The electronic bell rang throughout the school, signaling the start of lunch break. I immediately began to fish through my book bag in search of my phone, novel, and wallet. I found the former first, my earbuds still attached to it when I was listening to music before class. A second later I found my novel in its designated pocket.

Finding the leather pocketbook was more difficult. It wasn't in its usual place to my consternation, and shuffling the other items in my bag around didn't reveal it either. However, I did stumble upon some change which I promptly put aside. If I did really forget my wallet at home, then I could at least buy a can of MAX.

My phone vibrated atop my desk. I quickly reached for it, expecting a text from Komachi explaining she'd "borrowed" my wallet; instead, I was met with a text from Yukinoshita. The stoic black words filled me with dread.

[We're having lunch together. Meet me in my classroom.]

The hell? We're having lunch together? The way things are looking now, I don't even have a lunch to eat. Besides, this is my personal time of serenity! Why do I have to share it with her?

A second vibration.

[Now.]

I silently wondered if she could read my mind.

I pocketed my items and left my desk, heading for the door. A conversation not meant for me to hear reached my ears as I walked. Even after what Hayama had said yesterday, people still spread rumors when they thought I couldn't hear them.

"Where do you think he's headed? Meeting up with Yukinoshita?"

"Why else would he leave? You know, I bet they're going to eat in the courtyard."

"Probably. He just wants to show off; bask in the spotlight. She's literally the only reason anyone knows of his existence."

"I'd totally be a better match for her."

"...Don't you have a girlfriend already?"

I clicked my tongue. Any care I may have had for popularity or 'showing off' had long since been discarded. Such things were pointless, a waste of time and energy. The only people who thought of them as having any importance were the egotistical and prideful; the fact that one of the conversationalists claimed they'd be a better match for Yukinoshita was proof.

I gave them a glance to let them know I heard them before I left the room. They looked away, acting as if their exchange had just never happened. Sheesh, at least take ownership for your words.

The walk to 2-J was long. As was its alphabetical place in the ten second-year classes of Soubu, 2-J was located at the far end of the school. Anyone who went by it did it purposefully; unless you wanted to, there'd be no reason to be there. And there was nobody loitering in front of the classroom when I got there.

I stood in front of the closed door, my legs feeling like they were made of gel-nanas. Did I mention ninety percent of 2-J were girls? Because ninety percent of 2-J were girls. Clearly the best course of action would be to wait outside and message Yukinoshita, instead of exposing myself to the haughty gossip of the class' inhabitants.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent her a brief message.

[I'm outside.]

That was all I needed to do. Now I'll just move off to the side and—

The door slammed against the side of the wall, the jarring sound it produced rattling my skeleton. Before I could even register who had opened the door, I was being dragged away by the sleeve of my blazer. Strung over the perpetrator's shoulder was a book bag, and with agitated and brisk steps we entered a separate empty hallway.

We slowed to a stop next to the wall. Yukinoshita's grip loosened until her hand fell away to her side. Her fingers fiddled with the ends of her skirt, drawing my gaze for a moment before I hastily looked away. Contrary to what Yukinoshita might think, I did have self-control, okay? I didn't take a second glance just now, okay?

She turned around. Her cobalt eyes were narrowed like icicles as she looked at me.

"You're late."

I blinked, taking a moment to register her words.

"You didn't give me a specific time in the first place," I refuted, irked at her unreasonable demeanor. "All you said was 'now'. I'd be hard-pressed to call that descriptive."

"Do you not only have the eyes of a dead fish, but the intelligence of one as well? Clearly 'now' means as soon as possible. Did you regress so far in evolution that you've lost the ability to walk and now flop around the halls? Perhaps we should have a janitor tail you to clean up the slime you leave behind."

This girl…

"Eating lunch with you isn't exactly a great motivator," I argued, contempt obvious in my tone. "Take a moment to reflect on how you've been treating me. Why would I want to eat with you?"

"You could be a masochist."

"Hell no."

"Then—"

"Stop." I interrupted before she could say anything more outlandish, and sighed exasperatedly. "You know, the fact that you need to use blackmail just might allude to something." Like your shitty personality.

