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It was break time, but I could never catch a break. The classroom buzzed with chatter. Everyone and their dog had been released from the shackles of schoolwork, and now they were all talking familiarly with their friends about their plans after school and what they watched on TV, yadda yadda yadda. Their words went in one ear and out the other. Their conversations could have been in a foreign language based on what I understood of them. I might as well have not been there at all.

I got the feeling that today the chatter was even livelier than usual. In all likelihood, it was because the teacher in charge of homeroom had announced that we'd be picking our own groups for the 'workplace tour.' Even though there would be a longer homeroom than usual the day after tomorrow to decide the groups and where they'd be going, my classmates were one step ahead. The conversations weren't so much along the lines of 'where are you going?' as it was 'who are you going with? Nearly everyone in the class was making special plans to be with who they wanted.

That much was obvious. School wasn't just a place where you took classes. At its heart, it's a microcosm of society, a miniature garden populated by every type of human being on this earth. And so in high school people have their wars and disputes through the form of bullying, and just like any stratified society high school has a clear social hierarchy. Of course, since it's a democracy, the theory of strength in numbers applies too. The majority ‐ and those with the majority of friends ‐ rule.

I watched the behaviour of my classmates with my chin resting on my hands and my eyes half‐closed. I'd had enough sleep lately and it wasn't like I was tired or anything, but because I spent my lunch breaks like this ever since I was small, sleeping was a conditioned reflex for me. Boredom made you tired.

As my line of sight dimmed and I was nodding off, I was shaken awake by a small pair of hands. When I lifted my face blearily, Totsuka Saika was sitting on the seat in front of me.

"Morning," Totsuka greeted me with a small smile.

I stirred. "…please make breakfast for me every morning."

"H‐huh?! What are you…?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just half‐asleep."

Holy crap, I proposed to him without thinking. Shit, why was he so excessively cute? But he's a guy! A guy! A guy? …not that he would make breakfast for me every morning anyway.

There was silence for a moment. "So what's up?" I asked.

"Nothing much…" he replied. "I just thought I'd say hello since you were there, Hikigaya… was I getting in your way?"

"Nah, not in the least. Actually, I'd love for you to talk to me for four‐to‐six hours a day." On that note, I would love for him to tell me that he loved me for four‐to‐ six hours a day.

"In that case, I'd have to be with you all the time, you know?" Totsuka laughed cutely, putting a hand over his mouth. And then, as if realising something, he clapped his hands together and scrunched his eyes shut in request. "Hikigaya, have you decided where you're going for the workplace tour yet?"

"What will be, will be and won't be, won't be," I said.

Perplexed by what I said, Totsuka peered down at my face and cocked his head slightly. I caught a fleeting glance of the space between the collar of his gym clothes and his collarbone and turned my gaze away inadvertently. How could he have such beautiful skin? What kind of body soap was he using? Girls, take notes.

"Ahh, basically what I mean is that I don't care where I go," I answered. "Anywhere besides my home is all the same to me. Equally valueless."

"Oooh, sometimes you say such big words, Hikigaya." I don't recall saying a single difficult word, but Totsuka made a sound of amazement, as if my words had made a deep impression on him.

I had a feeling Totsuka could blow raspberries and my affection levels for him would increase. But the fact that he was the kind of character who could raise your affection levels no matter what he said was frightening in a way. I was on the verge of going down the route which must not be named.

"So… you've already decided who you're going with, huh?" Totsuka Saika peered into my eyes hesitantly, but with unmistakable insistence. I had no idea what to make of what he had said. His words seemed to have a kind of 'I want to go with you but since you've already decided, what a shame, huh?' vibe to it.

That was enough to put me on guard.

Totsuka's surprise attack violently shook the door to my memories open. Indeed, something like this had happened a long time ago, too…

You see, when I was a wee 8th grader and I was forced to be the class representative, the other candidate was a cute girl who smiled at me and said, "Let's do our best this year…"

Uuuurk! Crap! Once again, I'd almost been fooled by those completely incomprehensible words. I wasn't about to get hurt again.

