The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of Sobu High School's Student Council room, casting a warm glow across the room. It was once a familiar sight and place for Hachiman, who stood in the doorway, his eyes scanning the space with deep nostalgia. It had been a year since he had graduated and many things in his life had changed, but the room was still the same as it had been when he was still attending.

"Senpai, are you just going to stand there and block the entrance?" Iroha Isshiki's voice cut through his thoughts, laced with a playful lilt that he had grown accustomed to over the years.

Hachiman turned his gaze toward her, meeting the sharp, cunning eyes of the girl who had been his junior and now, as a third-year student, held the title of Student Council President for the second time. She hadn't changed much in appearance; her chestnut hair still framed her face in soft waves, her eyes shone with cunningness like a fox and her smile was more like a smirk, but it held a certain softness as she looked at him.

"Sorry, just reminiscing," Hachiman replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "It's strange being back here. I didn't think I would ever come back since I graduated, yet somehow here I am again. Feels like I traveled back in time.'

"If you're a time traveler then what's the winning numbers for this week's lotto," Iroha teased, her tone light as she shuffled some papers on the desk, not looking up at him, "It's a lot of money this week."

"Why would I tell you? I'm keeping all of the money for myself" Hachiman shot back with his trademark deadpan delivery.

"Is that so? Well you do need something to make you popular since your looks are not going to be it," Iroha retorted, finally looking up to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

He allowed himself a small smirk, a ghost of a smile that seemed to relax the atmosphere between them. The banter was familiar and comforting. Though the roles they played had evolved, the core of their relationship remained the same.

"So, what brings you back to Sobu High, Senpai? Don't tell me you're already nostalgic for the good old days. College life not living up to your expectations?" Iroha asked, her tone half-serious as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in a manner that showed she was genuinely curious.

Hachiman shrugged, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket. "It's not that. College is fine… as fine as it can be, anyway. But I had some time, and I thought I'd drop by. See how things are going here. And maybe… check on how you're doing."

"Ah, I see. So, you were worried about me," Iroha said, her voice teasing but with a hint of something more serious underneath.

"Maybe I was," Hachiman replied, his voice softening just slightly.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with unnecessary words. Iroha's gaze dropped to the desk in front of her, the playfulness in her expression dimming as she considered something more personal, something more vulnerable.

"What is this, are you hitting on me?" Iroha exclaimed "I'm sorry you are very nice and possibly rich but I don't like you like that senpai."

"How's the Student Council holding up? Any major crises I need to know about?" Hachiman asked, ignoring her usual rejection of him.

"Well, it's nothing like the chaos we used to deal with. No more cultural festivals on the verge of collapse or ridiculous prom disputes. But, you know, the usual stuff. Dealing with club budgets, organizing school events, listening to complaints from teachers and students… It's a lot of responsibility, but I've gotten used to it. I think I've grown a bit," Iroha said with a faint smile, one that held a hint of pride.

"You've always been capable, Isshiki. You just liked pretending you weren't," Hachiman said, his tone carrying a subtle compliment that made Iroha glance up at him, surprised.

"Are you actually praising me, Senpai? Did you hit your head or something?" she joked, but her eyes softened as she looked at him.

"Don't get used to it. It's just a one-time thing," Hachiman replied, his voice dry, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly.

"Right, right. Wouldn't want to shatter the image of the cold, cynical Hachiman Hikigaya," Iroha said with a mock sigh, though the warmth in her tone was unmistakable.

Hachiman took a seat across from her, the wooden chair creaking slightly under his weight. He leaned back, his posture relaxed but his mind anything but. Being here, in this room, with Iroha, brought back a flood of memories, some more bittersweet than others.

"How's Yukinoshita-san?" Iroha asked after a moment, her voice carefully neutral though her eyes watched him closely for any reaction.

Hachiman's expression flickered for a brief second, a shadow of something passing through his usually guarded eyes. "She's… doing well. She got into that overseas program she was aiming for. We talked about it a lot before she made the decision, and… well, it was what she wanted and it didn't feel right holding her back on it."

Iroha nodded slowly, not pressing further, sensing the complexity of the situation. "It must have been hard, letting her go like that."

"It was. But it was the right choice. For both of us," Hachiman said, his voice steady but with an undertone of lingering melancholy. "We're still in touch, though. She sends me updates about her life over there. She seems… happy."

"That's good to hear. I'm glad she's doing well," Iroha said sincerely, though there was a part of her that felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, perhaps, but also something more.

