I.
The main drawback of a relatively high position among the general populace is the peculiar burden of responsibility that falls on your shoulders. It seems, purely from the outside, well, I became president, so what? Show your face to the parent committee and teaching staff, wave a commanding hand to your subordinates, giving instructions in all directions and arbitrary planes, after which all that remains is to royally collapse into the chair and observe the process.
However, many forget to take into account the following important factors: working with documents—curses be upon bureaucracy in all its forms!—responsibility for the actions of direct subordinates, and just the constant headache in the form of directives flying in from above.
In anime, everything looks somehow cooler, as if the position of president truly grants you enormous power. In reality, though...
You're just a common layer between the administration and the students, essentially lacking the full ability to introduce any radical changes to the system itself. Simply put, you're like some lousy department in a huge corporation. On one hand, you are its head, a reason for pride and arrogance, but on the other, you are responsible for the timely replenishment of hand soap in the restrooms. Hygiene, of course, is useful and important, but in the context of the entire office apparatus, you are nothing more than a bug.
Sighing, I adjusted my slipped scarf and hid my hands in my coat pockets, trying to shake off the negativity that was rolling in waves, even though there were quite serious reasons for it. How else could it be—I've been staying late until dark for five days in a row, diligently poring over documents. Even Atsuko shies away from me now, trying not to bother me unnecessarily, let alone the others, who are less accustomed to my grumpy nature.
Whose sick idea was it to hold a street parade to celebrate the Emperor's Birthday? No, I perfectly understand: it's a national holiday, I pound my chest, screaming "Banzai!" at the top of my lungs, all while downing liters of amazake, but...
Why so much paperwork for this event? Procuring costumes, agreeing on the budget, reallocating the missed hours with the teachers of the participating students so that there are no gaps in the curriculum, and a hundred other minor details that aren't particularly difficult, but collectively merge into one big and concrete...
Twitching the corner of my lip, I tried to calm down and focus on the positive aspects. Or at least pretend that they exist. For example, Hiratsuka is helping me, right? Time alone, languid evenings tête-à-tête, full of unforgettable passion...
It's a shame she managed to get sick, and I haven't heard from her for the past two days, which means the amount of headache has sharply increased by two, or even two and a half times.
However, after this, there will be almost a month and a half of calm, excluding basic tasks like monitoring attendance and order on school grounds. That will be the perfect "window" to prepare for the upcoming exams.
...And yet, right now I could be peacefully kicking around iron, round-shaped objects with a thread with Yukinoshita and Yuigahama, without troubling my mind. Attend classes, pretend to be busy with club activities, and head home with a clear conscience. Well, to be fair, sometimes there were minor complications that required me to stay late or dangerously toy with my own nervous system, but compared to the current situation—it's night and day.
What was that saying...
"We never know the worth of water until the well is dry."
So true, I can't even stand it.
But there's no turning back. Purely theoretically, I could always resign, covering my head with ashes and admitting my own incompetence, but I don't intend to do that. Perhaps the reason lies in my untimely awakened ambitions—or, in the words of some particularly "clever" individuals, a thirst for power—or perhaps in the unusual experience, albeit painful, but the fact remains: I will cry, I will growl at everyone, and I will continue to bear the load.
Is that a bad thing?
Only time will tell...
— Help!... — a muffled female shriek from an alley suddenly interrupted my train of thought.
Freezing, I turned towards the source of the sound—a small passage between buildings, fenced off by concrete walls and, as expected, almost devoid of any light source.
Did I imagine it?
The next second's scream robbed me of the ability to dismiss everything as auditory hallucinations.
Quickly looking around, I winced, realizing that there was no one else on the street besides me.
Taking a shortcut, they call it.
Without hesitation, I took out my phone and dialed the police number, holding the mobile to my ear, listening to the dialing tone.
Hello, come on, pick up, your help is urgently needed here.
The sound of a slap and a subsequent growl rang out:
— Ah, you bi...
Still in a slight state of bewilderment, I barely managed to react to the girl who burst out of the alley, who managed to trip at the exit and fall right onto me.