I've already lived through it all once. A practiced loner is once bitten, twice shy. Confessions of love as penalty for losing at rock‐paper‐scissors, fake love letters written by boys who copy down what girls dictate to them ‐ I want nothing to do with them. I'm a veteran of war. There's no one better at losing than I am.

Okay. Calm down. At times like this, just use Mirror Move ‐ it takes the least amount of effort. Basically, Fe row is a loner among loners for sure.

So I answered a question with a question. "Have you decided who you're going with?"

"M‐me?" Dumbfounded at having his own question thrown back at him, Totsuka's cheeks went red. "I've, um, already decided." He covered his eyes slightly and peeped at me sideways for my reaction.

Meh, that's life, I guess. Totsuka was a tennis club member, which basically meant he had his own special community he belonged to and it was inevitable that he would have connections. It was obvious he would have friends in this class.

I, on the other hand, had joined a club that was an isolation ward for the school's misfits, so there was no way I could make friends.

"When I think about it ‐ actually, I don't even need to think about it ‐ I don't have any male friends."

"Er, uh… Hikigaya…" Totsuka said in a small voice. "I'm male, you know…"

He was so cute, I couldn't hear him properly. "Wha?" I managed.

But anyway, it was a bizarre feeling to even talk to someone in the classroom. Ever since that whole thing with the tennis club, people said maybe two or three words to me when they saw me. When all's said and done, could I really call them friends? I doubted it. If it was small talk of that level, it didn't matter whether we knew each other ‐ we could be complete strangers for all it mattered. For example, when you're lining up for ramen, you might have a conversation like, 'Crowded, huh?' 'I'm sick of lining up every day.' But you wouldn't call them a friend.

This is what friends are like:

"Hayato, you decided where you're gonna go?"

"I'm thinking about somewhere related to media or a multinational corporation."

"Whoa, man, you're on the ball. Hayato, you're like superman or something. But we're at that age, ya know? I got mad respect for my parents these days."

"We gotta knuckle down from now on, eh?"

"You said it, bro. But don't forget we're all kids at heart."

Isn't that the kind of vibe friends have? Being friends was possibly about being able to talk to each other without a care in the world. I'd burst out laughing halfway through, so friendship was completely impossible for me. What was that crap about respecting your parents? Did that guy think he was some rapper?

Hayama Hayato was surrounded by three guys and he was beaming, just like he usually did. Pretty much everyone was happy to call him Hayato, and Hayama was willing to call them by their first names too. That one act of 'friendship' was an appropriately heartwarming scene.

But I could see they were just pretending to feel each other's friendship by calling each other by first name. Calling people by first name was something that happened in dramas, manga and anime. Their performance was just as scripted. They just wanted to suck up to each other.

…but no harm in trying a little myself, right? It would be an experience. (I've got nothing against manga I haven't read, just the people who draw it. If I tried reading it and it sucked, I'd punch the artist with every ounce of strength in my body, though.)

The experiment: would calling someone by their first name change your relationship with them?

"Saika."

When I called out Totsuka's name, Totsuka said nothing. He stiffened. His eyes went wide and he blinked two or three times, his mouth agape.

See what I mean? It doesn't make you get along any better. Usually, calling someone by their first name when you haven't earned the intimacy would just piss them off. Like, when Zaimokuza called me 'Hachiman', I blatantly ignored him. What I'm trying to say is that when those riajuu pigs (HA!) do all that, they lie and pretend they're not mad.

I figured I should probably apologise to Totsuka for now. "Ah, sorry about just now…"

"…I'm so happy. It's the first time you've called me by my first name."

"I just… what…?"

Totsuka smiled broadly at me, his eyes somewhat clouded with deep emotion. What the hell? Was I starting to live a fulfilling life? God bless riajuu (my saviours!). The scales had fallen from my eyes.

Totsuka looked up at me and cleared his throat. "So, um… can I call you Hikki?"

"No way in hell. Yuigahama is a bitch."