"Don't mistake me for yourself, Fishigaya-kun." Yukinoshita walked forward and stopped next to me. She gazed down the hall with a pensive look in her eyes. "I don't want to eat with you either. If I could, then I would eat in my classroom like usual. However…"

An uneasy expression manifested on her face. She didn't finish her thoughts, letting the words linger uncertainly in the air.

"Your classmates," I guessed, and she nodded glumly in confirmation. "Well, it's not like I have any sympathy for you."

"I prefer it that way. Receiving your sympathies would be pitiful."

I shot her a glare which she simply ignored.

"But," she continued, turning her head to look at me. A small smile adorned her pink lips, much different from her other foul smiles I'd been exposed to. "...something like that is nothing. Did you know? I have yet to receive a single confession today."

I averted my gaze, suddenly unable to meet her jovial eyes. "If you're expecting any words of congratulations from me, then you're delusional."

She chuckled dryly. "Then I suppose I'm not."

I kept my doubtful thoughts to myself as I stuffed my hands deep inside my pockets and returned my gaze to her. "What do you have against confessions anyway? Sure, a lot of them may be annoying, but in the end, it's evidence that people like you despite your awful personality."

A listless sigh escaped her mouth. Her fingertips pressed against her temple, as if assuaging a headache. "I'll forgive your ignorance since you've never been confessed to before, nor have you ever known anyone who has been."

"You're making some pretty depressing assumptions over there."

"None of which are false," she said with a nonchalant flip of her hair. "Let me ask you something first: What notions do you have about confessions?"

"They're the ultimate culmination of the lies of youth," I answered without missing a beat. "Nothing but deceit spun from the feeble threads of superficial affection."

"Is that so?" she replied flatly, seemingly finding what I said not worth any deeper thought. "I don't share your opinion. While it's true I want to avoid them, it's not as if I have an innate loathe for them. Rather, if I were truly liked, then I may appreciate it."

"But that's far from the case," I noted, catching onto what she was trying to say. "They only like you because you're cute, and because of your reputation."

Her cheeks started to glow a faint cherry red. "Yes, that's correct; it's only natural for me to be treated this way. However, Miura Yumiko could also be considered cute, but she isn't treated the same as me. Although she does lack my prowess in academics and recreational activities... She's also not as cute compared to me. If I were to rank all of the second year girls, then Miura-san would still be below me. Her popularity is also less than mine, despite my apathy toward such a pointless value. I'm more liked by the teachers and administrators as well."

A torrent of words poured out of her mouth like Niagara Falls. By the end of her paragraph, she seemed out of breath: she let out a heavy sigh of air and placed a hand on her ribbon that rose and fell with the rhythm of her chest.

"...Even you pay attention to those sorts of things, huh?"

"I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about." She glared at me. "Actually, can you please stop looking at me like that? It's quite creepy."

...This girl. For a second, I almost thought she was cute from the way she tried to hide her embarrassment with that barrage of words, but that notion was completely washed away by her tactless insults. Forget Niagara Falls: her insults were like sewage pouring out of a rusty waste pipe.

"So? Where're we eating?" I asked her, irritated. "We're not eating in your classroom, and there's no way in hell we're eating in mine."

"That's…" Yukinoshita words trailed off into silence. She placed her thin fingers on her chin in thought.

"Don't tell me you were gonna say 'that's a good question,'" I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why'd you call me here anyway if you don't even know where to eat?"

"We need to keep up appearances: it would be odd for a couple not to eat lunch together, wouldn't it?" Yukinoshita answered. She paused, then spoke quietly, almost mumbling. "I usually eat my lunch in my classroom; I don't know anywhere else to eat, save for the courtyard."

"Courtyard is a no for me," I quickly declined.

"If you're going to decline all possible options, then I hope you have a proposal yourself."

