Summary: It's not nice to hurt your students. But sometimes, teachers do it anyway.

Characters: Hikigaya Hachiman, Kousaka Shigure, Hiratsuka Shizuka, Furinji Miu, Akisame Koetsuji

Rating: T

Tags: master-student relationship / teacher-student relationship, friendship, defenses, self-confidence, school life, social hierarchy, social ineptitude, self-reflection and introspection

Disclaimer: I do not own やはり俺の青春ラブコメはまちがっている, commonly referred to as Oregairu - characters are property of Watari Wataru and ponkan8. I also do not own 史上最強の弟子 ケンイチ or History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi (localized as Kenichi: The Mightiest Disciple), which belongs to Matsuena Syun.

Humans, by nature, were weak creatures. While their reign atop the animal kingdom was indeed with an iron fist, they were, in truth, far more frail than an emperor should have ever been. And forever they would be. That was something that would not change, not for all eternity.

They liked to hit and not be hit back. To press their attack. To roar and intimidate, to mock and stand, proud of their accomplishments. Humans liked to roam unimpeded, to live unchallenged. Life was not just a mere experience; it was an experiment for optimism, and humans, in spite of all odds, thrived. There was an urging to be more. To be on top, so to speak. Though that could have been said about most animals. After all, survival was a game for the fittest.

And the struggle to remain fit at all was constant. One with which even someone such as myself was intimately familiar. But luckily for me, I was one suited for survival.

"Why are you late again?" Her voice a breeze of annoyance, she cut down on my form with a glare and a fist filled with anger.

My assailant had a 'hit-first, questions later' type of policy; I was quite accustomed to such circumstances. Years of practice kicked in. Instinctively, my palm slid over her knuckles and she flushed. Quickly, she pushed me back. Jumpy. Far too jumpy. What a sloppy assault. Sensei, did you not sleep well last night?

The displeasure manifested itself in an ugly pseudo-snarl which marred her pleasant face. "Ugh."

Strange. Her attacks had become much weaker than in the past. I stepped in closer. I didn't use much force; so what was the grunt for? Huh. Why was her flesh so tainted with red? I made sure not to grip her hand too hard; was the flush due to embarrassment or anger? Eh, it didn't matter anyway.

"It's rude to attack your students, sensei."

She ignored my comment with practiced ease. "How do you keep doing that?"

Well then. If she was going to ignore me, then I was going to do the same to her. I shrugged and walked past her. Clearly, if she wasn't concerned about herself, then it was of no concern to me. Class was starting soon, anyway. "It's not hard. Besides, why would I let you hit me when I don't deserve to be hit? Being late doesn't warrant that much punishment; violence is unbecoming of a woman in your position."

I didn't have to look back to know she winced. Temperamental, that one. A part of me was touched; really, there weren't many people who looked out for me. Even if she had a rather interesting approach toward looking out for her students.

Her heart was definitely in the right place. Her attitude, however, was not. By many metres.

And that would have been a shame if she had ever shown even a single shred of remorse; it would have told me that she at least understood that what she did was wrong. But ever since I had entered Soubu Municipal High, I had been under assault from her fists for the most innocuous of reasons; reasons that made me wonder if she underwent any kind of physical enhancement, like a character right out of a manga.

Her wince told me that she wasn't upset she hit me; she was upset that it could have caused problems for her. In short, she was used to acting without much thought or preparation when it came to such an abusive action.

And while it may have, somewhere, roots in the vein of a teacher's mentality, there was nothing in her tank besides her own selfish desires. Though that was just the way of the human brain, all things considered. It could have been worse, I reminded myself.

Sensei didn't try anything further and simply continued to the classroom a few steps behind me. Like usual, she entered from the front, and I entered from the back, the door a silent click behind me. A few glances were spared in my direction, but none of them lingered. Perfect. I sat back as Hiratsuka-sensei's voice washed over the sheeple and laughed to myself at how they all yelped in response.

This was going to be a long day.

Staying awake was beyond difficult, what with all the dumb questions being tossed about by Tobe. And his associated set of miscreants. Seriously; how did these people make it to Soubu of all places. Are they what is considered high quality in comparison to the rest of society?

My beloved Chiba was surely crying its tears; perhaps that was why there was so much rain in the past year.

After another insipid question, my brain began to shut down. Really. It wasn't in me to brag much, but the disparity between most of the other students and myself upset me, even now. I caught Hiratsuka-sensei's eye and gazed into the deep, haunted abyss that was a teacher's look. She really needed to sleep better.

I saw Sensei's mouth move and saw Tobe shake his head a few times. He whined about something - I blocked out the exact wording - and waved his hands through the air, then looked toward some 'Hayato-kun' for help to explain what he needed explained.

Slowly, my head sank into my arms, my yawning unseen by the rest of the class. At least I have a decent view of this show.

While survival of the fittest taught me that I shouldn't waste brain cells remembering the incessant chatter and questions of little relevancy, I made sure to remember how teachers responded to their students.

It was amazing that any teacher put up with students like Tobe, but hey, a job was a job.

And working was a wage-slave's revelry. They never looked happy when they pressed their opinions and beliefs forward, not even Hiratsuka-sensei. Perhaps it was because teaching never went the way they envisioned. Or that their jobs put more on their plates than they initially wanted. None of them seemed to understand that plans did not survive first contact.

Soon enough, the day passed, and I let my head retain its resting position. It was too troublesome to move, even after having woken up from a nap.

I watched as my classmates all told each other off with goodbyes and waves and walked off in pairs or groups or trickles alone toward whatever direction beckoned them. I waited until the only one left was myself and lifted my head from my arms. With one last glance at the empty room, I shut the door and left behind the halls of deceit.

My legs carried me downtown, an escape from the madness that was modern Japan. Well, mostly an escape. It wasn't anything particularly special about it, but it oozed a homeliness that was absent from most of my day.

The bustling station filled to the brim, I yawned and squeezed my way into a standing spot on the train before I texted my sister that I wasn't going to be home for a while. She liked it when I texted her, even though she always knew whenever I had plans. (What a cute little sister, right?)

While I loved the walk downtown, riding trains wasn't something I thought I hated. But as it turned out, I had only forgotten why. It was a cesspool of ungodly sounds and packed with venomous heat.

People muttered and bickered about how much their jobs sucked; some of them even seemed to drag the game on and make it into a competition. And they were probably about a good forty percent of the people who said anything at all. The rest were lost against the lock of the screens of servitude: cell phones had long since dominated the feeble minds of humans worldwide and Japan was very much not apart of such a wave. Others were reading, but those were people also lost in the whirl of another leviathan - they were study books from cram schools.

It was depressing to observe. This was my reality. This was my world. I was another piece of the puzzle. Another youth lost in the sea of the Pacific. Another dot in the blur of numbers. And yet, I stood, conscious and aware; growing and knowing. Learning and yearning. Vibrantly alive.

At the same time, barely living. This was also my reality. Also a truth. I remained a dormant seed, a wallflower at best. And I didn't mind at all. Was I supposed to enjoy this time in my life? Was I supposed to embrace the visions of my future that constantly reminded me of my lack thereof?

As I walked the streets of outer Tokyo, I wished the sunset had all the answers. But alas, it did not.

Tokyo was strangely empty. Not of people. Of the soul I so loved to hear in the sound of music. There was a sea of faces, all awash and dark as the shadows cast by the buildings; the lights about did nothing to stymie the growing blankness as I passed through.

Idly, I wondered what I would have been like had I grown up here instead of in Chiba.

Eventually, my feet reached their destination. My hand clanged against a familiar door, and my best friend poked her pretty face out, not even the barest hint of a glare on her face in spite of the sulkiness radiating off her. At least she was still glad to see me.

"Hi Hachi! How have you been? Haven't seen you in a month or two."

"Sorry, been a bit busy with school." We both knew it was a lie, but she smiled anyway.

The garden was livelier than I remember; the Elder probably had far more time this year than the last. Ma was sitting quietly in a tree, napping his day away, and Apachai was laying on the roof. At least that hadn't changed much.

"Good to see you again." Akisame-shishou chuckled as he gestured toward the goban in front of him. I took my place in seiza and bowed; Miu slid beside me as she often did and smiled again. "How do your limbs feel? It's been over a year now, but that car accident did as much damage to you as Apachai did that one time the year before that. Are you following the routines I gave you?"

My lips irked into a wry grin. "Yes, Shishou. Well, I tried to pick up some of my hobbies again but since I lost a bit of depth perception in my left eye, I can't play tennis anymore. My legs move fine but sudden sharp motions cause pain; a kao-loi reaction actually might hurt me as much as it hurts an opponent."

He stroked his moustache in thought. "You should probably come back every two weeks, then. Ma and I may not have been able to cure it, but we can slowly and steadily decrease the pain; you said you have full movement, though. I don't think it's the nerves or muscles; you probably wouldn't have the range you do if you were dealing with that sort of pain. Where does the hurt start?"

"Most around my kneecap, but a bit in the calf." I placed a stone on the upper right star. He claimed the opposite one. I played the three-four in the lower-right. He took four-three, and the game was on.

After some time, Akisame-shishou asked, "Does one hurt more than the other?"

"Hm?" Ah, I just lost a cluster. "Well, sometimes the right hurts much more when I jerk. But if I run, it's the left that gives me the worst of it. It's not something I can't deal with, but it's something that won't go away."

"Interesting." That amused smile bode nothing well for my body, my soul, or my mind. "Yes, you must come every two weeks."

If I wasn't going to have sanity off the board, I was going to have it on the board. I clipped the wings of one of his corners and secured a nice portion of the board's upper half. The game was getting closer and closer; I was in the lead this time, with two and a half moku.

My brows rose as I read deeper. There wasn't much left for him this game. For all intents and purposes, in spite of Akisame Koetsuji's outward appearance as a philosopher, he was a rather simple man; any disturbance on the inside was reflected elsewhere. "Really, Shishou? Playing a center-focused game is so unlike you. Is there something on your mind?"

He shook his head. "No. Good game, Hachiman."

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you are a rather good one."

I flashed him a smile. "Who, me? I'm just a good a liar as any other child off the streets."

"Yeah, right." Sakaki-san plopped himself down onto the wooden floor. "You're a tricky little devil."

"Sakaki-san, that's not true," Miu interjected. "You just believe things too easily. You're like Kenichi."

I twitched. "Kenichi..? Who's that. Is he a boyfriend? Do I have to kill him? Wait, tell me you all killed him already. Where's his grave; how old is he; he didn't touch Miu, did he?"

The slap to the back of my head hurt more than I thought, but still hurt less than the flush that crept along her cheeks as it, oh God, reached up to just below the edges of her eyes. That meant business. Oh heck no.

"He's just a new disciple, Hachi!"

"And I'm Sauron. You're blushing, Miu."

"Oh, so now you're jealous!"

I shook my head. "No, Miu. I've always been jealous." Her 'Eep!' was cute as ever. "But I've always known it was never anyone serious with you. And more than jealous, I've been protective. We've known each other for what, two… maybe three years now? How can I not look out for my best friend?"

Huh. How kind; the masters of the dojo had wandered off to give the two of us some privacy. That, or they were watching the show from a distance. Well, no matter what, they would have found out eventually. Only a handful of people lived here, after all.

Miu rested her head on my shoulders as she hugged me from behind. "You're my best friend too."

"I just hate sharing, I'm selfish." Miu wasn't mine to keep or anything like that, but giving up time with my best friend - to someone I'd never met? - wasn't something I was looking forward to. Given how she was acting, they weren't rushing to be in a relationship anytime soon but… "Just make sure you don't get preggers before you actually start dating."

This time, the smack actually gave me a bruise. "Ow."

She huffed as she tried to choke me; I flipped her overhead and she flew away. We faced one another. "How long do you have until you go home, Hachi?"

"Eh. Enough time. Rounds or continuous?"

"Let's go with five minute rounds for today. I'm pretty sure Akisame-san and Ma-san are watching right now and want to see how your legs are but let's not stress it too much."

"Half hour?"

"Sure." As soon as the word dropped from her mouth, I dove forward; my fingers barely brushed against her skin before she leaned in and used her opposite arm to elbow me. She shifted her weight to throw me off mine and leaned in, knee poised. I hid my wince as our knees collided. Ma was going to chew me out for that one later. Akisame? He was definitely making sure I saw Hell again.

Miu was relentless. She threw out another elbow. What a lethal beauty my friend was; had that even grazed my chin, I probably would have been out. For the remainder of the time I was supposed to be here. (Not that I expected any less.)

I wasn't one for long, drawn out fights, but those suited my style much better. And considering this was us testng each other more than war by attrition, it was a walk in the park. Comparatively. The man of the moustache had made me sure of that much.

Fighting Miu was fun, as she and I had complementary styles. She was grace embodied in an explosion of dou, power behind every swipe, punch, and kick. My counteractive preferences were born out of necessity, and in fact, reflected me fairly well: I believed that to win, initiative was correct, but a complete response was final. Our dances never left me bored.

After the sixth round, we both huffed to a stop. "You're going to be the death of me some day, Miu."

"Who me?" This girl was taking lessons from Albus Dumbledore; eyes didn't shine that bright naturally. "I can't believe how much worse you've gotten."

"Doesn't that say how much you've gotten worse too if you're huffing right now? I'm recovering, anyway; I'll be back at one hundred percent soon enough. Hey, don't stick that tongue out at me. You might be cute, but not cute enough for that." The affronted gasp would've fooled that twit Ken-something or other that she was clearly crushing on, but I was one whose eyes were not deceived by such petty tricks.

"Hachiman," the voice was soft and deadly as its owner dropped down next to me. I was too tired to yelp. But the shock must have been evident because Kousaka-Shishou giggled. Gah.

"Hello, Kousaka-shishou." The words tasted somewhat foreign on my lips, my hesitation noticeable to evident. I wasn't sure how to address her sometimes; honestly, she was so blunt and direct, but also formal on the odd occasion. Very odd, but hey, I didn't understand what went on in that head of hers.

My teacher's signature deadpan eyes pinned me like pricks and needles, but my spine did not fold. Perhaps I was becoming immune to glares; Shishou's stares were much less effective than they had been previously. Though I was unsure which lady or ladies deserved the credit for making my stomach more solid than steel. Even less certain was the chance I would thank any of them for it either.

"It's not Kousaka-shishou, it's Shigure-shishou. Say it with me. Shi-gu-re-shi-shou." If the finger poking my cheek wouldn't poke out my eyes, I would have bitten it clean off. Or at least returned the poking.

Her very touch once allowed me to relax, but in this context, I felt my body stiffen, and not the healthy way that most young men did.

"My, my, Shigure… you're very close to your student, aren't you? Though, it had been a while since he has been here so I'm not surprised you're eager to say hello. They do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder." The merry chuckling of Ma Kensei hummed as he gave me several appreciative glances. My school uniform hid none of my wounds and hurts from him, though I was glad he wasn't bringing much attention to it at the moment and permitted me rest.

Then, my female mentor cracked some glass walls. Kousaka-shishou tilted her head in a manner that was far too cute for someone of her age. "Ara? But I'm used to seeing Hachiman every Saturday."

Deep breaths. I refused to let her words make me crumble. So I smiled in confirmation.

"Huh?" Ma-san blinked, stunned. His head turned toward me so quickly I was certain the whiplash broke his old neck. His gaping face would have been hilarious, if I wasn't in immediate danger.

An implosion of evil jumped into the air. I cringed. An impending aura of death walked itself into existence as Miu stood, her face darkened with anger. Again, the masters backed off, though this time they were amusedly watching this blonde try and kick me hard. "So what's this? You can make time for Shigure-san but not your best friend?"

Kousaka-shishou was taken aback. She and Miu rarely fought over anything serious, unlike the others. The two of them shared something that I could only fathom was feminine companionship in the midst of the hooligans known as the men of Ryouzanpaku. There was definitely a relationship, perhaps a kind of friendship, between the two of them that I was never going to infringe on. (Not that I wanted to).

Moreover, Miu's argument wasn't at all even close fair; no one told Kousaka-shishou she couldn't come to see me, and it wasn't outside the bounds of reality that my mentor should have demanded time with me. So Miu's attacks were rather uncalled for when the problem between her and me were just hers and mine.

This wasn't a space for her to attack Kousaka-shishou. Quick to counter, I was. "Don't you see that Kenichi of yours everyday? Why don't you come see me? After all, that's what Kousa- I mean Shigure-shishou does. Komachi welcomes her into our home each weekend."

She snorted. "But Shigure has free time that I do not."

I raised a brow. "How presumptuous." How weak. Is that all you have, Miu?

Miu frowned as she looked at me. She hated being wrong. Especially considering she knew that her excuse was flimsy to begin with.

I coughed and continued, my gaze piercing hers. "True as it is, Shigure could be doing anything she wanted. And guess what? She is. She likes spending that time with me. And since she's capitalized on the golden rule of 'first come, first serve,' all my Saturdays are belong to her."

My friend's nose wrinkled. "Ew. Old memes."

She avoided the question but did not avoid my look. There was resignation in that look, and the both of us knew it. It was only pride that propped up my friend's retaliation.

"Doesn't change the fact that she's willing to come. Why is it that I have to meet you here? Why do I have to come to Tokyo every week or so; I've got money, and I don't mind spending on occasion, but why should I be the driving force? Especially when you've come over plenty of times. In fact, we both know my parents like you more than they like me. But I won't let you have Komachi."

Miu shifted uncomfortably and let the silence sit for two minutes until she cracked. A sigh broke from her. "What do you want; where can we meet? When?"