"Yeah," Hachiman replied, his gaze distant as he thought about the girl who had once been such a significant part of his life. The decision to part ways had been mutual, a painful but necessary step in their growth. They had both known that, despite the bond they shared, their paths were meant to diverge. Yukino had always been destined for something greater, something beyond the confines of their small world while he was content to continue to live in Chiba for the rest of his life.

"So, what about you, Senpai? Are you happy?" Iroha asked suddenly, her voice gentle but direct, catching him off guard.

Hachiman blinked, the question echoing in his mind. Happiness was a concept he had always grappled with, never quite understanding it in the way others seemed to. For so long, he had defined himself by his cynicism and realistic outlook, his detachment from the superficial ideals of the world. All he wanted was to find something genuine in a world that he believed was built on fakeness and lies. He had discovered what could be called happiness after he had started dating Yukino and lost it when she left him. He had tried to move on but it was hard after all they had gone through.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I'm… content, I guess. College is different, a lot more freedom but also a lot more responsibility. It's not bad, but I wouldn't say I'm happy. Not in the way most people would define it, anyway."

Iroha studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "You're still the same, Senpai. Always overthinking everything."

"Can't help it. It's who I am," Hachiman said with a small, self-deprecating smile.

"I know. And honestly, I wouldn't want you to change," Iroha said, her voice softening as she looked at him with something almost like affection. "But, you know, it's okay to want more. It's okay to want to be happy."

Hachiman looked at her, his eyes meeting hers in a way that felt more intense, more meaningful than before. There was something unspoken between them, a connection that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but had never quite been acknowledged. After all she had pinned after Hayama and he had to deal with the affection of both of his club members.

"Iroha…" he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Senpai, don't overthink this. I'm just saying… if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands you, I'm here. I've always been here," she said, her tone light but with a depth of sincerity that was impossible to ignore.

Hachiman felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he hadn't quite expected. It was different from what he had felt with Yukino, or even with Yui. It was something uniquely Iroha—both playful and serious, teasing yet sincere. It was a comfort he hadn't realized he had been missing.

"Thanks, Isshiki. I appreciate that," he said, his voice softer than usual, carrying a weight of emotion that he rarely allowed himself to express.

Iroha smiled at him, a genuine smile that reached her eyes, lighting up her face in a way that made her look even more beautiful. "Anytime, Senpai."

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was a comfortable one, filled with unspoken understanding. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

"So, what's next for you, Isshiki? You've still got the rest of your third year to survive," Hachiman said, shifting the conversation back to her.

Iroha shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Only you could see attending high school as something to survive. But to answer your question I'm going to thrive and be the best student president ever."

"Of course, I would expect nothing less." Hachiman replied with a smirk.

"But seriously, I'm just focusing on getting through the year, keeping the Student Council in line, and maybe figuring out what I want to do after graduation. I'm considering going to college, maybe even following in your footsteps," Iroha

Hachiman arched an eyebrow, slightly amused. "My footsteps, huh? I'm not sure that I'm the role model you should be trying to emulate."

Iroha chuckled softly, the sound light and almost melodic. "That is true, but you're the only Senpai I know who can make cynicism sound so… profound."

"Cynicism isn't profound. It's just a fancy way of saying I don't expect much from people. But I guess you've seen through that by now," Hachiman responded, his tone carrying a self-aware edge.

"I have," Iroha said, her voice soft but clear, her eyes meeting his with a look that was almost challenging. "But that's part of why I admire you, Senpai. You see the world for what it is, but you still choose to help others, even if it means getting hurt."

"That's a pretty idealistic view of what I do," Hachiman countered, though there was no real bite in his words. "I just do what I think is necessary. Nothing more or less."

"Necessary or not, it still matters," Iroha replied, her tone firm. "It mattered to me, at least."

Hachiman didn't have a quick response to that. Instead, he found himself studying Iroha more closely. She had always been a complex mix of self-assuredness and vulnerability, a girl who wielded her charm like a weapon but wasn't afraid to show her true self to those she trusted. Over the years, she had grown into her role, shedding the insecurities of her first year but retaining the same sharp wit and determination.

"Isshiki… you've changed," Hachiman said finally, his voice almost reflective.

"Change is inevitable, right? I'm not the same girl who used to rely on you and the Service Club for everything," she replied with a small, knowing smile. "I've grown up. But… I still like to think that some things haven't changed."

"Like what?" Hachiman asked, genuinely curious.