I did in fact, but letting Yukinoshita in on my secret spot somehow rubbed me the wrong way. That spot was mine! Mine and mine alone! I wasn't much of a gatekeeper; in fact, back in elementary and middle school, I would've loved for someone to show interest in my more underground hobbies. Maybe I would've made some friends that way. But when it came to that spot of mine, I felt oddly protective of it. No, it wasn't odd. It was only natural to want to protect my haven from Yukinoshita. It was like a bird wanting to hide the location of their nest from a cat.

Suddenly, I remembered the club room. Hiratsuka-sensei said I could use it during lunch—all I had to do was ask for the key.

"I know a place. Follow me." I began to walk ahead, and I heard Yukinoshita's steps echo after my own.

"And where would that be?"

"Remember the room you called me into the other day?" I answered as we walked.

"You're proposing we eat there?"

"Any issues with that?"

"None at all. In fact, I should have thought of it myself. My cognitive abilities are declining just from being around you… perhaps I've been exposed to a lethal dose of Hiki-germs."

"Are you saying I'm a cognitive disease?!"

Yukinoshita stood outside the staff room as I went inside. Hiratsuka-sensei gave me the key, reminding me to return it after lunch as she dropped it into my palm. I nodded in agreement and returned to see Yukinoshita still waiting for me outside. I flashed her the key and we continued on to the Special Building. Soon, we reached the blank nameplate that marked the clubroom.

I unlocked the door and slid it to the side. The sight of the long table greeted me along with the chair I had placed at the end.

"That table wasn't there before," Yukinoshita pointed out.

"I moved it there." I headed inside; Yukinoshita followed close behind me, briskly sliding the door shut.

"Did you somehow anticipate we would end up eating here?"

"Of course I didn't." That would imply I wanted to eat with her. "I guess I didn't tell you: this is my clubroom. I'm president of the club that uses this space."

Yukinoshita's already faint footsteps slowed to a stop. Silence filled the clubroom. I turned around, wondering why she suddenly stopped moving.

Her blue eyes were abnormally wide. If her gaze was normally like icicles, they were now big snowballs that stared at me in blatant chilly shock. She stood completely still, like a snowman—or woman.

"You're president of a club? Since when?"

"Shocking, right? Even I'm surprised," I said monotonously, walking towards the stack of chairs in the corner. I lifted one up. "I became president yesterday. And just so you know, I didn't become one by choice. I got conscripted by Hiratsuka-sensei."

"Is that… legal?" Her voice dripped with worry, but for some reason, it pissed me off. Did I seem so pitiful that even Yukinoshita was worried for me?

"Hell if I know." I walked toward the opposite end of the table, across from my chair. "But I'm president and there's nothing I can do about it."

I placed the chair down for Yukinoshita. Even I could be a gentleman sometimes.

Yukinoshita gazed down at the chair. Then, slowly, her pupils raised to meet my own.

"Are you an idiot?"

I felt my facial muscles twitch. "Shouldn't you be saying 'Thank you'?"

"Idiotic behavior should be condemned as such."

"I got a chair for you!"

"And placed it comically far away from yours. What is this supposed to be? A meeting between two mobsters?"

"The only mobster here is you," I muttered under my breath. "Who cares? It's not like anyone can see us here anyway."

Yukinoshita simply pointed at something in response. I followed the line her finger drew to the circular window built into the door. I almost jumped; people were fighting over the chance to look inside the room like zombies trying to infect the last human on earth.

"I didn't think anyone was following us…" I mumbled. I made eye contact with one of the zombies and they hid just under the window.

"They must've stayed just out of sight," Yukinoshita sighed. "I locked the door, so we don't need to worry about them entering at least."

I reluctantly picked up her chair and moved it closer to where my own chair was, although we weren't right next to each other—her chair faced the long side of the table while mine faced the shortest. "Good enough, your majesty?"

"You're not going to dust it off, my lowly servant?"

"…"

"I'm joking. I allow you to laugh."

I didn't say anything; It felt like I'd be losing if I did. I wordlessly walked to my chair and sat down. Yukinoshita, smiling at her apparent victory, sat down in her own chair and placed her book bag in her lap. She reached down, her hands disappearing under the table for a moment before reappearing holding a small, plastic blue box. Her lunch, I assume.

