There's a certain word that's revered across the entirety of the world. Every person has their own interpretation, their own memories and feelings associated with it. As they look back on their days in the lie known as 'youth' and remember that certain word, feelings of fondness, happiness, humiliation, and embarrassment may surface.

We all know what I'm talking about, right?

Lunch.

Truly the most wonderful of words and meals. Its importance is simply unrivaled by any other meal of the day. While you can skip breakfast and dinner, you simply cannot skip lunch—it's unavoidable. If you wake up late, the first meal you have isn't breakfast, but brunch. Even schools and jobs have specific times set aside for lunch: that's a testament to its importance.

I'll say it again: it's truly the most wonderful of words and meals.

Classes had paused for the lunch break. I was sitting at my usual spot: the stairs near the covered bicycle racks. If you were to descend the stairs and keep going straight, then you'd walk past a small garden of trees and shrubs to suddenly find yourself at the tennis courts. Above the tennis courts, white clouds that looked pulled-apart cotton balls drifted lazily across the baby-blue sky, disappearing behind distant buildings and reappearing soon after.

Rarely anyone passed by during lunch. The only people I could see were currently at the tennis courts, but even they wouldn't come here. That's what made this spot so good for lonely lunching. The classroom was always filled with people who spoke so loudly their voices overpowered my earbuds, and the courtyard was home to basically all the riajuu in school, such as the likes of Hayama Hayato and the queen bee Miura Yumiko.

Here, the only company you had was yourself. You understood yourself perfectly; your wants, your needs, your likes, your dislikes—you knew all of them. Truly, having yourself as your company was the best type of company.

I took a bite of my cafeteria bread. The flavor was really nothing to write home about: I had it so many times it might as well be tasteless. I simply chewed and swallowed, not trying to savor it whatsoever. Although, if it were a bento made by Komachi, then it would've been a completely different story.

In any case, the true star of this bland meal was MAX Coffee. Stored in a golden can, the caffeinated ichor satisfied my taste buds in the bread's stead. Its taste was delectable, its consistency like silk as it flowed down your throat. In my many years of drinking MAX Coffee, I never grew bored of it.

As I ate my bread and took sips of MAX in between bites, I quietly read a novel. That was how I spent all of my lunches, and I was relieved that despite my new 'relationship' with Yukinoshita, at least that didn't change.

It didn't take long before I checked my phone. The white digits urged me to go back inside, even though I still had a few minutes before the end of lunch. Since most people ate outside of their classrooms, at the end of lunch, the hallways would always be flooded with traffic. Wanting to avoid that, I made it a habit to head inside early.

After throwing away my plastic wrap and empty can, I retraced my steps back to my classroom. Light conversation reverberated throughout the hallway. Off to the side, three people were talking amongst themselves while two others—a boy and a girl—were ahead of me, also in conversation.

I could hear the boy clearly even with the distance between us. That annoyingly loud voice along with his orange-dyed hair made him easy to recognize: Tobe Kakeru, one of the members of Hayama Hayato's clique. The girl next to him had gray-brown hair styled into a bob. Slightly obscured but still visible were the red tips of her glasses. I concluded she was Ebina Hina.

"That guy's confession was a total failure!" Tobe exclaimed. "You have to be a masochist or somethin' to confess to her. Her kill count's like, at least twenty from this term alone. Guys and girls."

Ebina-san chuckled softly. "You shouldn't say that so loudly. It's embarrassing for Takahashi, you know?"

"My bad." He laughed dryly, seemingly trying to salvage his image.

"But," she continued, "that did go pretty badly for him. I never expected Yukinoshita to have a boyfriend."

I stopped dead in my tracks. My blood ran cold, my breathing ensnared as I stood there unmoving. My body felt heavy, as if three-hundred pounds were suddenly dropped on my shoulders. Tobe and Ebina continued to walk ahead of me, but their voices rang clear in my ears like a bell.

"Hikigaya Hachiman, huh?" Tobe wondered aloud. "His name kinda sounds familiar. I wonder what he's like. He's probably good looking, like, Hayato-level good looking if he's her boyfriend."

"We can ask Hayato when we get back to class," Ebina-san suggested. "He might know who he is."

"Probably. But it's sorta weird, ya know? 'Cause Yukinoshita's all popular and stuff, but no one even knows what her boyfriend's like."

"Right? It's..."

I didn't bother to listen to the rest of their conversation.

Yukinoshita Yukino.

