And So, I Return the Question

The clock ticked away softly in the corner of the room, filling the occasional silence between conversations. The Service Club room wasn't exactly the liveliest place, but it wasn't the worst spot to kill time, especially when the alternative involved wandering aimlessly around the school.

Across the room, Yukinoshita Yukino sat at her usual spot, posture straight and perfect. For her, slouching was a mortal sin. On the other side of the table, Yuigahama Yui leaned forward, her expression contorted into what I could only describe as deep confusion.

"So… wait, hold on. You're saying this part is important?" Yuigahama pointed dramatically at a diagram of what looked like a flower arrangement. "It's just a bunch of flowers! What am I supposed to get from this?"

Yukinoshita sighed softly, tapping the page with the tip of her pen. "It's not just a 'bunch of flowers.' It's the foundational concept of ikebana – flower arrangement. The balance between the flowers and their placement creates harmony. You're supposed to interpret their meaning."

Yuigahama groaned, sinking lower into her chair. "I thought we were just picking flowers for a class project! Why does it have to be all deep and stuff?"

I glanced over briefly. It seemed they were discussing some kind of cultural activity, likely for a school event. Judging by the growing frustration on Yuigahama's face, though, she probably wasn't getting very far.

"You're overthinking it," Yukinoshita continued, her voice cool and precise. "Just follow the basic structure, and the arrangement will naturally reflect your intention."

"That's easy for you to say, Yukinon! Everything you do looks so… elegant. If I tried to arrange flowers, it'd just look like I dumped weeds in a bucket."

A small smirk tugged at Yukinoshita's lips. "Perhaps that's because your intentions are as chaotic as your methods."

Yuigahama pouted. "So mean…"

I tuned them out and turned my attention back to my phone, scrolling aimlessly through messages. It wasn't that their conversation wasn't interesting – I just had a finely honed skill of avoiding situations where I might accidentally get roped into doing work.

"Hikki!" Yuigahama's voice snapped me out of my trance.

I glanced up lazily. "What?"

"You've been staring at that thing forever. What are you even doing?" Yuigahama approached all of a sudden and, like a curious dog, leaned forward her nose, trying to get a peek at my screen.

"Texting."

"With who?"

"A girl."

The room fell silent. Even the clock seemed to stop ticking for a moment.

Yuigahama's eyes widened, and she practically jumped a distance from me. "EHH? No way! There's no way that's true! You don't even talk to girls, Hikki!"

Who are you then!?

From across the table, Yukinoshita's gaze lifted from her book, one elegant brow arching slightly. "I find that highly unlikely. Perhaps you've resorted to blackmail, Hikigaya-kun." Her tone was casual, though her words weren't exactly kind. "I imagine there are few other explanations for such an improbable scenario."

I sighed, not even bothering to look up. "Wow. Glad to know you both have so much faith in me."

"Because we know you," Yuigahama chimed in, crossing her arms confidently.

"If you must know, I'm texting Komachi," I replied, finally pocketing my phone. "She needed me to pick something up for her on the way home."

Yuigahama blinked. "Oh…"

Yukinoshita, to her credit, didn't look particularly fazed, though I noticed the subtle way she adjusted her hair, brushing it over her shoulder as if to mask the momentary lapse in her composure.

"I suppose even you are capable of maintaining at least one functional relationship," she remarked, casually damaging my ego. "If that much weren't true, it would be rather concerning."

"Happy to meet your low expectations."

I stood up, stretching lazily. The soft creak of the chair echoed in the otherwise quiet room. "Anyway, I should head out. Komachi is unforgiving when it comes to preparing Curry."

Yuigahama perked up, offering a small wave. "Oh, okay. See you tomorrow, Hikki!"

"Try not to make too much of a mess," Yukinoshita added, her eyes narrowing slightly as if issuing a formal warning.

"No promises."

I took my bag, stuffed my hands into my pockets, and made my way toward the door. As I stepped into the hallway, I let out a soft sigh.

This club really is a mess. But at least it's an entertaining one.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

The sky was beginning to turn shades of soft orange by the time I left the school gates. The streets were quiet, the occasional hum of passing cars the only noise breaking through the cool afternoon air. I pedaled lazily, not in any particular rush to get home.

Of course, that didn't mean I could avoid my duties forever. Komachi had made sure of that with a single text message:

Komachi: Onii-chan, don't forget to pick up the stuff I asked for~! :3

Subtle.

With a sigh, I veered toward the local supermarket, locking my bike outside. The sliding doors opened with a cheerful jingle, which I'm convinced was designed to haunt people like me – the ones who loiter just a little too long in the snack aisle.

