Chapter 1: As Expected, He's Not Very Pleasant

He stood at the edge of the graveyard, his heart heavy as he looked out over the rows of gravestones. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cemetery. He hadn't been here in over a week, but it felt much longer. His feet seemed to drag as he made his way to the familiar stone that marked the resting place of his family.

The single, tall gravestone bore the name of his family etched into the cold stone. He paused for a moment before kneeling down, his hand reaching into his jacket compartment to pull out three incense sticks and a lighter.

He mentally thanked a certain hardheaded teacher for the lighter, as he wasn't much of a smoker himself. He lit the incense sticks, the distinct smoky scent it produced unfortunately familiar to him. He then placed them gently, sticking them in the holder before the gravestone.

"I'm sorry I didn't come last week," he murmured, his voice barely audible. He felt a lump form in his throat as he spoke. "Work's been… busy."

Busy, he chuckled inwardly. That was an understatement.

Every night he had been out there, hard at work, taking care of… problems. Problems that he would make damn sure to deal with every… goddamn… time. Problems that, unfortunately, resulted in his family's ashen remains being interred in the grave before him.

It was what he did now, what he had to do after what happened to them. But all that hard work, unfortunately, did not make the guilt he was carrying any easier to bear.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I know it's not an excuse," he continued, his voice hinting at the slightest bit of wavering. "I should have made time. I wanted to, but… I couldn't. I was out there, trying to make sure what happened to you doesn't happen to another person."

The memories came rushing back, unbidden, like an unwanted tide at dusk. The screams, the blood, the helplessness. He had been so close, so damn close to dying himself, but in the end, he had lived.

And, yet, they were gone, leaving him behind to carry the weight of their loss.

"I'm trying, Komachi," he whispered, his fingers tracing the edges of his family name carved into the stone. "It might not look like it, but I'm trying. I really am."

His hand trembled, followed by the increasingly wavering of his voice. His eyelids were hot, threatening to spill the liquid that he had been holding back the moment he entered the complex.

He wasn't one for sentimentality. Hell, his handler might even say he was cold most of the time. He had always kept his emotions in check, locking them away in a convenience box outside of his psyche, hidden further behind a facade of indifference.

But here, in this place, all of that crumbled away.

Here, he could be vulnerable. Here, he could be broken. Here, he allowed him to grieve.

"I miss you," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I miss all of you. I don't know if what I'm doing is enough. I don't know if it'll ever be enough. But I have to keep trying, for all of you."

For himself, too.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees around him. It was as if the world itself was offering him some small comfort, but it wasn't enough to fill the void in his heart. He bowed his head, closing his eyes as he let the silence and the faint scent of incense envelop him.

"I'll come back next week," he promised, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. "I won't let work get in the way again. I'll be here, I swear."

He stood up slowly, his legs feeling like lead. As he turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the gravestone, his heart aching with the weight of his unspoken words.

"I'll make things right," he said quietly. "Somehow, I'll make it right."

With that, he walked away, leaving the graveyard behind, the wind dying slowly as he left.

"He left already?"

"Yes."

In the shadows of the trees that bordered the graveyard, a man and woman stood, watching the departing boy until his back disappeared into the distance. They stepped out of their hiding spot among rows of tall headstones, stepping into what little light the quickly darkening sky had to offer.

They moved closer to the gravestone the boy had been paying particular attention to, although they kept their distance. The woman's eyes were sharp, assessing the scene before her, while the man waited for her to break the silence again.

"He's an… interesting one," the woman said finally, her tone more thoughtful than before. "Driven, definitely, yet burdened. A mix that's rare these days, considering how most in his… situation quickly end up."

The man nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. "He's different from the others. A loner, if my gut is right."

"Makes him interesting, no?" The woman asked, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Or rather, it speaks of his potential. Potential that could be harnessed further."

The man glanced at the gravestone, the incense still smoldering in the holders before it. "But he's not one of us. He's not even aware of… well, you know."

"That's what makes him so appealing, " the woman said, turning her gaze to him. "He operates independently, possibly with minimal support, and is driven by something deeply personal. He's not in it for glory, for recognition. He's in it because he feels he has to be."

As if to prove her point, she loosely gestured to the headstone before them.

The man frowned, considering her words. "And you think that's enough? That he'd be willing to…"

She cut him off with a raised hand, her expression turning more serious. "People like him need little convincing, if at all. They just need to be guided. Given the right… incentive."

"Incentive?" The man's voice carried a note of doubt. "You mean his family?"

The woman's eyes flicked to the headstone, her gaze lingering for a moment before she spoke again. "Not exactly, but something along the lines of closure, perhaps. A way to channel that grief, that anger, into something more productive."

The man remained silent, his thoughts churning as he weighed her words. "And if he refuses?"

The woman turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable. "Then we find another way. But I don't think it will come to that. Not with him. He's too close to the edge, too desperate to make things right."

There was a pause as the man considered this. "He's different," he repeated softly, almost as if reminding himself.

"Yes," the woman agreed, her tone softer now, almost contemplative. "And that difference is what makes him so valuable to us. He's not bound by the same rules, the same loyalties. He's a… wild card, and that's exactly what we need."

The man looked at her, still uncertain. "But can he be controlled?"

A shadow of a smile crossed the woman's lips. "Control is a strong word. I prefer to think of it as… guidance. He doesn't need to be controlled, only directed. And with the right direction, he could be very useful."

The man hesitated, then nodded slowly. "If you think it's worth the risk."

"I do," the woman asserted, her eyes gleaming with a cold, calculated interest. "We'll watch him a little longer, see how he handles things. And when the time is right… we'll make our move."

The man glanced back at the gravestone, then turned to follow the woman as he began to walk away from the graveyard. "And if he doesn't handle it the way we expect?"