Lunch.

Lunch…

I started digging through my bag, frantically resuming the search for my wallet. Yukinoshita soon called out to me.

"Are you looking for your lunch?"

"It's starting to look like I won't have one," I said without looking up. "I think I left my wallet at home."

"May I suggest writing notes on your arm with a marker so you don't forget again?"

"Very funny," I grumbled. I closed my bag, resigning myself to a lunch-less lunch. That sounded really sad; it was like having a party-less birthday party. Not that I've ever experienced something like that. Really, I haven't, okay? I like celebrating my birthday on my own anyway, okay?

On the contrary, Yukinoshita was having a bountiful lunch. She gently lifted the lid from the bento, and a mouth-watering aroma suddenly began to permeate the air like a scented candle. Filling her bento was a wide assortment of proteins and vegetables: golden omelets, octopus sausages, salad, rice—even the cherry tomatoes were starting to look appetizing.

I felt my mouth begin to salivate. I must've been staring intensely, because Yukinoshita looked at me with a frown. I quickly turned my head, a hand covering my mouth.

A listless sigh traversed the air and entered my ears.

"It can't be helped."

The sound of rustling fabric brought my gaze back to Yukinoshita. It was an odd sight: in each hand she held a pair of wooden chopsticks. Was this a new technique? Did Yukinoshita somehow discover an optimal way to use two pairs of chopsticks at once? I almost cracked a smile at the thought of her dual-wielding chopsticks to shovel rice in her mouth.

She extended her hand until a pair of chopsticks was only a few centimeters away from my torso, hovering above the table.

I looked at the chopsticks. I looked at her. I looked at the chopsticks again. I looked at her.

"Are you going to take them or not?"

"…Who are you?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Yukinoshita isn't the type of good-natured girl who would kindly offer to share her lunch with someone in need, especially me. That must mean you're an imposter!"

Her eyes narrowed.

"So that's how you think of me."

"Don't tell me you thought otherwise." I reached for the chopsticks, but at the last second, they moved just out of reach. I tried again, and just like before, they moved out of reach. I scowled at her. "Are you really petty enough to take revenge over something like that?"

"Don't tell me you thought otherwise."

She parroted my words with a seemingly blank expression. However, a glint of mischief accented her eyes like the white crest of an ocean wave.

I finally took a hold of the pair of chopsticks—Yukinoshita being merciful no doubt.

"I'm genuinely surprised you're sharing your lunch, though." Lesser men would be a mess right now, their thoughts filled with "She's sharing her lunch with me? She brought two pairs of chopsticks: was she planning on sharing her lunch with me the entire time? That means she likes me, right?!" But I was no lesser man—my experiences in the battlefields of youth had left me a hardened veteran. Sharing lunch was nothing but community service to her; the second pair of chopsticks was probably just a backup.

Yukinoshita Yukino did not like me.

"Is that so? I think of this as nothing but throwing you a bone," Yukinoshita said with disinterest as she picked out parts of her lunch and placed them on the lid of her bento. She slid the makeshift plate over to me.

See? What'd I tell you?

I lifted an omelet and gingerly placed it in my mouth. It was fluffy and airy, almost like sponge cake, and had a hint of nostalgic sweetness that complemented its light saltiness. I couldn't stop my lips from curling upwards as I chewed.

I felt eyes on me, and I looked up to see Yukinoshita with a smug smile.

"May I assume it's the best you've ever tasted?"

I chewed for a few seconds and swallowed. "My sister's is better," I replied matter-of-factly.

"How so?" she asked skeptically. It seems Yukinoshita was the stubbornly competitive type, or maybe she felt insulted over something as petty as omelets.

"Her omelets have love."

Her lips curled downwards in blatant disgust.

"I should have never asked."

X X X

We spent the rest of lunch in uninterrupted silence. When we finished eating, we pulled out our respective novels. It didn't feel long before lunch was almost over, and we started cleaning up.

I returned the novel I had been reading to my book bag and Yukinoshita did the same. She then carefully took the lid and clasped it back over her bento box.