She had really gone through with it.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to collect my thoughts.

Judging from their conversation, rumors were circulating around like wildfire. If I were to continue walking to my classroom, then my identity would be discovered by the time I got there. That was something I really didn't want to deal with right now. Since they were my classmates, they'd use that as a pretense to ask less-than-comfortable questions compared to everyone else.

Yeah, I really wanted to avoid that. And there was someone else who I wanted to avoid as well.

Hayama Hayato.

I remembered Yukinoshita's warning all too well. What were they, exes or something? That was a potential mess I particularly wanted to avoid. Being forced into a 'relationship' with Yukinoshita was already bad enough—I didn't want to be forced into her past ones as well.

The longer I could delay our meeting, the better; which meant I shouldn't head back to class straight away.

The best choice of action would be for me to retreat to my safe haven: the infirmary.

X X X

A girl alongside the nurse was already inside the infirmary when I opened the door. Her silver-blue hair swayed as she turned to look at me, her tired green eyes narrowing as we made eye contact. Her hostile stare reminded me of a certain Ice Queen, though it was nowhere near as cold. Yukinoshita's glare was like an industrial-grade freezer while this girl's was like your standard fridge.

"You're also one of Shizuka-chan's, right?" the nurse questioned me. She looked over to the other student. "Sorry, give me a second to deal with him."

I decided to get straight to the point. I prepped my voice to come out weary and somewhat remorseful. "I, uh, don't feel too well. I think I might have a cold."

"Mhmm. Come a bit closer, let me have a look," Sensei replied skeptically, doubt evident in her tone. As a school nurse, she'd be adept at picking out skipping students. Tch.

I did as she instructed, walking over in front of her. She began to stare straight into my eyes. Was she trying to make me confess my lie through intimidation? I did my best to stay true to character, staring back groggily. I would have added a cough if she weren't so close.

"You definitely have a cold," she diagnosed after a moment. She spun around and began to write something into her clipboard. "I can just tell by your dead eyes. No need to take a temperature."

"Ah, okay…" Even though I succeeded, I felt miffed.

She waved her hand, directing my gaze to some pink curtains further into the room. "There's a bed inside those curtains. Get some rest."

I went over and laid down on the bed, placing the provided linen blanket over my stomach. Unintelligible conversation filled the room as I closed my eyes, though I paid it no mind as I drifted to sleep.

X X X

I woke up to the feeling of my cheek being prodded at.

My eyes opened to the sight of a mechanical pencil pulling away from my face, the hand which held it belonged to a girl who I instantly recognized as Yukinoshita. She was sitting next to the bed on a blue stool, her posture perfect as her sharp eyes looked down on me.

"You're awake."

"Unfortunately," I answered tiredly. I sat up, stifling a yawn as I blearily looked around. "What time is it?"

"It's break."

"Seriously?" I said with surprise. "The nurse let me sleep for that long?"

"I didn't see the nurse when I entered," Yukinoshita remarked, looking over her shoulder. She turned back to look at me and gave me a sardonic smile. "She more than likely forgot about you."

"Well, extra sleep isn't anything to be upset about." I ran my fingers through my hair, untangling some of the clumps that had formed while I was knocked out. "How'd you find me?"

"I asked Hiratsuka-sensei where you might be," she explained, her expression somewhat disturbed. "She seemed irritated when I asked for you."

Considering I just slept through an entire class, I couldn't blame her. I stretched my arms toward the ceiling, letting out another yawn. "Since you're here, I'm assuming you have something to tell me."

"Correct," she affirmed. She crossed her legs. "I'm sure you've already heard, but I was confessed to during lunch."

"And that's why I'm here," I replied flatly.

"Hiding?"

"More or less."

Yukinoshita sighed listlessly. "Then may I assume you didn't talk with anyone?"

"I went to the infirmary before anyone recognized me."

"I see…" She held her chin, appearing as if she were in thought. "I was able to brush aside most questions about us, but I did end up answering one."

"Which was?"

"When we got together." She removed her hand from her chin, looking at me in the eyes. "I said it was yesterday. Of course, you were the one who confessed."

"Someone's honest," I grumbled. My words dripped with sarcasm.

Yukinoshita ignored my comment, moving onto another topic. "We also need to talk about Hayama-kun."

"You mean you need to tell me about Hayama," I corrected bluntly. "What is he, your ex?"

"We're nothing like that."

