than my physical reaction.
She gave me a sickly sweet smile that all but sealed my fate. "I wish you the very best of luck, Hikigaya-kun."
Hiratsuka-sensei returned to teaching, and I spent the rest of my afternoon staring into a wall.
"Ah, so school's got you down, eh, kid?"
"Yeah..."
"You know, when I was your age, I hardly ever attended school. I spent most of my time fighting thugs and reading porn."
"... that's nice."
It was pretty obvious that daddy-cop Isshiki wasn't really the best person to go to for advice. Then again, it wasn't like I had a ton of options to choose from.
Work was uncharacteristically slow tonight. We'd been getting a whole lot of buzz and attention after the whole incident with the college boys, so we'd been on the receiving end of a large influx of news agencies and customers as of recently. During my last couple of nights, we'd been struggling to fit everyone at a table. Tonight was one of the rare nights where almost all of the tables were empty.
Actually, scratch that. All the tables were empty. In fact, daddy-cop Isshiki was the only person in the bar that wasn't an employee.
It wasn't that I didn't like him. No, that wasn't it at all. He was surprisingly good company in the sea of dull and boring people I had to put up with in my day to day life. He had become a welcome regular in the bar as well—though, I wasn't sure if that was a necessarily good thing, considering the type of industry I worked for.
But, it wasn't like I could blame him. Being a cop probably sucked. Having to put up with other peoples' problems day in and day out with little to no reward sounded terrible. It was one of the few things I could personally relate to with him.
In the end, though, I could safely deduce that Iroha's dad wasn't the most reliable of people to go to. I mean, who the hell reads porn anymore? That's what the internet is for.
The sound of a door opening from the kitchen grabbed my attention, and I was met with Oshino and Kawasaki walking into view, the former with a satisfied look on his face. "Whew, all done! Slow days like these are the best!"
Closing the distance between us in a few steps, Oshino was quick to greet our lone customer. "Yo, Saito! How are you this evening?"
"I feel like shit. Get me more whiskey."
"Sir, that's your fifth glass."
"Huh? Who's the silver-haired girl? You a friend of Iroha's?"
A soft chuckle from Oshino. "Now now, Kawasaki-chan. We don't deny customers until they visibly look like they're about to vomit."
"Get him his drink before he files us for unlawful business practices," I groaned. Oshino skipped away happily, leaving me alone with my classmate and my kouhai's wasted father.
"So, back to what we were talking about," The man turned his body towards me in as coherent a movement as he could muster. The second his jaw unhinged itself, I caught the reeking scent of alcohol oozing from his mouth. I should have probably given him a mint. Or twelve.
Wait, what was it we were talking about again? Oshino's sudden interruption made me lose track of the conversation I'd been having. Jeez, Oshino really did have a knack for coming at the worst possible time... wait, that came out wrong.
"Hikigaya," Kawasaki called to me, breaking me from my momentary lapse. "We need to talk. It's about school."
"Woah, woah, woah. Hold your horses, sweetie," daddy-cop Isshiki flailed his arms around in an incoherent mess, bringing the attention back to himself. "Hikigaya and I were already talking about that long before you barged in. You're gonna have to wait awhile before you can drag him to the closet with you."
Kawasaki took a step back, her own cheeks flaring at the man's bluntness. "W-What are you saying?"
"Don't play dumb with me. I may not look like it, but I was in high school once before. I've seen the way you look at him. You're practically chomping at the bit to get some privacy with fish-eyes here, eh?"
More stammering and yelling. "N-No I'm not!"
A foxy grin snuck its way onto the drunk man's face. "Oh, that's right. You were much more vocal the last time you proclaimed your undying love for him—in front of the entire bar no less! I didn't peg you for an exhibitionist, but I guess kids these days are just more forward in how they act."
Kawasaki shook her head violently, as if trying to forget that the conversation even happened. In all honesty, I didn't really care to catch on to whatever subliminal messages those two were talking about in the first place. I was much more concerned with my own problems. Though, at least I now knew where Iroha got her sly tendencies from.
"Anyways, back on topic," Isshiki had apparently decided to start from the top. "So, you've been forcefully made into your classroom's... what did you say it was again?"
"Project manager."
"Project manager, okay. And now you're in charge of preparing your entire class for the cultural festival, is that right?"
I sighed. "Yeah, pretty much." I was surprised that he'd been following along so well, considering his current BAC.