No, just no. Right now, there was only one person calling me by that highly revolting nickname, and if it caught on I'd be screwed. Seeing how I refused to budge, Totsuka looked somewhat disappointed for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and tried again. "What about… Hachiman?"

My life flashed before my eyes at Totsuka's words.

"S‐say that again!"

Totsuka smiled vaguely, perplexed at my nonsensical request. He looked cute even when he was troubled ‐ except I was the one in trouble.

"…Hachiman," he said shyly, watching for my reaction between his fingers. "Hachiman?" he said questioningly, tilting his head slightly. "Hachiman! Are you listening to me?" he said crossly, puffing out his cheeks.

Seeing Totsuka's slightly angered expression was enough to bring me back to my senses. Oh crap, I'd let myself get entranced by his extreme cuteness without thinking…

"Uh, uhhhh. Sorry. What were we saying again?" I pretended I was spaced out, but actually I was writing a mental note about the results of my experiment.

Conclusion: Totsuka is so cute when you call him by his first name.

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It's always evening by the time the tumult on the school grounds quietens down. From this room, one could see the last rays of the sun as it descended into the Tokyo bay, giving way to the darkness lurking in the high and distant sky.

"Ohhh… so the hour of darkness has arrived, huh…?" the young man whispered as he curled his hand into a fist. As he did so, the synthetic leather armlet he was wearing made a slight tightening sound. Staring fixedly at the 1kg wrist weights through his sleeve, he let out a sigh. "The time to break the seal has come…"

Not a single voice responded to those words.

…even though there were three other people in the room.

The one who looked at the three of us in turn, obviously expecting us to say something, was Zaimokuza Yoshiteru. And the one who utterly ignored him and went on reading with silent contempt was Yukinoshita Yukino. The one who stuttered bewilderedly as she looked at me and Yukinoshita with silent pleas for help was Yuigahama Yui.

"So what do you want, Zaimokuza?" I asked him, to which Yukinoshita sighed deeply. Then she glared sharply at me. 'You were supposed to ignore him…' her eyes seemed to say.

Yeah, but someone had to do it.

I didn't actually want to talk to him, but he'd been yabbering on for about half an hour.

As soon as I asked him my question, Zaimokuza rubbed the tip of his nose happily and laughed as if he was really flattered. Man, this guy was annoying as hell.

"Ah, my apologies. A good phrase just came to me, so I just had to say it out loud to get its rhythm and feel. Oho, indeed I am a writer to my very core… I think about my novel when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. Such is the fate of a writer…"

Yuigahama and I exchanged tired looks at Zaimokuza's pretentious way of speaking. Yukinoshita snapped her book shut. Zaimokuza flinched in reaction.

"I thought a writer was someone who actually created something…" Yukinoshita said. "So you've written something, I take it?"

Zaimokuza's whole body recoiled and he made a garbled sound like his throat was clogged. Both of his reactions were annoying as hell. But strangely enough, Zaimokuza had stronger nerves than usual today. He was back on his feet immediately, coughing exaggeratedly.

"…ahem. That's only true for today… for I have finally obtained my desire. I'm on the road to El Dorado!"

"What, did you win the prize?" I asked. I bet I'd win one of my prizes before Zaimokuza touched this one.

"N‐no, not yet… h‐however, it's only a matter of time!" Zaimokuza declared cockily, acting all high and mighty for some reason.

Uh huh. So just what part of what he said was worth bragging over?

Zaimokuza threw his coat back with a flourish. "Hahaha, listen and be amazed!" he shouted with renewed vigour. "On this occasion, I have decided to venture forth to a publisher for my workplace tour! In other words ‐ you get it, don't you?"

"Nope, not a clue…"

"What poor judgment, Hachiman. In other words, it is time for my talent to be recognised. I'm making connections."

"Hey, don't let it get to your head." I paused. "I swear, you're like a kid who hangs around a delinquent senpai. You're even worse than a chuuni at restraining yourself."

Zaimokuza proceeded to ignore everything I said and grinned vacantly at nothing in particular. It was honestly creepy how he mumbled, "The studio will be… the casting will be…" to himself. And besides, there were a whole lot of crap publishers too. If he believed his future was so bright, then there was nothing more I could say to him.

