After Running, I Stumble

The golden glow of the Royal Okura Hotel's chandelier bathed the lobby in an almost blinding light. I squinted slightly, feeling distinctly out of place as I stepped onto the marble floor. The soft piano music in the background didn't help but made me feel like I'd accidentally walked into the set of some high-society drama.

"This place… is a little much," I muttered, tugging at the collar of the button-up shirt Komachi insisted I wear.

Yuigahama shuffled nervously beside me, clutching the strap of her purse. "Yeah… I feel like I should apologize for breathing the wrong way."

I glanced over at Yukinoshita, who stood perfectly composed at the front of the group. The regal atmosphere barely fazed her. She strode forward, steps light yet deliberate, as if she'd been born to walk across floors that probably cost more than my entire monthly allowance.

Figures.

"Yukinoshita," I called after her. "Are we even allowed to be here? This isn't one of those places where they ask for your bank account balance before letting you order a drink, right?"

Yuigahama shot me a look. "Hikki, don't say that out loud!"

Yukinoshita didn't slow down. "As long as you don't draw attention to yourself, no one will question why you're here. Just… try not to slouch."

I straightened my back begrudgingly, though I still felt like every pair of invisible eyes in the room was focused directly on me. No slouching, blend in, don't breathe too loud… Indeed, the classic tactics for infiltrating enemy territory.

But even as I silently mocked the situation, I caught the way Yukinoshita's gaze flickered to the far corner of the room, where the lounge opened into a sleek, high-end bar. Her usual cold expression softened just for a second before tightening again.

So, even if you don't like this place…

The hotel might not intimidate her the same way it did me and Yuigahama, but it clearly wasn't a comfortable place for her either.

Yuigahama leaned toward me, whispering nervously. "Is it just me, or does Yukinon seem even scarier when she looks totally calm?"

"No, that's normal," I replied, keeping my voice low. "Calm Yukinoshita is just the precursor to judgment Yukinoshita. It's like watching the wind stop right before a typhoon."

As if to prove my point, Yukinoshita stopped at the entrance of the bar and scanned the room. Her sharp gaze lingered near the back where a few staff members in sleek uniforms moved between tables.

"There," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Kawasaki-san."

I followed her line of sight and spotted Kawasaki, dressed in a black server's outfit, balancing a tray as she maneuvered between guests.

"Huh… I wasn't expecting this," Yuigahama said.

"What, you thought she'd be secretly running some underground fight club in the basement? You knew how this looked from down there."

"I-I didn't say that!" Yuigahama flailed.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Kawasaki told me she wrestled bears on weekends, I'd believe it.

Yukinoshita cut through our banter with a quiet but stern tone. "We're not here to make jokes. Let's not waste time."

I sighed but followed her lead as we made our way to a table, keeping a respectable distance from Kawasaki.

Yuigahama nervously glanced around the bar, leaning closer to whisper. "So… how do we do this? Do we just, like, wave her down or…?"

I palmed my face.

"She's working," Yukinoshita replied. "We wait."

I rested my chin on my hand. "Right, because there is nothing suspicious about three teenagers parading in expensive outfits and silently watching someone from across the room."

Yuigahama fidgeted awkwardly while Yukinoshita remained composed.

After a few moments, Kawasaki finally noticed us. Her eyes narrowed almost immediately, and she set her tray down with more force than necessary before briskly approaching our table.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Yukinoshita met her glare without hesitation. "We're here because your brother is worried about you. And because this isn't exactly the kind of job that aligns with school regulations."

Kawasaki's expression darkened. "I'm not quitting."

I could practically hear Yukinoshita's composure crack. Her usual confidence didn't waver, but something colder slipped into her tone. "Kawasaki-san, you lied about your age to get this job. I could inform the hotel management."

Kawasaki's lips pressed into a thin line, her fists tightening at her sides.

Before Yukinoshita could press further, Kawasaki spoke, her voice sharp and cutting. "Of course, someone like you wouldn't understand. You're from a rich family, right? You don't know what it's like to actually need to work."

Yukinoshita froze. The insult wasn't loud, but it landed with more weight than anything else in the room.

Yuigahama quickly interjected, trying to ease the tension. "W-We're just trying to help! Taishi's been really worried about you…"

But Yukinoshita stepped back without another word, her eyes lowered.

"Hey..." I tried to say.

"I'll leave the rest to you, Hikigaya-kun," she said quietly, turning on her heel and walking toward the exit. Yuigahama hesitated, glancing between me and Kawasaki before hurrying after her friend.

I watched them leave in silence before letting out a long breath.

"Well," I muttered, glancing at Kawasaki. "That went about as well as I expected."

Kawasaki's eyes narrowed as she glanced between me and the door Yukinoshita and Yuigahama had just walked through. With a frustrated sigh, she returned to her work.

"You guys shouldn't have come," she muttered, her voice low but sharp as she disappeared behind the counter.

I stayed where I was, lingering awkwardly near the table. The weight of the situation settled uncomfortably on my shoulders, and for a moment, I considered leaving.

But then again… Komachi would probably guilt me about it later. Something about not abandoning people or whatever sibling moral high ground she likes to stand on.

With that decision, I slowly made my way toward the bar. Kawasaki was standing behind it, wiping down a glass with more force than necessary.

I sat down on one of the high stools, the leather creaking softly beneath me.

Her eyes flickered to me briefly before narrowing again. "What are you still doing here?"

