"So this is what a date looks like?" I smirk and, incredibly, Hachiman laughs.
"You are asking a wrong guy." Now we are both laughing, and some of the tension is gone. Hachiman takes my hand, wincing while he stands up.
"Let's go to my place. It's actually just around the corner."
You don't say.
"Can I borrow your jacket? It might be a good idea if we want to avoid being arrested." For some reason, he blushes crimson. Now, after all that has happened.
He gives me the jacket without saying a word. As I zip it up, his lingering warmth envelops the goosebumped, bare skin of my breasts. Oh. My face must be redder than his.
We walk to his apartment in silence. Not the bad kind. When we arrive, I clean his scrapes and bruises, apply a few bandages. Azuma really did some damage. Hachiman winces occasionally, but the expression on his face is... more wistful than of pain.
"We should call the police," he says.
"No, we shouldn't. I am sure I've sent some wrong messages." If only you knew. "It seems my taste in men is less perfect than I thought. Nothing to be done but try again until I get it right." I look at him, my face carefully expressionless.
"You… you intend to try again?" I am not used to Hachiman avoiding eye contact. Not with me.
"What else is there to do? I am not going to wait for Prince Perfect to come charging on his white stallion. I've seen how that ends. An ok guy will be good enough for me." Now we are both avoiding each other's eyes. Great.
"Anyway, I should be going." I stand up.
"You are… you are welcome to stay." God, I can't stand this stilted conversation a minute longer. The silence was so much better.
"Thanks, Hachiman, but no. It would be… unpopular." He looks confused, and I wonder how a man so intelligent can be so dense about some things. I guess nothing is more difficult to believe than things we don't want to believe.
"Please text me when you arrive."
"Will do."
He escorts me to the door. I say my goodbyes, walk down the stairs, count to three hundred, and climb back. Slowly, I turn the key in the lock and creep inside.
"...she is ok. I think. You know what she is like. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. There is no telling what she really feels."
…
"I wouldn't call it saving her. It was more of her saving me, really." Hachiman chuckles. "That creep was strong. You should have seen Rumi swing a branch. I am surprised she didn't bash his head in. The second coming of a warrior princess." There is a note of wonder in his voice.
…
"Well, you are wrong!" he doesn't sound so happy now. "Yes, I offered her to stay, but she refused! Really, Yukinoshita, your para…"
Hachiman sighs deeply.
"... your concern is sometimes excessive."
I pick up the bracelet from the floor, where it slipped off my hand when I was leaving, and close the door behind me quietly. I smile all the way home.
That little adventure killed our whole older brother - kid sister dynamics quite dead, I think. One windmill down, now tilting at the status quo.
Yukinoshita is a very busy woman, even this early in the morning. I have been waiting in front of her office for half an hour, people looking at me strangely as they pass by. You don't often see a college girl in running gear waiting for a meeting with one of the most promising young columnists in the country.
The door finally opens, and Yukinoshita comes out, looking at me over the rim of some old, beaten-up pair of glasses. Strange. This is the first time I have seen her with glasses.
"Tsurumi-san, I apologise you had to wait. Please come in." She doesn't look very sorry, but then I didn't expect her to. We are too similar to like each other.
I walk into a small but obsessively tidy office. I have never visited Yukinoshita at work before and, after today, I don't expect I will have another opportunity.
"I will keep this short, Yukinoshita-senpai." Mercifully short.
"You are probably aware of what happened last night." Her eyes reveal nothing, but she nods almost imperceptibly.
"My judgement was faulty. You were right, and I was wrong," I incline my head modestly. "But I will do better next time. I intend to ask Hachiman out." You can see a double wince in Yukinoshita's face, one when I call Hachiman by name, followed immediately by a full-fledged flutter between surprise and… fear?
Yukinoshita has always been the closest to Hachiman. Always the smartest of the three. Hachiman is a sucker for brains, not legs, sorry Miura, or breasts, sorry Yuigahama. But Yukinoshita never acted. If there is one thing I learned from her, from all three of them, it is not to listen to your fear. My chances might be minuscule compared to these talented, beautiful, smart women who have been close to him forever, but I will roll the dice no matter how bad the odds might be.
I feel a flicker of guilt looking at Yukinoshita. If I get what I want, I will leave this woman with no hope at all. In time, Miura and Yuigahama might find somebody who will become important to them. The chances of Yukinoshita finding a man she can trust, a man she can share her twisted childhood, family history, her hopes and dreams with, are practically zero. It is either Hachiman or nobody for her. And I plan to take Hachiman away.
I tell myself that she is incapable of reaching out to him. That even if I leave them as they are now Yukinoshita will still probably never connect with him. That the friendship all three have with Hachiman can survive only if somebody from outside their circle claims him.
But I know these are just excuses. I pursue Hachiman not for their sake but for mine. I mean to have him because not having him is unthinkable.
"Why do you tell me this?" Yukinoshita says after a long silence.
Hypocritical to the bitter end. Well, one hypocrisy deserves another.
"You are one of his oldest… friends. I hoped that you would like to see him happy. That I might count on your advice and support."
Her hands clench, and she looks at me with the first pure and undisguised emotion I have ever seen her display. Hate.
"That is not something I can support, Tsurumi-san. I don't think Hikigaya-kun is the right man for you. More importantly, I don't think you have the necessary qualities." In your mind, there is nobody, really, who will ever be good enough for him. Not even you.
"I am sorry to hear that," I don't care. "I will certainly take your opinion into consideration." I don't care.