I extended her the pair of loaned chopsticks, waiting for her to take them out of my hands. She stared at them for a few seconds before using a napkin to grab the chopsticks, then wrapped them like a cocoon and put them in a separate container. Did she just quarantine my chopsticks? She really loved to treat me like a biohazard…

I touched my pocket—making sure I still had the room key—and stood up.

We walked to the door and stepped into the hallway. Thankfully, all the zombies from earlier were gone. When we were both out, I locked the door with a twist of the key and returned it to my pocket.

"Thanks for the meal," I thanked briskly. I turned the opposite direction and began to walk away, but was stopped by a forceful tug on the back of my collar, choking me like a leash. What am I? A dog?

"Where do you think you're going?"

Yukinoshita let go as I turned around. I scowled as I readjusted my collar and massaged my poor throat.

"What? I'm just going to buy something to drink," I said gruffly. I still had the change I found earlier in my pocket. Class hadn't started yet, so now was as good a time as any to get some MAX and replenish my glucose reserves. You might think I drink it to replenish my caffeine reserves, but MAX was more like sugar with a hint of coffee than coffee with a hint of sugar.

"You can do that later."

"I can do it now."

Yukinoshita pinched the bridge of her nose, her other hand supporting her arm by the elbow. "Do I really need to spell everything out for you? If a couple walks to lunch together, they would also walk back together."

I glared. "I'm not walking you back."

She simply sighed and turned around, each step increasing the distance between us. "I would say goodbye, but I suppose I'll see you again when the school calls you in for questioning."

I quickly caught up to her.

We retraced our steps across the breezeway back to the regular building. Other students were starting to return to their classrooms, filling the hallway with a lazy stream of people who were in no rush since there was still time before class. In turn, that gave them enough time to stare at Yukinoshita and I as we walked.

I felt warmer and warmer as I became more conscious of the stares. I averted my eyes from the hallway, finding myself peeking at Yukinoshita. She seemed unbothered by the attention. Her eyes stayed fixated ahead of her as she walked smoothly and confidently. Keyword: seemed. It was probably a farce.

We reached the nameplate etched 2-J. The door was already open, and conversation inside leaked out into the hallway as background noise.

"Here is fine," Yukinoshita said just outside the door.

"Mhm."

I watched her walk inside. However, she stopped just half a meter away from the entrance. Her back was still turned. She stood still, making me wonder what was going on.

"See you tomorrow," she said timidly.

She hurried back to her desk, not giving me a chance to reply. I stood at the entrance for a moment longer before spinning around and starting for my own classroom. I guess I'll be spending all my lunches with Yukinoshita from now on.

I stuffed my hands inside my pockets

Damn, I forgot to return the key.

X X X

"If I don't see you in the clubroom later, I'll make sure you don't graduate on time," Hiratsuka-sensei threatened. I nodded silently as she placed the key in the palm of my hand before she left the classroom. I thought she would have personally seen me go to club, but apparently she had to meet someone in the faculty room, so she gave me the key at the podium.

Classes were finally over for the day. Usually I'd make a beeline to my bicycle, but I obviously couldn't do that anymore if I wanted to graduate. I couldn't let Komachi become related to a highschool-repeat. And my parents too, I guess. Instead, I had to spend a good chunk of my precious time in the clubroom.

I went to the special building more times this week than I ever did in my first year. The sun was still high in the sky as I crossed the breezeway, entering a hallway that was now familiar to me. I soon found myself at the door of the clubroom. I unlocked the door and went straight to my seat at the end of the table. Yukinoshita's chair from lunch was still where we had left it.

I pulled out my novel and began to read. All I needed to do was stay put until Hiratsuka-sensei checked on me. After that, I could leave: I doubt she'd check on me again.

Just as I was starting to get engrossed in my book, the sound of the door sliding open stole my attention. I looked up to see Hiratsuka-sensei striding into the room.

"You really are here," she thought aloud.

"A knock would be nice."

"You shouldn't be using this room for anything that needs a knock in the first place." She turned towards the door. "You're not gonna come in?"

