**If your just wanna read the story no need to read below**
This is my first fic ever, so excuse if any of this is trashy. I'd appreciate someone telling me. Basic summary for the future: I'm writing this as I publish as of now, but I'll probably take a long pause and just write a bunch of the planned chapters and release them incrementally. This is not a harem story; it is just Hachi, Yui, and Yukino in a relationship with each other. I don't see it often enough as I like.
Regarding canon, all the events are planned to be similar. HOWEVER, characters will be very OOC from the cannon, with some different relationship dynamics, and general writing as well. To finalize the canon thing, this will be a heavily introspective and political endeavor, primarily on how personal and worldly problems intertwine. It will be sympathetic to the left, to clarify not Liberals or Democrats, but to leftists. Think Yamakawa, Parenti, Hampton, Ho Chi Minh. If you're not cool with that for whatever reason, then you're probably not going to like this story. If you don't know who those guys are, don't worry. The story isn't just a bunch of political theory; it just plays a part in Hachiman's character; you'll learn as it continues.
Also here's a playlist for Hachiman/the story (wasn't made for the story but I recommend it for the reading anyway)- playlist /39fpqw4HQPC9EhIlPsr2Ov?si= f4c95980c3c2495e
My English teacher, Shizaku Hiratsuka, read over my essay. Scoured over it with her eyes one final time, set it down, and looked up at me from her desk.
"Hikigaya, can you please tell me what the assignment I handed out in class was," she said as she picked up her cigarette from the ashtray next to her and took a drag, blowing the smoke to her left.
"A reflection on my high school life so far." That's a weird question. It was assigned yesterday; how could I have forgotten.
"Then explain to me what this NEET, Ted Kaczynski stuff is."
I unknowingly grimaced a bit. Ouch, and unnecessary. I had a distaste for the Kaczysnki parallel; if you're going to compare me to a crazy environmentalist, pick a good one.
"Excuse me, Hiratsuka-sensei, but I feel as if that's a bit harsh. Besides, it was probably more engaging than whatever else was handed in."
She let out a breathless snort. "You'd be surprised."
"Was something specifically wrong with it, Sensei?"
"You can write about yourself, Hikigaya. I know you can; you're a smart kid."
I laugh a little to myself internally.
"Are you going to give me an F for this?"
"I don't know, Hikigaya." she sighs exasperated, sucking her cigarette a little more. I had dabbled before; smoking turned me off; too many consequences for the high it provides. "Does it really matter?"
"Well, if you're not going to give me at least an A for this because I didn't write it in your preferred style, then I can always just redo it. This doesn't have to be a problem." I shrugged
"Hikigaya, my problem here is that a kid your age is not typically writing the response you provided when asked the simple question, 'Reflect on high school,'" she said as she flipped through my essay. "Here we go," she mumbled. "As it stands, Greenhouse gasses are at a historical record; species extinction had sped up by 10,000 times the normal rate, and by 2050, over 200 million people are expected to flee their country due to climate-related events. The growth rate of the population of Japan is standing at -0.4% annually, and the cultural enforcements and traditions of post-WWII Japan are eroding with the youth. Economically, Japan is shrinking at a rate of 1.8% a year. On a worldwide scale, the promised continuous economic boom of the post-WWII world is falling on more and more deaf ears. Trade is slow, prices are rising, suppression of dissent has been heightened, and the wealth gap has only increased. People have begun to look out of the current moralist liberal model, extending radicalization on both ends."
I stared down, rather confused, at Hiratsuka-sensei as she stared up at me incredulously.
"I wrote about my high school experience."
"No, you didn't!" she exploded, suddenly rising to her feet. "You just babbled on about GDP growth and rising sea levels!" she calmed herself slightly, letting out a heaving sigh as she fell back on her chair. "You spoke nothing of your personal experiences."
"I didn't feel like sharing that stuff, not like there is much of anything. And if you wanted me to talk about that, you should have specified it with me."
"Don't start splitting hairs with me." she snapped as she slowly rubbed her temples. "Hikigaya, I need you to try in this class."
"It's not my fault that the curriculum is all stuff I've already covered," I say, pulling my eyes toward the ground. I mean, seriously, we only just started reading Camus.
"Alright, cool it with the ego, Hikigaya," she said, massaging her head even further. Seriously, does this lady have a brainworm in there or something?
"Not really egotistical if it's true."
"Kid, why do you think I even called you in here today."
"Because you have nothing better going on."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Because I know you're smart. I know you can write something personal better than this."
My turn, "You weren't sounding so personal and caring a second ago with all that shouting."
"Ugh," she managed to get out before swiveling towards the window and taking one final, slow drag before carelessly blowing it everywhere. "Do you have any friends, Hikigaya?" she asked with the tone of a person knowing I didn't have any.