Automatically grabbing her shoulders, I dropped my phone. Wincing from the sharp blow to my stomach and the mass of blonde hair that lashed my eyes, I struggled to maintain my balance, holding onto the girl.
— Let go! — Actively struggling, the girl glared at me with green eyes, in which horror mingled with fury.
After a moment, she abruptly froze.
— Hachiman? — I wasn't given time to answer by the loud stomping and the man in a crumpled office suit who flew out onto the street right after her.
— Get over here, you... And who the hell are you? — Judging by the red mark on her cheek and his slight swaying, one can draw a simple conclusion.
He is drunk and, at the same time, angry.
Casting a brief glance at Yumiko—still struggling to realize that the victim was my classmate—I noticed the torn zipper of her down jacket.
It wasn't hard to put two and two together.
— Listen, I've already called the police, — for some reason, instead of logically running away, Miura hid behind my back. Just perfect. — So, be a good man—scram. I'll even pay for the false alarm.
That is, if the phone didn't shut down from the fall. But knowing my luck and not hearing the dial tone...
— What are you talking about? — the unsuccessful assailant took a step forward, clenching his fists and struggling to focus his gaze on me.
Yep, apparently, his condition doesn't allow for sober thinking.
Only one way out.
Abruptly closing the distance, I slammed my fist into his solar plexus with all my might.
Gasping, the drunk clerk opened his mouth in an attempt to breathe and collapsed onto his knees. Taking advantage of the moment, I picked up my phone and grabbed the Blonde, who was still standing stock-still, by the arm.
— Run! — I yelled, pulling her along, forcing her to sprint.
A punch is a punch, but a certain level of blood alcohol content turns people into real bastards, capable of ignoring severe pain. And I had no desire to swing my fists with the risk of inflicting an injury or, more likely, receiving one myself.
After running a good distance, I finally let out a noisy exhale, leaning over and resting my hands on my knees.
Catching my breath, I straightened up and looked at the suspiciously silent girl standing next to me, mechanically trying to zip up her down jacket. Which was difficult to do, as the zipper was almost ripped out at the root. Adding a pale face, a glazed expression, and trembling lips to the picture, you get the typical image of the "come-down."
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I looked around and was relieved to notice the entrance to a playground about ten meters away, empty at this time. Mentally sending everyone involved and uninvolved on a long hike, I grabbed Yumiko's hand and once again took on the role of the locomotive, practically ramming her to a bench and seating her there.
Making sure the girl wasn't going to leave or faint, I shuffled over to a vending machine that I had noticed earlier.
What do they recommend? Hot tea with plenty of sugar? I hope canned coffee will do, especially since I always have change in my pocket.
Waiting for the sluggish machine to react, I leaned my forehead wearily against the cool display, feeling the tension slowly leaving me, followed by my habitual introspection setting in.
And I just had to be in the right place at the right time. And what's most unpleasant is that I was already ready to walk past. It's not like I knew exactly who was trapped in the alley, right? Well, people are selfish creatures; their own skin is more valuable. Especially since you never know what you're getting yourself into. What if it's a lover's quarrel, and you intervene, get hit or deliver one yourself, and end up receiving a police report as a thank you?
Besides, purely logically, Miura would probably have gotten herself out anyway.
Or not?...
For some unknown reason, the nasty taste in my mouth wasn't going away.
— Are you going to work or not?! — I angrily punched the machine, and it rattled, spitting out two servings of coffee.
Picking them up, I hurried back to Yumiko, who was still methodically fidgeting with the broken zipper pull.
— Here, — squatting down, I offered the drink to the Blonde.
The girl stared at the can with a detached look, pausing briefly, then took it from my hands, awkwardly trying to deal with the lid. Shaking my head, I opened my coffee and swapped with my classmate, who offered virtually no resistance.
— You'd better drink it before it gets cold, — sitting down next to her, I took a sip of the MaxCoffee and, setting it aside, reached for my phone, which I had hastily thrown into my pocket.
Just as I thought, it shut down from the fall. The screen is also cracked, quite badly, too. I wonder if it will turn on?
