"Hikigaya. Hikigaya Hachiman."

The one who had uttered those words had her face scrunched up in a look of mild confusion, bordering on bewilderment, as she looked at me. I waited patiently, a desk separating me from her, as she studied me, somewhat like a forgotten wall painting one discovers while cleaning an attic.

"You're in 3F? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

I shrugged indifferently. This wasn't entirely unexpected. I had heard it many times during my three years at this school. Always, it had been accompanied by a feeling of relief. I had no desire to be known, after all.

Patient still, I waited for her to give me what I had come for, so I could be on my way.

She seemed to realize this, and the fact that she was making me wait. Quickly, she leafed through a stack of papers, and separated a few of them, held together by a clip. Taking a stamp, she held it above the top page for a moment.

This was it, then.

The end of my three years of high school.

Despite everything. Despite all that I'd told myself, all that I'd cultivated and carefully honed. All that I'd reminded myself time and again was real, and unchanging.

Who I was, and my place in the world.

Despite all that, for just a moment, I felt a twinge of something.

I couldn't really tell what it was.

The woman holding the stamp up in the air, like my future waiting to descend on me, looked at me for a moment.

I wondered if there was something wrong. Had I made a mistake filling in any of the forms? Worst case scenario, had there been an error in the evaluation of my tests?

As my mind raced, considering possibility after possibility, the woman spoke.

"These are good results, you know. Top five in the school academically. Top ten in the physical assessments. Says here you were briefly a replacement on the tennis team."

I nodded. All this was known to me. I didn't really see the point of bringing it up now.

"I feel like I should know someone like you. Yet, I just can't seem to place you."

I saw where this was going. She was trying to be kind, perhaps because this would be our last time meeting. While she did not remember me, I remembered her quite well. The school guidance counsellor, who I'd seen a few times when the errands of submitting various stacks of forms for the class had been dumped on me.

I had no need of kindness like that. I was perfectly content with my lot in life, and perfectly content being unknown. People were… trouble. And knowing them was troublesome. A life lived by oneself was free of complications. Free of unnecessary burdens and trappings. I was free to be me.

So I decided to use one of my 108 Skills.

No. 11: The Brushaway.

Faking a smile, I waved my hand.

"Ah, it's okay. I've got one of those forgettable faces, hahaha."

By making light of it, I acknowledge her kindness and show her that it's unnecessary at the same time, while also giving her no reason to keep that stamp pending any longer.

She seems to realize my indirect cue, but to my surprise, doesn't respond by immediately stamping my high school graduation certificate.

Instead, she smiles, just a little.

"You should take a risk sometime, and reach out. One day, you'll regret it if you don't."

She brought the stamp down, before handing the papers to me.

"Goodbye, Hikigaya. Have a bright future ahead."

"Thanks, Sensei. Goodbye."

I woke up. The sound of a familiar tune registering in my ears. It was distasteful enough that it managed to rouse me from my sleep enough to reach out swipe my phone to turn off the alarm. Having done so, I collapsed back onto my futon again.

It was that old dream again. Well, to be honest, it was a memory. Sometimes, I dreamt of it. It was bittersweet. Yet, I allowed myself to experience that bittersweetness for a while. This was one of the few times of the day when I could really feel. So, for a while, I allowed myself to drift inside that feeling.

Before long, however, it started to fade, as I became more and more wakeful.

At this point, a slight introduction to my living situation might be in order.

Two months back, I shifted out of home and took up residence in a small rented flat close to my university. It's a decent apartment, clean and sufficient for my needs. To meet my expenses, I work the evening shift at a local grocery store. Annoying customers, and a boss who's pretty much the living excrement of the world. Standard for the service industry. Standard for most professions, come to think of it.

And I study Literature at the prestigious Tokyo University.

So that I can one day get some kind of editorial job where once more I'll have to deal with annoying writers, and a boss who's also the living excrement of the world.

It isn't wrong to say that I hate my life. Still, one has to live, one way or another. What has to be done has to be done, and there's no point grumbling about it.