I smiled at her and gestured for her to come. She melted into my side as she sat next to me, and I placed an arm around her. "It's never been about you having to leave, you know. It's just… I don't want to always have to put my foot forward first. And I can't always leave Komachi at home alone. We can just work things out whenever we feel like meeting up. Life might have routines, but we're not rote schedules."

The sniffling didn't bother me as much as it used to; perhaps I have improved. Immovable stalwart, my iron heart - another skill added to my list. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, idiot." I poked her forehead. "We're not perfect. Life's not perfect. Besides, it's not like it's wholly your fault. Jeez."

If I were some manga character, I might have said that Miu was honestly too cute to stay mad at for too long, except when she deserved it. But I wasn't. The things we did hurt one another. We were friends - best friends - but we were only human.

And being human meant bearing the burden of the pain so we could move forward. It wasn't going to be a pretty path, but I was dead set on preserving what remained of my relationship with Miu. That, or we were going down in a blaze of glory.

"How touching." The voice was gaily amused and content with my words; at least, that's what I felt. He probably would have lectured me otherwise.

I didn't bother to turn around. "Hello, Furinji-sama."

"Still so formal, eh, Hachiman?"

"Only with ones who deserve my respect." All the masters laughed at that. Even Kousaka-shishou. "Ah, Furinji-sama, would it be a bother if Miu came over more often?"

"From time to time, I see it as no problem. But not more than two or three times a month; her training is here." I nodded; that was undoubtedly true. Miu's potential was sky-high and she had no need to put it on pause, even for me. Her blood sang true, and she didn't even know what that meant.

"Thank you, Grandfather." Miu jumped off to hug him and the old man's eyes softened. Though his look towards me was still one cold and looming.

Heh. I guess I did have a role in this world after all. Even if I was just a bug, I was a useful bug.

As the rest of the idle chatter petered out, a hand clasped my shoulder. I closed my eyes. Urgh. The things this body did for Miu. "So, Akisame-shishou, Ma-san, on a scale of one to Shigure, how much am I going to be hurting?"

"Let's cut up the cycle of rebirth; let's distort nature. That is known as medicine!"

Akisame Koetsuji, History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi, vol. 42, chapter 407

The skies called for me; the clouds sang. The birds chirped, and nature rang. School just ended and freedom bled into the air. There was chatter in the room and laughter held; scurrying and muttering, of souls young and naïve, ready to engage in the best time of their lives. Long live youth!

"Hikigaya-kun, can you please stay behind?"

I paused and broke into a small hum. How annoying. "Sure, Aoyama-sensei."

The other students, it seemed, loved to snicker at my loss. Not an uncommon sight. Typical children; not something I hated them for - all the sheep loved to gather to crow and baa. They all walked out without giving me a second thought.

When it was finally just the two of us, I drawled, "So, is this about my draft for the project on the history of the Warring States? Or is this about the assignment on the meta-commentary of modern Japan?"

Aoyama-sensei hummed and drummed his fingers against his table.

"The latter. You always have some incredible insight. Incredibly disruptive, rather. Your points are not invalid, nor are they unfounded, but they are only troubling. What reason do you have to trap such brilliance in the confines of regression and stagnancy?"

My teacher glanced at me with his magnanimous, treacherous, insidious smile. Placid skin and fevered grin (or so it looked in this light), his praises were looser than a politician's promises. Hmph.

His openness meant that he was closed. Or so he thought. I didn't know his objective, but it was clear he was kissing up to me. Thus, I had leverage where he did not. Strange, but not entirely impossible. I smiled back at him with the smallest of grins.

"Sensei, I simply bring up points that people hate to speak of; the elephants in the room will only leave once chased out and taught to breathe the air of the earth. Besides, I say little that is untrue. People simply love to misconstrue. The sand and scum is of more comfort to them than the sunlight."

He laughed. "See? You have a way with words that would make the aspiring prime ministers flush with indignation. Though, perhaps it will net you no gold, as you lack silvertongue."

I grimaced. "Terrible pun, Sensei. And I'll have you know, I'm no pauper and I know how to talk. Nonetheless, I'm still confused by what you mean. You've hardly made comments about my work like Hiratsuka-sensei does. You also don't really poke at my quality of work like Fukui-sensei. So, what's changed?"

My teacher stared at me for a good minute before he stood and walked toward the window. That was bad. Very, very bad. Source: me. How? In my experience, every single time a teacher did that, the next thing that came out of their mouths made me want to sock them a good one.

"Have you heard about the debate competitions Soubu participates in?"

And this was no different. My mouth moved, my brain thundered. This wasn't the bait. This was the gateway. Still, I pressed on. "Yeah. But I'm not going to compete in any of them."

He could have said any number of things. But of course, he went with the typical route.

"You will if you want to continue your attendance at Soubu." Ah, politics; how I loved thee so. Threats were so overdone. And his was not a good one. Really? My attendance here? There were many other schools in the district, Kaihin High being another that I could have easily gone to.

Furthermore, the very idea that Soubu was willing to lose one of its top ranking scorers and someone with semi-influential parents? The idea was laughable. But, I thought, not entirely impossible. There were definitely some people with enough sway to get me fired. Just not this teacher. Unless he was one of their puppets.

Though to be fair, it wasn't hard to guess just whom needed to kick me off. There were only several students whose reputation I put into jeopardy, and all of them held rather antagonistic relationships with me or had none at all.

A small part of me hoped that it wasn't the students themselves who organized any of this. Wouldn't have been surprised if they did, but really, I didn't need enemies. I just wanted to live my high school life, though my chance for a high school romantic comedy SNAFU surely must have already passed.

Aoyama-sensei looked at me and the silence between us made me think louder. He stood there, observing my nonchalance. There was a glint of smugness in his face that I eagerly wanted to wash away. But I couldn't. That meant I was giving away the game.

I wondered if he thought he was playing a game of chess. Because I was playing go.

My thoughts turned back to my 'opponents.' Most likely, the students who knew of possible stances against me but weren't the ones executing it. Not that any of it mattered; they were never going to oppose their families or factions. (I highly doubted their thoughts differed from their supporters'.) Not if they wanted to thrive, either.

"Let me guess; the first person who has me in their sights is the Hanafuku conglomerate. Their darling little girl finally lost in the traditional arts for grades. Then it would be… probably Hayama? He didn't seem too happy with me on the tennis court or when I competed for track. The Totsuka family should be right after that with similar reasons. And then the Yukinoshita sect? I've heard they have a second daughter in this school."

The smile on the man's face was horrifying and I had seen much of its kind before. "Almost. Good guesses, really. But no, you're off. It's actually my boss. He thinks you're damaging our school's reputation and stressing out his favorite niece too much."

His boss' favorite niece? Oh. Ohh. I see. I kept my groan in check as I gave sensei my best deadpan.

That explained how she got away, was going to continue, with hitting me so much. And how she kept trying to 'fix my worldview,' even while being extremely invasive toward my private life. The world truly was not a fair place at all. The entirety of my academic tenure at this school was going to be haunted by one overpowered, brutally beautiful woman with a tendency for sadism. Wonderful.

But, this didn't make too much sense. I rarely did anything to truly upset the principal; I was, at best, just an unruly student. Even if Hiratsuka-sensei was someone often troubled by me, I did nothing in the school's ecosystem besides provide it with benefits. Academically speaking.

And there shouldn't have been anything unscrupulous in my records. I kept them meticulously clean for a reason, even so far as to have gone into the system to double, triple check twice before. Aoyama's face gave nothing away, and his words even less. What was missing here?

Calm yourself; who knows if he's even telling the truth? Remember, all words are deceit, and all actions are lies. Truth is only fact; and currently, I have none.

In the wise words of Aizen Sousuke, "You say that what I'm saying now is a lie. Yet what I said in the past is not?" Truly, manga was wise beyond its years. I reviewed my thoughts and took a deep breath as I leaned into one of the uncomfortable school chairs. As far as I knew, she had little to do with Aoyama. She found him unsettling, but not unattractive. And I had no doubts that he knew that already. So what was it?

Unless...

The threads kneaded themselves together: the picture couldn't have been any clearer.

This was odd, though. After all, the solution was simple. "But if you were so interested in her, why don't you work on your relationship and ask her out already, Aoyama-sensei? You've been with the school for ten years and you're only a few years her senior. Plus, you're not bad looking, in spite of your mild skin issues."

The last dig was too hard to resist. I didn't enjoy being jerked around for someone

His eyes flashed with a hint of something I couldn't grasp. He pursed his lips and hummed again. "Relationships, you may find, are not as easy or as simple as you believe."

I scoffed. Adults simply liked to overcomplicate. Actions were hard to take, yes; that was another reason as to why humans were pitiful - they barked loudly with their speech and philosophies in writing, but most loathed to leap forward and seize the earth. In this instance, the actions simply had many consequences; and fortune favored the bold.

Though in truth, youth was not any better. Adults began their web of lies from the seeds of distrust sown into our genetics and our environments. Humans were cultivated and thrust into this hierarchy as children so it only made sense that the world of adulthood was little improvement.

"Well, I don't suppose you can help me with Hiratsuka-sensei," Aoyama-sensei's smile was lethal this time. "I'm almost done with you today, Hikigaya. There's another reason I have a vested interest in you. I've heard about your, how should we say, less than stellar reputation. And there's been word that you were in a fight the other week. That makes it thrice already this year."

My eyes narrowed. That was totally uncalled for; low blows were not cool, Aoyama-sensei.

While it was true there was nothing officially on my record, as a student of Akisame Koetsuji and Kousaka Shigure, there was no avoiding fights. The only thing I could have done was to ensure that they were not able to be traced to me. And I did that with a fervent effort.

Also, I wouldn't have expected anyone to believe this, but those jerks jumped me! My face might have screamed 'young thug,' but I was nothing but the opposite! No matter what anyone might have said! Was I supposed to let them mug me and take my wallet and embarrass my shishou?

I smiled back at him, my words every bit toxic, "Ah, Sensei. Rumors are dangerous, don't you know? I assure that if there is ever a time in which I am engaged in violence, it would only be in self-defense. I may look like a thug, but I'm no ruffian."

"Perhaps." Cheeky son of a… whatever. He clearly wasn't going to change his stance anytime soon. And he clearly disregarded everything I'd just said. Not that any teachers ever really took me seriously, anyway. His face screamed dismissal, but his posture spoke volumes of his desire to control me.

He clearly believed me to be cowed and ready to kowtow. But if Hikigaya Hachiman was just a juvenile, he would never have bowed. So I played the part that I should have. That I always did.

"Well, if you have nothing left for me today, I'll think about your offer." I never said I was going to compete. And I had no intention of doing so.

The sound of laughter as I closed the door annoyed me, but I wasn't going to let him ruin my day.

Ugh. My mood soured, I walked throughout what I presumed to be an empty school building. But I caught a light in the teacher's office and couldn't help my curiosity. Speak of the devil and she will appear; though, perhaps in this case I unwittingly sought the devil herself.

I wasn't sure what possessed me to walk inside. Maybe it was frustration. Maybe it was a subconscious desire to use the object of Aoyama's obsessions against him. But I stepped inside and she jolted up, eyes in my direction like a hawk ready to assassinate its prey.

"Lo, Sensei. What'cha got there?"

"In this world, there is originally no such thing as the 'truth' or a 'lie.' There are only cold, hard facts. Regardless, everything that exists in this world lives by mistakenly recognizing only the 'facts' that are convenient for them as 'the truth.' This is because they possess no other way to live. However, for the powerless, who comprise the majority of this world, it is the facts that are inconvenient to their self-affirmation that are the entirety of the truth."

Aizen Sousuke, Bleach, Ch.397

"Bah, why can't exams just be over with?"

Such were the thoughts that pervaded my mind as I imagined my scores being compared to others. I wasn't too much a braggart, but reality was reality. I was a good student. Sadly. Much of my time was devoted to my studies, though what I studied might have been considered suspect.

I was a fan of the arts; history, literature, music, theatre, painting, clay molding, graffiti, hacking. Visual novels. The usual.

"Come again soon, Hikigaya-kun." Ah, Mana-chan, a lady after my own heart. She managed the library as a queen did her subjects. Her smile made my heart tingle with warmth and my cheeks flush with heat. She never failed to welcome me in and give me farewell; I wondered what kind of gift I should leave her for the next major holiday.

After one last nod and thanks for helping me check out a copy of Dreaming of Red Mansions. "I will."

Chiba was quietly busy as I walked through, its people no different from most days. Save for the fact that I felt eyes on me. Eyes that felt particularly familiar. Tch. That did not bode well for me; I wasn't at one hundred percent, but I had to do something.

Though, if this was going to be a repeat of three weeks ago, then I guess I had to let Furinji-sama know that they were on the move. And willing to corner people who were just walking through the streets. Bloody Satsujinken types.

Honestly, couldn't people see that I was just a high school boy that wanted to get home? School held me back long enough; why couldn't the universe bother anyone else?

My fingers darted through the buttons and sent word to Sakaki-san and Akisame-shishou. My legs took me off to a less than reputable place for the impending confrontation. Well, whoever it was, I hoped that they practiced what they preached, otherwise it was going to be boring.

It wasn't. Too much.

The confrontation was as I had expected, taken in the depths of an alley of downtown. Thanks to my looks, no one ever questioned it whenever I wandered off into the darker parts of the world. The streets of Chiba were not a place of violence, but the alleyways between buildings were open season.

My opponent stood, prowling and setting his stance. He was a man with a build not much taller than mine but a fair amount bulkier. His expression was fairly nondescript in that his hair was like any other Asian's; dark haired, dark-eyed, a mix between oddly pale and healthily tan. A sense of nervousness gripped me as I calculated his reach.

He pinned me with a searching gaze. His breathing deepened, his eyes shut, and he moved. His fists gripped, he jumped forward. His grin was unrelenting, eager, and most of all, pure.

Great. I hated his type. Because even though he was an enemy, he wasn't really my enemy.

I blinked as his fist drove past my head and struck nothing but air. Whoa.

It wasn't karate, nor was it a reaching fist for a grab. It didn't look like any kind of muay thai. If anything, it was a wicked twist of brawling tangled with the slightest hint of a Chinese or Korean style I didn't recognize. He attempted to hit me with the same move, but on second analysis, I wasn't sure if he ever would. Unfortunately for him, whatever it was, it was a style that relied too much on his build and athleticism than it did calculation and comprehension.

We traded fists for only a few minutes before I realized that he wasn't a master-tier fighter at in place of what should have been relief, all of a sudden my time seemed wasted. I relished the very idea of challenge, even at the risk of my own safety.

The disappointment settled far too easily. The highs that I had seen in these few minutes had given me hope. He seemed disgruntled by my quickened disinterest and a greater fury drove him. One that exposed newer flaws.

Better finish this quickly before I become any more complacent. Disappointment was a sign of internal defeat; before it overtook me, I needed to overtake him.

I sighed and let my guard down for a moment. Or at least I pretended to. He approached me again, and this time, I allowed him to close the gap.

"Not bad," he taunted me. His eyes gleamed with joy as he struck me with fervor. I coughed, but struck him with the pommel of the dagger I always kept up my right sleeve. I stabbed his left arm with equal tenacity as he reached for my neck. The widening of his eyes and the gasp of breath left him vulnerable to a gentle kind of love-tap that Apachai-san taught me once.

My knife was something that most people didn't expect, but hey, sleeves were worn for a reason. Daggers were called concealed weapons and a liar's gambit in some cultures, but cheaters always prospered because cheating was only cheating if someone got caught and lost the game.

The downed fighter mocked me and howled about how I was too kind to finish him off like a true martial artist. Again, typical Satsujinken. His words didn't scratch my heart, but they did irritate some old wounds. I hit him with a palm strike to the chin and dropped him.

"I'm not good guy, though." On his knees, he cussed me out with a sailor's mouth and a snake's tongue. "I'm probably most of those things you're calling me. But hey, I don't think I'm the one in the wrong here. Who's the one who jumped whom?"

The fight could have gone better if my opponent wasn't cocky. His fundamentals were bordering flimsy but solid enough. Clearly, his teacher focused more on Earth than Heaven. I left the alley behind with one last smirk.

Most of my walk home had to be backtracked because I had gone so far off course, but I didn't mind. The adrenaline rush was equally welcome and not. On the one hand, I minded the crowd much more. On the other, any surprises were taken with instant retaliation.

Case in point, I almost yelped when a hand grabbed my wrist. My right hand instinctively grasped the offending one's, until I realized it was Kousaka-shishou. So there was a master tier fighter following me; Good to note that my instincts weren't entirely off. The eyes from before were hers after all. I stifled a laugh; then that entire ordeal wasn't necessarily mine to deal with.

She smiled and pushed a finger against her lips. My heart skipped a beat; I almost missed her congratulations. Good job.

I so desperately wanted to talk to her some more, as things of late had gotten colder and colder. I had been to Ryouzanpaku more and more, but she had already missed Saturday twice in the past two months. Questions rose from the tip of my tongue to the lining of my lips, but she was gone.

Damn.

Before I could do anything more than hold back my screams, Shishou vanished into the distance as I blinked. She wasn't even a blur by the time a minute had passed.

Her face made me sad, too. It moved me in a way that I had only thought Komachi or Miu could. Shishou's eyes were in mourning. From what, I did not know. Too many reasons as to why; but which, or how many, I couldn't even begin to have guessed.

Even though there was nothing I could have done, even though logic dictated that I should have just let things lie, frustration rooted itself in my veins, the strips of my backpack enduring my fury as I shook my head and continued walking. Why didn't people make any sense? Why wasn't there just a screw to put into place, to make everything work out?