"Oh, what's that I hear?" Oshino reentered the fray, a noticeable glint in his eyes as he passed our clearly intoxicated customer his fifth glass. "Did someone say something about a cultural festival?"
Before I could open my mouth and say otherwise, daddy-cop managed to beat me to the punch. "Hikigaya here is gonna manage his classroom's cultural festival."
I could have sworn that I saw fireworks shooting from my manager's head as he bounded over to me. "Really?! Is this true, Hikigaya?!"
God, I wish it wasn't. But it wasn't like I could just lie to him. Oshino knew just how to get what he wanted from me, no matter how much I tried to stop him.
I nervously rubbed the back of my head, trying my best to look at anything but his disgustingly happy face. "... yeah."
In response, Oshino almost exploded. "Oh, this is wonderful! I remember going to festivals back when I was in high school!" Trying to think of a younger, even more outgoing Oshino nearly made my head implode. Some things just weren't meant to be thought of.
"Well, what's your theme?"
I looked at Kawasaki for some help, but she merely averted her eyes from me. Abandoned, just like that? I guess I really am a true loner after all.
"Actually, I..."
Gosh, this was really hard to say out loud. It was as if my mind was wanting to say the words, but my physical body was choosing to remain unresponsive. This must have been what it felt like to be a visual novel protagonist. Can I just marry the childhood friend and be done with it?
No. I couldn't back away from this now. I was already in too deep to just up and quit.
I took a deep breath, and spoke the words I never thought I'd hear myself say out loud.
"I need your help."
"So, your theme is a formal ballroom-style party?"
We had assembled in the break room in the back of the bar, in an attempt to gain some privacy. We'd all changed back into our normal attire, seeing that those stuffy outfits we wore for work weren't exactly the most comfortable garments. For such a high-class establishment, you'd have thought that they could have afforded higher quality clothes. Lousy rich people.
Oshino had deemed it okay to close shop for the night, so we were sure to not receive any interruptions. When asked if he would get in trouble, he laughed it off and claimed that the the people in charge would never have the gall to question his judgement. I was thankful for the gesture, even if I'd never admit that to him personally.
Mr. Isshiki had gone home. By the time I had announced my request, the alcohol was really staring to kick in for the enigmatic police officer. Oshino had called him a cab, and sent him on his merry way. I was sure he'd be back in a few days. Nothing could tear that man away from a few good drinks.
The entire situation still felt awkward for me. I wasn't accustomed to asking for help—most of the time, I didn't even entertain the idea that I needed help in the first place. Much like Kawasaki, I was independent to a fault, except that I never considered my own independence to be a fault of mine at all. Outsourcing my problems to other people felt like a waste of time, especially considering the numerous resources at my disposal, primarily my own intellect.
Additionally, if I ever thought of a time that I would need to call for assistance, I had always assumed that it would come in the form of my sister, or as of recently, the service club. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that I'd be receiving help from a reformed delinquent and an extroverted bar manager. The old me was probably disgusted with who I had become, and frankly, I didn't blame him for thinking that way.
Even so, the fact remained that I was currently stuck between a rock and a hard place, and as of now, the only people who could help me out of this jam were the people reclined on the loveseat across from me.
I shot another mental curse towards Hiratsuka. This whole thing had been her own doing. I wasn't at fault in the slightest. If she'd just let me sleep and ignored my entirely understandable fatigue, I wouldn't be in this mess.
"Hellooo? Earth to Hikigaya?"
Silence, peasant. Your very face gives me the urge to stick my head in a meat grinder. Actually, that idea doesn't sound too bad. I'll become a delicious, overly-bitter Hikkiburger, with my only aspiration to be eaten, digested, and turned into waste.
"Yeah. That's the theme."
Hiratsuka-sensei had decided on it shortly after anointing me to my new position. It was the only suggestion that had received multiple votes, three in total. I overheard Yuigahama and Miura not-so-quietly discussing the idea, so I was able to figure those two out as voters. I never did discern who the third was.
"Very classy. I like it!" Oshino cheered, pumping an exaggerated fist into the air.
"It's not like I need total supervision," I quickly got back on track. The sooner I got this out of my system, the sooner I could forget about it. "I just need some tips for how to run this sort of thing."
"Oh, some pointers from someone in the business, eh?" Oshino shot me a coy grin. "Well, you've come to the right person then!"