Still, there was something strange about all of this. "Zaimokuza, I'm amazed your group listened to your opinion."

"What? You're making me out to be a weakling... well, whatever. On this occasion I just happened to encounter two other so‐called otaku. I didn't even say I wanted to go to a publisher and it turned out they wanted to go too. They were giggling and cackling and whatnot. I'm quite sure they were into that recent BL fad. Love conquers all, and so I said nothing to object."

Yuigahama refused to look at Zaimokuza's face. "You should've partnered with someone the same type as you…" she said, sighing.

But Zaimokuza was too far gone. There were some things he refused to concede because he was among people with the same hobby. It was like a religious war, I guess.

"I see, it's the workplace tour, huh…" Yuigahama uttered with deep emotion. And then she glanced at me sideways before immediately looking away. Her eyes were watery like she'd just gotten out of a pool and her face looked rather red. Did she have a cold? "Um, Hikki, where are you going?" she asked me hesitantly.

"My house." Well I'd like to go to super-kamiokande but that wasn't an option.

"Yeah, no," Yuigahama said with a wave of her hand.

I still wasn't ready to give up on this, but since I didn't want Hiratsuka‐Sensei to beat me up I decided to let it go. I'd resigned so the match was adjourned. "Hmph, well, I'll go where the other guys in my group want to go."

Wow, you're not gonna choose for yourself?"

"Nah… I did in the past, but I ended up being a pain, so I lost my right to speak."

"I see now ‐ oh, wait. Oh." As usual, she had stepped on a landmine. Yuigahama was probably crap at Minesweeper. "Sorry."

That reminded me of something, come to think of it. Actually, 'make a group of three' is a more horrible instruction than 'make a group of two.' If it was just the two of you, you could resign yourself and not say anything. But if it was a group of three and the other two got chummy and spoke to each other, then you'd feel completely out of the loop.

"So, in the end you never decided…?" Yuigahama murmured with a look of deep contemplation on her face.

"Have you decided where to go, Yuigahama‐san?" Yukinoshita asked.

"Yeah. The closest place."

"That's a Hikigaya level of thinking…"

"Don't lump me in that group," I said. "I wanted to go to my house out of my strong conviction. Anyway, where are you going? To the police? A courtroom? Or maybe a prison?"

"Wrong," Yukinoshita chuckled coldly. "You seem to know how I think."

Ufufu.

See what I mean? Her laugh was creepy.

As far as things went, Yukinoshita was morbidly intellectual, but only when she really didn't like you. How strange, she didn't actually want to say only cruel and cold‐hearted and inhumane things. Ufufu. What was with that oh‐so‐innocent laugh?

"I think I'll go to a think tank somewhere ‐ a research institution. I'll choose from there."

The fact that Yukinoshita had already worked out what she wanted to do exemplified her tendency towards quick decision‐making. At any rate, it was easy to be reminded of how serious she was from how cool her attitude was.

Someone kept pulling on the sleeve of my blazer, snapping me out of my reverie. What do you think you're doing, you punk? I thought, swinging around.

It was Yuigahama. She had brought her face close to mine without my knowledge. She smelt ridiculously good, and her glossy hair brushed against my nape. It was the first time I'd ever felt so physically close to Yuigahama. Much to my annoyance, my heart started beating erratically.

"H‐Hikki…" she breathed against my ear with a sweet‐sounding sigh. It was enough to make my ear unbearably itchy.

From our distance, we could hear the sound of our heartbeats. Could it be… no wait… was it possible that the throbbing I could hear from her chest was…?

"What's a thinkie tank? Is that a society of tanks?" She pronounced the word like an old woman would.

So as it turned out, her frantic heartbeat was just an arrhythmia or something.

"…Yuigahama," Yukinoshita said with an exasperated sigh. As Yuigahama pulled away from me, Yukinoshita launched into her explanation. "You see, a think tank is‐"

Yuigahama nodded eagerly to show she was paying attention. The two of them were easing into an impromptu study session. Watching them through the corner of my eyes, I embarked on the terribly important business of reading shojo manga again. By the time Yukinoshita had finished explaining to Yuigahama what a think tank was along with related details, fifteen whole minutes had passed.