On the bright side, I don't expect to enjoy any of this either, so at least I'm not disappointed.

Still doesn't lessen this feeling of dread.

As I got up to begin my morning routine, I remembered that I had met a certain person the previous day.

Long black hair, pale skin, icy blue eyes.

Yukinoshita Yukino.

That is what the mysterious girl revealed to be her name.

Who are you?

I couldn't help but wonder. As I showered, our meeting and conversation from the day before played out in my thoughts. The entire situation had been strange. To begin with, what sort of class has only two students enrolled in it? I can understand that Literary Analysis might not be everyone's cup of tea. After all, given its subjective nature, there was no guarantee that you'd get a score, and a low one would only bring your overall grade down.

But that simply wasn't a reason for there to be only two students from the entire first year in that class. The simple reason was that I was personally aware of several students (who I shared classes with) whose grades were higher than my own. While I had been in the top five at Soubu High, here, I was barely able to stay in the top fifteen, which should give some idea of the level of competition I was facing.

Certainly, grammatical skill, knowledge of classic and modern literature, command over the language, and the ability to do research all contributed towards being a good student in my field. They did not necessarily mean, however, that one would have the ability to draw coherent conclusions about the world, or even about books, from that store of knowledge.
Yet, in my brief conversations with my classmates, I had discovered there were several of them who possessed this ability.

It seemed strange that none of them had also chosen Literary Analysis as a subject.

It seemed strange that the only other person besides me was an eerily beautiful girl who had the blank eyes of a killer.

No, I'm considering the situation the wrong way.

Perhaps it would be more apt to say that it is strange that the only other student in that class apart from a girl who seemed to be the definition of perfect, was me.

Most boys would have taken that fact to mean something other than what it did. Assign it some sort of higher significance. Most likely even believe that it's "fate" that they ended up alone in a class with a girl like that. Heck, forget high schoolers. There are plenty of college students who'd think the same.

But I, of course, was not one of them.

Where they saw potential romance, I only saw a situation that seemed… contrived.

Again, perhaps there are those who would take that as a sign that this was all some kind of joke, and laugh it off.

As for me?

I found it disturbing.

Having finished with taking a shower, I got dressed and had a quick breakfast before locking my apartment behind me as I set out for the day's classes.

The campus was a short walk from my apartment, and I reached it with time to spare.

Classes started fairly early at the university. It was half an hour past eight, and there were already a good number of people scattered throughout the grounds, some headed to the various buildings, others simply lounging around on the benches or the grass. Ignoring them, I proceeded on my way.

While I did occasionally speak to people, things hadn't really changed much since high school for me. I hadn't suddenly become popular (lol), and I certainly hadn't made any friends. I was what I had always been: a loner who was sure of where he was going, and the path he had to take to get there.

In other words, I had neither the time nor inclination for pointless interactions, and it was a good thing I didn't have to deal with any. Nobody shot me a second glance as I passed them by, heading to the room where I needed to be.

The first half passed by in a blur. I paid attention, taking notes where necessary. Because of my job, I couldn't really study in the evenings on weekdays, so the only way to keep up was to take classes seriously, and absorb everything I could. That, and a lot of self study during the weekends were how I was able to cope with the course.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the second of the day's lessons.

So far, we'd had Modern Japanese History (a non-optional additional subject), and Popular Literature.

Slightly tired after all the writing I'd had to do to jot down everything of importance, I put my books away and decided to go have lunch at the cafeteria.

There was one other subject I had today, though it wasn't for another hour.

Literary Analysis.

Come to think of it, no teacher had shown up the previous day either. There was definitely something wrong with that.

Yet, I had filled in a form in order to enroll for the class, and I'd submitted it and even received a stamped acknowledgement from the University office itself. There was no doubt the paperwork was legit.

Yet, the actual happenings…

I shook my head.