I ran through Komachi's list. Curry blocks, vegetables, chicken. Simple enough. Even I couldn't mess this up, probably. I grabbed what I needed and drifted to the cashier.

By the time I was back on my bike, the sun had dipped lower, the sky slowly fading into pale hues of purple. Pedaling toward home felt easier with the weight of duty and groceries behind me.

Soon, I reached home.

"Welcome back, Onii-chan!"

Komachi's voice greeted me the moment I stepped through the front door. She practically bounced out of the living room, her bright smile almost blinding. How does someone keep this much energy in reserve all day? Is my little sister solar-powered?

"I got everything you asked for," I said, holding up the grocery bag.

"Yay! Kitchen, let's go!" Without missing a beat, she tugged on my arm, steering me toward the kitchen like I was a lost child.

"Hold on," I protested, trying to dig my heels in. "I need to change out of this uniform first."

Komachi pouted, arms crossed in exaggerated disapproval. "But we're already here… You can survive a little longer in that, right?"

"I'd rather not cook while feeling like a crushed can of soda, thanks." Komachi's arms tightened around me in protest, her cheek squishing against my back with all the stubbornness of a cat that refused to move from its spot on the couch.

"Fiiine." She finally released me with an exaggerated huff, flopping dramatically onto the kitchen counter as she'd just been told her favorite show was canceled. "Hurry up, okay? Komachi doesn't like waiting!"

"And quit talking in the third person."

Komachi puffed out her cheeks, crossing her arms in mock offense. "Ugh, you're so boring sometimes, Onii-chan." She spun on her heel, her slippers squeaking against the floor as she retreated back to the kitchen. "Don't take too long, or Komachi might just eat without you!"

Her laughter echoed down the hallway, light and carefree. I shook my head, watching her disappear around the corner.

I swapped the stiff uniform for something more comfortable. Perfect attire for surviving kitchen with Komachi.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, Komachi had already unpacked the groceries and was dramatically holding a knife like she was about to battle the chicken. I wordlessly took it from her. Some things were best left to the professionals.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

Komachi grinned. "I'm supervising!"

"That's the same as not helping," I muttered, slicing the chicken into neat pieces.

"Eh, so?"

Fair point.

As the curry began to simmer, Komachi propped herself against the counter, watching the pot bubble quietly. The air filled with the rich, savory scent of spices, and for a moment, the world felt calm.

Then, inevitably, she broke the silence.

"So, how's the Service Club been lately, Onii-chan?"

"Same as always. An unfunny circus." I stirred the pot with all the enthusiasm of someone clocking in for overtime at a job they didn't sign up for. "Yuigahama struggles with basic tasks, Yukinoshita judges everyone silently, and I exist."

Komachi giggled. "Sounds like you have fun."

"If your definition of fun involves watching someone nearly set a room on fire while another person quietly contemplates whether or not you deserve to live."

She laughed again, louder this time. "Maybe you should try looking at it differently."

I gave her a sideways glance. "And how do you suggest I do that, oh wise one?"

Komachi shrugged, her expression bright and carefree. "I dunno, but if you keep acting like an old man, you'll get gray hair before graduation."

I stared at her, deadpan. "I think we both know this level of stress isn't what causes gray hair."

"Yeah, yeah. You're such a drama queen, Onii-chan."

I couldn't deny the faint tug at the corner of my lips. It was hard to stay grumpy with Komachi around.

The conversation drifted into a comfortable lull. Komachi twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, eyes distant.

"You know…" she started, "It's been a while since Onee-chan was here."

I paused mid-stir.

Onee-chan.

That could only mean one person, the Evil God that had somehow wormed her way into Komachi's heart.

I set the ladle down carefully. "Why bring her up now?"

Komachi shrugged, but her smile was smaller this time. "I guess I just miss her. It's not as fun when she's not around to mess with you."

Right. How could I forget? Evil God didn't just mess with me. She took her time in it. I could practically feel the ghost of her presence looming in the kitchen. It's been a long time since I have seen her.

"She is busy with her new school... Or maybe she finally got tired of me," I offered, though I knew that was wishful thinking.

Komachi furrowed her brows suddenly, lips pressing into a thin line. "You say that, but I know you like it when she's around."

That stopped me. I met her gaze, but she wasn't backing down.

"I like it when she's around because it makes you happy," I replied flatly, lying. "Let's not twist things into something they're not."

Komachi's eyes narrowed. "You're stubborn."

She stuck her tongue out at me playfully before turning back to the pot.

As the curry finished cooking, I plated it up, sliding a dish over to Komachi.

"Itadakimasu!"

"Itadakimasu."

