Enjoy the read. I don't have great internet service so it is a slow post.
The normie character, Hachikawa Ranko:
Name: Hachikawa Ranko
Age: 17 years old
Birthday: March 5th
Height: 160 cm
Weight: 52 kg
Hair Color: Strawberry blonde, tied in a high ponytail with a pink scrunchie
Eye Color: Emerald green
Measurements:
Bust: 93 cm
Waist: 58 cm
Hips: 86 cm
Bra Size: G-cup
Occupation:
- Fashionable university student "gyaru,"
Appearance:
She wears more trendy blouses, short skirts, and chunky accessories. Her ponytail remains her signature hairstyle.
Personality:
Cheerful and Bubbly: Ranko is easygoing and always full of energy. She loves to brighten up a room with her enthusiasm.
Glamorous: Always fashionable and put together, Ranko embodies the essence of a "gyaru" with her trendy looks and bold style choices, even in professional settings.
Shy with Emotions: While Ranko appears confident and outgoing, she is surprisingly shy when it comes to expressing her deeper feelings, especially in romantic situations.
Kind and Supportive: Despite her flashy exterior, Ranko is kind-hearted and cares deeply about her friends, often offering them encouragement or helping them with their problems.
The dim light of dawn barely seeped through the blackout curtains of Kiyomi Meian's bedroom, casting soft shadows across the room's carefully selected chaos.
Punk posters, Rock posters, and pastel decorations lined the walls—a contradiction that mirrored her duality. Black shelves displayed figurines, manga, and scattered makeup products, all meticulously placed yet giving the impression of casual disarray.
Her phone buzzed faintly on the nightstand, the first sign of the day intruding upon her sanctuary. But it wasn't the buzz that finally stirred her.
"Meian, wake up!"
The calm, overbearing voice of her older brother, Jim, broke the stillness. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, oozing his usual protective, almost overbearing demeanor. Behind him, their mother—statuesque, with cold emerald eyes—watched silently, her presence commanding.
"You're going to be late again," Jim added, his voice edged with faint irritation. "Get up."
Meian sighed softly, dragging a hand across her face as she pushed herself up from the warm cocoon of blankets. She blinked at the pair standing in her doorway—stoic, expectant like they were waiting for her to slip up. Not today, she thought.
"I'm up, I'm up," she mumbled, her voice low and flat, but with just enough defiance to remind them she wasn't a child anymore.
Once they left, Meian swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. She reached for the leather choker resting on her nightstand and fastened it around her neck with practiced precision. The silver ring at its center felt cold against her pale skin—a familiar comfort, like armor.
Sliding open her closet, her eyes scanned her wardrobe. Her fingers brushed over pastel dresses, black leather jackets, and studded accessories. Cute but tough; Soft but strong. A perfect balance she maintained with care.
Today, she chose a pink mini-dress with a heart-shaped neckline that dipped just enough to add a subtle edge to her otherwise sweet appearance. Over it, she slipped on a black leather jacket adorned with silver studs, the sharp contrast highlighting her pale complexion.
In front of the mirror, she carefully applied her makeup: dark eyeliner that framed her emerald-green eyes, accentuating their sharpness. Matte black nail polish completed the look, each stroke precise and deliberate. She paused, studying her reflection.
Adjusting the collar of her jacket, she grabbed her bag. Another day, another day of lectures, she thought, a tinge of weariness in her mind. But she pushed it aside.
Meian stepped into the dining room, her sock-clad feet moving soundlessly across the floor. The soft scent of freshly brewed tea mingled with the aroma of grilled fish and steamed rice—a typical morning in the Meian household.
As she reached for her seat, her mother's voice, calm but forceful, stopped her mid-motion.
"Meian, dear, your hair…" Her mother gestured toward her dark, loose locks. "You really should tie it into twin pigtails. It would suit you better."
Meian exhaled softly, resisting the urge to sigh aloud. "Mom," she replied, "I've told you before. I'm not a child anymore. Wearing my hair down makes me look more mature."