Loathed as I was to admit it, he was right. Oshino knew how to run a classy establishment inside and out. If there was anyone who could help me with my predicament, it was him.
That being said, I still held my reserves when it came to asking him for help. He was still way too damn happy all the time. If I interacted too much with him, his boundless amounts of positivity would start to rub off on me. The very thought made me shudder.
"Look, I don't want you to get super involved in this, okay? I just need a few tips. That's it."
"Would you prefer for me to come down to your school and help out?"
Before I could immediately shoot that idea to the ground, the more reasonable part of myself was quick to reconsider. Things would go a lot more smoothly if he was physically there to give me advice. Hell, if I played my cards right, I could get him to carry a majority of the workload. That idea alone was incentive enough for me to accept his proposal.
"Can you do that?"
"I'm free tomorrow and the day after. Plus, I can call in sick if I need to." He looked rather proud of himself as he spoke. "The top brass loves me!"
An underhanded tactic to escape the confinements of employment? Maybe Oshino wasn't as bad as I thought he was.
"Alright. I'll take you up on that offer." Making sure he got the message, I added after that, "Don't disappoint me."
Giving an exaggerated bow, Oshino replied courteously. "I promise to help you to the best of my abilities, Hikigaya-kun."
I gave myself a mental high-five. That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.
"Hikigaya," Kawasaki spoke up from her side of the couch. "About what I was going to tell you earlier..."
Oh yeah. She was trying to tell me something in the barroom, during the commotion. "Yeah?"
Her legs fidgeted marginally. "I'm... going to help you."
The second biggest loner in Sobu High (after me of course) was offering her assistance of her own free will? What calamity would come from this decision?
"What?" I replied, a bit too clumsily for my own liking.
"You and I both know that you can't handle this sort of thing by yourself," Kawasaki wasted no time in explaining herself. "You'd probably find someway to ruin it for the entire school body."
Hey, watch it. Just because my methods are unconventional doesn't mean that they don't get me favorable results. Where's this even coming from?
Out of habit, I made to decline her offer. "Thanks, but no thanks. Oshino and I can handle this by ourselves."
"I just said that you couldn't." Kawasaki's eyes narrowed. "Don't try to prove me wrong, Hikigaya."
Is that a challenge I hear? Don't test me, woman. My pedigree speaks for itself.
I leaned back into my chair. "What exactly are you basing your assumptions of my methods on? You said it yourself. You haven't physically been there to see how I handle things."
"And like I said before, I don't have to be." Without hesitation, Kawasaki refuted my counter. "Word gets around pretty quickly. Your public image is practically that of a serial killer's at this point."
"And like I said, you shouldn't base your opinions off of petty rumors. Words can be twisted and modified by anyone, especially by hormonal high school students."
Despite the current battle being waged between us, I felt a little more at ease with the girl sitting in front of me. This was more like the Kawasaki I was used to. Stubborn, hard-headed, and not easy to persuade. A very welcome sight in comparison to the blubbering, blushing mess from the previous days.
Even so, I was a bit confused. Why was she so intent on helping me over something as minuscule as this? Sure, some assistance would be welcome, but Kawasaki was one person I wasn't keen on recruiting. It wasn't that I didn't want her helping me—it was just that she had better things to do with her time than to help me manage some stupid festival. She had a scholarship to work towards, and siblings to feed. Those things were far more important than anything I had to do.
Plus, she was wrong about me not being able to handle it. Not only was she insulting my pride, but vastly underestimating my management skills. I could certainly boss around a couple of riajuus for a few days. In fact, when I put it like that, it sounded kind of nice. Like an aristocratic social system, but with loners at the top. A Geniocracy. A Hikkiocracy.
Still, with that being the case, I couldn't have her one-upping me in this particular disagreement. Not only was she incredibly wrong, but it was just a stupid idea in general. She should know better than to try help someone when her plate was already full. Time management, woman.
I could just get the Service Club to help me, if things got too big for Oshino and I. As much as they annoyed me, they were rather helpful when I needed it. As such, Kawasaki was not needed in this scenario. She was getting worked up over nothing, and I was going to prove that to her.
Though, the look in her eye told me otherwise. Yikes, she's kind of intimidating. She's like an odd combination of Yukinoshita's wit and Hiratsuka's physical stature. A worthy adversary, indeed.