"No, I'm not sure why that's relevant though."
"Ha, I was right!" she declared cheerfully. "One look into those rotten fish eyes, and I knew." she pointed at me with a ballpoint, wearing a suspiciously teasing cat-like face.
Way to big yourself up against a teenager. Why even ask?
"How about a girlfriend or something, then?"
"No, not right now…" the word 'girlfriend' still stung a little, not because of any past experience but rather the idea of it. Girls don't go for guys like me, and for good reason. I was a loser. If I was just an Otaku? That would be bearable, but an apathetic, snarky, otaku, loser? Yeah no.
Hiratsuka-sensei bobbed her head to some imaginary beat, seeming like she had just pieced together a great mystery.
"Okay, here's what gonna happen, Hikigaya; you don't need to re-write your depressing paper, but you will need to attend the Service club as a member."
What no way! I was already a part of the incredibly strict "going-home club." "I could really just rewrite it." I tried to reason.
"Nope! I'm making an executive decision. Hurry up, get your stuff, and follow me." she declared, striding out of the room.
I remained planted and a bit dazed before deciding to catch up; I would rather avoid Sensei's middle-aged lady wrath.
As I walked down the halls with Sensei toward the special building, my eyes lazily glazed over a group of raijuu. It was getting around the early afternoon, and the cliques formed to chatter and gossip. I clicked my tongue and continued forward. There was something almost physical about how repulsive it was. Like a party of ghosts wearing opera masks, they talked and spoke of nothing. It sounds dramatic, almost cringe-worthy to think of it like that. But I couldn't help it; something was disquieting about how they acted.
"So, does this club have anything to do with physical labor? I'm not really your guy for that."
"If it were, you'd do it if I told you." she glared down at me, lightly slapping me on the back of the head. "But no, it's not. So don't worry."
Great, so the only other alternative is probably Happiness Promotion Club or something equally asinine and ridiculous.
"Alright, here we are," Sensei said, stopping before a normal classroom door.
The door rolled open, and I peeked inside behind Hiratsuka-sensei. I almost instantly spotted a pale, dark-haired girl sitting at the far end of a table, intently reading a book as a slow breeze drifted in. She quickly bookmarked, shut it, and looked up.
"Hiratsuka-sensei, I believe I asked you to please knock before entering."
Okay, yeah, she got me.
It was undeniable how pretty she was, a regal grace to her slight motions.
'Alright, let's focus up,' I snap out to myself, adverting my attention to a discarded chair in the corner.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry, Yukinoshita, but you never answer even when I do."
The room seemed unused and old, with a fine coating of dust on basically everything besides the table. Was this girl the only person in the club?
"That's only because you enter too quickly. And who is this dim-wit with you." I dragged my heavy eyes over to her ice-cold gaze.
"This is Hikigaya; he wants to join the club." She said, resting her hand on my shoulder
"Hey, is this true?"
"Huh, me?" I drawled "Yeah I'm Hikigaya Hachiman, Class F, Grade 11."
Hiratsuka-sensei pulled on my ahoge
"And yeah, I'm here to join, I guess."
This admission was apparently not clear or humiliating enough for Hiratsuka-sensei as she quickly straightened up and pointed at me like a HxH villain.
"Your punishment for your lousy, depressing essay is to stay here and be reformed by Yukinoshita!"
This was starting to get a little irritating. I glanced over at Yukinoshita again, who didn't look very pleased either.
"I'm sorry, Hiratsuka-sensei, but this strange man's perverted eyes are making me worry for my purity." she shivered, covering her chest.
Hey, hey, where's all this coming from? I've barely even looked at you!
"Don't worry, this moron has a pretty strong sense of self-preservation, so he won't do anything crazy. Think of him as more of a petty, troubled thug."
That's not really what I would call having a difference of opinion, but I wasn't looking to incur any more of Sensei's wrath.
"A petty thug, I see." Yukino held her hand to her mouth. "Well, I can't exactly refuse your request, sensei." she sighed as if just bearing the weight of the heavens.
"Great! Thanks, Yukinoshita. I knew you would come around." she smiled, leaving the room. "I'll leave him in your care. Bye!" she shouted before closing the door shut.
This wasn't ideal; I awkwardly scratched my forearm before settling down on the other far end of the table. Yukinoshita seemed perfectly content with ignoring me in favor of her book, which she was diligently reading again. Sensei really screwed me over here; this seriously did not bode well. I was bad with people in general. I didn't understand why they talked the way they did or why they used the expressions they used; it was hard to parse out emotions, to tell if i've offended or not. So far in my life, it's only been me and my little sister Komachi. Her, I can handle, I can get it. The little hints she gives with her eyes, the way her smile twitches uncomfortably around most boys. It's all easier with her. But with other girls? I'm better just blowing my head off now. During my internal meandering, my gaze unknowingly shifted towards Yukinoshita.