The woman paused for a moment, then resumed her stride. "Then we 'adjust'. But I'm confident he will. After all, people like him… they don't just walk away. Not when they've come this far."

As they disappeared into the shadows, the graveyard returned to its quiet solitude, the scent of incense still lingering in the air.

"What is this person doing here?"

Her sharp eyes immediately locked onto the figure sitting nonchalantly at one of the desks, his back slightly slouched, as if he had nowhere better to be. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his eyes – those dead-fish eyes – seemed to lack any real spark of life or interest.

He was the epitome of mediocrity, right down to his unremarkable appearance.

Said person – whether it's due to him missing the clear disinterest in her voice or him purposefully ignoring it – looked up at her lazily, as if the very act of looking at her took effort.

He didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to let the silence hang for a moment longer than necessary, just to see how she would react. When she simply narrowed her eyes, he finally shrugged.

"Just hanging out," he said flatly, though his words lacked any real conviction. "You know, soaking in the atmosphere."

She arched her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by the boy's reasoning. "Soaking in the atmosphere? I know that plant cells require sunlight and oxygen to operate, but as far as I am aware, you are something more akin to an amoeba." She paused. "A bacteria, if you will. Who knows, you might be one of those rare photosensitive bacteria who shrivel up and die if exposed to enough sunlight."

The boy sighed, but before he could respond to her, the door swung open again. Hiratsuka Shizuka-sensei strode into the room with her usual confidence, her presence immediately commanding attention.

She glanced between the two students, taking in the tension that already crackled in the air.

"Ah, Yukinoshita, you're here," Hiratsuka-sensei said with a warm smile. "And I see you've met Hikigaya over here."

Yukinoshita turned her attention to their teacher, her irritation still simmering just beneath the surface. "Sensei, why is he here? The Service Club isn't meant to be a refuge for… whatever organism he identifies as."

Hiratsuka-sensei chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. "Hikigaya is here on a special assignment, you could say." She smiled even further when she caught the boy subtly rolling his eyes. "Basically, he's now a member of the Service Club."

Yukinoshita blinked, clearly caught off guard. "A member?" She glanced at the boy, her skepticism seemingly etched onto her face. "And what, exactly, prompted this sudden decision I was not privy to? I am the club president and senior member of this club, you should have approached me first before making a decision like this."

"Yukinoshita, you and I both know you're the only member of this club." Hiratsuka-sensei clapped back, no little amount of sass glittering her tone. "I know this is unexpected, but trust me, Hikigaya has his good points."

"And what are those points, exactly?" Yukinoshita fired off bluntly, uncaring of how the subject of her conversation may feel.

"Look," Hiratsuka-sensei finally sighed, feeling exhausted having to keep up with the younger girl, "he's here to stay, alright? It's been decided. And don't get me started on the repeated complaints I've been getting from Tanaka-sensei."

Yukinoshita pursed her lips at the reminder, her expression faltering slightly. How could she forget them?

To prove her point further, Hiratsuka-sensei continued to elaborate. "She's been very vocal voicing her opinions about how a 'barely functioning and objectively vague club' getting an entire room all to itself, while her own literature club had to share a room with the art club… not to mention the fact that said club has no other members other than its sole member."

Yukinoshita shifted her gaze, looking away while her arms moved to embrace her body, as if it was an instinctive response to being put under Hiratsuka-sensei's attention. To her credit, however, it didn't take long for her to give Hiratsuka-sensei her own thoughts.

"But, of all people, why… him." She barely managed a whisper, as if it wasn't rude talking about somebody like they weren't there while they were, in fact, present. She cast a subtle gaze at the boy, who was still staring off into the distance not unlike an automata that had yet to be cranked.

"He… has circumstances of his own, too." Hiratsuka-sensei said, flatly. But if Yukinoshita were to follow her teacher's gaze, she saw her staring at the boy himself.

Yukinoshita was nowhere near dumb enough to miss the implication behind her teacher's words. She's aware that her teacher wasn't intent on sharing the real reason why and, if she knew her teacher well enough, there's no getting that information out of her. No way, no how.

This, unfortunately, left her with no other choice.

"Very well," she finally said, her tone resigned but still wary. "But don't think for a moment that I'll go easy on you, Hikigaya-kun. If you're going to be in this club, you'll need to actually contribute something worthwhile."

Hachiman simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Wouldn't dream of slacking off," he said, though his voice carried the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Yukinoshita huffed quietly and took her usual seat, her mind already racing with thoughts on how much her routine would have to change now that there's a new addition to her little slice of heaven.

Well, not that there's much to change really, but that's beside the point.

What she was most curious about was, out of all people, why did it have to be one of, if not the most… controversial boy at school? She knew it'd bug her to no end, not knowing things had been one of her few weaknesses, after all.

With a book in her hand, she used it as an impromptu cover to further scrutinize the boy. It was fairly uncharacteristic of her, she was even purposefully ignoring whatever it was Hiratsuka-sensei was saying just so she could focus on her current task.

A picture of mediocrity, nothing about Hikigaya Hachiman stood out. But one might say that his most striking feature was his eyes. His posture, even now, was slouched and seemingly gave the impression of someone who would doze off at any moment.

His hair was unkempt, messy, definitely not adhering to the school's male grooming standards. Then again, Soubu was fairly lax about these things… surprisingly. His tie was crooked and she could see traces of what seems to be dust covering his blazer.

And after a few minutes of, admittedly, unsanctioned staring, she couldn't help but think, 'As expected, he's not very pleasant.'

Chapter End

I'm finally back to writing. It's good to be back. As usual, you can read several chapters ahead by becoming a Patron in my Pa tr e on. I'm strictly using my Ko-Fi for one time donations only now, so be mindful of that. Every little dollar helps, especially in these trying times.