"It doesn't matter how much those opinions deviate from the truth. The fact that those rumors exist in the first place proves my point already," She gave her long hair a nonchalant wave, apparently trying her hardest to look dignified. I admit, she pulled it off rather well. "Besides, no one's going to want to take direction from someone as weird as you. You're hardly the leader type."
Tch, hypocrite.
"They have no choice. Unless they want their pathetic festival to fail, they'll have to listen to me."
Her frown deepened, and her eyes bore into me with an emotion I couldn't quite identify.
"Listen to you, or listen to each other?"
Before I could fully absorb her reply, Oshino was quick to step in. "Now, now, let's not get feisty with one another. We're all good friends, aren't we?"
Good friends? Us? We've barely known each other for a few weeks. By your standards, my entire class and I should be great friends. Which, might I add, serves for pretty effective nightmare fuel.
"Hikigaya-kun, I know that you're concerned about Kawsaki's schedule," Oshino began, placing a reassuring (well, what he would call reassuring) hand on my shoulder. "But try to think from her perspective."
I blinked. Hadn't I already been doing that? "Her perspective?"
"Yes. She's seeing a close friend being placed into a difficult situation, correct? Wouldn't you want to help a friend of yours were they in a pickle?"
I don't know. I've had never had friends to worry about to begin with. The general feeling of concern for another has eluded me for the entirety of my youth—not that I had ever needed it. I had long ago deemed such a practice to be insignificant, in relation to my overall wellbeing.
Still, it is a bit interesting to think of. Even if I've never felt empathy before, I have witnessed others expressing it on multiple occasions. Yuigahama is the most common culprit, as she constantly shows genuine worry over others whenever we receive a request, most recently in Kawasaki's case. Yukinoshita also occasionally tries her best for our applicants, as was the case for Rumi's situation. Hell, even Hayama shows a bit of concern for the idiots he surrounds himself with every now and then.
But seeing and feeling are two entirely different things. A fact I was painfully aware of.
"I... don't know." I gave Oshino my honest answer. This whole thing had been majorly blown out of proportion. At this point, I just wanted to go home and go to bed.
Oshino's calm look never wavered, though. "Maybe you don't know what it feels like. That's fine, you're still young. You'll know soon enough."
Would I know soon enough? That sounded too farfetched for someone like me. How would I even know what it felt like? Did I even want to know what it felt like?
"Still..." Oshino's eyes drifted over towards Kawasaki, who had looked away. "It's pretty obvious that she wants to help you. I'm sure that she knows what she's getting into. She's a smart girl. So why not accept her offer?"
My eyes alternated from Oshino and Kawasaki. Would it be alright? I'd been so confident in my decision earlier, but that confidence was quickly beginning to waver. Had I always been this fickle with my decision-making?
Unknowingly, Oshino scooted closer to me before whispering in my ear. "Besides, it's rude to deny a lady what she wants, yes?"
I quickly pushed him out of my personal space. Seriously, when was this guy not spouting chauvinistic garbage? I needed a new manager.
"Hikigaya, I'm serious about this." Kawasaki's voice filled the room as she rejoined the conversation. "You need help. I'm willing to give it to you. Don't deny yourself an easier way about this."
"Alright, I get it," I retorted quickly. Being constantly reminded about my inability to socialize with people was really starting to get old. "Jeez, of all the times you choose to pester me, you decide to do it at work?"
"And I'm gonna keep pestering you until you let me help."
Did she really just say that? You sound like a five year-old. Her brocon tendencies must be beginning to consume her entirely.
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I heaved a great sigh. Seriously. What a pain it was to exist.
"... fine. Do whatever you want. I don't care."
After a moment of comprehension, an uncharacteristic and equally prideful smirk graced Kawasaki's features. "See? Was that so hard?"
Yukinoshita had said the same thing to me a few days ago. I felt my blood begin to boil. Make that two girls on the verbal hitlist.
"I'm proud of you, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino nodded his head with satisfaction. "You're able to recognize when you're in over your head, and willing to accept help! Such an upstanding individual you are!"
"Yeah, whatever," I waved him off, stifling a yawn as I did so. "Can I go home now?"
"Why? Don't you want to talk a little more?"
Was this guy even human? "It's one in the morning. We can talk all you want tomorrow."
"But you never told me when to come down to your school!"
"I'll call you when we're ready. Bye." I made for the exit and grabbed my bag. Kawasaki gave a bow to Oshino, before quickly following behind me.