"Problem?" she snapped, looking up from her book and setting it down to her side.
"Oh- uh, no, I was just wondering what this club was about; there's not much of anything here."
Yukinoshita shows a small, condescending grin before looking towards me. "Guess."
What is this 20 questions? Wouldn't it be easier for both of us if she just told me directly? I stare at her a bit more deeply, trying to gauge more of her character. One thing's certain: she doesn't seem like the type of girl you want to say 'no' to.
"Hikigaya-san, please stop your lecherous glaring and answer." she snipped haughtily, staring at me with contempt.
I snort; you're pretty, but not that pretty. I'm not one to get fooled so easily. "I don't know, Literature Club?"
"Wrong." she smiled. "What we're doing right now is the club's activity."
"Alright, I give, just tell me."
"Hikigaya, when did you last speak to a girl?"
Okay, lady, your pretty privilege here is growing thin. What sorts of questions are these? Is this the 'Berate Hachiman Until he Cries Club'? Hiratsuka-sensei must have really planned this out for me. Now that I think about it, though, when was the last time I talked to a woman other than Komachi or my mother?
It hit me like an 18-wheeler hitting a deer. It had been two years ago when I was still under some deluded spell, thinking I could be friends with others. This girl, Fumi-somethingorother, remarked how hot the weather was today. For some other-worldly reason, I was compelled to add that; actually, it was quite humid, like a total bookworm.
"Ha-ha yeah, humid more like."
"Uh-oh yeah, haha…"
I can still remember the look on her face when she responded to me like she had just seen a cockroach talk. I beat my head into the pillows that night, stewing in one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Thinking about all this, a grimace must have settled on my face, as Yukinoshita smiled haughtily, standing up and walking towards me.
"Those who are compassionate and give to others who are not. Some call it volunteer work; at its essence, what we do is help those who need it. This is the Service Club welcome. As promised, I will rectify your problem and those of you who come to me. The world we live in now is eroded," she declared, chin held high. "The youth of Japan and this world have become complacent, lazy, and grown to depend too much on the crutches that society provides them. They turn into someone such as yourself, a detached, impolite, creepy otaku. This club is the first step in my plan to motivate and rectify the youth of this world. You will assist me in this project, be grateful.
My eye twitched.
Seriously, what the hell was this girl's deal talking down to me like some feudal serf? Did she not think I didn't know who she was? Who her family was? It was basically impossible to exist in the school without hearing the family name 'Yukinoshita.' The students privately fawned over Yukinoshita-san and her cold determination. Plaques of her father's name rested in the hall in recognition of donations given. Teachers quietly mentioned Yukinoshita-san's older sister in the halls. I knew next to nothing about Yukinoshita-san herself, but I did know that kids like her don't exactly grow up in poor households. Seeing her strut around the room like some bourgeois aristocrat talking about "laziness" and "societal crutches." started to make me feel ticked off. What would someone like her know about the world? Born in a golden crib, a silver spoon in her mouth, living off of her family's workers' wages. And suddenly, she grows up and thinks she's going to transform the world into her moral viewpoint, trimming off the 'problems' of the world. It made me want to puke; her ideas weren't anything special. Just another Thatcher, another Reagan, another Tanaka.
"My problem?". I said, standing up, my nails slightly digging into the palms of my hand. "Well, sorry, but I work pretty well like this. I'm not incapable of talking to other people or something like you seem to think. My only problem here seems to be that I don't align myself with the same ideas of people like you." I grit out the last part, this was really starting to bother me.
"What ideas would that be?"
"Your disconnected compassion. That whole spiel you gave about the world and how you're going to fix it. Your ideas of 'motivating people to work' or 'improving themselves' through your own personal moralist viewpoint aren't new. Every rich politician's kid thinks this up. The problem is that none of you know anything about the world; you know nothing about people and what they need. Your disconnected completely from the masses." I sneered out. This felt good; I could tell by the slight twitches of annoyance on her face that she didn't expect me to respond so harshly.
"You don't know me, so don't presume to know anything about my life or motivations." she snapped coldly. "And who am I to take the advice of a lecherous otaku like yourself."
"You can call me whatever you want; it doesn't make me wrong," I said, lowering myself to sit again.
Yukinoshita gave a slight huff before meandering back to her seat and looking over at me. "It's clear that you are currently not suited to live in a society with that personality of yours."
My eyes twitched again.
"But you are able to talk to a beautiful girl such as myself for a prolonged period of time; maybe not all hope is last for you yet. Have I helped rectify you any yet?"
"Huh?!" I shouted out, starting to stand up again.