Her mother, ever composed, gave her a scrutinizing look. "Mature isn't the same as refined, Meian. There's nothing wrong with a little charm. You'd look much more... presentable."
Meian took her seat, smoothing the hem of her dress. "I think I look fine as I am."
But her mother wasn't done. Her gaze shifted to the leather jacket, a faint frown marring her serene face.
"And that jacket again?" Her voice was soft but carried a familiar note of disapproval. "Would it hurt to wear something brighter? Perhaps a pastel blouse or a light cardigan? Pink is fine, but all that black… It's so harsh. You should wear clothes that enhance your natural beauty, not hide it."
Meian's fingers tightened around her chopsticks as she silently counted to three—a tactic perfected over years of these conversations. "I like black. It's simple, clean, and... it suits me."
Her mother's lips thinned into a delicate line. "Simple isn't always appropriate. Sometimes, we need to think about how others see us. You don't want people to think you're unapproachable, do you?"
Before Meian could respond, Jim leaned back in his chair, finally looking up from his phone. His sharp features were relaxed, but his eyes held a hint of amusement as he glanced between them.
"If you two keep this up, we're going to be late," he said casually, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Mom, you have your meeting. Meian, don't you have class today?"
Meian shot him a grateful look. "Yes, I do."
Their mother glanced at the clock and sighed softly. "Fine. We'll discuss this later."
Meian nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "Of course."
Jim stood, smoothing the front of his neatly pressed shirt. "Let's go, then.
No need to start the day with a lecture." He shot Meian a knowing glance, his eyes twinkling with quiet amusement.
At the genkan, Meian stood ready to slip into her high-heeled boots with thick soles. She bent down to put them on, but a sudden thought stopped her.
My Nintendo DS[1].
Her heart skipped a beat. How could she forget? Straightening up, she turned on her heel and dashed back up the stairs, her socks making soft padding sounds against the wooden floor.
Bursting into her bedroom, she spotted the pink handheld console sitting on her desk, its surface adorned with black skull stickers—a rebellious contrast to its bright color. She grabbed it quickly.
Next, she reached for the AC cord beside it, carefully wrapping it before slipping it into her bag. Her eyes scanned the nearby shelf, landing on a stack of games.
"Let's see..." she murmured, fingers hovering over the cases. Finally, she selected a few essentials, lingering on her favorite Pokémon game before slipping it into the same pocket as the DS.
Satisfied, she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried back downstairs.
At the genkan, Jim leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Forgot something?" he teased.
Meian didn't break stride as she grabbed her boots and slipped them on.
"Just something important," she replied coolly, tugging the laces tight.
"Your games again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She met his gaze with a faint smile. "Of course. Priorities, right?"
Jim chuckled. "At least you're consistent. Let's go—we're already behind schedule."
Meian adjusted her leather jacket one last time. Her boots clicked softly against the floor as she stepped out into the crisp morning air, the weight of her DS a reassuring presence in her pocket.
Today, she wasn't just heading to university. She was stepping into a world where her individuality, quirks, and quiet determination would set her apart.
Hikigaya Hachiman walked through the bustling halls of the Humanities Department, his mind preoccupied and his expression as indifferent as ever. He sighed quietly, thinking back to the tedious task he had just finished—folding Ishikawa Yui's clothes for what felt like the hundredth time. It was a favor born of circumstance, but handling her undergarments had added an extra layer of awkwardness he could have done without. The last thing he needed was for anyone to discover a pile of women's clothing in his apartment.
Shaking off the thought, he steeled himself for what lay ahead—his first visit to a professor during office hours. It was a step outside his usual comfort zone, and the anticipation mingled with a flutter of anxiety in his chest.
"Good afternoon. Is Dr. Kurosawa in?" he asked the older woman at the front desk, attempting to project confidence despite the tension creeping into his posture.
The secretary looked up, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to surprise. "Yes, dear. She's at the end of the hall, on your right," she said warmly, though with a hint of formality that suggested she wasn't used to seeing him.
Hikigaya nodded his thanks and made his way down the hall. He could already feel the chill emanating from the open door at the end—Dr. Kurosawa's office. He knocked lightly before stepping inside, greeted by a space as intimidating as the woman behind the desk.
