Chapter One: Hikigaya Hachiman defuses His Mistake
You've probably heard this story before, but this is how Hikigaya Hachiman defused a mistake and instead found something new. The second-year student of Chiba's Sobu Senior High School thought he knew his Japanese language teacher Hiratsuka Shizuka. Instead, he was dead wrong.
After a few weeks as a student in her homeroom 2-F, he formed some, maybe one too many, presumptions of her. Hiratsuka was approachable, as one of the school guidance counselors and how some of the older students seem to congregate around her between lunches and end of school. She was personable – offering positive feedback on assignments and being conversational in most encounters.
Hiratsuka was frankly young for a high school teacher. Maybe too much so. She even reached the student rumor mill, which meant everyone knew the fact. Pop-culture references slipped her tongue at the rate of a runny facet. The odd comment about her age or her marriage status could allegedly throw her into a flurry or a fit. She really-really liked manga.
Hachiman assumed she could take a joke.
What he learned from personal experience, however, was there existed a 'depends' clause in the invisible contract he signed with his reflections essay and his high school fate. The summation of the clause took the form of a call into the faculty office after school, having his turn-in read aloud verbatim to him while the few remaining teachers snickered from their separate cubicles, and name-called many things that rhymed or matched the definition to "idiot."
Great going Hachiman. You screwed up.
"In conclusion, I leave you with this. All of you fools who delight in youth, drop dead."
The second-year-student-on-trial attempted a passable poker face drooping before his teacher's desk and twitching to the soft chuckles of nearby adults filling the faculty office. When the remarkably authoritative voice of Hachiman's teacher spoke his essay to essentially a live studio audience, he really did wish for the means to magically drop dead on the spot – or maybe a hole to Hell would open beneath his feet.
Anything to escape the half dozen eyeballs peering over desk dividers and Hiratsuka's coy death-smile aimed right at his face.
"Hey, Hikigaya. Do you remember the prompt I gave you for this assignment?"
"You asked us to write an essay about looking back on high school life... One written in the middle of our high school lives too, to be honest."
Hachiman's dead-fish eyes glared towards one of the office exits, the one set slightly over Hiratsuka's right shoulder. Anything to get out of there right about now.
"Right. I think you yourself might need to drop dead by the content alone. What is this supposed to be – a threat letter? I really hope I'm not teaching a wannabe serial killer in my homeroom, either that or you're just an idiot.
Name call, number twelve. Point, Hiratsuka.
Hachiman's frown scrunched deeper into a grimace. His teacher pushed hair out of her eyes, an equally irritable look on her face.
"Control that look, young man."
The second-year wrinkled his lips, trying his best to swallow his frown lines and internal screams of hellfire.
"You really got a rotten look on your face, Hikigaya. Your eyes remind me of dead fish."
Wouldn't be the first time someone made that connection. Didn't hurt any less. It wasn't his fault he looked like a delinquent and a lifeless corpse at the same time. A few genetics here, some sleepless nights there. A lifetime of feeling like he was the embodiment of a drainage ditch, all over the place. He could do without the insults though. His opinion of Hiratsuka took a nose dive during this conversation. It was now deeper than the Titanic based on the last minute alone.
Don't blame him for returning with snark. It was a natural defense mechanism. "Do I look that rich in omega-3s? It makes me sound kind of smart."
The slight upturn in her lips and the narrowing of her eyes told Hachiman he won no points with the teacher. Well, no loss there. She started it as far as he cared.
Ignoring the retort, Hiratsuka got to the issue at hand. Even she could tell they were going nowhere with their verbal fencing. "Look, I can't accept this. At least give me a reason for why you wrote this… essay."
She didn't even try to hide her distaste. More diving indeed.
Either way, Hachiman had two options: escalate, or be honest.
The second-year let out a long expressive sigh, dragging on for what seemed like three full seconds. Maybe he came off as dramatic, he didn't really care. There were plenty of reasons he wrote the way he did.
His parents were working all the time. He had no friends. Classmates paid him stupid looks in the hallways and some picked on him on occasion for a cheap laugh.
Hachiman wasn't a great piece of bullying meat but he still offered reaction enough. He didn't respond to verbal abuse and the most people got out of him were twitches and death stares when properly provoked. Still, he survived three full tours of duty in the week alone. It was enough to constitute torture in his book. Every morning he wished he could stay home forever.
The encounters had a habit of unearthing memories from middle school and dropped Hachiman back into the miserable churn of his own pessimistic mind. It was his weekly routine, an exercise in futility.
He wanted to look on the world as a passive observer and left to his own devices. He wished nothing to do with his classmates or school in general. But he could never have his desire.
Best he could do was be there for the grade and the attendance, mostly to please his parents and his sister. Yeah, Sobu Senior was a more-than-decent high school by Chiba standards but after a year in, the concept of reputation was out the window for Hachiman.