After a minute, I quietly cursed and put the "dead" mobile back. It looks like I'll have to unpack my emergency savings. Well, I've wanted to replace it for a long time, so the opportunity presented itself.
How convenient, ha-ha...
— It's broken, right? — Miura asked quietly, still looking at the ground, having not touched the coffee.
I involuntarily scoffed.
— The law of universal gravitation has not been repealed, — downing my portion in three gulps, I crushed the can and threw it in the trash.
Yumiko blinked and finally took a small sip, immediately wincing:
— It's bitter... — the pitiful, tearful tone reminded me of a child forced to eat broccoli for breakfast.
— Sorry, there was no sugar left. But it's better than nothing, — I sized up her battered appearance, again catching sight of the torn jacket.
Hmm... And what is the proper thing to say in such situations?
I should probably offer some kind of comfort, right?
But I have almost no experience in such matters, which creates certain difficulties in choosing the right words.
Honestly, I wanted to yell at her a little, shake her by the shoulders with one single question: why the hell, instead of immediately running away, did she stay standing behind my back? That is the most illogical decision.
Although, I shouldn't forget about the state of shock. She found a conditional "safe zone" next to me and that was it, her brain stopped working.
I won't argue, such trust cheers the soul a little. But...
Fine, no need to dwell on it. Sometimes the twists of our psyche simply cannot be justified from the standpoint of reason.
— A knight in shining armor, — an unexpected snicker came from Miura.
Raising an eyebrow, I conspicuously shook my head.
— I don't see any. Are you starting to have hallucinations from stress? — I inwardly winced, realizing that I had once again succumbed to habit.
— Possibly, — the girl didn't argue, shaking the can in her hands. — I'm also cold.
— Why do you think I gave you coffee? — Hmm, it's quite possible that my usual sarcasm is exactly what is needed here.
Something like creating a familiar... habitat? That is, purely psychologically, if I didn't interact with her as usual, she would feel... not as usual?
Kami, why is it so difficult to formulate a thought correctly?
My classmate glanced at me sideways.
— You could have given me your coat, — it seems the Blonde was starting to come to a little. At least she was out of her suspended state, though she spoke slowly and without her usual emotionality.
— And freeze myself? — I smirked.
— A true gentleman died in you, — Miura muttered.
— He was defeated by time and modern values, — I leaned back against the bench. — Anyway, a hero definitely won't come out of me.
— What are you talking about? — Yumiko tried to sip the coffee again, but, disappointed, stuck out her tongue and set the can aside.
— The same old thing, — I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds. — If I were a brave savior of a woman's honor, I would have burst in with a kick and rescued you from that scumbag, not stood there trying to reach the police.
— Did you get through? — the girl asked indifferently.
— I don't know, — I shrugged, catching her wrapping herself in her down jacket out of the corner of my eye. — I'll be waiting for a bill for a false alarm.
— He didn't... — Yumiko stopped mid-sentence, looking at me with confusion as I untied my own scarf. — What are you doing?
— Nothing, — sighing, I stretched and wrapped it around the girl's exposed neck, trying to somehow keep the jacket closed. — Consider it a response to your words about a gentleman.
— But I... Hey! — she yelped when, finishing what I intended, I plopped a hat onto her head, pulling it down to her eyes.
— Use it while I'm being nice, — I grumbled, returning to my seat, watching the Blonde puff noisily as she adjusted her hair tangled by my actions.
She seems to be coming back to life, that's already a relief.
Having dealt with such an overwhelming task, Miura quietly exhaled and—shyly!—looked at me.
— Then... Maybe you could walk me home?
Wait, did she seriously think I would just leave her on the street? Undeniably, some people call me a bastard and they even have the right to, but abandon a girl I know in a situation like this?
Instead of answering, I got to my feet and turned to her, silently holding out my hand.
Looking away, Yumiko took my hand, squeezing it tightly.
II.
Miura only returned to school three days later, which was entirely logical. The stress received does not pass in a couple of hours, and additionally, one shouldn't forget about possible psychological problems and the body's reaction. Sometimes, after experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, people unexpectedly get sick, even if nothing predicted such an outcome.