Dr. Kurosawa looked up from a stack of papers, her sharp gaze immediately registering annoyance. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone cutting through the room like a cold wind.
Hikigaya settled into the chair across from her, careful to maintain a calm exterior. He was here to discuss something important—her grading standards, specifically how she wanted essay answers formatted. He knew he had to tread carefully.
Taking a breath, he attempted a compliment, hoping to soften the mood. "Kurosawa-sensei, you look beautiful today."
Her reaction was swift and merciless. "Enough. Hikigaya, what do you want?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing.
Hikigaya blinked but held his ground. "Fine, Kurosawa-sensei. I wanted to ask how you prefer our essays to be formatted."
She stared at him as if evaluating whether he was worth her time. Then, to his surprise, a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "You brat. Do you know how many students have asked me that, only to scurry away when I looked at them like this?"
Hikigaya tilted his head. "Well, I figured I'd give it a shot. I'm not scared—I just wanted clarity."
Her eyes sparkled with a rare hint of amusement. "Clarity, huh? You've got guts. Most students mumble through their fear."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" he asked, half-joking but genuinely curious.
"It is, in a way," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "If you want to do well in my class, stop worrying about what I want and focus on what you think is right. Write from your perspective, not mine."
Understanding flickered across his face. "So you're looking for originality?"
"Exactly. But don't mistake that for a free pass. I'll know if you're trying to bluff your way through."
"Noted." He nodded. "Thanks, Kurosawa-sensei."
Hikigaya leaned back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You know, if I praised your outfit, you might fall for my trap."
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Hikigaya, I'm wearing a black double-breasted blazer dress. It's hardly noteworthy. Your praise was both generic and ineffective."
Feigning shock, he leaned back. "Wow. And here I thought I was getting better at compliments. I do have a girlfriend, after all."
Her smirk widened slightly. "Having a girlfriend doesn't automatically make you good at giving compliments. It just means someone, for some reason, finds your awkwardness endearing."
"Ouch." He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "I thought I was being charming."
"Charm isn't exactly your strong suit," she shot back with a playful glint in her eyes. "Let me guess—your girlfriend has to coach you through every compliment?"
"Not every compliment," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Though… she has offered some suggestions."
Kurosawa leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "Suggestions, huh? Sounds like she's trying to save you from yourself. Does she also handle your wardrobe?"
Hikigaya shook his head, a wry smile forming. "Actually, no. This is all me." He gestured to his graphic white T-shirt and navy blazer, slightly too formal for the university setting. "What do you think?"
She gave him a critical once-over. "It screams, 'My mom picked this out for high school.'"
"Harsh," he said, crossing his arms. "For your information, I picked this myself."
"Oh, I can tell," she quipped, teasing. "Congratulations on graduating from 'mom-approved' to 'decently presentable.'"
He rolled his eyes. "Well, forgive me for not being a fashion icon. Not everyone can reinvent themselves like you, sensei."
Her eyes narrowed, though her smirk lingered. "Careful, Hikigaya. I may have traded my leather jacket for a blazer, but I haven't forgotten how to handle cheeky students."
"Oh? I can see you as a delinquent," he teased. "This stern, no-nonsense professor act feels… unnatural."
Kurosawa chuckled softly, a rare sound that caught him off guard. "Don't let the blazer fool you. Beneath this 'professional' exterior, I can still outmatch you in sarcasm and street smarts."
"Noted," Hikigaya smirked. "I guess that makes me lucky—a professor with a 'colorful' past who makes office hours fun."
"Lucky, huh?" She leaned back, her gaze steady. "Don't get too comfortable. I expect more than half-hearted compliments and rumors in my class."
"Fair enough," he said, standing. "But it's refreshing. Most professors just lecture me. You? You're actually fun to talk to."
Dr. Kurosawa raised an eyebrow. "Fun? Now that's a compliment I don't hear often."
"Well, don't get used to it," Hikigaya replied with a mock salute. "I have a reputation to maintain as a detached, disillusioned student."