The evening sun was close to the sea. From our room, I could see the surface of the sea sparkling in the distance. The fourth floor view provided a view of the baseball club sweeping the grounds, the soccer club carrying the goals, and the track and field club packing away the hurdles and mats and so on.

It was about time for club activities to finish for the day. At the same time my eyes drifted towards the clock, Yukinoshita snapped her book shut. Incidentally, Zaimokuza flinched as soon as Yukinoshita made a move. Man, was this guy easily frightened.

I don't know just how it came about since no one actually decided on this, but Yukinoshita closing her book was the unspoken signal for club activities to end. With brisk, consummate ease, Yuigahama and I also started preparing to go home.

In the end, no one came to our club asking for help today either. For some reason, the only person who came was Zaimokuza, and we really didn't want him here.

I wondered if I should have ramen on the way home… When I thought about dinner, the vague idea that Horaiken might be good came into my head. It was a ramen store in Niigata, but the soup there was easily the best soup I've ever had. Zaimokuza told me about it. Oh crap, I was drooling, heh.

All of a sudden, I heard a short, rhythmical rap on the door. "Who's knocking at this hour…?" Now that my blissful ramen time was interrupted, I glared at the clock sourly.

I had a habit of pretending not to be at home whenever this happened at my own house. When I looked quizzically in Yukinoshita's direction asking for what to do, she said, "Come in." She didn't even look at me at all as she uttered her reply.

Our visitors didn't read the atmosphere either, but when it came to misreading the atmosphere, Yukinoshita was second to none. She'd probably win every time.

"Sorry for intruding." It was a cool male voice, the sound of which would instantly put you at ease. So this was the guy who stole my ramen away from me…

I glared irately at the door, only to be greeted with a genuine surprise. It was someone whom I would never have dreamed would come into this room.

It was a pretty boy of all people. He was so pretty you couldn't call him a mere 'pretty boy' anymore.

His brown hair was loosely styled as a perm. Without any self‐consciousness, he peered straight at me through the trendy frames of his trendy glasses, and for some reason he grinned when our eyes met. Without thinking at all, I forced a grin in return. He was so much of a pretty boy that I instinctually bowed down to him.

"Sorry about the bad timing. I've got a bit of a request for you." Putting his Umbro enamel bag down on the floor with an extremely natural "Is here okay?", he pulled up a seat facing Yukinoshita. Everything he did exuded easy‐going charm. "Man, I had a hard time getting my club to let me go. Club activities are postponed before exams, so I figured I had to come see you today no matter what. Sorry."

People who need something are like that. He didn't even notice I was about to go home to freedom. That's why I'm a ninja, I guess.

He said club activities were hectic, but our club had done jack and there was no trace of body odour in the room. In its place, a certain refreshing scent of lime drifted through the air.

"Enough," Yukinoshita said flatly, cutting off the boy's cheerful chatter. I got the feeling she was acting somewhat sharper than usual. "You came here because you wanted something, did you not? Hayama Hayato."

Yukinoshita's frigid tone did nothing to shake Hayama Hayato's smile. "Ah, you're right. You call this the Service Club, don't you? Hiratsuka‐Sensei told me that I should go here if I needed advice, so…"

Every time Hayama spoke, a refreshing breeze blew through the window for some reason. Geez, did he have control over the wind or something?

"Sorry about the bad timing. If you, Yui and the others have plans, I'll come again another time…"

Upon hearing her name, Yuigahama let out a strained smile. It seemed that even people higher up on the social ladder than I was couldn't escape from Hayama's contact. "No big deal. I don't mind at all. You're the next captain of the soccer club, Hayato. It's no wonder you took so long coming here!"

But the only one who thought that way was Yuigahama. Yukinoshita was unimpressed, while Zaimokuza sat silently with a stern, imposing look on his face.

"Ahh, I should say sorry to you as well, Zaimokuza," Hayama said.