The door suddenly rolled open. "Yukinoshita-san! I'm coming in!"
Yukinoshita quickly flattened her skirt and adjusted her hair slightly.
"You didn't knock Sensei."
"Yeah, yeah, sorry," she mumbled, walking over. "Well, it sounds like you're having a little trouble rectifying Hikigaya."
"That's because he isn't acknowledging he has a problem." Yukinoshita sighed, flipping her hair.
"Why am I the one that's always being told to change? I don't need other people to tell me how the world or I am."
"That's just an excuse to run away." Yukinoshita declared.
"Oh, and changing myself into something I'm not, isn't? Why should I have to go around living my life with a permanent smile attached to my face, constantly talking about menial national political infighting, or watching some trashy TV show as if the world and its social fabric aren't crumbling? You're only uncomfortable with someone like me because we contradict someone like you."
"That doesn't…" Yukinoshita balled her fists and stared deeply into my eyes with an iron confident gaze. "That doesn't solve anyone's problems or concerns. Living life in your apathetic, defiant way solves none of the things you're concerned about."
Woah, that actually took me out a second. I was expecting another barrage of personal insults, but her defiant gaze and words struck me, as wrong as they may be.
"Okay, okay, calm down, you two." Hiratsuka-sensei waved her hand in between us. "Ahem," she coughed. "Like any good shounen manga, we'll settle these conflicting worldviews with a showdown! Like Deku and Bakugo from Boku no Hero!" she grinned out.
"What the hell are you talking about."
"Hiratsuka-sensei, this seems like an absurd idea."
Simultaneously, me and Yukinoshita spoke out. At least we could realize something like this was stupid together.
"Hey, come on, it's a good idea!" Hiratsuka-san yelled out. "Listen, think of it like a competition to see who ends up doing more service." she begrudgingly lets out.
"Hiratsuaka-sensei, I still would prefer an alternative to this,"
"Oh, are you worried Hikigaya will best you? That's alright; we can't win every time."
Wow, that's really low bait there from Sensei; that's something you would say to a 6-year-old before a football game. But surprisingly, it still managed to snag Yukinoshita's huge ego.
"Hmph, I am worried to see myself falling for such a cheap provocation, but I'll accept," Yukinoshita said
Okay, it's time to shut this whole operation up before I get dragged along any further. "Hiratsuka-sensei, sorry, but no, listen, this whole thing was cute and everything, but I really have no reason to be here," I said, picking my bag up.
"I'm telling you this is what's going to happen, Hikigaya." she glared down at me.
"I have no interest in competing in this inane challenge; your whole incentive for winning is easily revocable by me just saying no."
Hiratsuka-sensei grumbled to herself for a second, staring up. "Alright, listen! We're scrapping the whole contest thing. But Hikigaya, you still have to stay in this club as a member."
She somehow sensed I was about to object as she quickly snapped out. "If you say no, I'll sign you up for the track team."
"Okay, fine," I grumbled out. This was about as pretty of a shitty situation as you get. Half of my afternoon has been taken off my schedule. That was the time I could spend reading, working on some of my statistical graphs, talking to Komachi.
"Good!" Hiratsuka-sensei grinned. "Club time has been over for a while anyway," she muttered, looking down at her watch. "Alright, I'm gonna get out of here. The ramen shop across my apartment has happy hour right now! See you kids later!" she shouted before slamming the door shut.
Jeez, I had heard some kids talking about Sensei being single in the hallway; from the combination of the drinking and the Otaku, I was starting to see why.
"I'll need to lock the door, so we should both be leaving as well." Yukinoshita moved towards the door, book in hand.
"Yeah, Yeah," I mumbled out before slinging my bag over my shoulder and closing the door behind me. Yukinoshita slid the key in and quickly locked it shut before turning her other way and heading towards the exit, not looking back.
Well, she didn't seem keen on manners for someone who was apparently so polite. I huffed, meandering my way down to the bike rack, walking out the front doors, and stopping in front of my bike before looking up at the setting sun. Today was a lot, joining the club and 'meeting' Yukinoshita. I sighed, got on my bike, kicked the pedal off, and headed for the exit that merged into the street.
As I reached the halfway point, the sun fell into a perfect round position in my sight. Filling up my vision and reflecting it with shades of red, purple, and orange. A beautiful vista indeed, but something was disquieting about it. Its vastness, its total punishing heat of death, its aura of power and color. A terrible miracle, born to provide heat for us and born to roast our planet to death and eradicate all beings eventually. It was no wonder that some pre-Columbians worshiped it as god. I looked down; it really bothered me sometimes, its mere presence.
It gave me a vision of the future. Brimstone, fire eternal.
I put my earbuds in and shook my head, speeding off into the street. I remembered a can of Max Coffee was left in the fridge.