The sun had already begun to set midway through my walk home, but by the time I arrived, the colors fevered into a black frenzy dusting its way down the horizon. My house was empty, as I expected. As though to correct me, I felt a claw jab into my leg. Devoid of humans, rather.

"Come here, Kamakura." My cat complied, strangely, and I felt my affections for the creature rise. At long last, I have been accepted as a clan member! With Kamakura-kun's needs, aka cuddles, being met, I dragged the two of us onto the couch and embraced darkness, my old friend.

"Ngh." What the heck? Huh. That was weird. I didn't think that gaining a massive amount of weight in between sleeping and waking up was physically possible. Either Kamakura somehow consumed a sack of bricks, or, he broke physics.

It turned out the answer was neither. Oh.

Komachi woke me up with a hug as she nuzzled her head into my chest. Ah, cuteness personified, you fill me with warmth. "Onii-chan, are you okay? You have more bruises than usual. Mou, Miu-san should be going a bit easier on you."

Did the fight from before give me anything on my face? Komachi assumed I was in a fight today, and while she was correct, there was no reason to worry her with the truth.

"Aah, she is. Your big brother is just a clumsy sort of onii-chan. But he's also a big brother who's very happy that the cutest little sister in the world chose to wake him up in this manner." She chuckled as I patted her head. Komachi was truly the best. Her decision to jump off me left me lacking in warmth. "Did I run out of points for the day?"

"Mhm. Now it's time for me to make dinner anyway. Do you want curry? Katsudon? Ooh, do you feel like we should have omurice?"

"Eh, I'll take whatever you feel like making; I think it's your turn to pick today, isn't it?"

"Okay!"

"I'll be doing my homework until dinner's ready; if you need any assistance, don't be afraid to knock. Also, after dinner, I'll help you review. Exams should be coming up soon for you too, right?"

"Thank you, Onii-chan! Wah, at times like this, you're not a Gomii-chan after all!"

We shared a chuckle before breaking off. Though her goal seemed infinitely better than mine. I was set on conquering the dragon that was mathematics; my hope, however, was dim like the snuffed embers of a licked flame.

After all, if Erdõs never finished his discoveries and Tao had much to uncover, there was little chance for me to free the secrets of Pandora's Box into the universe. But unlike the aforementioned mathematicians, I wasn't asked to conquer anything more than differential equations as a bonus question. (I never made it; matrices already sucked out what remained of my energy, even post-powernap.)

And there was going to be a logic quiz tomorrow? Really? Hopefully I was going to do well enough on that one. My rankings were in jeopardy!

I groaned in frustration as I threw my pen on the desk. Math had taken way more time than I anticipated. Worse, history wasn't faring any better, and I had a sneaking suspicion that my assignment was personal. It didn't reek of typical homework, given that I had two essays for the week and an additional report.

Aoyama-sensei was a grudge-holding annoyance, one that I had to solve soon. This was not going to happen for much longer. My sanity, my time, my light novels demanded as much. Aoyama Hanafuda was going to rue the day he decided to tack these training weights onto my daily routine; I wasn't Rock Lee!

I'll do history after dinner; no point in turning in subpar work. On the other hand, some teachers were much easier on me than I expected. My attention turned, relished the fact that I only had a chapter of reading and one page of problems for chem. It wasn't a breeze, but at least it was light.

I peeked at my Japanese literature work. Surprisingly, Hiratsuka-sensei was being lenient. Much more than before. I scratched a note to handle it after dinner, along with history, and picked up a book that she had given for me to read. Everyone had favorites, but I had never been one myself.

Ever since I stumbled into the teacher's lounge, Hiratsuka had begun to talk to me in earnest, alone, quite frequently. And it wasn't always about school work or self-improvement. She asked about books I liked, how I felt about the classroom, and what she needed to do to improve.

And I might have fallen for it, if I wasn't me. It felt off; her actions hit too close to home. I wasn't going to be deceived again. There was definitely some amount of comfort in me as I turned to talk to her more, but I knew there was something beyond the shallow mask.

It wasn't right, sad as it may sound. But data did not lie. No one wanted to spend that much time with me in isolation. Except for my shishou, my best friend, and my sister. And even then, only in small doses. To call it odd and foreboding was nothing short of a catastrophic, hyperbolic understatement. Which warranted as much caution as approaching a kitten-frenzied Miu.

Still, she had good taste in literature. I stifled a yawn as I perused my borrowed Edogawa Ranpo book. Really, Akechi Kogorou was an interesting character to relate myself to - I doubted that she didn't see why he would amuse me so. And the fact that he was actually in classic staples of Japanese mystery put me on edge.

But maybe, just maybe, I was being too cynical for once in my life?

Ugh. What a conundrum. Her behavior changed so much that, if I was ten years older, I would have said that she might have had a chance of being enamored with me had I not been born with defective eyes, a gaunt expression, a rather crooked smile, and dry skin. Oh, and unfortunate hair.

Just kidding. Having learnt that Hiratsuka-sensei was the principal's niece skewed my view of her, unfortunately, though she remained ever the same beauty. She definitely has plans for me; but, just how will they go awry?

"Dinner's ready!"

I glanced down at my half-finished work. Dinner already? Given how much I had done, it should have felt like I only needed an hour or two more after food to finish it all. Then it hit me. I had forgotten to take into account that I had to study since exams were coming soon.

The urge to groan was strong with this one; high school was not my springtime of youth.

"This man's spouting some crazy logic."

Ma Kensei, History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi, vol. 42, chapter 407

"So, Shirahama Kenichi, huh?" I lazed back into one of the few trees at Ryouzanpaku.

I hadn't seen him much, in spite of the many times I had come to the dojo since Miu and I settled our differences. This was the very first time I had been openly permitted to see his training.

And the word 'disappointing' wasn't quite exact, but it was apt enough as I winced through my observations. Perhaps 'painful' worked much better.

His legs needed work; his balance was not the worst I'd seen, but it was far from being suitable toward the Chinese kenpo Ma was showing him. His distribution of weight and his inability to control his center of gravity wasn't something I faulted him for; everyone struggled with that.

Still, Shirahama remained a mystery to me.

But I had enough of him for the moment. I observed him, took note of his every move, but I wasn't really here to solve him. I had other problems; he might have been involved with them, but he was not them.

"Mhm." The black-haired beauty beside me tilted her head in typical fashion and gave me the barest of glances. So brief that it was Brief, like Bulma. Her eyes were full of a light that I hadn't seen since I first started learning under her tutelage.

Jealousy is unbecoming; she is my undoing.

I gestured for her to explain, an odd feeling tickling my intestines as I watched her. Kousaka-shishou wasn't much of a talker but she had always been more insightful than that. Instead of giving me a word, she smiled as she looked on.

"He's got very little talent. Probably even less than me." Why?

"Yup." She fiddled with a kusarigama, tossing the weighted end of the chain up and down.

"You don't seem very interested in holding a conversation with me about him, Kousaka-shishou." Why won't you talk to me? Say something.

She gave me a sidelong glance and shrugged as she walked off. Kousaka-shishou still came over on occasion, but she had become more absentminded and had taken to Komachi more than she had taken to me. It wasn't very mature of me to pout, but I was nothing but a torrent of envy. She was my teacher.

And yet, she had taught me precious little recently. Even after getting her a phone, she refused to text back or even call first. She responded to my voice on occasion, but I always had to initiate. I always had to be the one to make plans nowadays. Though in retrospect, Saturdays at my home being for every other weekend was something I should have noticed.

Particularly because she had missed two meetings in a row; a full month, the first in our history as master and student, during which we had not had any conversation.

It hurt in a way that was indescribable, in a manner of Beelzebub's illnesses. I hadn't wanted much; but I had hoped. And hope was a desperate man's gambit.

Worse, my jealousy deepened, warred with rage. Shirahama; what was so good about him that he was Ryouzanpaku's disciple? Sharing Miu was bad enough; now Akisame-shishou and Kousaka-shishou, too? Unforgivable.

Kousaka-shishou's nonchalance made me feel like a stranger as I saw this Shirahama Kenichi twist, turn, duck, dive, dip, and dodge his way through many hundreds of repetitions. His katas were ugly, his motions weary, and his determination barren. Yet he persisted.

I forced myself to try and pay attention. What was there? What did he have?

What did I lack?

As far as I could tell, his strength lay only in that area. His build was small, even for a Japanese boy. His limbs had little length, his vision was not keen, nor was his hearing great. His face wasn't deformed, but I wouldn't have called him handsome in any way (though he had that over me, at least).

My other master stepped beside me and said nothing as I saw Shirahama fail to grasp another piece of the basics yet again. It was like watching a fish gasp for water.

"What do you all see in him?"

"A river, Hachiman. He wishes his life was peaceful as the forest, but it is not. He has no desire, however to roar like fire. He desires to uphold his values with the tenacity of a mountain. And yet he is slow to learn, most certainly unlike the wind. Still, he pervades the world with his way of life and shall do so until he dries."

I processed Akisame-shishou's response. My eyes drifted back toward my senior jiu-jitsu practitioner and absorbed his visage. The man clearly had issues with my dislike of Shirahama. How delightful. It seemed Shirahama was a shounen manga protagonist; that did even less wonders for him in my eyes. I continued to watch but didn't see this nagging sensation of boredom disappearing anytime soon.

A positive in his corner, however, was that the boy seemed disgustingly honest. He looked like he couldn't lie to save his life, given how much he blubbered in response to Ma's teasing. I shook my head; I had not come here just to drift off.

"Will I no longer be your student, Akisame-shishou?" I had long since known that I was not his ideal student, but the very thought made me unhappy. No, not unhappy. Unsatisfied. Displeased; disgusted. Utterly revolted.

The two of us walked off into the privacy of his room. He set down some tea for us and took a sip.

"Do you remember how we became master and student?"

The deflection didn't really bother me so much as the realization that our relationship was more or less one of strangers now. In hindsight, his answer to my question should have been obvious. Acquaintances, yes, but people who moved on two different wavelengths. And still, we looked upon one another as equals. He respected me; I admired him.

"Yes." I nodded, taking a sip of my own tea and closed my eyes, mentally comparing how the room had changed since I had last entered. It must have been at least four months. Maybe six.

Perhaps that should have been the greatest sign of something wrong. But I had always forgotten how easily time passed with him, due to the nature of our conversations. The realization that Akisame-shishou rarely invited me inside these days didn't bother me as much as perhaps it should have; both of us were busy with our own projects now.

I should have been paying attention.

"We met when I came by one day, probably a week or two after I met Miu, and you were discussing with Furinji-sama how he could have reached even higher heights. You lamented his strength and praised his technique. But nonetheless, you had conceded that he was the superior fighter. After all, Furinji-sama was the 'undefeated superman.'"

He chuckled. "Indeed. Then, out of nowhere, in the middle of our talk, a young voice cut in saying that I must have done something wrong."

We shared another smile.

I still held that belief to this day. Akisame-shishou's method of perfecting 'pink' muscles was an interesting study, and while he had accomplished it, I had told him upon the conclusion our first two lessons that his technique was flawed.

His initial premise was that he argued how his relentless training must had to have been, was, maintained without stray, but that couldn't have been the case - the man traveled often and there were many times in his life during which he was detained in an enemy camp. Even though muscles in general retained strength better than the cardiovascular system, there was no way that his training could have achieved such results alone.

Furthermore, I understood that to reach the pinnacle of perfection, both time and effort were a given. But how to not lose any muscle was still a problem and how to make the ideal gains was still flexible; he was, according to his own words, 'The only one who achieved such a feat.'

Thus, there was much experimenting that begged for conducting: the challenge was mine for the taking. And I persevered. Regiments from Hell were drafted by both medical experts at Ryouzanpaku, though I studied only under one of them. The rest of my workouts were devised careful planning and adapted every step along the way.

I didn't back down then, and I hadn't since. "Heh. I mean, I achieved twelve percent of your results with less than a tenth of the time."

"Fifteen, if I'm measuring you correctly. Congratulations."

That caught me off guard; my look must have amused Akisame-shishou to make him smile that much. To think that he's giving me that much credit. I bowed my head a little. "Your praise is welcome, but I sincerely doubt that I'm that close."

He twitched. "Just take the compliment, Hachiman."

Something in me snapped when I realized that was all he had to offer me.

"I don't want compliments," I whispered. I looked at him and he shifted uncomfortably. I sighed. "What should I call you, then? You're no longer my master, but you were and I wish to acknowledge that. Will you let me call you Shishou still?"

"However you want to call me, Hachiman, I will respond. Just because you are no longer my disciple does not mean you are unwelcome in my presence, nor does it mean that our relationship had no meaning."

"That's funny," I snipped, "because ever since that Shirahama moved in, I seem to have been given a wide berth and much more distance. The others I can understand. But you? Kousaka-shishou?"

It twisted because I thought of him as both a rival and a father figure, and now I possessed neither. It cut because Kousaka-shishou was someone who smiled at my progress and guided me with fervor, like I was a younger sibling or perhaps even a friend who walked the same path.

There was no agreement between them and myself anymore, it seemed.

I refused to cry. Enough. There were only excuses behind the mild face and gentle tone. The room grew bitter cold, and I found I could not have stayed a minute more. My legs carried me, taking me on a walk around the compound until I found Miu sitting atop the roof and planted myself next to her. "I liked it better when things were easier and life was simple."

Miu let me wrap my arms around her as she whispered comfort into my ears.

"Me miserable! Which way shall I fly

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?

Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell!"

Satan, Paradise Lost, Book IV, ll. 73-75

"Gah." I hissed; the pain in my hand stung and I yelled internally at my stupidity. My style of fighting was rather lax in its quantity of punches, but that gave me little excuse to hit punching bags poorly. Focus.

With all the tension built up between me and my former masters, my time with Miu was strained. But I was used to practicing alone. Still, she did not enjoy being the median between two walls, nor did she like that I was being given up on, but she understood. Shirahama Kenichi was Ryouzanpaku's full-time commitment.

I was barely even a part-time commodity. There was no comparison and no fight.

Which was mildly funny. Shirahama, I had heard, grieved when Miu broke the news to him about my situation and refused to train for three days before he melted. (It touched me to hear that; simultaneously, it annoyed me that he was still so soft).

Out of my two masters, Kousaka-shishou's distance did not hurt, it sliced. There was a burning that seemed to wake every time I thought of her absence. The last I had visited, Akisame had given me one last gift but she had not given me anything.

I didn't expect her to, but there wasn't even an acknowledgement that we had grown further apart. Not a single word. The only thing I had left from her rested in the sleeves of any shirt at all times. No matter how hot or cold, it stayed in its rightful place. Just as she had taught me.

Stop it, you idiot. I couldn't continue this trend of wanting anything to do with a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. I had to focus my efforts on a woman who did.

School had gotten better, once I finally shut down Aoyama-sensei's attempts at cajoling me into being one of his minions. Apparently, all I had to do was let it slip to Hiratsuka-sensei how much he wanted to get into her pants (she had flushed a brilliant red, even delved into crimson). Before she made haste to wander off and jump him, I casually dropped word that he had been threatening me.

And for all the politician she was raised to be, under those thick layers was a warm, fuzzy child and warrior of justice. Or at least, one that 'loathed a genuine misuse of authority.' And even better was the fact that Hiratsuka-sensei stopped treating me like just a kid. Most of the time. So much so that I was raised from mere student to the level of being her work-slave. At least I was being trained to handle some form of productive activity that may or may not play a role in my eventual future.

I stepped into the café and greeted Haru-san, the maître d, and walked to our preferred booth.

There she was, in all her glory. Yes, all her glory. Hiratsuka Shizuka was truly an attractive woman; there was no convincing me otherwise. While she was not without fault, the truth that no one pursued her (and achieved any form of relationship with her) was another mystery which eluded my faculties.

The first weapon she possessed stood out fiercely the moment she opened her mouth or gave a wink; she owned a great deal of wit that married itself with her rather stunning charisma. It stole breath and charmed the masses. Intelligence, thou art her blade.

And Venus, thou art her shield. Her figure was every bit a weapon, and I pushed down the gulping that urged its way up my throat. She looked amused at how flustered I got every time I saw her casually dressed. There was no way she wasn't doing that on purpose. Seriously, why did she do this to me; if she wanted confidence, all she required was a mirror! Woman, if you dressed like this to meet your dates, I have zero idea why you aren't on your merry way to marriage.

A hand through my hair as I sat. "How many essays are we grading tonight?"

"Ten." Good God, her eyes were gorgeous. She had to stop leaning forward like that, or she was going to be the end of me.

I had long since gotten over the fact that this activity was frowned upon, but I hadn't gotten over the fact that this was, essentially, one of the building blocks in our relationship. Why? Because it was completely surreal. We were just two nerds in a café. Two nerds who happened to share similar interests and were able to set aside the bounds that society placed upon us.

Or were they bindings that I thought of and she did not?

I sighed. "Whose?" Please don't be Tobe's, please don't be Tobe's…

She laughed as she cottoned onto my thoughts. "Tobe's isn't in here; I already marked that one. And his friends'. Except for Hayama Hayato's; you have the pleasure of reading that one."

My fingers twitched as they ran through my hair again. "Better get started."

I may not have liked that deceptive slob, but hey, Soubu's oujou-sama wasn't a shabby writer. Boring, but not bad. Relatively speaking. The most interesting writers in the class were actually Miura Yumiko and another girl by the name of Kawasaki Saki.