A second passed. Then, a girl walked inside. Yukinoshita. My brows raised—what the hell was she doing here?

I didn't say anything to her, but my eyes must've conveyed my shock. Yukinoshita looked at me and sighed listlessly. "It seems I've been conscripted as well."

"Remember when I said I'd send someone your way?" Hiratsuka-sensei asked. "Here she is, the second member of the Service Club!" She crossed her arms. "Truthfully, I was mulling over the idea of having her join, but I trust Yukinoshita not to do anything inappropriate here."

I glowered. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"

Hiratsuka-sensei stared at me blankly.

"Anyway," she continued, completely ignoring her blatant act of gender discrimination, "now that Yukinoshita's apart of the club, I'll start sending people your way." She narrowed her eyes and raised a fist, smiling ominously. "Don't even think about going home early, okay?"

My stomach throbbed with phantom pain. I gulped. "Alright, I get it."

Satisfied, Hiratsuka-sensei lowered her fist and looked pensively around the room. She hummed in thought. "This room is missing something."

"Willing members?" Yukinoshita proposed.

"Shut it," Hiratsuka-sensei shot. It seems even Yukinoshita wasn't an exception to her crassness. "This clubroom isn't exactly welcoming—not good for consultations." She shot out her arm and pointed at me. "That's why I'll give you your first request!"

We stared at her blankly. Our dry reception caused her to cough awkwardly into her fist.

"Whenever you have guests over, you always get them something to drink to make them feel welcome, right?" Hiratsuka-sensei continued. "The same principle applies here. Your first request is to get something ready for whenever someone comes for a consultation. Easy, right?"

To sum it up, she wanted us to have refreshments on hand. I groaned internally. I didn't want to spend money, so the cheapest option would be to swipe something from home and bring it here.

"I have instant coffee at home—can I just bring that?" I asked. "I can't bring a kettle, though."

"Coffee? Not bad. You can bring it tomorrow." Hiratsuka-sensei held her chin. "For the kettle, I think the student council has one they don't use anymore. They'll probably give it to you if you ask nicely."

I looked at Yukinoshita.

"What?" she wondered.

"I'm bringing the coffee, so it's only fair if you go get the kettle."

"Actually, I want both of you to go," Hiratsuka-sensei interjected. "It's a good idea to introduce yourselves to the student council since you're a new club. It'll be good for them to have a source of extra hands too. At this point, it's almost tradition for the student council to be short on manpower."

"We might as well just get absorbed by the student council," I grumbled. I sighed and stood from my seat. "Let's just get it over with."

Hiratsuka-sensei saw us out of the clubroom. I didn't know where the student council room was but apparently Yukinoshita did, so I followed her steps.

"So why are you a part of the club?" I asked as we walked, though it was more like an accusation. I thought I'd at least have some time away from Yukinoshita during club hours, but even that was robbed from me.

"Did I not inform you? I was conscripted," she replied indifferently.

"Yeah, but why?"

Yukinoshita bit her lip, hesitating. Finally, she parted her lips. "My… essay."

"Looking back on high school life?"

"Yes," she said with immediate surprise. "How did you know?"

"That's the reason I'm president."

She let out a small laugh, apparently finding the reason for my suffering amusing. "Fitting for someone with a kill list."

I shot her a glare. "Oh yeah? And what did you write?"

"Let me first inform you that I got a perfect score on the assignment."

"That's not the question."

"I'm providing context."

"More like trying to save face."

She frowned. "…It was just a summary of my conclusions obtained by observing the people around me."

"Clearly you had some nasty conclusions if you ended up at the service club."

She chuckled dryly. "Perhaps I should have been more lenient in my assessments."

Yukinoshita's steps came to a stop in front of a closed door. Above it, a metal nameplate labeled it as the student council room. She tapped the door twice with her knuckle, then waited for a response. An unfamiliar voice bled through the door, telling us to come in.