She shook her head, smiling faintly. "Go on, then. But next time, if you're going to compliment me, make it believable."
"Noted, sensei," he said, as he got comfortable in the chair. He added, "Oh, and if I need fashion advice, I'll ask. But only if you promise to bring back the leather jacket."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "We'll see."
Their playful banter continued, easing the tension as they found a surprising rhythm in their exchange.
Outside the office, a small group had gathered—professors and the secretary—each drawn by the unfamiliar sound of laughter from Dr. Kurosawa's office.
"I've never seen Dr. Kurosawa interact with a student like this," the secretary whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "And... is she smiling?"
The word hung in the air like a rare phenomenon, too absurd to accept without further observation.
"Right? It's like witnessing a miracle," one professor murmured, adjusting his glasses as if the lenses were faulty.
"A miracle? More like an anomaly," another professor muttered, crossing her arms. "I didn't think she could smile."
"Should we... interrupt?" someone suggested hesitantly, though no one moved.
The secretary glanced at them, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want to be the one to stop that?" she asked softly.
Silence fell. No one volunteered.
They remained quietly transfixed, watching through the narrow crack in the door as the feared Dr. Kurosawa, the department's ice queen, softened—if only for a moment.
And in that moment, the hallway—usually filled with quiet footsteps and hushed conversations—felt just a little warmer.
Inside the office, Hikigaya remained blissfully unaware of the curious eyes monitoring from the hallway.
"Seriously, though, Kurosawa-sensei," he said, leaning forward with a smirk, "if I can't even manage a proper compliment, how am I supposed to write a compelling essay?"
Dr. Kurosawa chuckled softly. "Simple. Put your heart into it. You might surprise yourself."
Their conversation flowed naturally, an unspoken rhythm settling between them. As they started discussing Hikigaya's social life.
"So, let me get this straight—you're the president of a social circle?" Dr. Kurosawa raised an eyebrow, skepticism in her tone. "How does someone with your, let's say, unique charm manage that?"
Hikigaya smirked. "We call it the Ice Castle."
Her interest piqued. "The Ice Castle? Fitting. Let me guess—aloof, emotionally distant members?"
"Exactly. Beautiful, cold, and just the right amount of terrifying," Hikigaya replied, leaning back with mock seriousness. "It's a sanctuary for elegant predators. And me? I'm the lone mouse who wandered in, survived, and somehow became their zookeeper."
Dr. Kurosawa leaned back, arms crossed. "And they made you president? Sounds like your members might have a screw loose."
Hikigaya's grin widened. "Probably. Or maybe I'm just a magnet for eccentric personalities. Present company included sensei."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, she coughed, caught off guard. A faint blush colored her otherwise composed face. "Tch. Don't flatter yourself."
"Who's flattering? I'm just stating facts." Hikigaya watched her reaction with amusement. "Admit it—you'd fit right in with the rest of them."
She straightened her posture, brushing off the momentary lapse in composure. "I'll pass. I have enough chaos to manage without joining your little Ice Castle."
"Fair enough." Hikigaya shrugged. "But if you ever need a break from intimidating students, we've got a seat with your name on it."
Dr. Kurosawa rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Please. I am intimidated because it works. You could learn a thing or two."
"Speaking of learning," Hikigaya said casually, pulling out his phone and sliding it across the desk, "I should probably get your contact info. In case I need more guidance on being bad at gaming."
She eyed the phone suspiciously but eventually took it, entering her number. "Don't make me regret this."
"I'll only text you for important things," Hikigaya assured her. "Like when I discover a new strategy to beat you at video games."
Dr. Kurosawa returned the phone, a glint of playful challenge in her eyes. "You're still holding on to the idea that you can beat me?"
"Not holding on—confident," he corrected, his grin widening. "I'm heading to Akihabara this weekend to stock up on some Famicom games. You're welcome to join—unless you're afraid of losing."
Her eyes narrowed in mock offense. "Afraid? Hardly. I'll text you. I think I'm free in the afternoon."
"Challenge accepted." Hikigaya slipped the phone into his pocket. "But be warned—I've been practicing. You might be in for a surprise."