Just as I opened the door to leave, I heard my quirky manager mutter to himself. "Good luck, Saki-chan..."
My multiple journeys with Kawasaki to her home were, for the most part, uneventful. Neither she nor I were very talkative to begin with, even less so after a late night shift. She was tired, and I was tired. We simply left it at that.
The sound of our collective steps were the only sound accompanying us as we travelled along the concrete sidewalks, traversing through the multiple streets and high-rises. The clouds were in full effect tonight, blocking out the normal cluster of stars, not that it bothered me. Stars were nothing but gargantuan spheres of hydrogen and helium, burning from trillions upon trillions of miles away. Those who worshipped them, or looked at them as some sort of deeper meaning, were nothing but delusional riajuus wishing for nonexistent luck in their empty, meaningless existences.
Stargazing was kind of nice, though. It was a surprisingly effective stress reliever. Komachi always liked stars, especially when she was little.
Currently, I was standing outside of a random convenience store we'd come across on the way back. Kawasaki had said that she needed to pick up some groceries for tomorrow's dinner, and I'd offered to give her some spare change. She had quickly declined my offer, and, as punishment for me trying to "belittle" her, had made me promise to carry her bags for her once she returned. Sneaky devil.
I'd been a bit surprised. This was the first time we'd made a detour in the few weeks I'd been escorting her. Had she gotten that comfortable around me?
No, it couldn't have been. We hardly talked to each other on the way back. As I stated previously, we were both far too fatigued to ever really make an attempt at conversation. And it seemed evident that neither of us really minded.
Of course, just because we didn't verbally say anything to each other didn't mean that we didn't communicate to each other at all. As fellow loners, we both realized that silence was but a construct—or, to put it more precisely, a tool to use and dispose of whenever we wished.
In a way, being able to maneuver around silence was an art. Most importantly, one had to be aware. You had to be able to pinpoint subtleties in another, in the form of identifying posture, physical ticks, or anything else that might have otherwise stood out. Being able to accurately predict what another was feeling without saying a word was but the foundation of countering any sort of absence in verbal communication.
Building upon that, one had to delve deep into their perceptive capabilities and be able to notice even tinier details of another, down to the smallest movements. The fluttering of an eyelash, the widening of the eyes, and the changes in one's breathing. Miniscule things a normal person wouldn't even think of paying attention to. That's how loners got their reputations for being observant creatures.
I was aware of these techniques, and I was fairly sure she was too. She wasn't as well-rounded a loner as I was, but she was beyond her years.
Though, there were loopholes every now and then. Kawasaki had been getting harder and harder to read, especially as of late. Such was the hole in my own database—while I was skilled in picking up on subtle nuances, it was the well-known social cues I had trouble identifying. Every now and again, Kawasaki would do something I had never experienced among other people, which naturally gave me mixed signals.
In response to these new shifts in her mood, I'd elected to brush them off. Even in the event that there was some sort of deeper meaning to these strange new changes in Kawasaki's mood, it wasn't as though it concerned me. Teenagers were naturally fickle and capricious, which meant these shifts happened often. There was little need to investigate whether or not a person's change in mood were equated to a person such as myself.
My assessment was interrupted when Kawasaki returned to my view, looking expectantly at me as she held out her hand, which was cramped with grocery bags. "Here."
What had Komachi told me to do in these certain situations? I vaguely remembered her telling me something before I left my house this past afternoon. "If Saki-chan ever needs help with anything, make sure you're the first to help her! And remember to be courteous to her!"
Honestly, what she'd said was kind of stupid. I was already helping her just by being there to watch over her and make sure she didn't get harassed. Why should I have to bend my back even more for her? Did my sister forget everything I stood for?
But, I was feeling daring tonight. I didn't really know why, but I just was. Maybe I drank one too many cans of coffee? I needed to get the addiction hotline's number.
Swiftly, I grabbed all her bags in one quick motion, before transferring them all to a single hand. There were only three bags, so it wasn't that impressive, but it still felt kind of cool. I went against smiling at her (that would have been gross), and I motioned to the sidewalk. "Shall we?"
Kawasaki's eyes widened, and she took a tiny step back. Was I really acting that out of character? Maybe I had an addiction problem and multiple personality disorder. I was just a walking disease. I'm sure Yukinoshita would be quick to agree with me.