Given what I had known about Miura, I initially assumed that she was some vapid, brainless, love-obsessed chick doomed to endure the trials of becoming Hiratsuka Shizuka two-point-oh, but she often discussed philosophy. Granted, she did talk about the nature of human relationships and love quite a lot, but still in ways that actually piqued my interest.

"Miura's quoting Sun Tzu again," I laughed. "She really never seems the type to be that kind of girl, but hey, all the power to her. I'm just surprised she hasn't really employed any of these tactics in her struggle to maintain her position at the top of the food chain. Or for her boy-toy.

"And Kawasaki… here, let me read you part of what she wrote: 'The working persons of Japan often pursue life but not liberty; they frown upon the frivolous nature of society. I believe such an outlook on life to be bleak. We are told that we have greatness but instead are mere numbers in the face of reality. Literature and history tells of times where peace means only toiling to gripe with the necessities of daily life. To work is to live; then, is to work not to die? Where is life in such a place, when the wages given to us add to small, meager realities? Do only the rich prosper for all of eternity? Is the only time in our life ripe for joy in our youngest years so that we bear them in hopes of illusion, for a return that shall never come?'

"I swear, if she keeps writing things like this, I'll fall in love with the image I have of her. She's a riot, Kawasaki. Shame that she's always busy, probably has a part-time job or something."

Hiratsuka smiled at me. "It's nice to know I have at least three students who love to write. Also, don't fall in love with someone you don't know. It's creepy to delude yourself. If you're a man, Hikigaya, go up to her, ask her out, and get busy. Er. Preferably not that kind of busy, at least not in school."

Sensei, you really shouldn't be saying things like that to your students! Nevertheless; game on. "Why; afraid I'd end up getting more than you if I ended up with her?"

It was a joke, but apparently, there were some things that made Hiratsuka Shizuka snap. This was one of them. Her face twisted, her demeanor the devil himself. "Hikigaya-kun, if you say things like that, you'll meet your end rather early, don't you know?"

Chance! This was only payback, after all. "If you're my end, I don't think that's a bad thing. And the earlier," I gave her a once-over, licked my lips, and winked, "the better."

And the fuse was pinched. The flush that crept along her skin was easy to spot, given how flawless and pale it was. "H-how are you so smooth?"

"Because you, Sensei, are just so… inspiring." She wasn't the first teacher I'd ever been attracted to, but she might be the last. Sensei's face was currently ground zero: Cherynobyl. Still, I said nothing but the truth.

Even the way her jaw dropped was kind of dainty. Sensei had to stop being too easy sometimes. Not that I hated it though, since she didn't sock me for my verbal jabs and invitations. Her voice stopped working, or at least, I presumed it did since she turned toward her work and silently filtered through the papers.

Victory, get!

Though in truth, it was only pyrrhic. We were here to do work, and let it be said that Hiratsuka Shizuka was no slouch, even if she did abuse humans such as myself (if one considered me human). Her attention knew when to snap and when to turn; it wasn't a battle lost if the war wasn't over. She was simply biding her time for her next attack. That, and she also knew that the final say on any grade was still hers so she genuinely had to continue working.

My eyes flickered back to the pile in front of me. Ugh. This Tanimoto or whatever his name was, had a terrible style of writing. I wrote off that garbage and pulled up the next one.

Huh. There was no name on this one. I rolled my eyes and began to read. Wait. What. What…

"Who. Who wrote this?" This wasn't school work. This wasn't even something I could have imagined that a philosophy club contribution would have looked like. It certainly wasn't anything from the literature club or the history one.

Was it even written by a student? It was brilliant. Far from perfect, but brilliant.

Not to say there was something misguided about the logic and reasoning, but there was something remarkably 'off' about the diction and phrasing. It was too manicured, but it also lacked passion. It emboldened by sheer force and cunning misdirection rather than wit, though some might have ascribed those traits to be a part of the ideal skill-set. Nonetheless, I drowned out the distractions and embraced this person's writing.

And there was no way this was in here by mistake. Hiratsuka-sensei wasn't some amateur. Calling her look smug wasn't too much of an understatement. There was also pride in there; not for her alone, but at my realization. Sort of like I passed a test. The thought gave me pause.

Gears started turning and with every clunk was a new click. Suddenly, it all seemed to make sense as I played back all the facts. Think. One: that I had gotten to know Hiratsuka Shizuka since the beginning of my tenure as a Soubu High student, even when I hadn't had her for a teacher until this year. Two: That she just so happened to have similar interests to me.

Conclusion: our meeting wasn't an accident. Our continued relations were not careless. And the consequences were steep; I had no idea how deep I'd fallen into the hole. Was I still falling? Think; think.

I took a deep breath and reevaluated what I had forgotten. Forgotten because of that smile, that kind demeanor, that beauty, and that willingness to come close to me. Hiratsuka Shizuka was a human. And so was I. The look on her face screamed, Animals are most dangerous when cornered; so how will you react? I'm no mild-mannered Alice.

I had been played from the very start; Aoyama-sensei was the smoke and mirrors while she played the long-con. Beautifully done.

I thought myself a monster of logic - what a joke. Akisame would have laughed at me, then struck me silly. Kousaka would have gouged out my entrails and burned them to whatever dark gods she believed in. Their teachings were wasted on someone like me.

I saw what Hiratsuka wanted me to see. Now, her beauty was even more of a puzzle. Clearly, she knew how to use it. Then again, my mind flickered darkly, being single has its uses.

Whatever I said about her not being a politician was a lie. She was good. Real good. But I wasn't going to lose. And I was going to find out why me, of all people, was someone she wanted to make a protégé from. A cruel smile curled itself onto my lips as I threw the paper on the table between us. "You really are inspiring, Sensei."

Her smile this time was the most beautiful one yet.

"So, what can I do for you, Sensei?"

"But when the army is restless and distrustful, trouble is sure to come from the other feudal princes. This is simply bringing anarchy into the army, and flinging victory away."

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, "III: Attack by Stratagem"

It was just another day in the peaceful prefecture of Chiba. Calm, bustling, noisy, and quiet all in one. The colors outside were a ménagère of the vividness of life, and July was two days around the corner. All in all, one could have said that it was a beautiful sight.

As for myself, I missed all the noise as I crowded and faced a person I hadn't come into contact with. It was an odd sensation, as I hadn't spent any Saturdays like this before in my entire life (with a stranger. A good looking stranger).

While I wanted to make the first move, my philosophies in life led me to only initiate conversation when the situation demanded it. Plus, it was fun watching someone like her fumble about for something to say.

"You, uh, come here often?" She fingered her hair, her perfect hair, nervously.

I laughed. She was awkward. I was awkward. The two of us were awkwarder together. Awesome. Even her flush was cute. Yikes, my hormones were in trouble.

I'd gotten a peek into her profile through some rather unorthodox digging. My more common methods were more than likely frowned upon and definitely more than likely illegal. But since she was someone I couldn't touch unless I wanted to lose a limb, I had to take the safe route use all the keys to summon the Forbidden One: Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Pintrest, and YouTube. After gathering enough information, I concluded that she was much too good for me. But hey, I was the perpetual challenger.

Well, delay no longer, Hachiman.

"In fact, I do come here a lot. The library is my favorite kind of public space. It has books, internet, quiet, and almost always has much fewer people than anywhere else. The fact that this one has a café attached to only makes it better."

"Oh." She seemed surprised. Did I look like a riajuu? Not all jocks weren't nerds! "You just look fit, so I figured you'd be more of an outdoorsy kind of guy. Not that it means you can't enjoy the indoors, though," she finished hastily.

"Au contraire, Madam; I enjoy both equally so, but I find it easier to be indoors as opposed to outdoors. Especially in today's world. I mean, you would probably agree, given how you've been eyeing your phone. Though I suppose you can use a phone anywhere."

"Guess I can't hide much from you, can I?"

"Well, you're definitely hiding a lot from me as of now, anyway. We're strangers. And even if we weren't strangers, I doubt that you and I have much to hide from one another. Hiding implies that both of us care about what the other has to say, at least in regards to the other person. And I'm not sure we'd ever reach such a conclusion."

She blinked. "No wonder Shi-chan really wanted to set us up. There's a lot of arrogance in your assumptions, but not entirely unwarranted. Hm. You're something of a 'wild child,' aren't you?"

"In my defense, it is probably because people usually can't tame me. I take advice when I think it's good, not when people tell me it's for my good."

"Same."

"Speaking of good, though, I'm not going to lie. This library is a place full of it, which is a wonder since I seem to infest it with my presence. My continued investments here are a net gain, especially considering right now." I smiled. I wondered how I stacked up in her judgment?

Her eyes narrowed, only the tiniest specks of red dusting her cheeks. "What's your game?"

Ah. The direct approach. Not good, but not a completely wasted move. What made her think that was the option? How strange.

My answer right now was most likely going to determine the rest of my relationship with this girl, no this woman. Something ate at me as I caught the glow of her eyes. She and I were going to know each other for a long time. It wasn't something I could have explained - if I were a woman, I would have called it a woman's intuition. But as Hikigaya Hachiman, I believed it to be one of my one hundred and eight skills.

So, if she was going to hit me in the face, I'd slap her right back. Equal rights, equal fights.

"You." MAXX Coffee never tasted better, my composure bending as I indulged in my guilty pleasure. "I'm a man of the hunt, so to speak. Hiratsuka-sensei should have known as much when she put you in my sights. I have a bad habit, you see, of not letting my prey escape. I love the thrill of the chase."

I had no idea why Hiratsuka-sensei wanted to set me up with this young woman of all people, but hey, looking a gift horse in the mouth was considered bad taste. Unless you're the Trojans (and I had no idea if I was, but I had to search for victory somewhere, and Nike was Greek).

She threw her head back exasperatedly. There was a trill to her giggle. "You're absolutely disgusting."

"Never said I wasn't."

"I know. And that's kind of cute that you think that would work on me. I mean, it's not exactly not charming, but it's not endearing either." Her long, dark, again, perfect hair floated as she threw it over her shoulders. It was mystifyingly exotic even though it was the most common color found in all of Japan.

Okay, so I had problems. Or at least one problem in the form of being compelled to follow that lustrous river of black with my eyes. But I wasn't the only one attracted to such, as throughout the entire time I had been with her, everyone passing by, both male and female gave her wide eyes and appreciative nods. Some even the softest of whistles as they walked on.

"So," she said, "I'm guessing you like books. Hmm, not just books. Philosophy? You probably read a lot of memoirs and biographies, too. Maybe psychological case studies, too. Otherwise Shi-chan wouldn't have given you to me." What ground do we share? Can you match me? You've done well so far; don't let me down now or you'll regret it.

My brows rose. Given to her, huh. I supposed it was fortunate for her that I had just admitted to playing games, and I was keen on seeing that comment through. Matched, she was going to be. "Why, do you think I'm a prize, then? To be awarded to you for being such a good girl?"

Her cheeks donned the same rosy tint from before. But it was far more than dots this time.

"Or," I mused, "do you like playing the role of being a 'bad girl?' Either way works with me; I don't think I have a particular type from either of the two. You also seem to know when to hop fences, so I wouldn't be surprised if you played both roles pretty well."

She coughed. There was playfulness in her eyes, but mixed with her discomfort, I wasn't surprised to see that she tried to put up a flimsy defense. She was probably still testing me. "I think you shouldn't be so invasive. Girls don't like it when guys dig too hard."

I flashed her a wry grin. "I'm not too experienced, but I've never had any complaints."

Her shocked look could have stunned a tidal wave. My companion gagged on her choice of drink. "Y-you're not a..? Oh, uhm. Huh."

I let the offense slide. In response, I tilted my head. "Are you?"

She glared at me. That wasn't an answer, but the implications were good enough for me.

"I'll stop if you want. I don't want to step on any toes, but I figured that if you were an associate of Hiratsuka-sensei, you probably had the same level of humor as her. The fact that you haven't kicked me out or screamed at me or even called the authorities is pretty good by my books."

There was a slight widening around the edge of her eyes. "That really happens?"

"It used to. Then when I stopped talking to people when I didn't need to, it kind of stopped. I put two and two together pretty quickly."

Something shifted in her eyes. I instantly hated it. The snarl never left my throat, though. Don't pity me. Don't you dare pity me.

I looked away and felt the blood leave my knuckles. Calm down. Deep breaths, Hachiman. Reevaluate. My pride was poked at. Far too easily. How unsightly.

The shrewd look on her face flickered off her face almost as quickly as it flickered on. Did she know I caught her in my peripheral?

Her act might have been even better than Sensei's, if it wasn't for the fact that I had reaccustomed myself to look out for such things. Still, I was going to take what I got. And get what I was given. If I was to her as she was to me, I wasn't willing to let anyone else be disappointed with the way their lots fell in life.

Silence sat between us, a third member to our party. I glanced around. Had the library always seemed this busy? Or was it just that time felt so slow? Today was a weird one. And I needed to recalibrate.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft question. "Can I have your number?"

"Sure." Good company was hard to come by, and I had a sinking feeling that even if I said no, she was going to get it somehow or other. That, and Hiratsuka-sensei seemed to have a vested interest in pairing the two of us together.

She smiled into her phone. It was the first one that seemed real, but then again, it wasn't likely I would find out the difference anytime soon.

"I'll be going now. Who knows. Maybe we'll see each other soon; if you want to meet sooner rather than later, you can hit me up anytime. Just don't use excessive force." Don't resort to using Hiratsuka-sensei, please. Because I don't know if I can hold back against her.

I got up and gave her one last look before I walked out.

"Therefore, the clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed upon him"

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, "VI: Weak Points and Strong"

"I'm coming! Give me a moment!"

My fingers twisted the handle and my other hand mussed up my hair. The rapping on the door as well as the bell had taken me out of a rather interesting dream. Note to self: do not drink that much caffeine, sugar, and a bunch of sleeping pills all at once. The pounding my head thrummed violently.

Especially considering the current situation.

There were very few people who knocked, aside from the typical salesmen. My mind jumped to immediately to those figures and narrowed it down to three people who it might have been. And the churning in my gut told me that today was a long time coming.

"Hachiman."

Ah. So my instincts were not misguided. She definitely hadn't been here for some time. (I told myself I didn't mind. The mirror in my room told me otherwise). Komachi had cried and cried; she asked, but never pried.

Beautiful as ever, the young woman in front of me stood with her long, dark hair strangely not in its usual ponytail. For the briefest of moments, a different face flashed over hers. I shook my head to clear my rather distracted faculties before I once again took notice of the woman at my doorstep. She had foregone her typical attire in favor of joggers and a sweater, a look on her that wasn't remiss, but was still quite odd.

I never thought she could have ever looked this homely. Well, not for someone such as myself, I amended. When she found a target for her affections in the future, I had no doubt she was going to attempt every trick in the book to sweep that poor sod off his feet.

But that was for a future that didn't involve my mental tangents.

"Kousaka." She flinched. Well, as much as Kousaka Shigure could: the corner of her eyes moved, and her brows made the slightest of waves. "Come in. Make yourself at home."

"Komachi is not home?"

"She's out with her friends."

"Aah."

I motioned for us to sit and brought her some jasmine; she loved the tea and smiled that private little grin the two of us used to share. As much as it was awkward, this was probably the next step in our relationship. We were student and master; I wondered what she thought we were now.

She sat and looked off to the side, lost in thought. That expression was my favorite. Because it meant that, ironically, she was solely focused on her situation at hand. She had very rarely used placed such a look on her face, and usually, I had only caught glimpses of such tenderness. (Most of it was when Ryouzanpaku nursed me back to health after I encountered Hell, courtesy of a misplaced hit or the spotting of the indigenous Apachai Hopachai.)

I went back to my light novel. Kousaka would speak when she was ready.

"I wanted," she paused, struggling to come to terms with her next words "to apologize. You were right that we disrespected you. It has been hard on Miu; but seeing her, I knew, it must have been even worse for you. Ever since your injury, you could not come regularly. So Akisame and I were lonely."

It wasn't a matter of pride for her. Sort of. Well, mostly. I wasn't sure what to make of her, but I studied my former master intensely. Was this truly how she saw it? Then why did she torture me so?

My eyes gave me away as Kousaka continued, "Do not be surprised. We live a reclusive life in an era where technology is dominant. The weapons of today are not the weapons of yesterday; any of the latter, I can use. But the fight of today is fought with data, theft, and other methods that I cannot use. It makes me feel redundant when I have a student like you."

The train began in my thoughts but stopped on my tongue. They did not leave my mouth as I frowned. I searched her, but she still avoided my gaze. Why wouldn't she meet my eyes? God. I wasn't asking for much. I wasn't.

"Hachiman, you have very little talent for the arts we taught, but you had more than enough insight to explore your growth. You're smart. Very, very smart. Akisame told me you did not believe him about the progression of your own body. He was," she furrowed her brows, "proud. Proud and sad because the time of master and student was over; don't you see? It wasn't about us not needing you. It was about you not needing us."

I froze. What? She has to be lying. No one had ever said that before. Not Komachi. Not Miu. Not my parents, not a peer, not a teacher.

After a decent length, when it became clear that things were not computing, Kousaka stood up, bowed in apology, and hugged me for the second time ever. I melted. How to respond to this? Help!

Before I could do anything else, she whispered something in my ear that shook me to my core and erased my built up emotions. Weariness felt itself set into my skin as my arms embraced the small of her back. As I processed what she had just told me, time felt slow. If I hadn't been lost before, then I was utterly confounded now.

I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that Kousaka had been gone for some time. They were broken when the click of the front door informed me Komachi had come home.

