The morning of June 1st began with a yawn. It was a deep, soul-weary yawn that Hikigaya Hachiman felt he had earned through the sheer effort of existing for another day. He stood, slouched and bleary-eyed, waiting for the elevator, his mind still half-submerged in the murky depths of sleep. The ding of its arrival was an unwelcome intrusion. The doors slid open, revealing a sight so incongruous, so utterly baffling, that it shocked his brain into full, high-alert wakefulness.
Inside the elevator stood Horikita Suzune and Kushida Kikyo. Together.
Hachiman blinked, his mind frantically trying to compute the variables. Why? When? How? Did Kushida ambush her? Was this a hostage situation disguised with a smile?
"Good morning, Hikigaya-kun!" Kushida chirped, her smile as radiant as the morning sun he so despised.
Horikita, seeming to read the litany of questions flashing in his dead-fish eyes, offered a clipped explanation. "She was waiting outside my room." Her tone implied this was a fate she had resigned herself to, like bad weather or Mondays.
Knowing there was no escape, Hachiman shuffled into the elevator, the sudden proximity to both the Ice Queen and the Midnight Monster creating a social pressure he could feel in his bones. The ride down was a tense silence on his and Horikita's part, filled only by Kushida's ceaseless, cheerful prattling about the weather.
As they exited into the main lobby, a girl with vibrant, strawberry-pink hair and an equally vibrant aura bounced towards them.
"Kushida-chan! Good morning!"
"Ichinose-chan! Morning!" Kushida replied, matching her energy perfectly.
So that's her, Hachiman thought, his observational faculties kicking into overdrive. Ichinose Honami. The top scorer of the entrance exams, the leader of Class B. She radiated a natural, unforced warmth that was almost blinding. Her smile was genuine, her eyes kind. She was, in essence, a high-spec, upgraded version of the "nice girl" archetype.
Horikita glanced at Hachiman, a silent, sharp look that clearly asked, Analysis? Threat assessment?
Hachiman's internal alarm bells, the ones that had screamed and blared like a klaxon in a submarine when faced with Kushida's hidden persona, were completely silent. There were no hidden edges, no dissonant frequencies. He gave Horikita a barely perceptible shake of his head. She's genuine.
The confirmation, however, only made things worse for Hachiman. A familiar, bitter ache settled in his chest. Nice girls. They're the worst. They were the natural enemy of loners like him. They treat you with a gentle kindness you're not used to, show you a sliver of attention no one else ever has. It's a slow-acting poison. It makes you hope. It makes you foolishly believe that maybe, just maybe, you're special to them. And then, one day, you see them treating ten other people with that exact same effortless kindness, and the truth crashes down on you: you were never special. You were just one of the many recipients of their charity. It was a heartbreaking, soul-crushing revelation he had learned the hard way.
"Hey, have you guys gotten your points for this month yet?" Ichinose asked, pulling him from his gloomy reverie.
Hachiman blinked. Now that she mentioned it, he hadn't even checked. He pulled out his phone. The balance was unchanged from the day before. 300 Class Points. Which meant zero private points had been distributed.
"Looks like a no," Hachiman grunted.
"Same for us in Class B," Ichinose said with a thoughtful frown. "Weird. Oh well, I'm sure Chabashira-sensei will explain!"
With a final, cheerful wave, she departed. Hachiman and Horikita continued to their classroom, the former still stewing in his cynical worldview.
In the classroom, the lack of points was the main topic of conversation. When Chabashira entered, she was immediately bombarded with questions.
"Sensei! Where are our points?!"
"Yeah, we worked hard for those!"
"It's the first of the month!"
Chabashira looked at them with an expression of profound boredom. "There appears to be a system-wide error. The school is working on it. Your points should be distributed by tomorrow."
"We should get compensation for the emotional distress!" Yamauchi declared.
No one, not even Chabashira, dignified that with a response, his opinion is as valuable as his midterm marks.
The next day came, but the points did not. Instead, Chabashira walked in with an expression so grim and cold it could freeze lava.
"I have an announcement," she said, her voice devoid of its usual mocking tone. This was serious. "The reason for the delay in point distribution is due to an incident that occurred two days ago."
She paused, her gaze sweeping the room before landing on one student. "Sudou Ken. You have been formally accused of assault by three students from Class 1-C. Ishizaki Daichi, Komiya Kyogo, and Kondo Ryuji."
The classroom exploded.
"What?!"
"Sudou, you idiot!"
"I knew he'd do something like this!"
"I didn't do it!" Sudou roared, standing up, his fists clenched. "It's a lie! They called me out to the special building, where there are no cameras! They were running their mouths, jealous I made the starting lineup for the basketball club! They started it!"
No one believed him. His delinquent image, his short temper, his history of near-violence—it had all convicted him in the court of classroom opinion.
"Seriously, Sudou? You're going to cost us our points?" Ike whined, completely ignoring the claim of innocence.
"Yeah, man, this is all your fault!" Yamauchi added, his supposed "friendship" evaporating in the face of financial inconvenience.
The prevailing sentiment was clear: they didn't care if he was innocent. They cared that his trouble was costing them money.
"A hearing will be held in one week in the Student Council office," Chabashira continued, her voice cutting through the noise. "If Sudou is found guilty, he will be expelled. And," she added, delivering the final blow, "if a student from Class D is expelled, all 300 of your Class Points will be forfeited. You will return to zero."
That shut everyone up. The stakes were no longer just about one "problem student." It was about their collective survival.