I passed by Kawasaki, and that was apparently enough to snap the silver-haired girl out of whatever temporary funk she'd been in, as she quickly followed in step behind me with a tentative, "O-Okay."
Eventually, we escaped the confines of the city, making our way into the calm, quiet suburbs I was more familiar with. My guard was much more relaxed whenever we reached this point in my escort. Nothing bad ever happened here, and that fact would remain so no matter how much I jinxed it.
Indifferently, I took a glance in the bags containing Kawasaki's meal for the next few days. I was quick to notice a whole lot of meat—pork, chicken, and few more varieties were only the first packages I saw. Her siblings must have really liked meat.
"Hey, Kawasaki."
She looked up at me, a bit surprised that I had actually made an effort to start conversation. "Yeah?"
"Do you cook a lot?"
Seemingly a bit thrown off by my random question, she took a moment to formulate a response before answering. "Well... not a whole lot. I'm decent when it comes to cooking. I know my way around a kitchen, at the very least."
"I see. You cook for your siblings?" I followed up on her reply with another question.
A slight pause. "Mostly, but not always. I'll cook for my parents every now and then. It's never anything too fancy. Just a fun little pastime between us, I guess."
Hearing her say that made me think. She seemed so friendly and hospitable when she was with her family, but never revealed that kindness to anyone at school, or any other social setting. Why was that? She could make a ton of friends if she just exerted herself a little.
I'm sure she had a reason. Everyone had a reason for being who they were. But still, even for someone who reads in between the lines as much as I do, I couldn't manage to pinpoint an obvious factor relative to why Kawasaki was who she was. Her true character eluded me to this very day.
Maybe I was thinking too deep. Perhaps she was just shy. I shouldn't be trying to assess who she is as a person purely based on the reason as to why she cooks for her family. I'm getting way, way too ahead of myself.
"Hikigaya?" Kawasaki looked concerned when I didn't answer her immediately. Another oddity about her I couldn't quite wrap my head around.
"It's nothing," I lied. "I just think it's nice that you're so dedicated to your family."
I noticed her eyes drift away from me as I said that. "It's nothing special... I'm just doing my job as a big sister. That's all."
An expected reply. Kawasaki was always the responsible, upstanding type. At least in that regard, I was able to figure her out.
A bit quietly, she continued. "If you want... maybe I can, you know... teach you?"
I paused briefly.
Hold on, Hachiman. Don't go getting all excited now. It's just a gesture. Something super generic and appropriate for the current flow of conversation. It's nothing but a nicety, spoken only to get you to stop questioning her personal life. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yeah, that's it. No girl is ever that nice to me. After all, who would want to be around me and my hideously repugnant dead-fish eyes? I'm the ultimate female repellant.
I would have been embarrassed beyond words if my brief pause revealed to her that her comment had actually managed to fluster me. I had to calm down, and give her a normal reply. Show her why you're the world's best loner.
"Why don't you cook for me some time? I'd love to try some of your dishes."
What do you think of that? By flipping sides and offering for you to cook for me, I have successfully avoided your faux advance and placed all of the pressure on you. How will you choose to respond?
Rather than find myself on the receiving end of an enemy stand, I heard a soft "Eep!" emitted from Kawasaki's direction. Turning, I was met with the sight of a rather flustered girl beside me, hiding her face deep in her scarf. Had I already won this brief scuffle?
"Something wrong?"
"No!" Kawasaki practically shouted in my face. "It's just... you said that so suddenly..."
There she went, acting all obscure and ambiguous on me again. Would it kill her to give me a straight answer for once?
As I stood there, I saw Kawasaki run a hand through her voluminous hair, twirling the end curls shyly. I admit, she looked a little cute just now. Her hair was always one of the most fascinating aspects about her, in my opinion. Come to think of it, a lot of people I know have good hair. One of the benefits of being young, I guess.
Unwillingly, I felt my eyes begin to wander. Kawasaki had tried something new tonight, and had opted not to wear simple clothes, as she usually always did—rather, she looked a lot more feminine this time around. She was adorning a long, thick sweater the same color as her hair, in addition to a knee-length, cream-colored skirt. Rather than her typical work shoes, she had instead chosen to sport a pair of black ankle boots.
It felt a bit out of place. Kawasaki, to my knowledge, was never much of a fashionista. Before tonight, all I had seen her wear to work were a rotating selection of dress shirts and slacks, with not a lot of color variety. Now, however, she looked entirely different. Women were indeed mysterious.