She sat down next to me and set down her backpack at her feet. Komachi's voice was soft as she asked, "Did Shi-nee-chan come today?"

I turned toward her. "You knew?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes (lovingly, of course). A finger prodded my cheek. "Who else do you think made her come? You need it, Onii-chan."

Her words should have placated me and made me happy my sister cared. Instead, they burned. My jaw clenched and I felt the blood leaving my knuckles. Breathe. Calm down. It's Komachi; she was just worried. Ten, nine, eight...

When I looked at Komachi, all my eyes saw was someone who swallowed nervously. She was frightened of me. My little sister. Afraid. Of me. Of me. I slipped out the door, hood over my head.

I made it as far as downtown Chiba, to a park where my childhood dreamed, and where my most recent self became deadly acquainted with my reality as a loner being controlled and left to my devices only when others felt it good enough to set down the tool known as Hikigaya Hachiman.

"Hello? Can we meet? Yeah, the usual spot."

I didn't wait for long. She was always eager to meet. Especially after we both realized that Hiratsuka pawned us off onto one another so she could hit two birds with one stone. Two of her problems could occupy the other, which left more time and freedom for her. Fantastic teacher, right?

"My, my. I never would have imagined the day a little germ like you would call me on your own. So, what would you like to talk about?"

"Please, Yukinoshita. Not today."

She raised a perfect brow at my pleading. A sick, predatory smile crossed her skin and she sat herself next to me on the bench, the scent of her shampoo permeating my sense of smell as she leaned a head on my shoulder. I flinched.

She pouted. "You're so boring today; but perhaps that's interesting in of itself, since you're never really boring at all. Say, do you want to play a game? See a movie?"

"I'll do anything you want. I just need to get my mind off of some things."

"Oh? Those are quite dangerous words. I suppose I should have expected that you were too lazy to plan your dates," she teased, "but you shouldn't put forward such promises to a young lady. You might be misleading-"

"Or," I cut in, "maybe I want to be misled by you. Just for today."

The fingers playing with my hair stilled. "Oh."

Neither of us spoke for some time, but her fingers drifted downwards and laced themselves between mine.

"Knowledge of the enemy's disposition can only be obtained from other men."

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, "XII: The Use of Spies"

The end of July was hotter than I liked, what with the wind from the sea blowing into my daily life. The humidity amplified temperatures I considered to be mildly pleasing and turned them to outright unbearable. It was a feeling of stickiness that made the body sluggish.

"Hachi, how can you take this?"

"Easy; I stay inside most of the time."

The pout directed toward me was ignored with practice as I stretched on my couch with a yawn. "Get used to it; you're staying over for two weeks while renovations are in, right? Embrace my beloved Chiba!"

Miu slapped my head and groaned. Komachi simply sighed. "Why is my Onii-chan such a bum? He could have been any other character, but he's like Sasuke and Shikamaru combined! Ah, so embarrassing."

"Oi, I'll have you know, I am perfectly fine the way I am. And those two characters shouldn't be seen in such a negative light! They both have redemption arcs, you know? That means that, in the end, I am doing something right."

"Says who?"

Plot armor, that's who! In reality, though, neither of them knew. I fiddled with the forbidden fruit and decided to play the role of the serpent. Sorry, Eves, the shadow of the valley of death looms ever so presently. "My friends."

Both of them turned toward me with disbelief. Oh. "My girlfriends," I amended.

Still no response. "Uh, you know. Lovers?"

The color drained from both their faces until Komachi burst out in tears and laughter. Miu followed along, assured that I was joking.

Because I was. "Fine, fine. You got me."

There was a brief sigh of relief, until-

"I only have one girlfriend. But I do have lovers. Only one on a regular occasion though."

Chalk white: the color of Miu's face. Then the color of mine as she tried to strangle me.

"Urk! This. Only. Happened. A bit.. Ago." I choked out each word, my breath short as I panted. Eventually, Miu loosened up and I was able to relax back into the couch as she snuggled into me. "Geez. You have that Shirahama kid and I'm not allowed to get someone for myself?"

"You should have told me!"

"Well, to be honest, I'm much less in a relationship of love than I am in one of conveniences."

There was quiet in the house. White noise, but still quiet. The fans buzzed; Kamakura meowed. And the two girls most important to me were waiting for answers.

I didn't talk.

Not for a while. When I did, I should have started off by being confident. Instead, my voice cracked. "I'm not sorry. And I'm not really ashamed of it."

"Who is it and how did you meet?"

I turned toward Komachi as I continued to hold Miu close. "You wouldn't know her. She's just a girl one of my teachers introduced me to. She's older than you and you've never gone to school together, so you've never met her."

"But you said you have lovers, not had; so how is it that you have a girlfriend, Onii-chan?" Of course, she picked up on that. If there was ever a time in your life you knew you messed up, then you assuredly knew how I felt under the weight of Komachi's judging stare.

"Well, Komachi, when one person becomes interested in another, they ask said other if they want to engage in certain acts of passion. And occasionally, they lead to further things. Sometimes, that act could be the relationship itself. Other times, the relationship is acting."

That made Miu and Komachi pause. My sister frowned and shook her head. "Stupid Onii-chan, you don't love her, do you?"

"Of course not."

She let out a frustrated sound. "Then what's the point of being in a relationship with anyone if you're not in love with them? You talk about relationships like they're things you can just pick up and drop; I don't get it at all. Where did the Onii-chan who looked at Shi-nee-chan go?"

"Komachi!"

Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Miu looked at me from within my arms, her eyes curious. Not surprised. Just curious. And a tinge jealous. I held my curses on the tip of my tongue as I avoided her gaze. There were many reasons why this topic was not broached, and of course, the reason I had to approach it at all was out of my control. What deities did I piss off in my past lives? "Uh… Crap."

My ribs suddenly hurt much worse than they did five seconds beforehand. "Tell me."

Or, was this my punishment for wearing Majora's mask? I hoped Shakespeare was watching because he could have used my life to usher in the next golden age of drama and tragedy. Though I still maintained the belief that my teenage romantic comedy was broken.

"Alright, alright." Miu's sad kitty look rarely failed in melting the stone heart of Hachiman. It hurt, bottling up all these things inside. They had to explode at some point. And sharing secrets was like sharing blankets; maybe it was going to be warmer with more people kept under.

The two of us sat up, Miu next to me, and Komachi on the other side of the couch. I grabbed a few glasses of water. It was going to be a long talk. "Where do you want me to start?"

"From the beginning. Obviously."

I scratched my cheek. "So like when this angel accidentally kicked my cheek into oblivion and I needed several stitches and therapy in order to talk again?"

Miu flushed at the memory. Komachi had the ghost of a grin on her face. But neither of them giggled. Gee, they were so serious about this.

I sighed. "Right, so, uh, Miu, not that you're not attractive or anything, we'll get to how that ties in in a sec, maybe, but I've always had this draw to Kousaka-shishou. Mind you, not always, uh, like that. But she reminds me of me. We're both quiet. And that's probably why she and Akisame became my teachers."

How was I supposed to explain this? I caught a glance of Miu from my peripherals. Well, they did say 'from the beginning.' So, "Hm. Let's see… Miu, you know that when I met you, I had a crush on you, right?"

She nodded. It was easy to see why. She was beautiful - everyone knew that. She was kind; everyone knew that, too. Her smile was beautiful, her laugh light. Her hugs warm, her attitude positive. What wasn't there to like about her?

Komachi knew I had been smitten instantly. But it was just a crush. "It was just so easy to think I was in love with you. You were perfect to me. Obviously I knew you weren't, but the image I had of you, plus everything we did together, just made it seem like you were. The fact that you were my only friend made it worse, I guess."

She stammered, and I laughed as I lay my head on her lap. Hormones were adolescence's greatest nightmare, and Miu once tossed mine into chaos. Shame I never had the chance to do the same to her.

"So yeah, over a few months, I realized I'd only loved the idea of you. Er. Again," I hastened, "it's not that you're not… well, amazing, but you're not for me. I wouldn't call you a sister," Komachi smiled at that, "because I only have one of those and she's the best in the whole world. But you're definitely the best friend I could ever have asked for, and if it cost me every other chance at making one before you to get you, I don't regret it at all."

I wasn't quite sure why I felt the need to spill everything. Maybe it was the tension. Maybe it was the mental stress. Maybe it was the overwhelming emotional need to have the world focus on me for once. Regardless of what it was, I enjoyed having my two most important persons give me the entirety of their attention.

It was a rush of comfort and gave me confidence that my existence had some validation. (It was a feeling that I hadn't had in some time.)

"With Kousaka, I'm not sure how it really got started. She wasn't everything I wanted in someone. Not even as a partner; maybe that's why I eventually came to see her that way. Because I got to see someone I looked up to so much be so human. Like me.

"The way I remember it, she just talked to me one day, and I guess it spiraled from there." My voice grew quieter with each word. "She said something stupid and I yelled at her. Then she laughed at me. She used to tease me from the very start. She surprised me with hugs and touches. Why do you think I got so comfortable hugging the two of you?"

The light seemed to go off in both their heads. To emphasize the point, I pulled Miu onto my lap again and nuzzled my head into her hair. (I tried so hard not to imagine that she was someone else.) I would never have even come close to touching her two years ago.

I let go after a minute and picked the story up once more. "She once told me that I looked lonelier than her and she couldn't stand it. And unlike her, she told me, that I looked, and I quote, 'like a helpless babe waddling in his sorrows, lost and not understanding why he wants to be alone.'

"Then everything got even better when she became my teacher. She held me closer to her heart, or so I thought. Because I know I held her closer to mine. And over the course of our discussions, I got to know the others. I had already approached Akisame and eventually, he took me on to be his student, too. But it wasn't remotely the same as my relationship with Kousaka. She wasn't a mother or anything, didn't push me into anything. But she was my mentor. The best way I can put it is that I admired her. Deeply."

I let out a huff of air I didn't know I was holding. "At some point, Komachi had this idea that she should come over once a week. So she did. For longer than you knew, Miu. When you first found out, she had been coming over for at least a year."

My eyes closed as I recalled how the slightest quirk of her lips used to make me smile outright. And how she used to laugh. How her eyes roamed mine. When the loneliness between us disappeared.

"But again, we were teacher and student. The line was clear, until it wasn't. And again, I surprised myself. I broke my own code and blurred the space so it wasn't black, white, or grey. It was multi-colored."

I didn't have to turn toward her to know Miu saw red. Komachi didn't know what I had just admitted, but Miu surely did. I had committed a crime of the highest degree: I spat on the tradition of the master-student relationship. But more importantly, I turned on my own principles. And made Kousaka Shigure turn on hers. My cheek stung within a second's notice. But I didn't have words. How could I have apologized for something I wasn't sorry for?

"It was just the once, Miu. Komachi wasn't home that day. And well, if the people who birthed us ever spared a thought about returning home for more than the holidays, maybe there would have been the slightest of chances they would have found out.

"Anyway, after that, things became weird between us. She was my first real love, you know? It hurt to pretend like nothing happened, but we did. And it was easier for her than it was for me; at least, that's what I've always believed. I don't really know anymore."

"How does that lead to you getting a girlfriend? Because clearly, you're just using her, whomever she is, for a rebound."

Had my laugh always been this hollow? The gaunt faces of my two companions clashed with their bright eyes. They were young, but they never faced the fallacy of youth. The two of them couldn't understand. They were never tortured the same way.

They held light in their eyes. I saw only darkness.

"Miu, you have to realize that my girlfriend doesn't care. We met under rather strained circumstances, but we took it in stride. It was uneasy to say the least. You know how we tested each other on our second date? We mocked one another and looked for blackmail on the opposing person."

The two of them looked at me incredulously. The sight made me laugh. Aggressive negotiations were the best way to sit equally at a table; Miu of all people should have known that by now. And before either of them could begin, I went on.

"We've spent quite a lot of time out of eventual necessity. And we both know each other a fair bit by now. Well enough. It's not like with you, Miu. There are just some things I can't share with you."

The hurt on her face made me add on, "It's not your fault. I mean, I don't seriously ask what you and that Shirahama kid get up to. Anyway, long story short, neither of us love one another. Neither of us mind. Because the whole point in getting with each other is to forget. She has someone she could never be with; and I had someone I was with but could never maintain a romance with."

"So is that all the two need each other for? Because honestly, if you needed, you could have found anyone, you know."

"No. Absolutely not. And yeah, I could have found someone else. But we found each other. And it worked out maybe because we were strangers that got to peel away the skin, one layer at a time. Sure, the physical side of our agreement takes up time here and there. But actually, we mostly just hold one another and talk." I got up and made myself some tea. All the talking made me restless.

"Uh… that sounds more like a real relationship than what you've been talking about."

"Maybe. But both of us know better."

"I don't get it. It's all so confusing." Komachi struggled to keep up, and I didn't blame her. How could I? The human was a complex creation, a creature of both simple and difficult thoughts - simultaneously, even. It was an animal of contradictions and one that made comprehension impossible. Particularly for others of its own kind. "What it does sound like, though, is that all of it hurts."

"You don't have to. All I'm asking is that the two of you accept what's going on. I don't need your support. I'd like it. Love it, really, but I don't need it." And that was the harsh truth. It cut them, but they understood.

Hikigaya Hachiman was not a nice person.

"Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."

Friedrich Nietzsche

"Why do you always call Shigure-sensei 'Kousaka?' You two were close, weren't you?" Shirahama Kenichi was rather clean. And by clean, I meant innocent.

Don't gut him for calling Kousaka 'Shigure,' do not maim him or crush him. The mantra barely worked, and I had to restrain myself from crushing his arms as we sparred.

The boy had been with Ryouzanpaku for a number of months and been in quite a few fights, but he had never had blood on his hands. It was infuriating. He really was a manga protagonist, one of the kinds I loathed the most.

I pulled out a smile. "Yes. Yes, we were."

He frowned. "Then why?"

He couldn't tell that it was fake. How disappointing. Was this just another one of those 'charming' factors I had heard so much about?

"None of your business, kid."

"I'm older than you!"

Wait. What? I blinked. "Really now? Regardless, it's really none of your business. What happened between Kousaka and myself isn't for you to know. You should really be more focused on how lax your stance is. Your flexibility isn't as bad as I thought, and you take hits, but really, you should never take hits you don't have to."

Thankfully, at least for him, his schoolyard was full of dirt and wasn't too hard. Otherwise I had no doubts he would have been sporting several broken bones at this point.

The fact that he wasn't slowing down might have impressed a lot of people. However, it only screamed of inexperience and a reliance on adrenaline. A lackluster control over his own body and an even worse comprehension of his own limits.

How did Miu ever think this guy was good enough for her?

"Look. I really just can't talk about it. Not with you. I don't care if she's your teacher. That doesn't mean you can't care, but there's a limit, you know?"

"Fine." The 'I'll find out anyway!' was so in his voice that I almost snorted.

It wasn't hard to distract him and get him back to our original task: getting him ready to fight better opponents. Like I had seen before, he persevered easily. Hopefully he was going to start seeing why I attacked him in the way I did.

"Use your knees quicker. It's strong, but you won't catch anyone with it unless they catch you. That, or unless you stun them with it." His kao-loi was terribly slow, but it had force. Unfortunately for him, I caught it with ease and if I were any better or any more adversarial, I would have crushed it. "Have you fought any other muay fighters? Or grapplers?"

"Only two or three."

My God. "Get Akisame to practice escapes with you and how to untangle yourself. You're losing too much focus every time you get close. See? Your momentum is completely gone each time you charge me. Not only that, you lose your own sense of rhythm. I heard you have an 'anti-rhythm' or 'no-beat' kind of attack, but all that does is tell me your fights have a lot of pause. Sure, you'd probably get the drop the very first few moments of that kind of hit - on anyone, I mean - but as soon as you fight someone better, that's just like giving a shark some blood. You're not going to get read, per se."

I jumped back and dodged and deflected each hit carefully, "But if it were me, I'd be doing exactly what I'm doing now; stalling until I can at least guess what kind of techniques you have. Though I guess I have a bias since I know what teachers you have. The only mystery is Furinji-sama's techniques."

Shirahama panted as he dropped to the ground. His eyes still had fight, but I saw the gears clicking behind them. I backed off to give him rest. Well, looks like these past two hours weren't entirely wasted.

His meditation was serene and downright absurd. I hadn't seen someone with this much focus at his level. I blinked. There was just an area with his 'presence.' Was that his seikuken? It wasn't a large area but it was dense. Incredibly so.

I may have underestimated Ryouzanpaku's training.

Shirama's hands moved slowly, but with each motion I saw it clearly, the sphere about him. He still sat in seiza, his eyes closed, his breathing calm and peaceful. But it wasn't complete. His fingers trembled and his fists were taut. Over the course of several minutes, I watched him transform.

His most practiced katas were from Ma and Sakaki; I wondered if he spent the most time with them. How much time did he spend with Akisame? Kousaka?

"Alright, Shirahama. Get up. We're going to go for a little bit more."

He lunged at me with fervor and struck out with another knee, this time with a more nuanced approach. He tipped it upwards and aimed for my chin and hit my cheek with his left hand; I rolled over and used the force of his own strike to propel him into the air with a grip on the same arm as I gave him a toss.

It was my most common pattern, and honestly, it was getting tiring. Should change that soon so he doesn't get used to just that. I had to know if he was becoming used to fighting, or used to fighting me. His reactions were getting better, but if was only reacting because he could predict this, then he was going to hit a hard-cap sooner or later.