Therefore, it's best to rest for a day or two in a calm environment, soberly rethink what happened, take the lesson learned into account, and not repeat such mistakes. At least, that's what I would do.
What actions Yumiko took is unknown to me, but from the outside, she seemed completely normal. She joked with Yui, discussed something with Ebina, and continued to hold the center of the group's attention. Of course, some unnatural notes in her behavior were noticeable, but perhaps I'm just imagining things.
And what business is it of mine, in general? Everything I could do, I successfully did.
With this thought, to the chime of the final bell, I slammed my notebook shut and rubbed my brow ridges, looking with a hint of envy at my classmates, who were gathering to go home in a friendly crowd. Due to the upcoming event, club activities were suspended, so everyone had a flood of free time.
Everyone but me.
— Hey, Hachiman, why aren't you getting ready? — Yuigahama asked, noticing that I was still sitting in my seat.
— Good question, — sighing, I propped my head up with my hand, looking at the girl. — I really don't know what to say.
The amount of sarcasm and irony in my voice exceeded all permissible norms.
— Stop it, — Yuigahama rolled her eyes and playfully nudged my shoulder with her fist, adding with much more concern in her voice: — Haven't you finished with the event yet?
— Who knows. On the one hand, all preparations are complete, on the other... — I winced, recalling the volume of work remaining, then, waving my hand, I got up, stacking my textbooks into my desk and slinging my bag over my shoulder.
— By the way, — Yui stepped aside, allowing me to move into the aisle. — When will you drop by the club? Yukino already misses you.
I blinked.
I tried to picture Yukinoshita eagerly anticipating my presence.
It didn't work out very well.
— I'm not lying to you, honest! — my friend protested. Apparently, my disbelief was reflected in my facial expression somehow.
— Of course, of course, — I scoffed, heading towards the classroom exit.
— So what about the club? — Yuigahama called after me.
Freezing in the doorway, I glanced at her sideways and shrugged.
— As fate decides; I can't promise anything at the moment, — after which I quickly walked along the planned route to the student council room, already anticipating the taste of a fun time.
Especially considering the fact that I would be toiling over documents in proud solitude: almost all my subordinates had successfully completed their assignments, and Atsuko, the only one with whom I could share the heavy burden of existence, asked for a "day off" today.
Climbing the stairs, I heard footsteps behind me out of the corner of my ear, which made me turn around when I reached the landing, tilting my head in mild surprise.
— Is something wrong, Miura?
— N-nothing! — the girl, caught off guard, was slightly flustered, avoiding eye contact.
Thereby perfectly confirming that she needed something from me. Keeping her personality in mind, it must be something unusual and relatively embarrassing.
Or maybe not, and we truly are just heading in the same direction.
I wasn't in the mood to guess her deeper intentions, so, pretending to take my classmate at her word, I continued on my way. Perhaps someone might say that I'm behaving improperly this way, but it's a double-edged sword.
For example: your girlfriend tells you not to follow her, having been offended by something. On the surface, it seems logical and clear: you throw up your hands and don't rush to catch up with her. However, in reality, she meant the opposite—that you should run after her.
So, should one interpret such statements in reverse?
No, that's not right either.
Because there is a high probability that the lady wants to be alone without your company, and if you continue to bother her, you will achieve a perfectly predictable conflict, like: "I told you to leave me alone!"
So what should I do?
There is no complete answer; one will have to "flip a coin" one way or another, taking a certain kind of risk.
It is for this simple reason that one should often simply stop obsessing over it and agree with what is said, especially when you know each other superficially. In the worst case, the girl will shake her head in disappointment and mutter something unpleasant about the heartless fool.
Even in the event of a breakup over such a matter, there is no need to grieve much. Theoretically, she should understand that her partner is deprived of the gift of telepathy and is not always able to guess the subtext.
Simply put, everything entirely depends on your relationship with each other.
However, all doubts about the correctness of my initial assumption vanished when I stopped by the student council room door and realized that Miura was deliberately following me.