"I must warn you that I don't consider this conversation confidential. I will talk to Hikigaya-kun about this and offer my opinion," Yukinoshita says primly.
"You are welcome to," I smile. "In fact, it would be disappointing if you didn't. Talk is what you are so good at." Her hands clench even harder, but I can read nothing in her eyes. They are shuttered and guarded, and I know I will not exchange a friendly word with this girl ever again.
You are late, Yukinoshita. You have observed, suspected and doubted, but now it is just too late. There is not enough time for your opinions, your rumours and your poison whispered in Hachiman's ear to work. The rock is tumbling down the hillside, and no amount of talk is going to stop it.
You might talk to the other two, you might try to do something together. But you three don't have a great history when it comes to talking openly about your feelings, do you?
I turn to leave, my hand already reaching for the door when I hear a word whispered behind.
"Schemer."
I stop, turn around and walk towards Yukinoshita. I tower over her, but she doesn't flinch.
I speak deliberately, clearly.
"Coward."
She does, now.
It is not before I am outside that I manage to breathe normally. But there are still miles to go before I sleep.
"Miura-senpai, hello. I was wondering if we could meet this morning. It is a matter of some urgency."
It is the best place to be. A shelter, an island. An ark. Hachiman's apartment when he is working, and I am just hanging around, doing my own stuff, not making a noise, just… being. Daydreaming about should-have-beens.
I sit in his only big armchair, legs dangling over the side, surfing on my tablet. Hachiman is behind me, on his desktop, typing away, completely immersed in work. I don't interrupt, don't even look his way. His presence is enough.
Occasionally, rarely, I indulge myself and activate the front-facing camera to check out on him over my shoulder. I don't think he even knows that is possible. Hachiman is not exactly a tech geek. I am sure he wouldn't mind the few photos I take.
In the meantime I do… scheming, as a certain ice queen would say. Issue instructions to Service Club members, write an email or two, or even, like right now, post a vicious comment about Yukinoshita's latest article. Hachiman finds them funny, those scathing posts signed 'Icarus' that mock her passive, useless rich girl's idealism. I don't think he would think them that witty if he knew they were mine.
His phone rings, and he mumbles something. It takes him half a minute to decide to pick up. It is Yuigahama, and I can hear that Hachiman is getting more annoyed by the minute. He ends the conversation with a curt "yeah, ok, Friday evening", but the sound of typing does not resume.
"She wants to have a dinner, too," he says, mostly to himself.
I turn on the camera. He is looking through the window, a frown on his face.
"All three of them insist on meeting me, all three want to have a dinner and all three want it to be in private," his gaze lingers on my back. He would have looked away already if we were speaking face to face.
That means dining with Yukinoshita tomorrow, first, as always, Miura the day after and Yuigahama on Friday. I don't have much time left.
"You wouldn't have any idea what is happening? Since I am stumped."
"I think I have a pretty good idea," I reply lazily, still swiping away at my tablet.
"Yeah, me neither… what?" That got his attention.
"It might have something to do with me telling all three of them that I plan to ask you out on a date." If his eyes get any bigger, I think they will float away and start a life of their own.
"You did what?! Are you crazy?" I really don't like that shiver in his voice.
"Why? I told you I intended to try and do better the next time." His face on the tablet screen shows a growing desperation that I don't think he would ever allow me to see.
"Are you totally irresponsible?! Don't you care about other people? About what might happen?" Hachiman is getting angry now, but nowhere near as angry as me.
"And what exactly might happen? What do you expect them to do that scares you so much?" I turn around, and he finally sees my face. Whatever angry rant he was preparing dies on his lips.
"I-I don't know," he stumbles and looks away, blushing. I am not surprised. The sight of Hachiman lying to me, to himself, about something this important makes me choke with shame.
"They… they might be… displeased," he tries again and manages to look just as pathetic. No mean feat.
"And that is why all three must see you separately? So they can voice their displeasure three times?" I can see the cuts I am inflicting, and his pain hurts me, too, but lancing this particular boil was long overdue.
"So this is your solution?" Hachiman looks at me long and hard. His falseness has grown out of love for others, not some weakness of his character. He won't lie to protect himself, but he will lash out to defend his friends.
The time is not yet right to push him to the brink. He is not desperate enough.
"Look, I am not saying that… whatever emotions are involved are not real. Not genuine." Despite the softness of my tone, he grimaces at that word. "But the whole twisted arrangement is fake. Has been fake for years."
"So you now come like some girl-shaped wrecking ball to smash a fake arrangement with your fake proposal?" Hachiman fights for people he loves. Even for those he doesn't. He only never fights for himself.
"My proposal is not fake." I look him in the eyes with every shred of composure I can gather. "I really intend to ask you out."
"Why would I even consider it? Replacing a fake arrangement that has a genuine sentiment at its core with something equally fake that has a fake sentiment at its core?" His eyes have grown frighteningly calm, too. The monster of logic.
I want to scream at him. To shout in his face all the things I have kept repressed for years.
But words will never convince the likes of him. Only actions can. And this is neither the time nor the place.
I turn my back on Hachiman and pick up the tablet. It is time to go home. I stop in the doorway, my back to him.
"The sentiment is not entirely fake, either. I don't find you… unappealing." I hate this timid channelling of a high-school crush. But that is a language he understands, he is familiar with. It will keep him feel comfortable and in control for what little time remains.
I wait for his answer, which, naturally, never comes. The small smile I don't let him see leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Goodbye, Hachiman. See you in the morning."