He had a bad week and wanted a place to out his frustrations to the world. That was all his essay rant amounted to. The second-year presumed his teacher capable of handling a joke, or otherwise take it as a call for help. She was a guidance counselor, and not like one of those low-effort, tell-off-the-students-because-tattle-tale-types either. Hachiman really thought she was the kind of teacher he could just complain about high school with and she would nod along in an amicable way.
There were people like that in the world. Hachiman knew a few. Even in its own low effort sort of way, he could respect someone who could just listen one-ear-in, one-ear-out.
"Would 'I had a bad week' suffice, Hiratsuka-sensei?"
The language teacher shook her head.
"I'm not letting you off the hook just yet. This wasn't just sloppy, its out of the norm for you. We've been in class for three weeks now, you've written five other assignments for me and they were all more-or-less fine. You score good grades in my class, Hachiman. A bad week isn't going to cut a sudden rip into your classmates and this so-called 'farce of youth' you claim is full of shit."
A glance from a more-senior teacher across the cubicles made Hiratsuka backtrack.
"Sorry… sorry. Look, my language aside. You obviously have some stuff you want to get off your chest. A school essay isn't the place to do it. Neither is school for that matter. I'm your teacher and your counselor, the least you can do is tell me what's up and if there's any way I can help."
Hikigaya sighed once more.
"Had a couple incidents with classmates in history and science. No big deal, just needed a place to let off a little. I meant it kind of as a joke."
"This wasn't a joke, based on this passionate piece of writing you handed in. And even then… Sacrificing your grade for a 'joke,' and a poor one at that isn't just a not-a-big-deal. Kid, that's a nasty sense of humor you got there."
"Fine. I'll rewrite it. Can we stop going after my self-esteem please?"
Hiratsuka gave a determined nod as she leaned in towards Hachiman. This was the most they said to one another ever. Hachiman at least found her posture a nice change of pace; a sign that he wasn't talking with someone completely blind to the reality of how children treated one another. His guidance counselor engaged with him, even if her sharp edge seemed as prickly as his own.
"Hachiman. I will let you rewrite it but its not just your humor that bothers me," Hiratsuka offered over a soft whisper. She gave an additional sigh, easing herself into what her student could only guess was her equivalent to a heart-to-heart. "You can probably tell I've only been on this staff for a few years. My undergrad still feels like yesterday so – that means I also still remember what it's like to be a high schooler. Now that could be a bad thing, and I'm sorry that I said some mean things during this conversation. However, I'm also not a fool to tell you that I can make your problems go away, or that you will be able to fix them.
That all said, I am your teacher. I do see you every day. I am here if you need someone to talk to. You don't have to take my offer and if you're like most of my students, you'll probably nod and ignore it. But understand that I think you're a great student, Hachiman. You're a good kid too as far as I can tell. Everyone needs someone talk to, if not me, at least someone at home or friends outside this building."
Hachiman matched his language teacher's frown. "I got my sister… There's a couple people I play pickup ball at the gym with sometimes when I'm not swamped by homework."
"What about your parents?"
The second-year glanced between the ground and Hiratsuka, contemplating his response. The teacher obviously meant well at this point. But he didn't want to throw his parents under the bus either. They meant well too, but life also just sucked.
"Sometimes, but they don't really have time to talk with me every day. They're at work late into the night."
Hiratsuka nodded through his entire answer. A story she heard one too many times before. Such was the country's work culture.
"And friends? Anyone here or close by? It doesn't sound like you get out to the gym that much."
Hachiman's trademark slouch dropped another centimeter. He started to get the sense he revealed too much of himself and yet, it was nice to talk to someone other than his sister and say things that bothered him. Some time ago, he might have shied away from revealing things he faced at school. He didn't intend for his little sister to shoulder his burdens, or for his parents to know at all. But hold it in for too long and the dam would break.
It did. Several times. Shouting matches were a rarity in the Hikigaya household, but after stepping out of his own little world and getting to honestly hear what people felt in the world of adults it didn't make any sense to absorb it anymore or forever. Hachiman dared not to yell at his sister but she inevitably witnessed the gasps of his rare, loud confessions to their parents that he felt alone.
He intended no blame. He never wanted to worry or hurt his parents. But this was family. If he couldn't be vulnerable with them, he never would be with anyone else. He yelled to them, they flinched in the dining room under the waves of his rising, desperate screams.
His tears, pent up over years without display, hit their home's hardwood floor. His father's awkward one-arm embrace was light and standoffish, but it was familial and well-meaning. He was there for Hachiman.
His mother's hug and cradle were warmer, nurturing arms caring after him for at least sixteen years. She was instinctual, and familial. A safe space he knew to be absolute.
Hachiman's gut squished in the tight grasp of his little sister, a little angel unable to hurt a fly and determined never to see the brother she idolized shatter to pieces. Her tears dampened his shirt as his did their parents.
In the end, not much changed. His parents were still distant as ever, obligated to work for the benefit of the family and the children's happiness and success. His sister continued to look up to Hachiman for advice and guidance as she weathered her own middle school troubles – the place where Hachiman truly met his diabolical match.