Yukinoshita's eyes were narrowed into an icy glare, her voice frigid and radiating animosity. It felt like the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. I wanted nothing more but to hide underneath the protection and warmth of the blanket; to sleep away the rest of the day.

"Ah, sorry." An empty apology spilled from my mouth, trying to save myself from her wrath. "But it's obvious there's history between you two."

She let out a breath, her eyes mellowing back into their normal cold look. However, she looked to the wall, as if a projector were displaying slides of her memories.

"We just attended the same grade school. Our parents also know each other; his father is the corporate lawyer for my parents' company."

I felt there was more to that story than she was letting on, but I decided not to push it. "Then you're worried about him telling your parents? Kind of late for that, don't you think?"

She returned her gaze to me. "No, he wouldn't do anything like that. I'm simply being cautious of him, and you need to be as well."

I nodded in understanding. "If he were to find out about the truth… I wouldn't mind that one bit."

"I made sure you would mind, didn't I?"

"Right…"

"And one more thing." Yukinoshita leaned down, unzipping something that was out of sight—probably her book bag—then sat back up with a blue phone in hand. "I need your phone number."

I was reminded of a memory from middle school.

A girl by the name of Kimura Akane had given me her phone number. I still remembered how I felt when she handed me back my phone: a warm feeling in my stomach, a pounding heart, and a grin engraved across my face for the rest of the day. At the time, I didn't know she gave me her contact out of pity. I texted her paragraphs every day only to receive curt, one-word responses hours later. It took me two weeks before I finally realized the truth, when she stopped responding to my texts.

Needless to say, I deleted Kimura's contact. Now, the only contacts on my phone belonged to my family. I wondered if Yukinoshita was the same in that regard.

Yukinoshita passed me her unlocked phone. Compared to the past, there were no feelings of excitement or happiness in that wordless exchange; it was simply an obligation from a contract I was forced to sign. If anything, I felt irritated that I needed to give her my precious phone number.

I handed the phone back to her. Her fingers danced across the screen and I promptly received a new message from an unknown number. From that message, I created a new contact which I named 'Demon Ice Queen'.

"Don't message me tactlessly," she warned.

"The same goes for you."

The sound of the infirmary door sliding open caught our attention. The curtain blocked me from seeing who entered, but I guessed it was the nurse, returning from wherever she went off to while I was asleep. Yukinoshita seemed to have guessed that as well. She stood from the stool, her book bag in hand. I noticed it had a keychain of a gray cat with an eyepatch dangling from the side.

"I'll be leaving then," she stated. "Remember what we spoke about."

She turned around, straight into the nurse.

Yukinoshita yelped as she immediately backed away, bumping into the end of the bed. She hurriedly planted a hand onto the mattress to prevent herself from falling.

Sensei looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Yukinoshita? What are you…"

"I-I'm sorry!" Yukinoshita apologized fervently.

"It's alright," the nurse assured awkwardly, clearly bewildered. "Is there something wrong? Or— oh." The nurse saw me behind Yukinoshita. Her expression stiffened as she removed her hands from the pockets of her ivory lab coat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. I knew right away she had heard the rumors. Sensei sighed. "Look, I don't like students entering the infirmary to check on their… friends without my permission. I'm sure you don't need me to explain why."

"T-there's no need," Yukinoshita stammered, her face painted red with her gaze averted. I resisted the urge to take out my phone and snap a picture.

The nurse stared at Yukinoshita a second longer before she turned her attention to me. She took a second to examine my face. Whatever she saw caused her to frown. "You still aren't looking too good. I'll need to take your temperature."

I nodded silently, and she disappeared behind the curtain to grab a thermometer. In her absence, Yukinoshita looked at me. "Not a word," she growled. I felt the corners of my mouth curl in a smug smile.

The nurse reappeared from behind the curtains. She scanned my forehead with the thermometer which promptly let out a beep. "Thirty-seven," she announced. "Your temperature's completely normal. Head back to class, both of you."

I said a brief thanks and she went back to her desk. Yukinoshita left the room before I even stepped foot from the bed, her hurried steps evidence of her still flustered state. A feeling of schadenfreude produced a second smile from me, but it quickly faded as I left the infirmary.

I kept my head down as I walked through the hall, trying not to draw attention to myself. The amount of times I heard my name outnumbered the steps it took for me to reach my classroom, or at least it felt like it.