"Oof!" Sadly, he didn't adapt. At least not as well as I would have liked - he tried to break free but realized midway through if he did that, he was only going to be more vulnerable midair. When he met the ground, he didn't counter my throw with his own. Guess he wasn't taking that many tips from Akisame after all.

"Dang it, Shirahama. How can you be this bad?"

He pouted. "Sorry, Hikigaya-san. I'll get it over time. I promise. Everyone I've fought has told me I have no talent, but they've also said that hard work beats talent and I work much harder than anyone else."

A dry laugh escaped my lips until it crackled into a full-blown cackle. "You're listening too much to them. For one thing, it's not like anyone denies that it's real so the both of us know it exists. The problem is how much people weight talent. To me? Talent matters. It matters so much; it's the epitome of unfairness."

"You can't blame failure on talent though," he protested.

"True. You really can't. But what is the point of working hard when you don't have the skillset to make any use of it? What is the point of trying when you have no skills at all?"

Shirahama was quiet for some time. My works did not shake him, but some deep thinking was a nice change of pace.

"I don't know if you've ever read manga, but Naruto has a character called Rock Lee who is a 'genius of hard work.' It doesn't matter how hard you work if you don't adapt and learn. Not all talent is about figuring out how to do something completely new or to learn something in one go."

"So then what do you consider talent, Hikigaya-san?"

"The ability to build. The ability to endure and imagine. The technical skill, mental fortitude; I guess, for me, talent is the amalgamation of many things. But you weren't wrong in that the idea of talent is no excuse for victory or loss. I would never say that it's not in consideration as an 'x-factor' or a contributing factor. Sure, it won't be the reason you lose. But it definitely helps.

"Imagine this: you started training at five years old and you're steadily climbing in skill. Ah, let's use dan rankings for example. After ten years, you've reached the third-dan level. But let's say someone who trains for a year or two ago climbs to the second-dan level. The second-dan might not be as good as the third-dan, but he's invested much less time in comparison.

"If fighting isn't something which either of them commit to fully, then it only seems more unfair, doesn't it? But in reality, it really only gets worse the higher you climb because those people are usually ones with talent and with work ethic. In the end, I suppose that talent is just a word to some people."

I hadn't meant to lecture him. But he needed to understand that talent was arbitrary, very much so, but real beyond belief. His teachers were failing him. Telling him that as long as he worked hard that he would overcome talent definitely instilled a manic tendency to go overboard; the downside was that this boy wasn't going to grow into a master anytime soon, if ever.

Disregarding talent was like disregarding skill. Some people had things they were better at; his, as I had just told him, was endurance. He needed to understand that that was what he needed to wield as his blade. He had to wage wars of attrition while climbing slowly. Without pushing his edge forward, he would only falter.

"Thank you, Hikigaya-san."

"You don't have to thank me. I'm only doing this as a favor to Miu."

"Speaking of which, how come you call Miu by her first name?"

I looked at him incredulously. "...What? Hasn't she told you anything? We're best friends. Wouldn't say we know everything about one another, but she and I have gotten on for three years now. You've been there for the better part of a year, so I'd say it'll be going onto four soon enough."

I searched his face for any hint of jealousy; the slightest hint of it was evident, but more awe and confusion. Probably as to why he and I hadn't met more than a handful of times, with this having been the very first in which we had fought.

(I didn't bother to correct him in that I'd been at the dojo far more times than he thought I had been and had seen that I wanted little to do with him.)

His eyes widened. "I thought you were just a student of Ryouzanpaku's!"

I twitched and slapped a hand across my face. "Do you have any idea how fortunate you are? There has only been five offers made, ever, for people to become a disciple of Ryouzanpaku."

The boy's jaw dropped. "R-really?"

"Yes. And of all of them, only two or three actually accepted the offer to become students of the dojo. In contrast, hundreds of applicants or eager idiots have come to Ryouzanpaku. And none of those have ever been taken."

How did this guy not understand the magnitude of his situation? Ridiculous. The stars were laughing at me; I just knew it.

"Depth is perception."

Anonymous

I met my girlfriend in public more often than not, as public spaces were the easiest for us to get to, away from our families. However, we hadn't ever done so in a situation like this. When she texted me "I have a surprise for you," I knew something was coming. But expect this, I did not.

The feral look on her face was reserved for two situations: intimidation and for her own amusement. Those two things were not mutually exclusive, nor did they require the other. However, the two of those reasons coincided much more than most people imagined.

Exhibit A: right now as she stalked up to me and put a hand of my cheek, her coldness causing me to shiver as her thumb gave the smallest of strokes. The lightest fluttering of her lashes dusted my presence and drew eyes from all around.

"Yukinoshita," I greeted, wiping off my sweat and tacking on a shirt. "What brings you here? As far as I know, your family owns a private facility or at least rents one out. Public gyms don't seem to be the place for people of your status."

"Can't a girl show off her boyfriend and make sure no one around here can get the wrong impression that you're available?" Carefully cropped brows waggled themselves and I had to restrain my laughter as well as the desire to follow every subtle motion her body threw at me.

"Well, normally, yes. But not if you want me to survive. You've just made my days insufferable." My gym life was shot; I saw people whispering in the background. Some pointed; most took pictures. Shame, because I enjoyed the peace and quiet here. But when the daughter of a Diet member came, cameras followed and there was little left to imagination with her words hanging in the air.

Traitorous looks were being cast my way as though I had somehow offended the staff by not informing them about my relationship. Their thoughts almost propped themselves off the diving boards: We needed, still need, press - why didn't you give us any these past few months?

A girl whom I had never seen before waved at me as though I had suddenly become Adonis. Because apparently being attached to a Yukinoshita meant that I suddenly acquired some stock in the dating market. Her vapid expressions weren't even anywhere near hidden. Apologies. Actually, no, not really. In no universe would you be a better catch than the girl I am currently seeing.

I grabbed my girlfriend's hand in one hand and my bag in the other as I walked past her out the front doors. And proceeded to be slammed by the blinding, bright sun that mocked me with the notice that it was barely late morning.

This was going to be a long, long day. Yukinoshita owed me for this, and I intended to lay claim to that debt later. The grin on her face was almost as wicked as what we were going to get up to.

"I guess we better go, then. My place or yours?"

She deadpanned. "I'm not going back home unless you dress me in a bodybag."

Typical. "Fine then. Behave. My sister's home. Look, I know that you guys got off on the wrong foot, but please, please do not upset her. I live with her. And plan on continuing such shared living; rent isn't cheap, you know?"

Yukinoshita gave me an incredulous look that only accentuated her adorable, pretty features as she made an offended sound. My eyes wandered about into her own and traced their way to her nose and down to her lips. "She should have knocked!"

That shook my hormones out of their trance. Wait. What. I wasn't going to dignify that with an answer. Why did my sister have to knock to get into her own house?

"In any case, we've been expressly banned from doing anything more than watching a movie on the couch."

My girlfriend scoffed. "Yeah. Because that'll stop us."

"Unlike you, I listen to my sister."

"You're no fun."

"And that's not what you said last week."

The two of us had actually gotten a lot more open with one another than I would have imagined. But time did that to people. It was nearing the middle of October already. Yukinoshita stuck her tongue out at me and said something dumb that made me crack a smile, and I returned the favor, etching the sound of her voice into my mind as I did so.

Her laugh took my mind to places that were often visited, but for all the wrong reasons.

Our walk was uneventful, as I had expected; Chiba, for all its bustle, had been something I was starting to grow too used to. It wasn't necessarily boring. But it was dull. Day in and day out of seeing the same things was numbing, and in some ways, the chaos of my life made me recall how much I was grateful for my life being more than normal.

Case in point: a couple that we passed had the girlfriend yelling rather curious obscenities at her partner and how she cheated on her with a boy. It occurred to me that relationships outside of ours were a much messier point than I thought, but that they were such a way because others had their lives organized on the other ends.

Emotions were truly strange. As the inverse of the average human being, nothing but this was the truth: sanity was for the weak, as I had expected.

We stopped by a park at her request; Yukinoshita had an odd fascination with parks, birds, cats, and watching others. And not oddly at all, it was cute. Ridiculously so. Her keen observation of life surrounding her was something that made me smile at her. She was a girl of many faces, and was going to become a woman of more masks, but seeing them melt off her skin made me satisfied.

Like my existence meant something.

"Komachi, I'm home; Yukinoshita's with me. Don't come into my room!"

There was a yelp that was sort of a screech. My fingers froze on the knob of my room's door. What was that. It couldn't have been, but if I wasn't mistaken, that was two voices. Both of them feminine, but still; Komachi didn't let me know.

No. I wasn't going to play the hypocrite.

"What's wrong, Hikigaya-kun?" She whispered the last word against the shell of my ear and I shivered. Right. Sorry, Onii-chan senses, different senses have to be taken care of today!

Yukinoshita, for all intents and purposes, was a miracle. Of course, all life was miraculous. And after our attempts at making such, we were thoroughly exhausted and devoid of energy.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hm? Have I been spacing out for that long? "Just how much I think we've changed. While the nature of our relationship remains constant, I guess our interactions aren't nearly as maddening as they once were."

She giggled. "Please. You drove me mad."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"Boredom is for people with no fun in their lives."

"Didn't you complain about being unsatisfied with life for most of our earlier dates?"

"Exactly."

I threw my hands into the air. This girl made no sense. I give her everything wanted; not good enough. I give her everything she needed; unnecessary. Do both? Just okay. She was just too much.

"You've gotten a lot bolder," she pointed out absently. "You don't mind taking charge if you have an idea. When we first met, you were so timid. Hesitation became you, and you only showed sparks of who you are now. You want to talk; you want to meet."

What on Earth was she talking about? I didn't feel any different. My eyes must have given me away because she laughed.

"We still don't trust each other, but we don't hide everything anymore. Remember? All we did was try to hurt one another until the other broke. It wasn't like either of us thought about the consequences."

Oh. That made much more sense.

"Er… thanks, I guess?" As much as we'd gotten to deepen this relationship, I was ashamed to admit I was still bad with people. My girlfriend still happened to be people.

She rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot, but at least you're entertaining."

Was I really? Social ineptitude was something that shouldn't have been amusing. Right? Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. "I guess it's true, then, that opposites attract."

"Mhm! I'm so ugly and you're handsome. Don't you remember cow eyes from the gym?"

"Ugh. Come on. That was so bad. The idea of me being handsome is a reality that ceased to be the moment my eyes came into full effect. I don't need that from you, come on; we all know that looks don't count when or where it counts."

We shared a laugh before she sighed into my bed and leaned back, embracing the comfort of sleep and a moment's reprieve. Seeing her like this made me grateful for being my own person; for being born just Hikigaya Hachiman. I had always been envious of wealthier households; after seeing her stress bleed into mine, I knew that I could never have managed it the way she did.

Meticulous, dedicated, powerful, and yet weak. She lived in the shadow of the Yukinoshita name and the brand it carried, from sycophants and servants to true followers and enemies. Of course she never trusted anyone. Which was why she was capable of lashing out and attacking.

But I was just some random variable thrown into her lap and exposed. I was supposed to be a good laugh and a good joke. I might still have been, truthfully speaking. It was foolish, stupid, to assume my relationship with this girl held any real weight in her life. Sure, I was an avenue of freedom and rebellion for her, but only until the string needed to be cut.

"Hey, Hikigaya-kun?"

"Mm?" Oh. She hadn't fallen asleep just yet, then.

"Do you mind if I call you Hachiman now?"

I paused. "If you want."

She tasted the feel of my name on her tongue and it sent shivers down my spine.

Names were not power. But names had meaning. And something in me wanted to give Yukinoshita that much; why, I didn't know.

"You can do the same for me, you know? I want to hear you whisper my given name."

What kind of gentlemen denied a lady? And which one did not return the favor? As courtesy for her earlier actions, my lips brushed against the nape of her neck as I kissed each character of her name along a trail that blazed its heat up to her ears and whispered.

She shivered and relaxed herself.

Even though we didn't love each other, it was easy to pretend we did at times. Because playing was something we could both walk into and walk away from.

It was a world in which the two of us could be persons away from planet Earth, and count ten thousand lightning bugs as we fell into peace. It was the saltwater room that didn't fizzle out or broil us; it was a space in which we couldn't have blamed a thing on the rain if we drowned.

Because our loss of control together was our control, together.

"Good night," I whispered, and left the world behind into the blackness.

I woke to a sight of a dimly lit room, the moonlight prickling through the blinds. Huh. That was not good; R.I.P. my sleep schedule.

I spared another glance at how her chest heaved up and down. How her beautiful eyes were closed and her arms soft with the paralysis of sleep, her face defenseless. She was genuinely asleep, and there, exposed to me and the world behind my closed door.

What did my name mean to her? What did I?

It hit me worse than the car did a year before A spasm; an eruption. My heart pounding, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the sight of her post-coital beauty not a part of my life. The thought of her being gone at a moment's notice. I didn't enjoy imagining it, but I could and did.

While I had was a firm believer that love forever was a joke, I had come to grow into my acceptance of her as a facet of Hikigaya Hachiman. Alternatively, I had become a part of her.

Still, relationships were meant to be rocked and I began to wonder when our ship would start to sink. It wasn't as painful a picture as I thought. Because as much as I didn't like it, I understood. Understood her, really. (Wasn't that frightening in of itself?)

Her solution, however, would have been obvious.

And borne out of sheer will. It was not a measure of cockiness or arrogance, or even wit and intelligence. It was merely selfishness. Not pride, not envy, not lust or gluttony. There was nothing that was 'out of bounds.'

To Yukinoshita, the rules existed and she abided by them, yes, but only when the benefits outweighed the cons. And the unfairness of her situation seemed to snap. She never pursued her own wants because she had known all along that what she wanted was a fantasy.

Pleasing herself was something she had to create a game out of, and I, in some twisted sense, belonged with her. She did not accept Hiratsuka-sensei's gesture; she followed along and made it into a meeting of her own making.

I groaned quietly into a hand. The warning signs had been there from the beginning. Bright eyes, flashy flesh, particular patterns of clicking and much more. I should have remembered that women were creatures of prey.

Not that I really had much reason to complain, given the status quo. (If this was the life of the hunted, perhaps I had been successfully captured by a queen to be given the royal treatment.)

If only my misery was quelled. But alas, 'tis not my fate, to find natural peace: evil be thou my good.

My mind frayed, jumping between the borders of 'edgy' and 'non-edgy.' But as I added up the words and actions of my partner, I knew that I was lucky to have met someone who complemented me. In spite of all my troubles, my time with her was a valuable experience that I learned from. Being with her wasn't anything what I expected or wanted. It was something that dragged one quarter of my body to Point A and another to Point B. But it was good.

Isn't that something to be happy about then? Perhaps Komachi and Miu had a point back then after all.

Equally, I was tortured by newer thoughts, that, once I started on them, they were impossible to stop. The torrent morphed from the gentlest stirrings of water to a wave that compounded its attacks against my skull. Or, what is happiness? What is the cost of joy? What is the price of peace?

All it did was remind me of how much Shigure never wanted to do the same for me.

(I was a mistake that she made, even if she took guilty pleasure in me once.)

How much Hiratsuka-sensei never even entertained a thought for her.

(Yukinoshita was kept at a safe distance, delusions far from my teacher's reality.)

I took one last look at my girlfriend's sleeping form and slid in beside her, an arm over her stomach as I hugged her close.

Life sucked. Growing up meant a lot of realizations because youth was nothing but lies coiled in the brutal undulations of the world's butterflies flapping their tiny wings.

But amidst the barren deserts, there was fire. Fire that waited to be lit.

"My knees are burning hot, but God is cold."

Tablo, Eyes, Nose, Lips

"So, remind me why you wanted to follow me again?"

"Hello? I want to meet your friend. You said you only had one, so she has to be your best friend. And it's a girl! How can you not expect me to be curi-jealous?"

Yukinoshita's sing-songy laughter filled my ears as we walked hand-in-hand down to the station.

"I have to warn you that everyone there's a bit obscure. I mean, I've talked about them here and there. Most about you-know-who. And no, we're not talking Tom Riddle; that conversation is not happening, not here, not now."

"Phooey."

"Yup."

She hummed her own tune and dragged my hand along for the waves as she lifted her own up and down, causing mass hysteria as people gaped at the sight of such a power couple. Just kidding. In all seriousness, she had too much energy about her person. There was no one past the age of twelve who used that much energy just to exist while doing nothing.

Which was why it was so easy to be captivated by her. Her beauty excluded. Honestly, I called her a beauty more often than not, and she was, but her plainness made her unplain. Or rather, her unrealistic averageness somehow changed her description from normal to noteworthy.

She wasn't overly tall, though she was by no means short. She wasn't fat nor was she just a twig. Yukinoshita was neither fashionably indulgent, but neither did she go full-me. Her eyes were pretty and attention-demanding, true; but it wasn't just the color or the shape. The way she blinked at people caught them red-handed and had them trace their line of sight until they matched orbs that drew people in breath by breath. They held a laughter about them, mocking, scornful, and yet playfully mischievous.

Source: the people on the train that were currently unable to look away from her.

"What do you expect, anyway? I mean, this is the first time you've wanted to meet them. And it was kind of sudden, too."

"Well, you know Shi-chan. So I guess I want to meet your equivalent."

If I wasn't seated, I would have fallen over. "My equivalent? That's not a good word for it, you know. There's no chance we could exchange them, after all."

"Perhaps not. I wouldn't share my Shi-chan with anyone, you knooow?"

"You don't have to copy a certain student council president to get on my nerves. Even if only sarcastically so."