"Huh?! A‐ahem! Er, I don't really mind myself, uhh, I better get going now…" Coward.

And just by opening his mouth, Hayama promptly dispelled the hostile atmosphere. After Hayama did his handiwork, it was as if Zaimokuza was the one who had done something wrong.

Zaimokuza coughed exaggeratedly. "H‐Hachiman, see you later!" he said hastily, and then he actually did go. But even as he was running away, a smile was spreading across his face.

…I understood how he felt so much it hurt.

honestly don't know why this is, but high school outcasts like me shrink in contact from the popular kids. We always make room for them in the hallway, and when they speak to us, we stumble over our words eighty per cent of the time. And it wasn't even like we were jealous or that we hated on them. On the days they remembered our names, we'd feel kind of happy.

Guys like Hayama knew my name and who I was. Knowing that made me regain some of my dignity.

"You too, Hikitani," said Hayama. "Sorry I'm taking up your time."

"Pitter-patter. Let's hear it." I blurted out irately, not because I was subconsciously channelling my rage at having my name mistaken or anything. …no, really! I had a genuine interest in Hayama's problems. It's honestly hard to imagine that such a popular, widely‐loved guy would have any problems. By no means did I have any ulterior motives like wanting to know his weak point so I could make fun of him.

"Ah. Well, about that," Hayama said, slowly taking out his cell phone. Pressing the buttons nimbly, he accessed the text messages and showed me the screen.

Beside me, Yukinoshita and Yuigahama craned their necks to peer at the screen. With three people crowded around a screen the size of your palm, I got dizzy. The two of them smelled nice. But as soon as I cleared off to let the two of them watch the screen in peace, Yuigahama let out a soft, "Ah…"

"What happened?" I asked. Yuigahama took out her own cell phone and showed me. Her text had the exact same message as the one from before.

You could say it was filled with objectionable content. And it wasn't just one text either. Every time Yuigahama moved her fingertip, she scrolled through a whole laundry list of spiteful words with no end in sight. Were they all spam accounts? I wondered. The texts from every single address were solely dedicated to badmouthing individuals.

Like, "Tobe belongs to a gang that hangs around at the arcade picking on people from West High."

Or, "Yamato is a three‐timing douchebag."

And even, "Ooka played roughly at a practice match just to take out the other school's ace player."

The overall vibe I got was that these texts of dubious authenticity just went on and on. And besides the original source, which was a spam address, the messages were being forwarded by classmates. "Hey, this is…"

Yuigahama nodded wordlessly. "I mentioned it yesterday, y'know? That it was going round our class…"

"Chain messages, I see," Yukinoshita, who had been silent up until now, intoned.

As the name suggests, a chain message is a kind of text that goes around like a chain. At around the end or so, there would be a prompt to 'pass this on to five people' or something like that. They're like the "cursed letters" of the olden days: 'If you don't pass this on to five people in three days, you'll get cursed,' blah blah. It was pretty much that brand of text.

As he looked over the texts again, Hayama smiled bitterly. "Ever since these started circulating, the atmosphere in class has been getting more and more strained. Plus, I'm mad since those are my friends they're talking about."

At that moment, Hayama's expression was like Yui's from before; he was fed up with the bad intentions of those who wouldn't show their faces.

There's nothing as horrible as an evil whose face you can't see. If someone insults you to your face, you can insult them right back. Or you can channel your pent‐up anger and stress towards other things. Such heavy emotions are a major source of energy, which you can use for positive things. But when those feelings of anger, envy and pettiness aren't directed at you, you can't muster any strong emotion. You can only feel vaguely uneasy.

"I want to stop it. It really doesn't sit right with me, after all," Hayama insisted, before adding cheerfully, "Oh, but I don't want to turn this into a witch hunt. I want to know how to solve things peacefully. I'm wondering if you could help me out."

Yukinoshita scratched her chin in thought for a while, and then she opened her mouth. "So basically, you want us to set the record straight?"

"Mmm, pretty much."

"Then we must find the culprit," Yukinoshita declared.

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-WG