Standing outside the classroom, I could hear a blend of voices pouring past the door. I couldn't understand a word due to the sheer multitude of people, but I knew what they were talking about.

I placed a hand onto the handle. My throat was dry, my tongue feeling like a slab of clay in my mouth.

I swallowed my anxiety, and with a sweaty palm, I slid open the door.

An abrupt silence replaced the rabid conversation. Every single person in the room had their heads turned to the doorway, staring at me like hungry wolves to a single sheep. Their eyes perceived me as only one thing:

Yukinoshita's boyfriend.

I shuffled over to my desk. Their stares followed me like blinding searchlights as I sat and put my head down. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, but it was an impossible task. My label had changed. I was no longer the class loner who quietly kept to himself, but the boyfriend of Yukinoshita Yukino.

I could feel the presence of someone standing over my desk, but I didn't acknowledge it.

"Is it true you're dating Yukinoshita?" the someone asked. I instantly recognized it was Tobe.

I begrudgingly lifted my head to answer him. "Y-yeah…"

"Wow, seriously? You of all people?" He laughed, joined in by a few others. "Man, I totally didn't expect you. Like, until now, I didn't even know your name!"

I didn't know if he meant his remark to be insulting, but a bitter taste filled my mouth. I forced myself to form a crooked smile, acting as if I were in on the joke. If I still had my list, then I would've added his name. Maybe I'll ask Yukinoshita to add it for me.

"Tobe, stop bothering him."

A stern yet amiable voice penetrated the laughter, silencing it. Everyone's eyes were no longer on me, but on Hayama Hayato. He was wearing his usual smile, his mannerisms laidback, yet it seemed as if something bothered him. I realized he knew anything he said to Tobe would also be addressed to everyone else.

"It's really none of our business," he continued, his tone still friendly and well-meaning. "We don't want to start or spread any rumors either."

"Right, yeah." Tobe returned his attention to me. "Sorry about that man. Just wanted to say congratulations, ya know?"

I gave him a curt nod and he returned to his side of the room. Conversation unrelated to me refilled the classroom, and everything within its confines seemed to return to normal.

The exception, of course, being my relationship status.

X X X

"What the hell am I looking at?"

My homeroom teacher, modern Japanese teacher, and counselor, was sitting in front of me. She was holding my essay, her grip so tight wrinkles blemished its surface. The corners of her mouth were dipped into a deep frown, with her brow furrowed and legs sternly crossed. A strong smell of cigarettes emanated from her like a pungent perfume.

We were in the faculty room. Two rows of joined metal desks stretched across its entirety, leaving a comfortable space in the middle for people to walk through. File organizers, folders, and binders were abundant atop the desks, with the odd potted plant for dismal decor. Each desk was personalized to some degree with pictures of family or personal objects; I noticed Hiratsuka-sensei only had a pack of cigarettes to display.

"It's an analysis on the superficiality of high school life and youth," I responded, averting my gaze to the window as the words left me. Saying it outloud was somehow more embarrassing than when I wrote it.

Hiratsuka-sensei scoffed scornfully. "Quit your nonsense. This essay reads like the manifesto for a terrorist. It's like you think it's a capital crime to enjoy your adolescence."

She wasn't wrong. Completely right, actually.

"I can't believe someone who wrote this managed to get a girlfriend," she muttered, looking over the paper once again with a disgusted expression. "And Yukinoshita no less. Did you level up from being a petty thug and blackmail her into going out with you?"

"Very funny," I grumbled. I might've laughed if it wasn't the opposite. "Maybe you should quit your job as a teacher and become a comedian."

"I won't be able to make it as a comedian with an essay like this around."

"Oi."

"I'm kidding." She paused and looked up from the essay, staring at me with a deadpan expression. "Actually, if I'm compared to this bad joke of you getting a girlfriend, then it's quite possible."

"Is anyone else hearing this?"

Hiratsuka-sensei planted the essay firmly onto the table, making me focus on her again. Her storm gray eyes were imbued with a petrifying intensity, appearing like she was about to shoot lasers straight through my skull and leave two smoldering holes behind.

"...What?"

"I used to think you were just like me when I was in high school! Always alone no matter how much you tried to find someone... I wanted to help you, but you're actually a damn riajuu! You're a bastard! A traitor! A shithead with nothing but his literature grade going for him!"

She buried her head into the crook of her arm and started to sob hysterically. The other teachers and students in the room turned and peered at us with bewildered eyes. I had enough rumors spreading about me; I didn't need a new scandal, especially one concerning Hiratsuka-sensei.