Dr. Kurosawa's smirk deepened. "We'll see, Hikigaya. I hope you're ready to lose."
"I'm always ready," he said, standing up and offering her a mock salute. "And when I win, I'll expect a proper apology."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Don't hold your breath. But if by some miracle you do win... I'll consider it."
"Consider it, huh?" Hikigaya smirked as he opened the door. "You know, sensei, for someone who claims they're not afraid, you sure sound hesitant."
Dr. Kurosawa's smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Be careful, Hikigaya. If you're not ready, this mouse might just get eaten."
"Bring it on," he replied. "I'll see you on the battlefield."
She watched him, a faint smile lingering on her lips. Perhaps this student isn't as predictable as I thought.
"Is that Dr. Kurosawa?" one professor murmured, their voice tinged with disbelief as they leaned closer to the door.
"It's like she's a completely different person," the secretary whispered, eyes wide in astonishment. "I've never seen her so... animated."
Another professor, still watching intently, added, "Animated? She's practically glowing."
"Maybe we should take notes," a younger professor quipped, attempting to break the tension with a lighthearted comment. "The secret to engaging with Dr. Kurosawa is... sarcasm and video games."
A few soft chuckles rippled through the small group, though their gazes remained fixed on the scene inside the office, equal parts fascinated and confused.
"It's like watching a tiger purr," the secretary mused, shaking her head. "Who knew she had this side?"
"No one," the first professor said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And now I'm wondering... just who is this Hikigaya Hachiman?"
Back inside, Hikigaya leaned forward, determined to keep the conversation alive. "So, what's the secret to beating you in video games? Study your gameplay or just wing it?"
Dr. Kurosawa raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "If you have to study me, you're already at a disadvantage. Just make sure to bring drinks—that's a good start."
Hikigaya returned her smirk with one of his own. "Got it. See you later, Kurosawa-sensei. Don't be late."
She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with an air of confidence. "Don't worry about me," she called after him, amusement lacing her tone. "Just make sure you bring your A-game."
With a final nod, Hikigaya exited the office, leaving behind a rare atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie—something neither of them, nor the professors still lingering in the hallway, would soon forget.
o000
Hikigaya bid Dr. Kurosawa farewell, the warmth of their playful exchange lingering in his mind as he stepped out of her office. Seeking a moment of quiet, he wandered into the courtyard, the hum of university life fading as he found a shaded bench beneath a sprawling tree. The cool wood contrasted pleasantly with the afternoon sun as he settled in.
Pulling out his Nintendo DS, he prepared to lose himself in a game. The familiar weight of the handheld brought him comfort. As he powered it on, he noticed a cache of StreetPass points waiting to be collected. A grin tugged at his lips. Just as he was about to dive into his favorite game, a familiar melody drifted through the air, catching his attention.
Hikigaya's ears perked up. Is that... a Pokémon tune? He glanced around, curiosity piqued. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. From behind the tree, a striking figure emerged.
A young woman stood there, her punk kawaii aesthetic impossible to miss. She wore a black leather jacket studded with silver spikes over a pink mini-dress with a heart-shaped neckline. Thick-soled, high-heeled boots completed the ensemble, the contrast between her pale skin and dark attire making her stand out even more. Her jet-black hair framed her face in soft waves, and Hikigaya found himself drawn to her emerald-green eyes—sharp and icy, yet shadowed with something deeper.
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Hey, are you playing Pokémon?" he called out, breaking the peaceful silence.
The girl turned slowly to face him, her expression cool and guarded, though a flicker of surprise crossed her face. "What if I am?" she replied, her voice soft yet steady, as if testing the waters.
Hikigaya chuckled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then I might have to join you. I can't ignore a good Pokémon tune."
She stepped fully into view, her posture poised but cautious, like someone used to observing from the sidelines. "You? A Pokémon fan?" Her eyes narrowed, the skepticism in her tone barely masking a hint of shyness. "You don't exactly look like the type."
"Looks can be deceiving," he shot back with a smirk, holding up his DS. "I'm a Pokémon trainer at heart."