But things did change, for he could now acknowledge his limits. To reveal that he too was still just a child at heart needing comfort. The occasional text brought him a soft smile in the middle of long school days and fast-passing weekends, between crowded classrooms and an often-empty living room.
Little messages from contacts Mom, Dad, Komachi. And even the rare voicemail.
"I love you Hachiman."
"Take care at school, son."
"See you later, Big Bro!"
His family could be there for him. It was nice, better than at any point in his middle school years where he thought the world stood against him and him alone.
"That's a better smile, Hachiman." Hiratsuka's words shook the high school student from his drifting recollection.
"Sorry, I didn't get your question." Hachiman admitted, back in reality. His smile wavered a little but the warmth remained from memories of his family supporting him. They knew he struggled and wanted him to know they were there for him; it was more than enough to keep him set on the path forward.
Hiratsuka held up a placating hand. "No worries. And no question. I just wondered if you have any friends at school or around that you can turn to."
Hachiman's smile unfortunately did drop as he shook his head.
The guidance counselor gave a solemn nod in acknowledgment. It was surprising but the two fell into their exchange quick, an objective understanding between two people a generation apart that could still find something in common. It wasn't about their shared love for anime or manga. It wasn't about their proximity as student and teacher.
Hachiman and Hiratsuka were open-hearted people. Even when life didn't go the way they wanted, retreating wasn't the same as closing off. They still wanted the best for themselves and others and had people in their lives that kept them warm.
Hiratsuka did care for Hachiman as his teacher. There was no denial of that now.
"Thank you for your concern, Hiratsuka-sensei." Hachiman said, offering a formal bow.
"Don't thank me yet, kiddo. We still need to figure some things out."
Hachiman's retained a light frown in confusion.
Hiratsuka explained, "I'm going to make you rewrite that essay. If you need help on it, I'm cool with working together during lunch, before or after school if you prefer. But you've still got me concerned. Probably for you, the essay topic was a bit much to ask so early on. I just want to make sure you're comfortable in my class and here at school. Are you?"
The second-year raised his eyebrows, surprised by the forward but extremely broad question out-of-nowhere.
"I… I don't know?"
"Right," Hiratsuka admit. "That's probably the wrong question to ask."
Hachiman gave an awkward upturn of his lips at his teacher's interest and concern. She made it somewhat easy to smile, even if she insulted his looks like everyone else. He wasn't that bad-looking, was he? Hachiman was only grumpy most of the time…
"Are you going to ask me if I have a relationship next or something?"
Hiratsuka put an index finger to her chin in thought even as she responded. "Not really, your answer the first time summed it up enough. Friends are sometimes hard to come by, but relationships are a whole different problem entirely. I'm not going to put you on the spot like that."
Hachiman nodded in appreciation, a small laugh rumbling in his abdomen.
"But Hachiman, if you don't mind me suggesting it? How about join a club?"
The second-year's eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
"Why? What club?"
"Well, I originally intended to offer it up as a punishment for your essay." Hiratsuka explained much to her student's sudden disgust. "But I never meant it in that way. Like I said before Hachiman, you're a good kid – a well-meaning one too, I think. You're not in any extracurricular activities or after-school activities from your school record. Why not join? I think you could get something out of it."
"Hiratsuka-sensei. At least tell me what it is, because honestly I'd rather say no and not waste my afternoons."
The guidance counselor nodded but her emergent smile didn't waver at the doubt in her student's voice.
"There's a student trying to start a club but she's having trouble finding members. She's not really a people person, like you. She means well but she's a little rough around the edges. I'll be honest, you two remind me of each other. Maybe you guys could work together and figure something out, you might even get a friend out of it."
Hiratsuka eyed Hachiman specifically with her last few words.
"But what's the club?"
The guidance counselor stood up from her rolling chair and picked up Hachiman's joke-essay, passing the turn-in back to him.
"The Service Club. Let's go."
Hiratsuka briskly turned and wandered towards the door Hachiman wanted to escape through minutes before.
The what Club…?
Shaking his head, the second-year made to chase his language teacher's retreating form.
The teacher and student missed one of the other teachers eyeing them as they left for the other side of the school building. He gave a slight nod in approval.
Hiratsuka struggled in finding a place to fit in before filling in as Sobu's primary guidance counselor. She was still young enough that the job hadn't burned her out and the meaningful charm of her stubborn youth continued to spark in ways to help her students. For some teachers, that energy long since passed or died years too soon.
Hiratsuka Shizuka was an honest teacher. Hachiman was in good hands.
A/N: Greetings, my friend Bagration encouraged me to write an OreGairu fanfiction after spending so much time reading in the community as a silent observer. This isn't a profound project but I even surprised myself with how interested I became with this story and completed the first chapter more on a whim than anything else. It's short and its familiar but I also think I have an interesting story to tell, something like the 'Hachiman gets better' stories in the fandom. What is the center of my premise? Well, let's start with a more approachable Hachiman Hikigaya. Add in some wholesome relationships and a fluffy Yukino on approach. For now, let's call this little idea: "Meaningful Rewrite" after a certain essay in need of a little of that. I hope you enjoy it.