"Like the fact that you're still here for me. Even after everything," Iroha said, her tone more serious than before. "And that maybe… I can still be there for you, too."

There was a weight to her words that hung in the air between them, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that neither of them could ignore. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, leaving only the raw, unspoken emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface.

Hachiman was the first to break the silence, though his voice was quieter than before. "Isshiki… you know, I never really thought I was that important. I always assumed that once everyone moved on, I'd just be a memory—a phase people went through before they found what they were really looking for."

"Is that really what you think?" Iroha asked, her tone holding a hint of disbelief. "Senpai, you're not just a phase. You're… well, you're you. And that's more important than you realize."

Hachiman felt a strange sense of warmth spread through him at her words. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to reassure him, but with Iroha, it felt different. There was a sincerity in her voice, an earnestness that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as insignificant as he often made himself out to be.

"Thanks," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I… I needed to hear that."

Iroha's smile softened, becoming more genuine, more heartfelt. "Anytime, Senpai. Really. I mean it when I say that you don't have to go through everything alone. You've done enough of that already."

Hachiman didn't respond immediately, instead letting her words sink in. He wasn't used to relying on others—he had spent so much of his life building walls, convincing himself that he was better off alone, that it had become second nature. But with Iroha, he felt those walls begin to crack, just a little.

"So, what about you?" he asked, trying to shift the focus back to her. "What do you want to do after high school? I mean, besides following in my cynical footsteps."

Iroha let out a small laugh, though there was a contemplative edge to it. "Honestly? I'm still figuring that out. I've thought about studying business, maybe going into something that would let me use my skills to actually make a difference. But… I guess I'm not entirely sure yet."

"It's okay not to know. Most people don't," Hachiman said, offering her the same reassurance she had just given him. "You've still got time to figure it out."

"Yeah, I guess so," Iroha agreed, though her expression grew more serious. "But, you know, Senpai… there's one thing I am sure about."

"And what's that?" Hachiman asked, leaning forward slightly, curious about the sudden shift in her tone.

Iroha met his gaze, her eyes unwavering, filled with a determination that caught him off guard. "I'm sure that I don't want to look back and regret not taking a chance when it mattered. Life's too short to be filled with what-ifs."

Hachiman's breath hitched slightly at the implication in her words, the unspoken message that lingered just beneath the surface. He had always known that Iroha was more perceptive than she let on, that she had a way of reading between the lines that few others could match. But this… this was different. This was Iroha being as direct as she had ever been with him.

"Isshiki…" he began, but she held up a hand, stopping him before he could continue.

"Senpai, you don't have to say anything. I just… I wanted to put it out there. You've always been the one to make decisions for everyone else, but maybe it's time you let someone else make a decision for you," she said, her voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability.

Hachiman looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he allowed himself to consider the possibility—the possibility that maybe, after everything he had been through, there was still a chance for something new, something different. The idea scared him, but it also intrigued him in a way he hadn't expected.

"Isshiki… I don't know what the future holds. I've never been good at planning that far ahead," he said finally, his voice low but sincere. "But… I think I'd like to find out."

Iroha's eyes widened slightly in surprise, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before it was replaced with a soft smile, one that was filled with a quiet, hopeful determination. "I'd like that too, Senpai."

The room fell into a comfortable silence once more, but this time it was different. The air between them was charged with a newfound understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the possibilities that lay ahead. They didn't need to say anything more—their words had already bridged the gap that had always existed between them.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm, golden glow, Hachiman found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope. It was a small, fragile thing, but it was there, and it was real. And for the first time, he allowed himself to embrace it, if only just a little.

"Isshiki," he said, breaking the silence, "I think you're going to do great things, whatever path you choose."

"And I think you're going to find your own happiness, Senpai," Iroha replied, her voice filled with quiet confidence.

They shared a smile, one that was filled with the promise of new beginnings, of paths that had yet to be walked but were now open before them.

As they stood up, gathering their belongings, Hachiman couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the girl standing beside him—the girl who had always been more than just a junior, more than just a Student Council President. She was Iroha Isshiki, the girl who had seen through his cynicism, who had challenged him in ways he hadn't expected, and who had, in her own way, offered him a chance at something more.

"Let's go, Senpai," Iroha said, her voice light but with a hint of something deeper. "The future's waiting."

Hachiman nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. "Yeah, let's go."

And with that, they stepped out of the room and into the twilight, leaving behind the shadows of the past and walking toward a future that was, for the first time, filled with possibility.