"S-sensei, you're making a scene," I whispered frantically, trying to get her to realize the ordeal she just put us in. My hands hovered above her, contemplating whether or not to touch her quivering shoulders. All I got as a response was her shaking head and muffled garbles of words.

Her sobs eventually faded around the time I considered leaving her. She lifted her head from the solace of her arm and I extended her a tissue which she gratefully accepted. After blowing into it, she threw it away into a trash can underneath her desk. With the back of her hands she clumsily wiped her eyes.

"I'm s-sorry you had to see that..." she mumbled with a sniffle. She reached for another tissue and blew her nose again.

"N-no, it's nothing…"

I felt my heart begin to pound. This meek version of Hiratsuka-sensei was a far cry from the usual stomach-punching brute of a Christmas cake; it looked like she was about to curl up into a ball and drink herself into oblivion. Somebody just take her already!

She cleared her throat and with an outstretched hand, offered me back my essay with moist eyes. "Anyway, I'm not done talking to you about this. Just what the hell is this supposed to be, really?"

"I don't think it's bad enough for you to crumple it," I muttered half-heartedly as I took it back. Truthfully, as I read over it again, I could tell it was pretty bad. It was reminiscent of an author trying to pad their word count by using wordy phrases and jargon in order to sound smart and deep when there was nothing of substance at all.

"It was out of reflex. Like when you're reading manga and some bullshit happens, you feel the urge to crumple the pages, right? Well this time, I couldn't control that urge," Hiratsuka-sensei replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I stared at her blankly.

Hiratsuka-sensei sighed again—a habit that seemed to get stronger every time we met—and leaned back on the couch. She stared wearily at the ceiling, smoke climbing towards an air vent from her cigarette. "Your attitude is the worst I've ever seen. And I've seen plenty over the years."

"From an objective standpoint, I think my attitude's fine," I argued. "In fact, I think it's more than fine: it's exemplary. If everyone had my mindset, the world would run a lot smoother."

"If everyone had your attitude, the world would fall back to the dark ages," Hiratsuka-sensei retorted. She continued before I could come up with a retort of my own. "In any case, as punishment for your shitty attitude and essay, I sentence you to community service."

I blinked at her. "That's it?" That wasn't too bad. I stood up and started to stretch my arms. "What do you need moved?"

"Just follow me," Hiratsuka-sensei replied as she put out her cigarette on an ashtray and stood up. She left the consultation room and I followed suit.

My uncertain steps followed Hiratsuka-sensei's confident gait as we crossed the walkway and entered the special building, which housed the majority of our school's clubs. I wasn't too familiar with it since the only club I was a part of—the Going Home Club—didn't need a classroom. The first time I entered it was during my first year of high school and the second time was when Yukinoshita called me here earlier this morning.

"Do you need help moving boxes in a clubroom?" I asked.

"Who said you needed to move boxes?" Hiratsuka-sensei said without turning around.

"Well, you said community service, so I assumed something along those lines."

"The community service you'll be doing is completely different from that."

"Huh? Like what?"

"You'll find out in just a moment," Hiratsuka-sensei said cryptically. We stopped in front of a classroom. While we were walking, I hadn't been paying attention to our surroundings at all. I was completely focused on the person in front of me and trying to decipher what she meant by "community service." It was because of that I only now realized we were in front of a classroom with a blank nameplate.

The same classroom from this morning.

"Hey, what's the meaning of this?"

Hiratsuka-sensei finally turned around. A smug grin was etched across her face. "As of today, you're a member of the Service Club." She slid the door open with a thud and walked inside. "Come inside."

I followed her inside. The room looked the exact same from when I last saw it: boxes and chairs stacked carelessly in a corner of the room with the smell of dust permeating throughout. Pushed to the side was a long table I didn't notice earlier. It was pretty apparent that the most use the room had gotten in a long time came from today.

"Isn't it nice?" Hiratsuka-sensei proclaimed. "This is your new club room."

"My new club room?" I questioned. "Didn't you lend it to Yukinoshita earlier today?"

"I lend it out if students ask, but no one really does. It's not exactly right to say this room is mine, but it's close enough." Hiratsuka-sensei held her chin. "I used to be in charge of a club around… How old are you? Sixteen?" I nodded, and Hiratsuka-sensei continued. "And she was a third-year back then so around… three years ago maybe? Anyway, the club disbanded and this room hasn't been in use since then."

