Chapter 1: Fakes and Frustrations
People.
They filled the classroom, filling the space around him with laughter, whispers, and glances cast his way without actually seeing him. They never did. He was wallpaper to them, a vague presence in the back row, half in shadow. And if he were being honest, that was just fine. These people were all the same—fakes, hypocrites, every last one of them. He could see it in the way they moved, the way they looked at each other, desperate for validation, a laugh, a nod, a glance that would somehow confirm they fit in.
They'd do anything to belong, wouldn't they?
Change their entire identity for the crowd. Drop their true selves at the first sign of trouble. Embrace whatever the "right" answer was, the thing that kept them from standing out. It was sickening to watch, and after sixteen years of watching it, Hachiman Hikigaya had come to only one conclusion: to call them fakes would be putting it kindly.
But then again, that's all they deserved.
The bell rang, cutting through his thoughts and settling the classroom into a hushed silence as their teacher began the lesson. He sat in his usual seat by the window, his gaze lingering on the people around him. No one noticed him—no one ever did. That was the way it worked, wasn't it? If you weren't willing to change, to give up every part of yourself to be what they wanted, then you'd become invisible. Irrelevant. Hachiman could count the number of people who'd remembered his name on one hand.
And yet, as much as he prided himself on being above it all, a faint, hollow ache stirred within him. A yearning for… something. Recognition? Acknowledgment? He pushed the thought away, disgusted at himself for even entertaining it. No. He didn't need their approval. He didn't want it. But still…
What would it be like to be truly seen?
He took a deep breath, focusing on the dull monotony of the teacher's voice as the lesson droned on. It was easy for him, these lessons. He was ranked second in the school, just barely below Yukino Yukinoshita. The "Ice Queen," they called her. Brilliant, unapproachable, every bit as much an outsider as he was, yet somehow, she'd found her place in the world, however distant she kept herself from it. They all admired her, respected her.
And then there was him. Just another face in the crowd, unnoticed, unwanted. Maybe that was how it was meant to be. Or maybe…
He looked around, the familiar resentment bubbling up as he watched his classmates chatting, laughing, doing everything they could to be a part of something. They looked so desperate, clinging to friendships that were as empty as the words they shared. He couldn't stand it, the way they looked at each other with those hollow smiles, every laugh, every gesture so obviously rehearsed, and yet no one seemed to notice. It was pathetic, really.
"To all those fakes who change themselves to fit in," he thought with a sneer, "drop dead."
The day dragged on, each class blurring into the next as he moved through the familiar routine. No one noticed him; no one even glanced his way as he left the classroom and made his way to the cafeteria. Not that he expected anything different. He took his lunch to a quiet corner, away from the noise and laughter, and settled down with a sigh.
The room was filled with students huddled together, each group absorbed in its own little world. He watched them with the same sense of detached disgust he always felt, wondering if any of them realized just how meaningless it all was. Friendships, popularity, it was all just a facade, a flimsy illusion they built up to protect themselves from the emptiness they were too afraid to face. He took a bite of his food, barely tasting it, his gaze lingering on a group of classmates as they laughed and chattered, their voices filling the air with meaningless noise.
If this is all there is to life, he thought, a dark, hollow ache stirring within him, if this is reality… then maybe it would be better not to exist at all.
The thought slipped into his mind unbidden, a familiar shadow lurking at the edge of his consciousness. He knew better than to dwell on it. There was no point in thinking that way, not when he knew it wouldn't change anything. People were who they were, and the world was what it was. Nothing would ever change that.
He finished his lunch in silence, letting the noise and chatter fade into the background, a distant hum that barely registered. This was his life, day in and day out, an endless cycle of isolation, silence, and emptiness. And yet, as much as he hated it, he couldn't help but feel… something. A hollow ache, a longing for something he would never have, something he would never allow himself to have.
Because to want something like that… to want to be seen, to be known… was weakness.
Shizuka Hiratsuka watched him from across the cafeteria, her gaze sharp, thoughtful as she observed the young man sitting alone in the corner, his face half-hidden in shadow. Hachiman Hikigaya. To most people, he was just another disaffected teenager, a kid with a bad attitude and a talent for going unnoticed. But Hiratsuka had seen enough to know there was more to him than that.
She could see it in the way he held himself, the way his gaze lingered on his classmates, a strange mixture of disdain and… something else, something almost like sorrow. She'd caught glimpses of it before, in his writing, in the way he interacted with the world around him. And his latest assignment had only confirmed what she'd suspected all along.