The girl crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to the device in his hands. "Alright then, Mr. Trainer. What's your favorite Pokémon?"
Hikigaya paused, caught off guard by the question. "Uh... Gengar. Mischievous, unpredictable—kinda like me."
A soft laugh escaped her, barely audible. "I can see that." She glanced at him, her eyes betraying a mix of curiosity and caution. "Maybe you're not as boring as you look."
He grinned. "And you? What's yours?"
"Umbreon," she answered without hesitation. "Silent, strong, and prefers the night." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. "Not that you'd understand."
"Try me," Hikigaya challenged the playful tension building. "I might surprise you."
She considered him for a moment, then softened slightly. "Alright. Let's see if you're as good as you say. Got time for a match?"
Hikigaya gestured to the bench beside him. "I might have time. But fair warning—I'm good."
She hesitated, as if debating whether to accept, then sat down with a graceful, almost tentative movement. "We'll see about that."
As their Pokémon battled on their screens, the courtyard seemed to fade away, replaced by the quiet intensity of their match. Hikigaya noticed how she leaned in slightly, her focus unwavering, her fingers tapping with practiced precision.
"You're not bad," he admitted after a particularly close round.
"Not bad?" She arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk forming. "Careful. I might take that as an insult."
He chuckled. "I meant it as a compliment. Honest."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her expression softening. "Maybe."
After a few more rounds, they decided to grab lunch. As they walked toward the cafeteria, Hikigaya noticed something unexpected—she was casually holding the hem of his shirt, a small, shy gesture that caught him off guard.
"Are you always this handsy?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugged, her emerald eyes flickering with a mix of confidence and vulnerability. "Only with people I trust. I'm naturally shy person," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sincerity.
Feeling a mix of surprise and flattery, Hikigaya led the way to the ordering counter. "Well, lucky me, then," he muttered, trying to hide the warmth creeping into his cheeks.
At the counter, he glanced at the menu. "What do you feel like eating?"
"Something filling but not too heavy," she mused, studying the options.
"How about curry rice?"
"Good choice," he agreed. After placing their orders, he balanced their trays and led the way to a table by the window. The rich aroma of curry filled the air, making his stomach growl.
She followed, her movements graceful despite her edgy attire. As they settled in, Hikigaya couldn't shake the feeling that this lunch felt different—more meaningful—than any he'd had in a while.
Between bites, she glanced up thoughtfully. "I guess we should introduce ourselves properly. I'm Kiyomi Meian," she said with a small nod. "First-year, Biology major. Thinking about going into Ecology."
Hikigaya raised an eyebrow. "Biology? You don't exactly fit the image."
Kiyomi's eyes flickered with surprise. "And what image is that?"
"You know... the whole punk-rock, leather-jacket, Pokémon-battling thing," he teased. "But hey, you've got a nice smile."
She blinked, visibly taken aback by the compliment. "Wait... I smiled?"
"Yeah," Hikigaya said, his voice almost tentative.
"I... I see." She glanced down at her tray. "I don't smile much. It's... hard for me to show emotions."
"Really?" Hikigaya leaned in, intrigued. "But you seem pretty confident."
Kiyomi shrugged, her tone softening. "It's easier to keep people at a distance. Less risk that way."
"I get that," Hikigaya said quietly. "Sounds rough, though."
She hesitated before continuing. "It's just a defense mechanism. But... being around you feels different." Her voice dropped, almost shy. "You're not like most people. They either avoid me or act intimidated. But you? You talk back."
Hikigaya chuckled. "Intimidated? You don't seem scary to me."
"Maybe not to you," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "But trust me, I've seen how others react. It's... nice to meet someone who doesn't flinch."
Feeling a surge of confidence, Hikigaya leaned forward slightly. "Guess that means you're stuck with me now. I don't back down easily. Ah! I'm Hikigaya Hachiman."
Kiyomi's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I think I can handle that."
As they finished their meals, Hikigaya glanced around the bustling cafeteria. "Hey, we should exchange numbers. It'll be easier to send friend codes."