"Is that so…" I mumbled to myself. "So where's the rest of the members?"

"Didn't I just tell you? It's your new club room."

I blinked. "I don't follow." Or rather, I didn't want to.

"Your new club room. New club. You're the only member. Which makes you…" Hiratsuka-sensei raised her arm and pointed at me with her index finger like an arrow. "The president of the Service Club!"

I stared at her blankly. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

My stomach dropped. Me? President of a club? I could barely manage to be a member of one. Last time I was in any sort of leadership position, I was a class representative and ended up getting bullied—all the work got piled on me and whenever something went wrong I got blamed. Now Hiratsuka-sensei was trying to conscript me into becoming a club president?

"No way, no way," I declined. "I have too much on my plate. I'm already a part of a club too."

"Like what?"

"...The going home club?"

"If you say anything like that again, you're getting a falcon punch."

I flinched. "Y-You can't force me to become a club president. I have no leadership skills, and I can't imagine myself organizing any community service projects. I'm a terrible fit."

"Don't be so fast to reject my offer. Becoming club president has its perks, you know? You get this beautiful room all to yourself during lunch and after school—all you have to do is ask for the key—and it looks good on your transcript."

I took a moment to think. Having an entire classroom to myself during lunch did seem pretty nice—especially because of all the rumors spreading around—but there was still the glaring issue of organizing projects. "Nope. I can't do community service projects," I declined again.

"When I say community service, I don't mean organizing food drives or trash pick-ups. That responsibility goes to the student council. I'm talking on a more personal scale."

"What? Like personal requests?" Was she trying to turn me into a gopher? Now I know why she considered this a punishment. "Isn't that your job?"

Hiratsuka-sensei smiled. "There are things not even us counselors are adept at handling. And sometimes, students prefer talking to other students rather than adults."

"I have a hard time believing someone would want to come to me," I grumbled.

"You'd be surprised. Besides, you won't be the only one in this club. I'll send someone capable your way very soon."

I furrowed my brow. "Hey, didn't you just say I'd get this classroom all to myself?"

"What's a club without members?"

"An efficient one."

Hiratsuka-sensei shot me a glare that sent shivers throughout my body. She sighed for what felt like the tenth time today. "Y'know Hikigaya, you've been acting like you have a choice in all this, but the reality is, you don't. Like it or not, you're in the Service Club; like it or not, you're the president. No room for negotiation."

"Can't I just rewrite my essay?"

"You should've written it correctly the first time." Hiratsuka-sensei pulled a key from the pocket of her coat. "Here, catch."

The key landed in the palm of my hand with a satisfying plop. The metal felt cold as I looked at it closely. Linked to the key was a blank, green plastic label. Old scotch tape emblazoned the surface: maybe from an old label?

"I'm gonna head out now," Hiratsuka-sensei said as she headed for the door. "Get yourself situated. Remember to lock the door after you leave and drop the key off at my desk."

"Wait."

Hiratsuka-sensei paused in her step and turned around. "Hm? Got a question?"

I had a multitude of questions. How long was I supposed to do this? Who was the member she planned on sending my way? What club did this room used to belong to? What was the legality behind forcing me to become a club president? Why couldn't she get married? "Am I really just supposed to solve every request that comes my way?"

Hiratsuka-sensei crossed her arms in thought. Then, she raised a finger. "Have you heard of the phrase 'Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach him how to fish—' "

"And you feed him for a lifetime," I finished her sentence for her. "That's the principle you want me to follow?"

She grinned. "You catch on quick when you want to."

I shrugged. "So if a request doesn't follow that principle, I'm free to decline it?"

"You are, but before you do that, you should do your best to frame their request in a way that'll lead to self-improvement."

"I see…"

"Anything else? I have some mang—I mean, papers I need to grade."

I shook my head no, and Hiratsuka-sensei left the room, leaving me alone. I dropped my bookbag on the floor. If I really was going to use this room from now on, I might as well make it more comfortable.

I walked to the long table and pushed it to the middle of the room, then placed a chair at the end. I promptly sat down, taking in my surroundings. Sitting there felt surreal. Lately, everything felt surreal. Becoming Yukinoshita's confession deterrent was already unbelievable, but now, I was president of a club.

I reached inside my bag and grabbed a cold aluminum can. I popped the tab and brought the opening to my lips.

If nothing else, at least I still had MAX Coffee.