Most students existed in a state of aimless drifting, floating through the murky waters of adolescence.
Haruki Aizawa was technically a high school student, but having lived past this age in his previous life, he viewed the psychological struggles of his peers as little more than meaningless adolescent angst. He didn't look down on them, though. He understood that this was simply a phase every young person had to endure—the messy bridge between childhood and maturity.
However, Haruki's own personality dictated that he would never truly mesh with his peers. His high school life was destined to start in isolation and end in solitude.
Or it should have.
Shizuka Hiratsuka's meddling had shattered that isolation. Forced into the Service Club, Haruki had to spend his time in a room that felt utterly divorced from reality. Two days had passed, and the club hadn't received a single request. Haruki began to realize that the Service Club's presence at Sobu High was lower than that of a vending machine in a ghost town. Most people didn't even know it existed, let alone how to ask for help.
Haruki didn't mind. His focus was on the Multiverse System's countdown and Miko Yotsuya, the girl with the Yin-Yang eyes. Until the mission started or Miko came seeking help, he was content to sharpen his sword skills and mental discipline in the quiet clubroom.
Slide!
One afternoon, while Haruki was focused on refining his perception of the Wave and patiently watching the final hours of the countdown, the clubroom door was shoved open.
Shizuka Hiratsuka walked in, leading a boy in a school uniform. He had distinctive, rotting dead-fish eyes and a slight slouch that made him walk like a penguin.
The moment Haruki saw him, a sliver of his past-life memory flickered. He recognized the boy's silhouette and instinctively blurted out:
"Are you... Hiki-penguin?"
"How do you know my middle school nickname?!" the dead-eyed boy shrieked, looking horrified.
While the boy spiraled into panic, Shizuka introduced him with a wave of her hand. "Ahem. This is Hachiman Hikigaya. Just like Haruki, he's in my class."
"Right, I think I've seen him before," Haruki nodded vaguely. He rarely attended class, and when he did, he spent the time meditating to strengthen his mental energy. Aside from the teacher, he barely knew anyone in his own grade.
Hachiman, however, seemed very aware of who Haruki was. Haruki Aizawa was a living legend at Sobu High—and throughout Chiba. Even a social outcast like Hachiman had heard of the "Sword Maniac."
"Why is he here?" Hachiman asked, looking at Shizuka warily. "What kind of club is this? Is it the Kendo club? Am I being drafted into a dojo?"
"We only had one Kendo club, and Haruki dismantled it last year," Shizuka said, shaking her head. "No, this is the Service Club. The president is Yukinoshita over there."
"The Service Club?"
"Those with grace extend a hand to those in need," Yukino said, shooting a cold glance at Hachiman. "Whether you're here because you're socially inept and can't talk to girls, or because you want to do something about those tragic eyes of yours, the Service Club can offer assistance."
"Hey! Don't just assume I can't talk to girls! And there's nothing wrong with my eyes! My little sister says they look cool and mature!" Hachiman protested desperately.
Yukino and Haruki both looked at him with pity. Usually, the more someone insists there isn't a problem, the bigger the problem actually is. Hachiman's defensive rant was essentially a confession that he had zero luck with women and that his sister teased him about his "corpse-like" gaze every day.
"Ugh..."
As Hachiman slumped in defeat, Shizuka stepped in. "Hikigaya isn't here to ask for help. I've brought him here to join the club as a member."
"Join?" Yukino looked surprised. "This isn't a shelter for wayward souls. Please stop sending every eccentric student to my room."
As she spoke, her eyes drifted toward Haruki. He, however, had no self-awareness about being "eccentric." He looked at Shizuka and asked, "Does that mean Hikigaya is joining our little competition?"
"Of course. The rules remain the same. Whoever performs the most service by the end of the term gets to give one absolute command to the losers."
Shizuka spoke with the finality of a dictator. Left with no choice, the group accepted. Hachiman Hikigaya officially became the third member of the Service Club.
Hachiman looked at his new clubmates with deep suspicion. To him, both Yukino and Haruki were "elites"—people who belonged at the top of the social pyramid and had nothing to do with a bottom-tier peasant like himself. He sighed, vowing to protect his peaceful, lonely life and avoid getting dragged into their drama.
There was no rain after school that day. Sunlight bathed the streets, making everything look bright and clear. To Miko Yotsuya, however, the view was anything but pleasant.
In her eyes, the world wasn't just filled with sunshine; it was infested with dark, writhing spirits lurking in every shadow.
After several days of "research," Miko had gained a terrifying understanding of her new reality. She had the "Yin-Yang Eyes"—the ability to see things that shouldn't be seen. She didn't just see the weak, wispy ones; she saw the massive, soul-crushing monstrosities as clearly as the person standing next to her.
Heaven had given her the eyes to see everything, but it hadn't given her the power to handle them. Miko was essentially a civilian with a "target" painted on her back. For some reason, these spirits seemed instinctively drawn to people who could perceive them.
Miko's life had become a constant state of fear. Whether at home, school, or even in the privacy of a bathroom, she had to maintain a poker face to prevent the monsters from realizing she could see them. The exhaustion was pushing her toward a nervous breakdown.
Her mind instinctively drifted to Haruki Aizawa—the boy who had cleaved a monster in half. But every time she thought of him, the memory of her embarrassing "accident" at the bus stop flooded back, making her face burn with shame. She couldn't bring herself to face him.
Instead, she decided to try a different approach: spiritual protection.
After scouring the internet, she found that "blessed prayer beads" were currently trending. Supposedly, certain beads had the power to ward off evil. Miko found a shop near her school that sold them and dragged her best friend, Hana Yurikawa, along to buy some.
She bought four sets, wearing two on each wrist.
Please work, please work, please work... she prayed fervently.
"Donki really has everything!" Hana chirped, oblivious to Miko's internal crisis. She was hugging a new plush rabbit she'd just bought, smiling brightly.
"You bought another one? Don't you have a mountain of those at home?"
"A mountain makes them look cuter!" Hana laughed, then noticed Miko's wrists. "And what's with the beads, Miko? Four of them? Are you becoming a monk?"
"In this world, quantity equals power!"
"Since when is spirituality measured in DPS?" Hana asked, confused. Miko just gave a weak smile.
She remembered that Hana had been followed by a spirit the other day. Since Hana couldn't see them, she wasn't in immediate danger of being "found out," but long-term exposure couldn't be good. After some thought, Miko handed two of the prayer beads to her friend.
"Huh? For me?"
"Yeah. Just keep them on."
"Yay! Thanks, Miko!" Hana happily slid them on. "As a thank you, I'll treat you to some 'Butt-Daifuku'! Come on, there's a shortcut through this alley."
Hana pointed to a narrow, dark alleyway and skipped ahead. Miko hesitated. To her, the alley was a graveyard of twisted, shadowy figures. But to keep up appearances and stay close to Hana, she steeled herself and followed.
In the shadows where the sun didn't reach, spirits were everywhere. Miko gripped her remaining beads, her heart pounding.
Wait...
She noticed a miracle. As she walked, the spirits seemed to recoil. They hissed and backed away as if her prayer beads were emitting an invisible barrier.
It's actually working?!
Miko wanted to cry with relief. After days of living in a waking nightmare, she finally saw a glimmer of hope. Feeling a surge of newfound confidence, she straightened her back and walked forward.
"Hurry up, Miko! They only sell fifty strawberry ones a day! If we don't hurry, they'll be gone!" Hana called out from the exit of the alley, waving her arm enthusiastically.