To anyone else, she appeared as a young, popular high school student shining in the prime of her youth, brimming with an untainted beauty. She was gleaming with a glow that I'd never witnessed before, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't the tiniest bit allured to her.
I forced my eyes away from her, eager to finish my escorting job. "Come on. It's getting late."
That apparently snapped Kawasaki out of whatever reverie she'd been in. Had she been staring at me? "Yeah... okay."
After a few more minutes of silence, we eventually came upon Kawasaki's street. Normally, I'd drop her off and leave without much fanfare, but something about that idea didn't feel right. I had something to say, but at the same time, I didn't know what it was that I wanted to say to her. So, wordlessly, I followed beside her on her street. She made no move to stop me.
I'd been on her street a few times before. Purely by coincidence, of course. I'd come through here whenever I would run the occasional errand or two, or whenever Komachi would force me to go to the movies with her. In a sense, that tiny bit of familiarity helped to calm me down as I walked.
Briefly, I wondered if Kawasaki and I had ever crossed paths with each other before. Would that be a good or a bad thing? Loners didn't always get along with each other. In fact, you could argue that loners tended to dislike each other more than they disliked regular people.
We stopped in front of Kawasaki's house. For what felt like an eternity, neither of us said a word. It was awkward, almost to the point where I felt obscenely uncomfortable. For now, all I could focus on was the girl in front of me, as she slowly turned to face me.
"... thanks for walking me back."
That was the first time she had thanked me since she had requested my services. "You're welcome." I couldn't think of anything witty to say. Now hardly seemed like the appropriate time.
Another bout of silence. In the back of my mind, I wondered what we would like if any sudden people passed us by. Two teens, standing within close proximity of each other under a cloudy night sky, facing each other with full concentration, eyes glued to each other... on second thought, maybe I didn't want to know.
"Hey, um..." I scratched the back of my head, mindful of the grocery bags I was still carrying. Why was I so nervous all of a sudden? "... thanks."
Her head tilted slightly, her long ponytail bobbing as she did so. "For what?"
Don't make this any harder for me than it already is, woman. "For, you know... offering to help me. That was selfless of you."
In retrospect, I didn't know why I decided to tell her that. Showing gratitude was hardly one of my strong suits, and to do it so suddenly was baffling to my subconscious. Had that been what I had wanted to tell her? Had I followed her home just so I could give her a measly thanks?
I mentally grimaced. Well, it wasn't like I could go back in time and ponder my decision. This was the real world, where you had to live with your own decisions and the repercussions that came with them. I knew that reality better than anyone.
Kawasaki looked rather perplexed in her own right. I couldn't really blame her—she must have been put off by what I'd said to her. I guess I'd be weirded out too, if some random guy starting thanking me out of the blue.
Then, out of nowhere, she spoke.
"That's... really unlike you."
My mouth opened slightly. Had she really just said that?
Well, actually, I shouldn't have been that surprised. I was thinking it, and it was obvious that she was too. But for her to actually say it out loud, right in front of me... for the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to say.
Kawasaki must have realized how odd her sentence was too, and she quickly made to correct herself. "Er... I didn't mean it in like, a bad way, or anything. I swear! It's just... what you said was so... I don't know..."
"I-It's fine," I stuttered, trying to calm her down. Well, both of us down. Jeez, this was not how I had hoped this would go. Serves me right for trying to be nice to people.
"No, I-I'm sorry. I totally messed this up," Kawasaki's eyes met the concrete ground. She must have been even more embarrassed than I was.
Shifting my feet, I found my body unintentionally start to heat up. Kawasaki must have been feeling the same sort of pressure, as I saw her begin to rub her arms and fiddle with the hem of her skirt. I unknowingly started glancing at random things around me. Anything to try and help lighten the mood. Briefly, I was reminded as to why I didn't have any close friends.
I needed to get out of here. The last thing I needed was to lose sleep over how I acted in front of a girl. I already had plenty of nightmares about that already.
Clearing my throat, I recollected myself before taking a tentative step backwards. "I'm gonna head home now."
Her eyes shot upwards at me, irises reflecting the light of the street lamps next to us. Man, she had really pretty eyelashes... wait, focus, you moron!
"Oh. Um... yeah. Okay."
Her voice faltered a little. Huh, that was weird. Was she... disappointed?