— Just so you know, I'm not planning to leave for the next couple of hours, — I said quietly, watching her out of the corner of my eye.
Yumiko, hearing my words, lowered her head slightly and quietly sighed.
Kami, why do I have to deal with all this? If some higher entities think I'm suitable for such a role, then they are profoundly mistaken.
— I'm not in a hurry, — Miura muttered anyway.
— As you wish, my job is to warn you, — shrugging, I opened the door and stepped aside, allowing my classmate to enter first, which she took advantage of without much thought, immediately beginning to examine the surroundings with interest.
I can't blame her; I did the same when I was at the crossroads of a decision that still causes me pain in my lower body. I hope Shiromeguri is tired of hiccuping because I constantly remember her fondly.
Walking around the Blonde, who was frozen in the middle of the room, I headed to my workplace, tossing my briefcase closer to the wall along the way. Collapsing into the leather chair, I looked with unconcealed "pleasure" at the stack of papers awaiting me.
I wonder, maybe I should try to put Yumiko to work, since she decided to keep me company?
...But how could she help me, being completely unfamiliar with the inner workings? In the end, I would spend more time explaining.
Pulling the nearest document toward me, I cast a brief glance at Miura, who, having finished examining the surroundings, was shifting from foot to foot with noticeable uncertainty, as if not knowing what to do with herself, constantly looking at the door.
I understand, the impulse to come in here was likely dictated by a surge of emotion, after which, as expected, her brain kicked in.
"Will I be in the way?"
"Why did I give in to that impulse?"
"He probably thinks I'm..."
Of course, all my guesses are based solely on a basic understanding of human psychology, but for some reason, I'm sure these are the thoughts wandering in her charming head right now.
— If you feel uncomfortable, you can walk around for a bit, — I suggested, clicking my pen and beginning to form the summary report on the work completed. — Or sit on the sofa. Atsuko said it's comfortable to sleep on.
— Sleep? — Yumiko was surprised, choosing the second option and placing her bag on her lap.
— Yep, — I replied without lifting my head. — Believe it or not, sometimes half an hour of sleep is quite capable of saving your nervous system from overload. Especially when another evening full of pleasant pastimes looms ahead.
— Like the one you're having now? — Yumiko smirked without malice.
— Exactly. You can see for yourself: I radiate positivity and joy with every fiber of my soul, — tapping the tip of my pen against my cheekbone, I tried to find the most suitable wording for a phrase that was already externally understandable.
The main problem with any documentation is the jaw-breaking jargon, forcing you to assume the most sophisticated poses from the Kama Sutra just to write text in an "official-business" style.
But why is it necessary? I don't understand it completely.
— I can tell. By the way, have you thought about starting to wear glasses?
Glasses?
I briefly looked up from my work, staring at Yumiko with a silent question.
— What? They would look good on you.
— No thanks, I'll manage without them for now, — although I have healthy fears that I'll have to visit an ophthalmologist in the near future if the strain on my eyes doesn't decrease.
— Well... — taking her phone out of her bag, Miura focused on it. — Nothing is stopping you from getting a pair without lenses.
— And what would be the point of that then? — I turned the page.
— Beauty and style.
— An incredible argument. I've always wanted to look cool in the eyes of others, — okay, so what did we end up with for the final estimate?
— It shows. You constantly walk around with a grim look on your face, drilling everyone with an indifferent gaze; the starry-eyed freshmen are completely delighted. Add black-framed glasses to that image and that's it, a small movement of your eyebrow and you'll have crowds of fangirls at your feet, pick any one, — hmm, she's certainly talking now; notes of the good old Blonde who could hold her own against Yukinoshita at her peak were beginning to emerge in her voice.
On the one hand, a good sign.
And on the other... Do I really have such a "favorable" influence on others that only their sarcastic and caustic side awakens in my presence? Even Yui managed to be witty at times.
...Should I start conducting seminars for insecure people? Maybe I can help my "social type" colleagues verbally fight back. Plus, I'll earn money.