She bumped her shoulder into mine. More giggles. I palmed my face as she planted her head onto a shoulder and slipped both her arms around one of my own. Her satisfied hum as she burrowed her head into me was a tune of doom; a signal of death, a beacon for the rage of the jealous. Yukinoshita, please stop with the physical contact!

People were staring more than before; however, the caveat was that they finally noticed that she wasn't alone. Acknowledged, rather. I had previously been easy to ignore, even while we held hands, because I could have just been mistaken for a tag-along, or as her pity-date. (Though I bet some of them assumed we were into 'paid dating;' given the disparity between her looks and personality versus mine, I would not have been surprised by such a belief. And in essence, it was not untrue, albeit with much different kinds of repayment.)

Deep breaths, Hachiman. Truth be told, however, was that I was plenty more nervous about her meeting Ryouzanpaku because she has never once seen me fight. Not that I believed it mattered to her, but because I had no idea what she thought of physical violence.

Violence was the weak man's con, and the lowest part of stratagem when incorrectly used. Thus, it made sense only to commit such when the tides were in one's favor.

Or, would prowess in fighting be seen as something to admire? A skill? Diligence?

"Ah, we're here!" She tugged my arm again.

"It'll be a bit of a walk; thank goodness you're not in heels. Otherwise I might have had to carry you all the way there."

Oh? The smallest tints of red freckled her face before they bloomed into a flustered crimson. I squeezed her hand supportively. Words, it seemed, were not her forte when she was truly taken aback. In fact, it inspired confidence that she was not a demon seductress and merely human, as I had not entirely expected. It was a pleasant surprise, and a truth that was obvious to anyone not suffering from even the slightest hints of chunni-syndrome.

"Can you imagine it," I continued, ignoring the smack against my arm, "you on my back, all the way there? Or in my arms?"

"S-shut up."

"At least Miu would have an interesting perspective of you. The others might just drop dead in shock. Ma more than anyone else. And that virgin boy, Shirahama."

"Who's he again?"

"Trying to get into Miu's pants."

Yukinoshita nodded accordingly. Then, her brain caught up to her ears. She looked at me, puzzled. " Wait, doesn't she like this guy?"

"Yes."

"So isn't him being a virgin a good thing?"

"Doesn't mean I can't tease him about it." She wasn't often a recipient of my patented "Are You Dumb?" looks but I felt she deserved it in this instance. Honestly. At least it gave me an excuse to pat her head. (Her scowl was adorable.)

"You're terrible."

"Yup."

She yawned into a palm as she took in the scenery about us. Even though she was well-traveled, it appeared that Tokyo was somewhere she often did not have a chance to visit. I knew of her trips to France, England, Canada, Indonesia, and even Korea, but it never occurred to me until now that she had always wanted to see more of her home country.

It was something to note for later.

"Look sharp, we'll be there in about five."

"Ooh." My girlfriend latched onto my arm intensely. "Have to make sure everyone knows I'm taken~"

"Silly girl. There are only three girls that can me away from you, and none of them would."

I rolled my eyes at her exaggerated gasp of hurt. "Three? Three women aside from me, your girlfriend? Oh, the horror. Death is upon my breast, a black shadow of looms before me. Not a dagger veils its touch, but a ritual of old may tempt me spell him to ask that question!"

"Mephistophiles is about as likely to answer your question as he did his most infamous friend. You might have more luck with Phoebus. Though, if you wanted, we can pretend that we're divine. Just make sure you can handle it." I winked, my voice dropping to a whisper, "But if you're Izanami, I'll play Izanagi. Wabi-sabi or not, admiring the dark does not mean I touch the unliving. I'll leave your wretched rot for greener pastures."

Her eyes jaded with coldness as she flashed another smile at me.

Neither of us had forgotten the nature of our relationship, strangely enough. At times, we did, but those moments were rarer now. Mostly because I was approaching adulthood. Weirdly, every reminder somehow gave our efforts as a couple strength.

The autumn cold nestled its burrow between us and Yukinoshita shivered. Sighing, I placed my jacket and scarf around her. "We're here."

I pushed my way through the thick oak and made a note to remind Miu that the doors needed fixing. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

A distant but loud tumbling and screech of pain followed my question. My ears twitched as they heard the sound of scraping and curses. I wondered what Akisame put him on to numb the pain.

"Ah! Hikigaya-san!" Shirahama Kenichi panted his greeting. His eyes did not miss the girl attached to my arm, but I was pleasantly surprised that he bowed to me first and then to my companion. "Am I allowed to call you senpai?"

There was a cheery aura about him, even though blood clearly seeped through some of his bandages. His arms weren't bruised at least, and they had become much thicker than I recalled. His posture was one of respect toward me, his eyes envisioning me in a new light.

So they finally got around to telling him.

"Eh, do whatever you want. By the way, this is my girlfriend. You can just call her Yukinoshita."

"Hello, hello. Actually, if you're not comfortable with that, you can call me Onee-san; after all, if Hachiman's like your older brother, then shouldn't I be an older sister?" Her wink was deadly, as I had expected. The other boy flushed an immaculate red as he sputtered out a denial.

Without warning, I shoved my girlfriend into Shirahama's arms, ignoring both of their yelps as I winced, unable to set up my block in time. I had prevented major damage but the heel kick hurt like a truck; I spared no time and grabbed the offending leg by the ankles.

Wrong move. I was flipped over and went airborne, a terrible stance for a person of my preferences. Again, I had to block another kick, this time aimed toward my stomach. I grunted as I was pushed into one of the trees.

My higher position allowed me for more versatile combat as I threw some rocks I had swiped off the ground, each deflected with ease. My heart pounded as I tunnel visioned and prepared to strike at my attacker.

I caught a glimpse of Yukinoshita's shocked face and stopped, dropping to the ground.

"Wow. Terrible. You were a snail just now, Hachi."

"Hey," I protested, "give me a break! I had my girlfriend next to me! If Shirahama wasn't there, then I wouldn't have been able to push her away that quickly, and I thought I did well enough."

"If Kenichi wasn't there, I wouldn't have done this approach in the first place," Miu countered, dusting off her hands and sticking her tongue out at me.

"Oh my. If this is how you and your best friend get going, no wonder you're so wild," my girlfriend purred, her voice cutting and dripping with venom. Cripes. She was furious for that push, even though I did it for her sake!

Shirahama flushed at the implications, but Miu hadn't cottoned on yet.

"Uh… don't kill me?" I sat atop the branch, perching myself a comfortable distance away from the one who emitted the aura of crouching tiger, hidden Hopachai. Woman, thou art Death!

A drawl cut into our conversation. "Maa, maa, Hachiman, Miu is right, you know. Oh, and congratulations on acquiring a partner."

"Akisame," I nodded to the newcomer.

The man was a fair distance away, but I knew for sure that he caught everything in Miu's greeting. I wondered how I measured up in his eyes. Not that they cared.

His blank look wasn't something I'd expected; his disinterest in my being here was well-known to me, though I supposed it was not as apparent to the others. Akisame's voice wasn't cutting or sarcastic, it did not ooze toxic. He didn't speak in excess to people he liked; he spoke to those who held his interest, regardless of where they sat in his worldview.

And recognizing how little interest he had in me nowadays was hurtful. While it was months ago, Kousaka telling me that he enjoyed teaching me seemed almost myth, given how closed off he was.

Was everything I had known just a dream? Were they wounds that scarred due to the passage of time? Had I made a mistake in excommunicating myself from Ryouzanpaku? Truly, I was worried.

But maybe, just maybe, I was reading too much into those two sentences.

I jumped down and hugged Yukinoshita from behind, a "Sorry," kissed into the crown of her head. She melted into my arms, but her huff told me I was nowhere close to being forgiven.

Miu stood, frozen by how comfortable I was with my girlfriend in front of others. Shirahama awkwardly whistled.

"Hello, Hachiman."

I stiffened. I took a deep breath before I turned to face him. "Furinji-sama. I apologize for dropping by at a bad time for you, but I'm sure you've heard of the phrase, 'happy wife, happy life?'"

"You don't need to apologize for coming here. You are always welcome, no matter what you might believe. You are, after all, Miu's best friend."

Ah. Miu's face darkened, and Akisame looked away. So that's how it was now. Just Miu's friend. Not a former student of two masters here.

"Thank you for allowing us into your dojo. May Miu be excused for a while? We'll join you in a bit, but I'd like to speak with her."

He nodded his consent; I murmured, "Come on," to my girlfriend as I grabbed her hand and dragged her off to Miu's room.

Once Miu locked the door, we exchanged glances and ensured that no one was listening in on us before the host officially welcomed us in.

"Sorry it might not be what you're used to," Miu said, "we're not well-off in any manner, though I suppose that's more along the lines of our tenants' laziness than their potential to earn."

Neither of us had missed the way Yukinoshita's eyes drank in the state of affairs at the dojo. Ryouzanpaku wasn't the mythical city of gold that Sir Raleigh had dreamed of, unless you were a martial artist. Something my girlfriend was not. But even then, this was no Mecca, considering how nomadic each of the masters here were; that reputation far exceeded the combined talents of the Ryouzanpaku banner.

This sanctuary was destitute to say the best, with appliances that stretched at least a decade past their expiration dates and a water system that was barebones. Moreover, the walls were white out of a lack of funds rather than the desire for the lack of color; at least, they were white where stretches of grey and brown did not smear themselves across.

What must have been once-ornate wood did run its ways throughout the compound, but they no longer shone except with the weariness of time. They were not rotten, but they screamed of age and a need for something new. There was no synergy between the paint or the wood, and given how there was not even a set of stairs for the upper floor, Yukinoshita probably had a low view of a place that I once thought of as a second home.

Before she could open her mouth, I interrupted, "Miu, it doesn't matter what either of us are used to; we are your guests, and you've opened your house to us. Isn't that right, dear?"

My girlfriend nodded affirmatively. She gave me just the barest of glances before her eyes perked up and her attitude did a one-eighty from her mild demeanor. "So, you're Miu, huh? I can totally see why my boyfriend's not always impressed with me."

Her eyes roved up and down and she giggled. "He's never even shown me a picture of you, you know? He's so protective!"

Miu smiled right back, her language filled with laughter. "Yeah, he is. It's funny how he sulks, too, right?"

"Oh, definitely."

The laughter in the air made me sweat bullets. Laughter was normally a connotation of good times, happiness, and joy. But no; laughter was actually a natural response to the unexpected. That was why humans often laughed at 'awkward' or 'bad' times.

Thus, the situation in front of me could have been mistaken for one of easy comfort and two strangers getting rather friendly in the span of mere minutes. The reality taken was that there was a dragon and a tiger both prowling about one another for reasons that I guessed, but did not know for certain.

In short, I was the DMZ between two regions locked by the unfortunate circumstance of simply existing near one another.

"Uh."

Twin sets of eyes pinned me down and warned me not to interfere; I cringed as I did what I knew I had to do. With a deep breath, I sat down on the floor and pulled Yukinoshita into my lap. "Let's all get along. Please; for me?"

My girlfriend, thankfully, did not struggle. Miu's inner leanings toward peace flickered up to the surface and she let out a mewl of disappointment as she sat down as well.

In spite of my actions, the tension did not die down. Really, if I had known that this was going to be so troublesome, I would have done more research to understand what was the best course of action. But since the chance had already passed, I figured I had to just do live Q & A: "So, yeah; why did you want to meet Miu again?"

While I understood people fairly well, no one could ever have accused me of understanding how to execute. Knowledge was not equivalent to comprehension, and as Kaiser Ryo once said to his little brother, I needed to learn the difference between playing a card and how to use one.

Apparently, the reasons should have been obvious, according to the looks on their faces.

Both girls let out exasperated sighs, but the one in my lap at least kissed me on the cheek. (She was definitely much more physically active today to get on Miu's nerves; perhaps her earlier actions had been to prepare herself, to 'get in the mood,' so to speak.)

"Hachi, you're truly helpless," my best friend muttered. "But nonetheless, I suppose he has a point. It is rather strange that it's taken you this long to introduce your girlfriend to your best friend."

"Hey, I've told you guys about each other."

"That's not the same, you moron, idiot, sleaze, Hachiman."

"Don't pick up bad habits from Komachi! And I'll have you know, that last description is perfectly me! The others are just lies and slander."

"Hah! What happened to your 'perfect little sister?'"

Yukinoshita's head whipped back and forth as she followed our exchange, her hair tickling my chin as she did so. "Mou, that's no fair; why are you guys ignoring me? Though, I admit that it's not bad, seeing you like this; you're so much livelier than normal."

"Sorry. It's just easy to get caught up in conversations with Miu. Don't worry though, you still have a lot of my attention."

The cheeky seductress responded by wiggling in my lap, demonstrating which part of my attention she really wanted. It made Miu visibly uncomfortable. Worry not, friend of mine; your room was not about to be spoiled.

Cue another awkward silence and an exchange of glances that I gleaned nothing from.

Miu coughed, "Hey, Hachi? It's fine if the two of us talk now, right? Alone?"

"Sure." The stress in her voice was hard to miss. It was pretty much what we came here for, anyway.

While I didn't know exactly what the two were looking for in each other, I surmised that Miu really just wanted to see what kind of girl my girlfriend was, but I had no idea why she had to do it alone. Leaving Yukinoshita with Miu was like leaving her in enemy territory blinded and outgunned. The predatorial look on my black-haired beauty's face told me that she felt it best for her to be alone on this foreign soil, but I couldn't assuage the worrying that gnawed at my bones.

The constant exchanges of looks seemed to be a battle of wills and wits that, perhaps, those of the male predisposition were best kept out of. It took only a moment to think of all the reasons why I didn't need to stay, but that same moment made me wonder why Miu judged so harshly.

I never really tried to stop her from living with Shirahama; I may have voiced my opinions, protested, but I had no real reason to seek him out. Miu was her own person, and so was he. There were complexities to their relationship that I had no part in, would never have been a part of, and was happy to remain isolated from. Similarly, my relationship with Yukinoshita should have been held in the same regard.

Still, I guessed that if anyone in the world did have the right to critique or judge my relationship, it would only have been Komachi and Miu.

Not that I would have broken up with Yukinoshita; neither of them really approved, but it was a turning point in our relationships and a mark on my youth that I aged slowly from boy to man.

"Don't rough her up, Miu."

I gave my girlfriend one more hug before I walked off and hugged Miu as well. As long as they didn't kill each other, that was better than I could hope for; just as none of them really controlled me, I wasn't one to try and tame others.

As I took in more of the dojo, I wondered if I could donate toward any repairs or changes. I didn't work any part-time jobs at the moment, but I did have some savings. A pang of guilt hit me as I thought about how little I gave back. In spite of our now distant take, I could have contributed something more than personal gifts for my teachers. I could do something for Miu.

Painting was something that was fun to do with a friend, and there was a lot of space to cover at Ryouzanpaku; next time I was here, we were going to slap this place up like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds and color it wild.

The sound of glass shattering against a wall made me duck. The impact wasn't anywhere near me, but the drive to dodge had been so drilled into me that I hadn't even a coherent thought before reacting. Idly, I wondered how Shirahama dealt with all the noise on a daily basis.

"Hey, Hikigaya, come over here." Huh. Sakaki-san was rather sober today. How strange. "Ah, don't get so tense. You'll get grey hairs before I do, you know? It's not good to stress so much, particularly when you should just be enjoying your life. I saw you got a girl now, so maybe you are; but really, just work on not tiring your heart out."

"Let's not talk about that, Sakaki-san. It's not a topic that really concerns you; all I'm willing to say is that we get along just fine."

"Really? Huh. Well, the two of you remind me a bit of how me and Akira used to be, so I guess so." He chugged another bottle and laughed gaily. Sakaki Shio was a carefree man most of the time, but his words weren't meant to be taken with a grain of salt.

Somehow, his confidence in Yukinoshita and my relationship seemed to instill some in myself. Somewhat.

But there was something nibbling at the back of my mind, and I had to ask, "Akira? You wouldn't happen to mean Hongou Akira, do you? That man's one of the One Shadow Nine Fists! Though I suppose that since both of you are karate specialists, I shouldn't be that surprised."

The karate master blinked. "How do you know him? You don't seem to be a Satsujinken type."

"I don't ascribe to either belief, you know," I dropped casually. "But I met him through his disciple."

Hawk eyes gazed at me. "What? He's got a disciple now?"

"Yeah, some kid by the name of Kanou Shou. He's supposed to be a super genius; he's about my age and he's almost already a master. He's not quite there, but I know for a fact the has taken some on and won. Moreover, I've heard stories that he was born and bred to be a master. Literally. There are scientific papers that have coded names, but after doing some research and putting two and two together, it's pretty obvious who the subject was."

Sakaki raised both brows; he wasn't used to me talking too much. Then again, he hadn't really ever been in my presence for more than five or ten minutes aside from the dinner table. "Ah. Sounds like you don't plan on fighting this guy. Don't you want to test yourself?"

I laughed. "Not if I'm going just going to lose. If I won against him, then your buddy would surely kill me. I highly doubt there would be a situation in which I wouldn't have to pull off a kamikaze style technique to end it, and by the grace of any god smiling on me that I lived, Yami wouldn't just let me walk away."

"Akira's not one to interrupt in his student's fights; if this Kanou kid falls, then he'd fall. All martial artists know it."

"But all humans know the taste of revenge, though when they acquire the desire, they know it not."

The master paused and grimaced, a memory clearly validating my statement. He shifted the focus of our discussion. "Anyway, what kind of road do you think you're walking now?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

His breath angry, he heaved, "Are you suicidal or are you just dumb? Fortune favors the bold, but you're no match for me."