Wait, no. Don't even think about anything. Just give her the groceries, say goodnight, and go home.
Slowly, almost painfully so, I extended my occupied hand to her. After a moment, she stared at the bags with what looked to be confusion, almost as if she had entirely forgotten they were there to begin with. Eventually, she took the bags from me, and I tried my hardest to ignore the feeling of her hand brushing against my own.
"Well, goodnight." There, I did it. In as courteous a manner I could manage, without stuttering. Just as I had been doing the previous nights. Nice job, Hachiman.
"Hikigaya!" She called to me, just as I was making to leave. The slight urgency in her voice was a bit troubling. I turned to face her, albeit without an abundancy of poise.
I expected her to still be a blubbering mess, but I was surprised when I was met with the complete opposite. In those few couple of seconds, she must have somehow managed to summon her usual courage and wit about her, if her posture was anything to judge off of. Her cheeks were still the tiniest bit flushed, but she looked composed nonetheless as she eyed me.
"Thank you for accepting Oshino and I's help. I know that you don't like having to rely on others, but you did the right thing. I promise that I won't let you down."
Truthfully, I hadn't been expecting this from her. Then again, I hadn't been expecting a lot of things from the silver-haired girl. If you would have told me a few months ago that the most prideful girl in my class was offering her help to me of her own free will, I would have laughed. No, I would have cackled. That was how improbable this situation I found myself in was.
But lately, she'd been proving me wrong time and time again. She seemed to have been going the extra mile not just for herself, but for those around her, including me. No, especially me. I was definitely unused to this sort of attention, doubly so coming from Kawasaki, of all people. Was this intentional? Did she have some sort of goal in mind? Was I being blackmailed without my knowing?
Maybe Kawasaki Saki was every bit as smart as I really thought she was.
"If you ever need anything else, don't hesitate to come talk to me." In as unexpected a fashion as she could manage, she bowed slightly, before shooting me the tiniest of smiles. "We're coworkers, after all."
And then she left, light footsteps making their way through the front door, and into her house. The door shut, and I was left alone, bewildered under a flickering streetlight.
I wanted to think about what had happened. Not just tonight, but ever since I had accepted her request. We were definitely a lot more closer than we had been previously, though it remained to be seen what would come of this newfound kinship. Would it progress even further, or would we eventually stall and sputter out? I honestly didn't have a clue.
Could I call Kawasaki Saki a friend? Perhaps. I wouldn't quite go there yet, but there was definitely potential. I'd let fate decide, since it was so keen on controlling everything else in my life. Gosh, I'm so whipped.
I debated thinking about it further, but a yawn quickly dispelled those thoughts. I needed sleep, badly. As a wise man once said, I would leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's me.
Just before I could leave, though, I heard a noise coming from inside Kawasaki's home. It was loud, high-pitched, and definitely noticeable. Was someone yelling in there? It must have been Keika. She was always excited to see her big sister, after all. When did her voice get so developed, though?
The trek home was silent, and thankfully, quick. I entered the house without causing too much of a racket, sneaking up the stairs as quietly as I could as to not wake anyone up. Retreating to my bathroom, I brushed my teeth, changed into some comfy undergarments, and crashed onto bed. I'd take a shower tomorrow morning. I was too tired to do much of anything, now that I was already in bed.
I shut my eyes, and snuggled deep into the comfort and warmth of my bed. Sleeping was fun, especially when you didn't get reprimanded for doing it at school by your teachers, and didn't force yourself into working grueling tasks because of it. Ugh, tomorrow was going to suck.
Repentance comes to everyone, though, and soon I managed to drift away into the comfortable bliss that was sleep, free from all known forms of pressure, distraction, and above all else, worries.
Well, it would have been, if a certain silver-haired girl hadn't invaded my dreams.
This chapter was an absolute chore to finish. You have no idea how many times I edited and revised this.
Not a lot of progression in this chapter, I know. Don't worry, there will be plenty of semi-dramatic shenanigans awaiting our cynical loner next chapter.
Thanks for reading. School starts back up for me soon, so there may be a bit of a delay in updates, but I'm intent on finishing this. I try to put as much content and quality into each of these chapters as I can, so your patience is very much appreciated.
One last thing. Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews. I appreciate all of the constructive criticism and support you guys have given me so far. It goes a long way in helping me churn out these 10k+ word chapters. Keep it up!
Again, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you guys next time! Have a great day!
~Slalem