"Good idea." Kiyomi handed him her phone. After exchanging numbers, Hikigaya sent a quick text to ensure she had his contact.
"Oh, by the way," he added, "did you hear about the new Pokémon game?"
"Really?" Kiyomi's interest piqued.
"Yeah. There's supposed to be a live stream announcement soon."
"Sounds interesting," she said, filing the information away.
As they returned their trays, Hikigaya hesitated. "If you ever want to grab lunch again, let me know. I'm always up for company."
Kiyomi glanced at him, her expression softer now. "I'd like that," she said, her voice genuine. "It's nice having someone to talk to who doesn't treat me differently."
With one last smile, they headed their separate ways, feeling lighter than they had in a long time.
0o00
The cool night air brushed against Hikigaya's skin as he walked home. Streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. Approaching his apartment building, something caught his eye—a slender figure slumped against his front door.
He stopped, heart pounding. As he stepped closer, recognition dawned. It was Yui.
Her sleek bob of white hair, usually immaculate, now hung in disarray, framing a face marked by exhaustion. Her gray-blue eyes, typically bright behind her black-rimmed glasses, were dull and distant. Shoulders hunched, head bowed—this wasn't the Yui he knew. A ripple of concern ran through him.
"What do you want, Yui?" Hikigaya asked, his voice edged with irritation.
She looked up slowly, eyes meeting his. "Just open your door," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Hikigaya hesitated, then unlocked the door. As she stood and handed him a bag, he noted its unexpected weight. Without another word, she stepped inside.
The soft hum of running water greeted him as he entered. "Are you taking a shower?" he called out, voice low.
No response.
He sighed, resigned to the situation, and made his way to the bed. Dropping onto the mattress, he felt the pull of exhaustion but resisted. His assignments waited, textbooks stacked in quiet accusation. He should study. He knew that. Instead, his hand drifted to his phone.
The screen lit up as he opened his messaging app. Yukino. Her name lingered at the top of his conversations. A wave of longing washed over him.
"Yukino, I miss you," he typed, a faint smile forming.
Moments later, a reply appeared.
"I miss you too, Hachiman."
A cute black cat sticker accompanied her message.
They exchanged texts, their banter effortless. Yukino teased him about his laziness, while he countered with lighthearted flirtation. But her playful tone shifted as she issued a stern command.
"Enough flirting, Hachiman. Get to work."
Hikigaya sighed, the warmth of their conversation fading. She's right. I can't afford to slack off.
The bathroom door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. Yui emerged, dressed in one of his oversized T-shirts that barely skimmed her mid-thigh. Her damp hair clung to her skin, and a warm glow lingered from the shower. She grabbed a towel and casually dried her hair, seemingly unaware of his gaze.
Their eyes met, locking in a silent exchange—a dialogue without words, layered with tension. Hikigaya's expression remained stoic, but he knew. This battle is already lost.
Yui pointed toward the kitchenette, a silent request. Hikigaya, understanding, nodded and stood. The bag she had handed him earlier still rested on the counter. He opened it to find fresh ingredients. A rare smile crept across his face as he began preparing a simple pasta dish.
When the meal was ready, he set two plates on the low table in the living room. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the small apartment, mingling with the quiet sounds of the night. Yui joined him, and for a moment, an unfamiliar sense of domesticity settled over him—a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
I still need to learn how to cook. The thought lingered in his mind as they ate.
After the meal, Hikigaya returned to his bed, sinking into its familiar comfort. He should have admired Yui—the way her hair still clung to her neck, the glint of mischief in her eyes. But instead, irritation flickered.
She was sitting on his stomach.
"Can you get off? I'm full," he groaned, voice muffled by her weight.
Yui smirked, the corners of her lips curving upward. "Judging by your room, you didn't study," she remarked, tone laced with accusation.
Hikigaya rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll study. Just get off me."
With a light chuckle, she hopped off, leaving him sprawled across the bed. As she turned to leave, she shot him a knowing glance—a silent promise. You're not getting out of this.