Hachiman and Horikita exchanged a look. They knew Sudou was a hothead, but he wasn't stupid enough to take on three guys at once without extreme provocation. And they couldn't afford to lose him. Expulsion meant zero points, and it also meant losing one of the few students in their defective class who possessed a tangible, elite-level skill: athletic prowess. He was an asset.
"Does anyone," Hirata asked, trying to steer the class towards something productive, "know anything about this? Did anyone see anything near the special building two days ago?"
Most students shook their heads or looked away. But Hachiman's eyes, trained to spot the outlier, noticed one person: Sakura Airi. She was looking down at her desk, her hands trembling slightly, her entire body language screaming "I know something and I wish I didn't."
Horikita noticed him watching Sakura. A silent communication passed between them. She gave a slight nod. You handle her. I'll handle the rest.
While Horikita began questioning other classmates and trying to devise a strategy, Hachiman began his own, more subtle investigation. He first noticed that Sakura's thick-rimmed glasses didn't seem to have any prescription lenses. They were fake. Why would a girl who clearly wanted to be invisible wear something that, while common, was still an accessory? To change her appearance. Hiding from something? Or someone? A quick, discreet search on his phone during the lunch break provided the answer. He typed her name, and then on a whim, tried a few variations. It didn't take long to find a semi-popular, now-defunct blog and a series of social media accounts under the name "Shizuku." The pictures featured a girl who was unmistakably Sakura Airi, minus the glasses and with a far more confident posture, posing in a variety of outfits. The photos were… spicy, to say the least. Not explicit, but clearly gravure idol-style shots meant to appeal to a certain demographic. Well, Hachiman thought, this is certainly… interesting. She was a minor internet celebrity trying to escape her past.
Meanwhile, Horikita's own investigation was hitting a brick wall. No one had seen anything. But then, she spotted Kushida talking animatedly with Ichinose Honami near the school entrance. Remembering their alliance of convenience, Horikita approached.
"…and so we really want to help find out the truth!" Ichinose was saying as Horikita walked up.
It turned out Ichinose, having heard about the incident, genuinely wanted to help Class D. Horikita was immediately skeptical. Why would the leader of a rival class offer assistance? This could be a ploy, a way to gather intelligence or even sabotage them on behalf of Class C. But as she listened to Ichinose speak, she saw no guile, no hidden agenda. Just a sincere, almost naive, desire for fairness. Reluctantly, Horikita decided to go with the flow for now. Any help was better than no help.
The next day, Horikita saw a notice posted on the main bulletin board:
'If anyone has information regarding the incident between Class 1-D's Sudou Ken and the three students from Class 1-C, please inform us. A reward in private points will be offered for credible information. - Ichinose Honami, Class 1-B.'
As she was reading it, Ichinose herself approached, accompanied by the stoic Kanzaki and the perpetually blank-faced Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.
"Horikita-san! I hope you don't mind," Ichinose said cheerfully. "Kanzaki-kun had the great idea of offering points as an incentive. We thought it might help shake a witness loose!"
As if on cue, Ichinose's phone pinged. She read the message, and her eyes lit up. "We got something! An anonymous tip. It says Ishizaki Daichi from Class C was a known delinquent in middle school, famous for starting fights."
This was a significant piece of evidence. Ishizaki, one of the "victims," had a history of aggression. More importantly, as a known troublemaker and not a member of the basketball club, he had no legitimate reason to be confronting Sudou where he did. It suggested premeditation.
Horikita analyzed the Class B trio. Ichinose was clearly motivated by her strong sense of justice. Kanzaki, too, seemed to want a fair outcome. But Ayanokoji… he was an enigma. He stood slightly apart, his expression unreadable. He didn't look like he was invested in helping; he looked like a spectator at a gladiator match, coolly observing, curious to see who would emerge victorious.
Later that afternoon, Hachiman approached Sakura as she was leaving the library. He didn't ambush her. He just fell into step beside her.
"Sakura," he said quietly.
She jumped, startled. "H-Hikigaya-kun!"
"The Sudou incident," he said, getting straight to it. "You saw something, didn't you?"
She flinched, hugging her bag to her chest. "I… I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Look," Hachiman said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'm not going to force you. But Sudou is going to be expelled, and our class is going to lose everything we've gained, because three guys from another class are lying. If you have anything that can help, it could change everything." He paused. "But if you don't want to get involved, I get it. It's your choice. No one has the right to force you."
His approach—direct but not demanding, acknowledging her fear without judgment—seemed to work.
"I… I have a photo," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was taking pictures of the sky… and they were in the frame. It's not great quality, and you can't see exactly who threw the first punch, but… it shows them confronting him."
"That's something," Hachiman said. "That's better than nothing."
Sakura looked at him, her eyes filled with terror at the thought of testifying. "I… I can't… stand in front of everyone…"
"It's your decision," Hachiman repeated. "But you have proof. That's a powerful thing." In the end, with his reassurance that he and Horikita would support her, she reluctantly agreed.
That evening, Hachiman and Horikita met up in his dorm room to debrief, the air thick with strategy and the faint smell of MAX Coffee.
"So," Hachiman began, "we have a witness. Sakura Airi. She has a photo, though it's not a silver bullet. And she's terrified of public speaking."
"And we," Horikita countered, "have evidence that one of the accusers is a known delinquent with no reason to be at the scene of the crime, thanks to Class B's intervention. It establishes a motive for them to instigate the fight."
They laid out their pieces on the board. A reluctant witness with photographic, if imperfect, evidence. Character assassination material on the opposition. And the looming deadline of the Student Council hearing. It wasn't much, but for the defective students of Class D, it was a fighting chance.
...End...