"Humanity," he'd written, "is insufficient, cruel, and fake." The words were blunt, aggressive, as if he'd carved them into the paper with the same bitterness she'd seen in his eyes. It was a bleak view, one that bordered on hopelessness, and yet…
A faint sigh escaped her as she watched him, the familiar ache of concern stirring within her. He wasn't entirely wrong; she'd seen enough of the world to know that people could be cruel, that they often acted in their own self-interest. But there was more to humanity than that. There was kindness, compassion, a light that Hachiman seemed determined to ignore. And if he kept going down this path…
She looked away, her gaze settling on the piece of paper in her hands, the words scrawled across it like a warning. She needed to do something. If she left him like this, he would only sink deeper, closing himself off from the world, burying himself in his own bitterness and despair. But if she could reach him, if she could show him that there was more to life than the shadows he'd surrounded himself with…
She made her decision, her gaze hardening as she folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. She'd find a way to reach him, whether he liked it or not.
The school's PA system crackled to life, jolting Hachiman from his thoughts as a familiar voice echoed through the cafeteria. "Will Hachiman Hikigaya please stop by the staff office? Thank you." The announcement hung in the air, drawing a few curious glances his way. He heard the whispers, the faint murmurs of his classmates as they glanced at him, barely paying attention.
"Hikigaya? Who's that?" "Is he in our class?"
The words washed over him, familiar, almost comforting in their familiarity. He stood, gathering his things as he made his way to the staff office, his expression blank, detached. He'd been here a year, a full year, and yet to them, he was still a stranger.
A faint irritation flickered within him as he walked, the familiar resentment bubbling up as he passed by groups of students, each one lost in their own little world, oblivious to his presence. Even here, even after all this time, he was invisible. Unseen, unwanted.
The staff office loomed ahead, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he knocked on the door and stepped inside. He was met with the sight of several teachers, their expressions ranging from curious to exasperated, but his gaze settled on one figure in particular—his homeroom teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka.
"Hikigaya," she greeted him, her voice flat, unimpressed. She held a piece of paper in her hand, tapping it against her palm as she looked at him with a mixture of concern and annoyance.
"What's this?" she asked, holding up the paper.
He frowned. "That's my assignment," he replied, his tone equally flat.
She raised an eyebrow. "I know that, you rude brat. I meant, what the hell kind of nonsense do you think you're spouting here?" She waved the paper in front of him, her tone sharp.
"It's my view on reality," Hachiman replied coolly. "Just because you don't like it doesn't make it untrue."
Hiratsuka sighed, rubbing her forehead as if she'd heard this line a hundred times before. "You're not wrong, Hikigaya, but you're not right either."
His brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "What do you mean, sensei?"
She looked at him, her expression softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. "Just because people can be cruel doesn't mean they're incapable of kindness. Just because the world is dark sometimes doesn't mean there isn't light, too. There's a balance to things, Hikigaya, and until you learn that, you're missing half the picture."
He scoffed, looking away. "Pointless optimism doesn't help anyone. It just hurts people in the long run."
She narrowed her eyes. "You think you know everything, don't you? Well, I've got news for you, Hikigaya. You don't. Which is why, from now on, you'll be joining a club."
"A club?" he repeated, disdain thick in his voice.
"Yes," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And it's non-negotiable."
They walked in silence down the hallway, Hiratsuka leading him toward an unused wing of the school. The corridors were quiet, the empty classrooms lining either side like ghostly sentries. Hachiman followed her, his mind churning with irritation and a reluctant curiosity he refused to acknowledge. This was just another pointless exercise, another empty attempt to "reach" him. And yet…
They stopped in front of a door, and Hiratsuka opened it without warning, being met with two simultaneous sighs of exasperation.
"Sensei, haven't we told you to knock?"
Hachiman stepped inside, his gaze settling on two figures seated inside. One had raven-black hair, her pale skin and cold blue eyes giving her an unapproachable air. The other had thick, wavy blonde hair, her green eyes bright with a mix of curiosity and disdain as she looked him up and down.
The blonde wrinkled her nose, her tone dripping with irritation. "Who's the creep, sensei?"
Hiratsuka raised an eyebrow. "This is Hachiman Hikigaya. He'll be working with you from now on."
He watched as the two girls exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of annoyance and disinterest, and he felt the familiar bitterness rise within him.
They're all the same, he thought, his gaze hardening as he looked back at them. All a bunch of fakes. Just like everyone else.
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Hello everyone! This is my first attempt at an oregairu fanfiction and i hope you all enjoy! For those of you confused, know that things will make more sense in chapter 2, just know that this story is a LOT different than in canon, and the club is different too, and i cannot wait to share my thoughts with you! For those of you not in the know ( which is probably all of you lol, ) i am an 18 year old Christian male, and i hope you enjoy what im writing, May God bless and deliver all of you!