I wasted no time answering, and instead, lunged.

Sakaki barely stood up before I got to him, but that poor timing had too many consequences in this quarrel. He dodged and almost smacked my head before I caught his grip and flipped myself to jump over; I hit the ground running, a dash into a knee-strike that he snorted away with a swat of his hand. Status update: floated like a fly, stung by some killer bees.

Okay then. Change of plans.

I knew this wasn't going to be like it was with Miu, but I wasn't sure what to expect about Sakaki's style. I had only seen him fight two times and I myself had never really lasted much against Akisame when he was my master; I had been able to take Kousaka for a few minutes before I became completely useless.

His stance was immediately set, his seikuken spreading as I traced his hands. There wasn't enough space for me to back off if I wanted to do anything to him. Worse, there wasn't even much space for retreating to begin with; not that I had expected any differently.

The overwhelming feeling of raw defeat hung in the air, its oppressive might eyeing me like I was just scraps left for dead that even hyenas refused to consume. Neither of us were under the illusion that my loss was in the works, but I felt his respect for me. He looked at me intensely, and I did the same.

I wasn't going to hold back, nor was I going to make excuses. This was a rare chance; even if he was just playing with me, I was fighting a master-class warrior on the grounds that I wouldn't be killed. It was a blessing that I intended to make full use of. The only question was how.

Circling him wouldn't work; if I took too long, he was going to grow tired and sluggish and not truly fight me for even a moment's worth. And on the opposite end of that, if I took too long and his defenses sharpened, I wouldn't gain much experience from this at all.

That left only one option: using offense as defense.

My hands writhed, finally unrestrained. Concentrate; control your breathing. One, two, one, two, three; one-two, one-two. Watch the hand!

Sakaki's sense of balance was insane; he easily shifted his center of gravity and he seemed as stable on one leg as he did on two. How was I supposed to attack him? Think; think! There!

His fist brushed against the palm of mine and I turned his own force against him, hoping to unnerve him. "Remember, Hachiman, that one's strongest enemy is oneself. To understand that is to know what the essence of attack. To use it is the pinnacle of defense."

Against a lesser foe, it might have felled them, but against Sakaki, it only disoriented him for a moment. Luckily for me, my faithful dagger was sharp enough to cut him, though unfortunately, not do more than cause minor wounds with my level of skill. "Weapons are acts of war; they cut and they slice, dice and mince, crush and destroy. But you must understand why they are as they are. No sword or shield is more than you are. If your weapon is not another limb, it is but a tool."

I thrusted and slashed up and actually got a good one. He blinked, surprised that he even took a direct hit. In spite of that, the small cut didn't even cause bleeding. Then, a devilish grin spread across his face as he let out a happy sound.

"Hmph! Not bad. Now I see why you're not keen on fighting Akira's brat."

Ugh. I was taking this seriously but Sakaki was only mildly entertained. As expected of a the Hundred-dan Karate-ka. Annoyed, I swept at his legs in an attempt to trip him; my foot hooked around one of his calves but slid down to his ankles.

That was my last move.

A fist slammed into my ribs faster than I could see it and I felt the blood-flow change. Crap. That was heavy damage. Was anything broken? I moaned as my right arm refused to raise itself. His knuckles must have chipped my guard because that arm was definitely broken.

"Huh. Son of a… guess I have to go get someone, eh? Got me good with one of those hits, so be glad. Oi! Ma! Akisame! Either of you guys around?"

Slowly, I blinked as my vision faded. Why was it so warm? And wet?

My last thoughts before the blackness crept in went something along the lines of: if this doesn't kill me, Miu might, Yukinoshita probably will, and hopefully Komachi can bury the remains or burn it. Please don't let there be an afterlife so they can all kill me there too…

...

Is this the love, is this the recompense

Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressed

Immutable when thou wert lost, not I,

Who might have lived and joyed immortal bliss,

Yet willingly chose rather death with thee:

And am I now upbraided, as the cause

Of thy transgressing?...

Adam, Paradise Lost, Book IX, ll. 1163-1169

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that there was a figure curled into my side. Strangely, it wasn't the feminine figure I had become so accustomed to over the past few months, nor was it my best friend.

Kousaka Shigure lay next to me and the two females I had been looking for were nowhere in sight.

"Urgh." I cough as I sat up.

"Take it easy, Hachiman."

I blinked. "Akisame? Oh, you must've taken care of things." Holy OUCH my arm hurts.

"Yes, yes I did." He paused and gave my arm a glance. "Unfortunately, because of where you were hit, we had to rebreak your arm for it to set properly."

"No wonder. Anyway, where's my girlfriend; where's Miu?"

"It's been a few hours, but they went out to do some grocery shopping and to stock up on supplies. I must say, you picked a good one; she offered to pay for our next week's worth of food and even invested on helping us make sure we have everything we need in this medical bay."

"Don't use her like that."

"But she offered," Akisame countered.

"Still."

Akisame laughed at me. "Don't be so crude. Everyone uses one another."

Like you did to me? I bit my tongue, because I just imagined his counter, again: Like you used us?

"Ah… Hachiman. You're awake." Kousaka's mumble was soft and garbled. She yawned, reaching into the air as she sat up. "I am glad that you are not," she paused, and looked me up and down, "hurt. Too much, at least."

"Wasn't sure if my ribs were going to make it; glad they did - all it cost me was an arm, though."

She laughed. Then her voice dried and made me shiver. It cut like a knife as it asked, "Akisame, could you please leave us?"

The man nodded and left the clinic; the click alerted me that we were ensured our privacy. I never knew it could be locked from the outside.

"Are you happy?"

Huh? I gulped. I hadn't expected to be greeted by eyes that searched. For what, I didn't know. (Something in me told me I wasn't going to find out.)

Her stare did not waver as it pinned me down. Slowly, I uttered, "I don't know."

"Why not? She's pretty, isn't she? She's rich, isn't she?"

"Well, yes," I said, as slowly as I did before.

Kousaka bit her lip and looked away. This was so unlike her. I didn't understand it. This wasn't just strange; it wasn't just awkward. It just felt wrong. The Kousaka Shigure I had always known wasn't an impenetrable wall, but she was no quivering schoolgirl.

That woman was confidence and self-assurance embodied in one lithe, nimble form. Her eyes crinkled with life, her lips pursed a red that wasn't quite ruby but was deep enough to enchant. Her gait was steady and controlled.

She was everything one needed to hold herself high. So why was she so shaken? Her hands cupped their opposite elbows; she sat meek and still. Her voice breathy, she eeked out one quiet question that chilled my core.

"Do you love her?"

And just like that, I was taken back to another time where we sat on the same bed. A time where, instead of a question, there was a declaration that rang into hollow air. A time with crossbones that had long since been swept into a closet and buried under many metric tonnes of sand, dust, and fire.

How dare she ask me that. How dare she put me on the spot when was the one who refused to give me an answer.

No tears welled up, but it hurt. More than anything, anger, pure, unadulterated rage roared, cutting through my skin and crawling up the bones. I felt like I was lit aflame.

But when I looked at her, it all melted.

Was Kousaka's skin always this dry? Her eyes were red, and I'd just noticed that her breathing was uneven. Really uneven. Lines cracked ever so slightly, just beneath her eyes, that filled into shadowy pockets. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, then.

I replayed her questions in my head and remembered the last time she talked to me. The truth, it seemed, was obvious in retrospect. She was jealous. Mostly afraid, but a bit of the former.

She is like me, but she is everything I'm not. But she's more than that; she is the things I cannot be.

Sighing, I gave her a hug.

Why was my former teacher so stupid at times?

"This all blew up because I was wrong to cross the boundary; I was wrong to push you. But," I took a deep breath as I massaged her shoulders, hoping that she would begin to relax, "you have to understand that you did something wrong, too. I won't say it's all your fault, you know? But you have to know you did something wrong.

"Even if you rejected me outright, I would have been fine with it. That's not what you did, though. You rejected me and danced around the issue; you stopped talking to me. You didn't even acknowledge me. How were we supposed to continue being master and student? How were we supposed to be friends?"

There was a heavy silence between us and I got off the bed and walked around the room. I needed to calm myself; the river was flowing, and rain was coming. If I had kept pace, then the impending tidal wave would have ruined everything I had been trying to grow.

Not that there was much of a harvest; the crops had long been waiting to be picked and most of them had rotted, but the few flowers left for bloom waited faithfully. And I was going to do everything in my power to get this phase of my life over with.

Walking kept me occupied while Kousaka recovered. The sword-wearer needed space; but this conversation was far from over and there wasn't much she could do.

She fiddled with the hem of her outfit and was completely lost. I understood that, by nature, she didn't understand people. Kousaka Shigure wasn't just quiet. She wasn't just lonely. She was confused. She was a woman whose talents took her far in one field; a lopsided existence, further emphasized by how esoteric her chosen field of mastery was.

There probably was little room for her to grow as an individual, particularly as one with a mental block and with naturally introverted tendencies.

Her actions started to make sense, the more I thought on them. She had led a mostly nomadic life until a few years ago, when her and Akisame joined Ryouzanpaku. Her social circle was so small, and yet complete, that she hadn't had a need to break out of it and learn. Even when she encountered the others here, she was comfortable and capable enough in the environment that she never had to challenge her people skills.

And Miu and her got along just well enough so that she was somewhat in touch with someone around her age, give or take a few years. And since the rest were her elders and she knew how to treat people as odd as her, she hadn't concluded that such things were out of the realm of the average human. The thought that there was work to be done probably never even crossed her mind.

In fact, I might have been the very first 'normal' person she had ever known, chosen to know, on an intimate scale.

That was kind of sad to realize, truth be told.

It felt like an eternity before I broke the silence. "You know, between you and Akisame, I'd say that I got along with Akisame better than you as a student with their master. But between two people, being with you was something I enjoyed a lot more."

She smiled at me slightly.

I continued, "It was fun being with you. You got on my nerves, and you made me do painful things. You made me wary, but you never tried to really hurt me. You took your job as a teacher and friend better than you give yourself credit for. And you made a mistake. A big one, but yeah, just a mistake. You're only human, you know?"

The dimmest cracking made its way into the air in the form of a crying woman. "Sorry, Hachiman."

I hated when women cried. Well, I hated when this woman cried. "You should be. But more than that, you have to keep looking forward. Right now, you're only looking back. And that's just not okay."

"I missed my chance; right?"

Oddly sharp indeed. "Yeah."

I couldn't have held back if I wanted her to walk on. She needed my affirmation, in spite of the evidence that pointed out how obvious it was. She needed to hear it from me. And I needed to tell her, for me, too.

"Can you forgive me?"

"I already have." I looked right at her, our eyes finally meeting for more than just a breath. "I won't forget, though."

She flinched, but didn't avert her gaze. She heaved a deep breath and said, voice trembling, "Thank you."

There was a final question on her lips, but it died as a raging dragon roared from outside. "Hikigaya Hachiman, you better open this door or so help me God!"

We jumped with a yelp. God, Miu had lungs. A second cry made me grab the blankets in an attempt to save my hide. Unfortunately, the blizzard reached from through the door and occupied the entirety of the room. (Kousaka looked shocked, and drew her sword. I wondered if she suspected the work of an alien.)

"If you've done anything with someone other than your girlfriend, you'll find yourself girlfriendless and in need of some large quantities of surgery. Specifically in your reproductive system." The voice could have frozen over Hell itself. And I wasn't ready to tempt that fate.

My hands rushed to open the door and as quickly as I could, I gave Miu's hand a squeeze before I rushed over to hug my girlfriend, to whom I swore an oath that I was absolutely, one hundred percent faithful to her. I proceeded to kiss her cheek and wrapped my arms behind the small of her back as I forcibly pressed her into me.

The two startled women blinked and then flushed as their jaws dropped. The blonde didn't know what to do, and all the other did was stutter and sighed into my arms. I pecked at the top of her head and felt her heat up even more.

Neither of them moved, so I guessed it was up to me to take action. Step one? I coughed. "Pardon my brash actions, but I'd like to think that you enjoy me having a certain piece of equipment as much as I do. So yeah, you think I cheated on you or not?"

She buried her head in my chest and I grinned. "That's what I thought."

My well-being secured, I asked my best friend, "So uh, you need a hand with dinner? Or is dinner off the table? And uh… oh, crap, what time is it? Did anyone call Komachi?"

Exasperated, she simply slapped the back of my head. "You're an idiot, but it's okay. You'll get fixed one day. Hopefully."

The last bit was muttered, but both of us knew I heard it. It was good to have banter again.

All wasn't well, but I knew that things were looking up. And was all I could have asked for.

"Yesterday,

all my troubles seemed so far away;

now it looks as though they're here to stay.

Oh, I believe in yesterday…"

Paul McCartney, The Beatles, "Yesterday"

Notes and Acknowledgments

Special thanks to the writers Jan Lee and gabriel blessing of .

Originally just a thought concept for slapsticking people around, this piece was meant to be a side-project and something I didn't think much of, but eventually it consumed most of my effort and time. Shigure and Shizuka were initially meant to be foils to one another because I had it planned out that they would both be Hachiman's teachers. Somehow, I threw in Akisame and then everything went for a loop and I just lost track of what I put in, but I've gone back to edit quite a bit. Hope at least one of the readers enjoyed this.

A common problem I have with my writing is that people often criticize a lack of plot and I strongly agree with them. There is little development over the course of my tenure at , but I will keep trying. The evidence is clear: the purpose of this piece is now lost on me, but I think it is just another one of those poorly written character exploration bits I do again and again. The initial premise was that Hikigaya Hachiman makes a name for himself in martial arts and eventually, it bleeds humorously into his normal life, with a focus on the latter. However, I couldn't really agree with it.

While fighting is evidently a part of this work as one of the series in this crossover is HSDK, I had no intention of making it a focal point of the story. I felt it dishonest if I did not include any mention of fighting whatsoever, but I felt it equally wrong for me to concentrate on it for the purposes of this work.

That being said, I admit that I do not practice any type of martial arts or fighting. I've never had any official learning, but my friends and I sparred often with a 'no holds barred' kind of fighting ground in people's basements for many years. Literally the dirtiest fights you might imagine. Thus, I will admit to my fighting scenes and discussions of fighting or in-battle tactics being poor as I have little genuine experience regarding such.

Furthermore, I want to address my lack of realism in the fighting aspects particularly to how flexible and mobile my characters seem. The problem I have here is not only making the fight scenes believable or real, but having them reflect HSDK to a certain degree. Like most mainstream shounen manga, there are insane acts that defy the laws of physics.

I was not sure how to translate that into the world of Oregairu because one world is heavily touched by realism but the other is touched by the suspense of common physics, yet seemingly occurs in modern Japan (the series was written in 2005, but I have no idea when HSDK officially takes place in time). But to undercut the overbearing nature of HSDK's fighting would be to strip it of its identity in this crossover. It is something I will endeavor to work on in further crossover pieces.

As for my 'universe' here: while I know that the tournament "D of D" should have, canonically, taken place in the summer, I again stress that I'm not a believer in all pieces of canon. Given how I've paced Shirahama Kenichi's place in Ryouzanpaku, a lot of the series should have been underway already.

Kousaka Shigure is a character I enjoy thinking about, but Akisame Koetsuji was my favorite of the HSDK universe to write about here. I like how Shigure has mannerisms that are equally socially awkward to that of Hachiman's, yet her only excuse would have been that she was raised in isolation by Akisame - after being introduced to Ryouzanpaku, she should have, naturally, developed better social skills and the ability to interact with others on a typical level.

But because she doesn't, at least not canonically, I think it's food for thought that she's probably a savant; I have encountered several individuals with similar speech patterns and inability to socialize. (On that note, I was not a fan of using multiple ellipses everytime Shigure spoke in this piece, so I tried to avoid it as much as possible, instead restorting to commas or sentences that seemed choppy.) Shigure also lacks a solid character arc in HSDK canon, second only to Furinji Hayato, when talking about Ryouzanpaku.

Much of what is known and discovered about her still leaves a lot to be desired; sure, there is the 'mysterious' angle to approach, but I find that it isn't enough for me. Thus, while Shigure does not dominate this work, I had hoped that she would play an integral part in it, though I don't believe I've succeeded in implementing her as someone more critical than other characters. I'll try writing her again someday.

The time in which she and Hachiman engage in their sexual relations is not written about expressly because I wasn't sure when to put it in the story; moreover, while it is a unique cause in the fracture between him and Shigure, I don't want it to be the focus of the story itself. You can slot in the event whenever you imagine it happened, though personally, I'd like to think it might have happened not long after the first few parts of this story. Or perhaps even before it.

There is an inherent problem with that, though. Because it is an integral event that does affect a lot of the remaining story, it should be somewhat more described or inserted. I spent quite a number of hours trying to see where it should fit and eventually decided against it.

As for some context with what I did for Oregairu; I kind of decided that Hikigaya's school life needed more than just Hiratsuka-sensei, but at the same time, I really didn't feel the need to include many of the other students. So I figured I would include them indirectly at best. And yes, I called Hayato a princess.

From what I recall, an early draft of this work also included Shizuka being jealous of Hikigaya's other teacher, whom he privately calls "Shi-chan;" part of that idea had her wanting Hachima all to herself, but that also phased out fairly quickly in favor of just getting a girlfriend much closer to his age.

Finally: happy eighth of August, or as I like to call it, Hachiman's Day.

EDITS:

8 Aug, 2019: Had to fix some formatting issues (line breaks) that didn't get processed correctly into ffn.