I grunted in response, taking my own plate to the table.

Still, as I watched Komachi dig into her food with that ever-present bright smile, I couldn't help but wonder.

Just how did Evil God manage to wrap my little sister around her finger so easily?

Komachi suddenly furrowed her brows, her spoon halting midway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed with that all-too-familiar I'm about to say something you don't want to hear look.

Komachi rested her chin in her palm, poking at her curry with her spoon. "Y'know, Onii-chan, I think you've been less spiteful towards innocent teenagers since Onee-chan started hanging around."

I nearly dropped my spoon. "Innocent teenagers?" I raised an eyebrow. "Komachi, if you're trying to paint high schoolers as pure-hearted lambs, I have some disappointing stories about locker room gossip and group chats."

She giggled. "Okay, fine. But you have been braver with your words since that time. Even if they're still mean sometimes."

She referred to my confession incident.

"I'll remember that the next time I need a glowing review of my personality." I steered the conversation away from the direction it was heading.

But Komachi wasn't done. Her gaze drifted to the side, thoughtful. "I think Onee-chan helps. She's weird, but she made you say things you wouldn't normally say. It's kinda nice. I even thought you looked less dead."

I let the silence hang for a moment, hoping she'd move on.

She didn't.

Komachi smiled as if she understood something I didn't. From her perspective, it appeared like Evil God's presence had somehow unlocked a gentler, better version of me. On the outside, I seemed more confident and open-minded, less Hachiman-like.

In truth, Komachi didn't understand at all.

Evil God was not someone who drew out kindness or warmth. She wasn't some misunderstood girl with a heart of gold hiding beneath layers of social awkwardness. If anything, she was an anomaly wrapped in the skin of a high schooler—something detached, watching the world like it was an experiment she wasn't fully invested in.

Komachi couldn't see that.

She thought of Evil God as just another odd but well-meaning girl—oblivious, inexperienced, and terrible at expressing emotions. Someone harmless.

I let her believe that. Lies are kind, after all.

It was easier for Komachi to think that way than to realize the truth.

Because the truth was unsettling.

Evil God didn't see me as a person. Evil God didn't see Komachi as a person. Not really. More like an object to whatever image she had in mind. A passing question, nothing more.

But that was fine.

As long as Komachi was happy, I could play along.

Komachi tugged at my arm, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You still remain so stubborn, Onii-chan." she pouted.

"Y-Yeah, well. Old habits die hard."

She turned back to her plate, humming quietly as the tension dissipated.

I plated the rest of the curry, sliding a dish over to her.

"Thanks for the food!"

I closed the door to my room with a soft click, shutting out the rest of the house. The distant sound of Komachi moving around faded as I flopped onto my bed, sinking into the comfort of familiarity.

The ceiling stared back at me, indifferent as always.

I exhaled slowly.

Peaceful days like this were rare. Not that I was complaining. I preferred the quiet over the exhausting back-and-forth that usually accompanied the Service Club. But even still, the calm made my thoughts wander.

Old habits die hard, huh?

Komachi had a point. Maybe I was stubborn, maybe I wasn't. But at least it kept things predictable. Stability was underrated, after all.

I reached for my phone, the cold screen lighting up as I stared at the lock screen for a moment longer than necessary.

There wasn't much waiting for me — just the usual collection of random notifications I ignored, the occasional text from Komachi, and...

8MAN: How are you?

My thumb hovered over the send button. The message sat there, unsent but ready to go, like it had countless times before.

I hesitated. It wasn't like me to reach out first. But after Komachi's sudden shift in mood earlier, the thought lingered longer than I expected.

With a quiet sigh, I pressed send.

A familiar screen greeted me.

[Last message: 1 month ago]

The empty space beneath the text felt heavier than it should have.

Evil God hadn't responded in over a month.

I didn't know where she lived. I didn't know her home address or her landline. Hell, I didn't even know if she had a landline. If she wasn't answering her phone, there wasn't exactly a second option.

The realization settled in uncomfortably.

Now that I thought about it… I didn't know anything about Evil God.

Did she have siblings? What were her parents like?

Even the most basic details were a mystery. For all the time we'd spent together, I use the term 'together' loosely. It felt like I'd been standing next to a void the entire time. A walking enigma that offered nothing and asked for even less.

It wasn't like I ever felt the need to ask before. There was a certain peace in not knowing. The less you dug, the fewer things could disappoint you.

I stared at the screen as if the sheer force of will alone would summon a reply. Nothing came, of course.

I wasn't sure why I even expected it to.

Still, the question left my lips before I could stop it.

"…What happened to you?"

The room remained silent, offering no answers.