She slid open the door and walked inside. I followed her in, and we were greeted by a small but cozy office room. The back wall was covered by two whiteboards emblazoned with expo marker: outlines and plans for an upcoming event, I assumed. Just below the whiteboards were open storage cabinets filled to the brim with binders, folders, and notebooks, and in the middle of the room was a square table surrounded by four chairs. Scattered about the room were a total of four people doing what looked like important tasks. For some reason, the scent of oranges lingered in the air.

"Yukinoshita-san! What brings you here?" one of the four called out. She started walking to the entrance to meet us. She had collar-bone length brown hair styled into two braids with orange clips managing her bangs. Like her voice, she had a fluffy aura to her. If Yukinoshita was like a snow leopard, then this girl was like a teddy bear.

"Good afternoon, Shiromeguri-senpai," Yukinoshita greeted politely. So the fluffy girl was named Shiromeguri. "I was told there's an electric kettle in your possession that's no longer being used. If it's alright with you, may I take possession of it?"

Shiromeguri looked at the other members who nodded silently. "Sure! I'll be right back." She walked to a corner and quickly returned holding a red kettle. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you need it for? Obviously for boiling water, but you know what I mean."

"My club needs to use it for refreshments," Yukinoshita replied, now holding the kettle with both of her hands.

"Oh really!" she smiled brightly in interest. "What's the name?"

"The Service Club."

"Sounds like fun. Are you the president?"

Yukinoshita shook her head "no" and shifted her gaze, staring at me. Shiromeguri followed her gaze and we locked eyes. "Oh! I didn't see you there."

I forced a crooked smile. "Good afternoon."

In a flash, Shiromeguri crossed the distance between us until she was only a few centimeters away from me, close enough to where I could smell her shampoo. "What's your name?" she asked brightly.

"H-Hikigaya Hachiman," I sputtered out. I took a step back but she quickly negated it with her own step. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Yukinoshita staring at us.

"Hikigaya-kun, hmm?" She let my name linger in the air for a moment. "Ah! So you're the one whose name has been going around. It's nice to meet you! My name is Shiromeguri Meguri, and I'm the student council president." She was now close enough to where I could see the individual hairs that made up her long eyelashes. I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

"U-Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too," I spoke weakly.

A cold voice sliced through the air. "I believe we've done everything we came here to do. We should get going."

Shiromeguri finally backed off, giving me room to breathe. "Leaving already? That's too bad."

Yukinoshita walked over and forced the kettle into my arms. "Thank you for the kettle," she said cooly.

"No problem! It was just taking up space, so I'm glad someone finally took it." Shiromeguri waved us goodbye as we exited the room. "I hope we work together in the future, Hikigaya-kun."

X X X

When I turned the corner, I saw Yukinoshita waiting outside the clubroom. It was now my third day of club and Yukinoshita's second. After we got the kettle from the student council yesterday, we stayed for about an hour longer until club activities were officially over, and we went our separate ways home.

"Shouldn't the club president arrive before their members?" Yukinoshita lectured as I came within earshot.

"The good guys always arrive after the villain."

I unlocked the door and we walked inside, heading to our usual spots. Behind my chair was now a single desk which held the electric kettle, the paper cups and instant coffee I had brought this morning, and a porcelain teacup with a blue trim.

I turned on the kettle then sat down. As I waited for the water to boil, I pulled out my novel and started reading. In short time I heard crackling and a click, indicating the kettle had finished its job. I took out two sticks of instant coffee and emptied one into a paper cup and the other into the teacup, then followed with freshly-boiled water.

I wordlessly placed the teacup in front of Yukinoshita who was engrossed in her own novel. She gave me a curt thanks and I returned to my seat to start reading again.

Honestly, I didn't find this too bad. If all club days were like this I'd be able to bear it, but of course that was impossible. The entire purpose of the Service Club made that impossible.

A knock from the door stole my attention. I looked up and Yukinoshita did as well. She then looked at me, silently telling me to let them in.

"Come in," I announced.

A girl with shoulder-length orange hair walked into the room. She wore her uniform tactlessly: the first three buttons of her shirt were undone and the ribbon hung loosely around her neck like a necklace. She was the complete opposite of Yuikinoshita.

She stopped in the middle of the room.

"Hikki."

…Who the hell was Hikki?