A genius startup idea, I think.
— And why? — I returned to the conversation, continuing to write.
— Um... Are you serious right now? — Miura asked with unconcealed surprise.
— Well, yeah?... — I don't quite understand her reaction.
What's the point of relationships built on that principle? And, to be frank, subconsciously, I cut off almost any possibility of developing affection for a stranger based solely on a first impression.
The experience gained in middle school was more than enough to understand one simple and unsophisticated truth: fantasies don't lead to anything good.
When hormones, liberally seasoned with complexes, are raging inside you, any minor act of attention towards your person is interpreted excessively hyperbolically. In the sense that if a girl gives you an eraser, it doesn't mean you need to start building a bright future in your head with three children and a secluded estate. She just gave you an eraser. Or greeted you, according to the rules of propriety. Or politely offered you her phone number because it's part of the class representative's duties.
Interpret the actions of others as they appear, without looking for excessive hidden meaning in the aspect of romantic interest. Life will be a little simpler.
— You're strange, Hachiman... — Yumiko sighed.
— That's what I'm valued for.
Snorting, Miura shook her head in bewilderment and completely focused on her phone, allowing me to fully immerse myself in my work without being distracted by conversation.
...Not that it was bothering me much.
Finishing the last document, I rubbed my eyelids and, yawning, stretched satisfyingly, leaning back in the chair, looking at the wall clock out of the corner of my eye.
Well, yeah, a couple of hours really flew by.
How is Yumiko? Is she probably bored to death by now?
Shifting my gaze to the girl, I involuntarily smirked.
Well... apparently, Atsuko was telling the truth: our sofa really is comfortable for sleeping. At least the Blonde fully took advantage of the opportunity provided, dozing off in a sitting position, still holding her phone.
Trying not to make noise, I got up and walked over to the girl, pondering an interesting way to wake her up.
However, approaching within arm's reach, I froze, realizing that the original idea could be safely thrown out the window.
Because, apparently, that foolish part of my personality that adds "rosy" hues to seemingly mundane things was still showing signs of life, as Miura's sleeping face looked... cute?
Slightly furrowed brows, a slightly parted mouth with plump lips, quiet, barely audible breathing, and twitching eyelids with long lashes. Nothing unusual, but I completely lost the desire to wake her up in a playful manner.
I'm getting old, what can I say.
— Yumiko, — I said quietly, tapping the girl's knee with my finger. — Wake up, it's time for us to go.
— M-m... — the girl mumbled something indistinctly, moving her leg aside.
Snickering briefly, I leaned down and was about to pat her head but quickly stopped myself. Cuteness is one thing, but crossing boundaries is risky. So I limited myself to gently shaking my classmate's shoulder.
— Yumiko, get up.
This time, the reaction was much better. Sleepily smacking her lips, Miura slowly lifted her head and, quietly yawning, rubbed her eyes, looking at me groggily.
I'll give her credit: it only took the Blonde a few seconds to fully comprehend the situation she was in.
— Hikigaya! — Oh, it's been a long time since she called me by my family name alone, and with such a tone of indignation, too.
However, judging by her flushed cheeks, it was guilt-ridden embarrassment flooding over her.
— The one and only, — I replied, struggling to hold back a laugh. — Come on, get ready and let's go before the security locks us in.
— You could have woken me up earlier, — Yumiko grumbled discontentedly, getting up and wincing at the pain in her stiff legs.
— There is no forgiveness for me, — I scoffed, picking up my bag from the floor and slinging it over my shoulder. — As an apology, I offer my escort services straight to your doorstep.
Because that's exactly what you wanted to ask when you decided to follow me, right?
— ...Don't think I only came here for that, — Miura muttered, refusing to meet my gaze.
— Of course, of course, — I rolled my eyes and took the bag from her hands.
— Hey! — Yumiko was taken aback by my actions, but she didn't rush to take it back. — What's with the unexpected chivalry on your part, Hachiman?
Without saying anything, I shrugged and headed for the exit, pretending not to notice the faint "thank you."
And who would dare say I'm not a true gentleman after this?