Hikigaya sighed, dragging himself to his desk. Books, notes, and scattered assignments waited for him like old adversaries. He spread them across the surface, the sheer volume daunting. He could feel Yui's presence behind him, a quiet sentinel ensuring he stayed on task.
The night stretched on, the weight of responsibility pressing down. Yet, somewhere amidst the textbooks and the quiet companionship, a flicker of warmth remained—a subtle reminder that he wasn't entirely alone.
0o00
They sat side by side at Hikigaya's low table, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the room. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional clink of a mechanical pencil. Yet, beneath the quiet, Hikigaya felt a growing sense of unease.
The casual brush of their shoulders, the warmth of her presence—it was too much. His gaze wandered, stealing glances at her bare legs and the subtle glimpse of skin beneath the oversized shirt, the soft curve of her pale breast. The faint scent of his shampoo and soap lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of the shared intimacy that now filled his small apartment.
"Hikigaya, you made a mistake," Yui said softly, her voice pulling him from his thoughts.
His heart skipped a beat. Flustered, he scrambled to respond. "They're... they're nice," he blurted out, barely audible.
Yui blinked, tilting her head. "What?"
"Nothing! Where?" he stammered, his pitch rising slightly.
With a knowing smile, Yui pointed to the page. Hikigaya's face flushed a deeper shade of red as he realized his error. His distracted thoughts had betrayed him, leaving a nonsensical scribble rather than the solution.
"I need coffee," he muttered, rubbing his temples. He stood, eager for a momentary escape. "You want anything from the vending machine?"
"Tea or juice," Yui replied, a small smile on her lips.
Nodding, Hikigaya slipped on his shoes and stepped outside. The cool night air greeted him, refreshing and crisp. He walked the short distance to the vending machine near the apartment building, the rhythmic clink of coins dropping into the slot grounding him. He selected his usual MAX Coffee, dispensing a warm can with a soft thud. He followed it with a green tea and an apple juice for Yui.
On the way back, getting a drink seemed to lift the fog from his mind. Maybe this night won't be so bad.
Back inside, they resumed their study session. Minutes stretched into hours, the weight of their workload pressing down on them. Hikigaya's concentration wavered, his eyelids growing heavy.
"Yui, I can't anymore. Let me rest," he whispered, exhaustion thick in his voice.
Yui smirked, a teasing glint in her eye. "Hachiman, that sounded weird. You should stop."
He groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. "You're the one making it weird."
Despite their exhaustion, they pressed on, stubbornness fueling their determination. Finally, Hikigaya set down his pen with a relieved sigh. The last problem was finished.
Yui stretched, the soft crack of her back-breaking the silence. "Finally," she murmured, voice laced with fatigue.
Hikigaya stood and grabbed his Nintendo DS, craving a brief escape from reality. As he powered it on, a notification popped up—a friend request. Kiyomi. The girl he'd met earlier that day.
Curiosity flickered as he accepted the request. For a moment, thoughts of Kiyomi filled his mind, but the soft hum of the game soon pulled him in, hours slipping by unnoticed.
When he finally glanced up, the clock read 1:00 AM. His eyes drifted to Yui. She had fallen asleep on his bed, her face serene and peaceful.
A warmth spread through him as he watched her, a strange blend of comfort and unease. He moved quietly, carefully crawling into the bed beside her, mindful not to disturb her.
As he lifted the sheets, his gaze caught once again on the curve of her bare legs, pale against the dark fabric. His heart raced, and he quickly averted his eyes, willing himself to focus on sleep.
Just as he began to drift off, he felt a weight on his arm. Yui, in her sleep, had shifted closer, her arms wrapping around him. Surprise shot through him, his breath catching in his throat.
For a moment, he lay still, every nerve on edge. But the warmth of her touch, the steady rhythm of her breathing, slowly eased his tension. Hikigaya closed his eyes, the unfamiliar comfort lulling him into a peaceful slumber, the quiet night wrapping around them like a cocoon.
1. I took my DSi, 3Ds, the new 3Ds, and my Switch to my university. I kind of gave my age out but yeah when I attended university, first I took my DSi to class and used it during the breaks. Since then I took every Nintendo handheld console.