Too many questions, no answers. For a moment, I wondered if I should go to the office and ask about it. Yet, that was a hassle. My policy, as ever, was to avoid unnecessary work. In the event of this class being a hoax, I'd simply use the stamped acknowledgement sheet from the University to secure the credit I would have otherwise received.

Feeling slightly better with that thought, I entered the cafeteria.

Having ordered a yakisoba bread, I made my way over to a table, where I took a seat alone and started to eat. As I did this, I observed the people all around me. A habit I had picked up around the end of middle school, and one I still possessed.

In their wanderings, my eyes landed on a familiar face, one I had not expected to see for another hour.

Raven black hair, pale skin, icy blue eyes.

This was Yukinoshita Yukino.

In contrast to how I had seen her the previous day, her hair was tied back, and she was also wearing glasses. Yet, there was no doubt this was the same person. None at all.

The aloofness was still there. But in place of the confidence and poise I had seen, there was now… timidness. Her body language indicated caution. If she had been guarded yesterday, she was defensive today.

Shoulders hunched up and drawn in, head down, legs clamped together.

It was incredible to think that the formidable, even terrifying girl I had met earlier, the one I had believed could realistically be some sort of insane killer, was the same person as the one I was seeing now.

It didn't take long to see the reason why she looked so uncomfortable.

On a neighbouring table was a group of three girls, one of whom was periodically rolling paper plates into balls and throwing them at her.

Oi oi, this isn't high school. Aren't you a little old to be pulling shit like that?

Yet, it was happening, right in front of me.

And Yukinoshita, instead of doing what I would have imagined she'd do judging by what I'd seen yesterday, was simply sitting there, taking it, as she tried to have lunch.

Truthfully, I didn't have a stake in the matter.

I believe I've said it before, but I dislike having to do anything that isn't strictly necessary. Society in general has never gone out of its way to help me. As a result, I don't go out of my way to help others.

This was none of my business, and I had no reason to interfere.

That's what the logical side of me kept saying.

Yet, before I knew what I was doing, I found myself walking towards the table where the trio sat.

Telling them directly to stop would make the situation worse. It might create a lot of inconvenient misconceptions if people saw me as trying to help Yukinoshita.

Thus, I simply pretended not to notice what was happening, and timed it so that I walked past their table at the exact moment the girl threw her next projectile.

The crumpled piece of paper harmlessly bounced off my face, but it gave me an excuse to look at the trio.

The one who had thrown it had an "oops, that didn't go as planned" expression on her face, which relieved me. She wasn't a hardened bully, just a general asshole.

I picked up the paper ball and held it out to her.

"I think you dropped something."

"Eh? Uh, that's… definitely not ours."

"It's not? Ah, that's okay, then. Never mind. Wonder whose it is, then."

The three of them definitely didn't seem happy.

"No clue. Sorry, we have to be on our way."

With that, the three of them beat a hasty retreat. I thought I heard something along the lines of "tch, he ruined it", but I decided to ignore that.

By pretending I didn't know they had thrown that ball, I had started a conversation. By keeping the conversation going past the point where it should have ended, I had successfully managed to scare them off. Nobody really wants to waste time talking to a loner, especially one with my eyes.

Sigh.

Ah, well.

Mission successful.

I shoot a glance at Yukinoshita, who shoots a glance back.

Her normally emotionless eyes are slightly wider than usual.

And… in stark contrast to yesterday, they were glittering.

"Hey, are you all right?"

She nodded and looked away.

Guess she must not be comfortable getting helped by a complete stranger. That's okay. No point in staying and making her feel even more uncomfortable.

"I see. Well, I'll be on my way then.

As I walked away, there was no doubt that my mind was preoccupied with how weird her behaviour was. It had been a certain kind of weird yesterday, and the exact opposite today.

I didn't understand her at all. And what I had done today wasn't a lasting solution to the fact that she was being bullied.

Yet, for now at least, it was over.

Thinking thus, I continued to walk away, unaware that the pair of eyes that had glistened moments ago were now blank, and staring… right at me.