I rested my elbow on the counter and shrugged. "Waiting for you to bring me a drink."

Her hand stilled on the glass.

"…Get out."

I smirked slightly, but it faded just as quickly.

"Seriously, though," I said, leaning forward slightly. "Why are you working here?"

She clicked her tongue, placing the glass down with a little too much force. "That's none of your business."

"Maybe," I replied, eyeing her carefully. "But I doubt you're doing this just because you enjoy serving overpriced cocktails to rich guys in suits."

Kawasaki's gaze hardened, and for a moment I thought she'd just ignore me and end this discussion.

"Is it because you're saving up for something important?" I asked, my tone more casual than it probably should've been.

The subtle shift in her expression didn't go unnoticed. Her grip on the cloth tightened, and her shoulders tensed slightly.

Bingo.

She shot me a glare. "What do you care? Don't act like we're close."

"I'm not," I admitted, resting my chin on my hands to get more impression. "I just have a bad habit of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."

"Clearly."

The silence stretched for a few moments, only broken by the faint hum of the bar's background music.

I decided to press a little further. "Is it for your family?"

Kawasaki's eyes darkened, but she didn't respond right away. Instead, she busied herself with organizing bottles behind the counter, pretending not to hear me.

That was an answer in itself.

Kawasaki's the type who carries everything on her shoulders.

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but her actions spoke louder than any half-hearted denial.

"…Your brother is worried, you know," I said, watching her carefully.

At the mention of her brother, she visibly stiffened but tried to play it off by turning her back to me.

"He should mind his own business," she muttered.

"Hard to do that when his sister sneaks out at night and comes home past midnight. Kind of makes it obvious."

She sighed heavily, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

"You're annoying."

"I get that a lot," I replied casually.

She finally turned to face me, her expression less guarded than before but still visibly annoyed. "Look, I get that you think you're helping or whatever, but I don't need it. I'm fine."

I met her gaze and shrugged. "You can say that all you want, but you don't exactly look fine."

For a moment, she didn't respond. Her eyes flickered to the entrance of the bar as if making sure no one else was watching, before lowering her voice.

"Look, I'm doing this for Taishi," she admitted, barely above a whisper. "He's too young to get it… but I don't want him to have to worry about anything in the future. Not like I did. So please leave."

The rare vulnerability in her tone caught me off guard.

So that's it. She's trying to look after him in the only way she knows how.

I could respect that, even if it was reckless.

I bent in my seat. "You know, there are better ways to handle this. Maybe even legal ones."

Kawasaki Saki shot me a glare but didn't bother responding.

At least she hadn't walked away this time.

"Okay," I said, "I'm not here to stop you. I just figured you might want someone to hear you out, even if you don't want help."

She stared at me for a long moment, then finally scoffed. "You're really bad at this, you know that?"

"I know," I replied, "But we'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't think you're getting out of that."

The soft opening of the bar's door interrupted the fragile silence between me and Kawasaki.

I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting some rich couple or slightly more wealthy salaryman trying to wind down after a long day. Instead, a tall middle-aged man stepped inside. His gait was calm, his posture straight yet unhurried, like someone who didn't feel the need to rush for anything – or anyone. His hair was neatly combed as he approached with a placid smile.

"I believe I had a reservation," he said smoothly, his tone polite but carrying the quiet authority of someone who rarely needed one.

Kawasaki straightened immediately. I swear, if I hadn't just been talking to her, I'd think she was a completely different person. Her professional mask snapped into place like the flip of a switch – efficient, crisp, and with zero signs of the irritated girl glaring at me moments ago.

"Of course, sir. I'll prepare your order," she replied evenly, not even sparing me a glance as she moved behind the counter.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. That was quick. Is this some hidden talent of hers? The ability to shift between 'cold and distant' and 'model employee' in record time?

It was almost impressive, almost. If anything, it felt like proof that Kawasaki had mastered the fine art of pretending she didn't know you when it suited her.

As she reached for the wine shelf with practiced ease, I figured this was my cue to leave. Clearly, this wasn't the kind of place where high schoolers lingered without getting in the way.

I shifted in my seat, ready to stand—

"You know," the man's voice cut through the space between us, "when I was your age, I used to try my luck flirting with the bartender as well."

I froze halfway out of my seat, glancing at him. His tone was light, even amused, but something about the way he said it made me pause.

"Not that I was particularly successful," he added with a soft chuckle, swirling the glass Kawasaki had just placed before him.

Was that supposed to be small talk? Or some kind of strange social test?

I slowly eased back onto the stool, still unsure how to respond. "I wasn't flirting," I muttered, keeping my gaze ahead.

"Oh? My mistake." The man's faint smile didn't falter.

Kawasaki returned with a bottle of what looked far too expensive for me to even pronounce. She poured the man a glass without comment, but I could tell she was listening.

As the man took a sip, he glanced at me again.

"You're a student, aren't you?" he asked, the question casual yet somehow pointed.

There it was.

I straightened a little, keeping my expression neutral. "Yeah. University."

Technically, not a lie. Future Hachiman would thank present Hachiman for that clever maneuver.

"Hmm." The man hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "You seem a little young for university."

I forced a shrug. "Really? I thought I had a pretty mature look."

Kawasaki snorted softly, but I pretended not to hear.

The man let out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough. I won't pry."

His gaze lingered for a second longer than I liked, the kind of stare that felt like he was reading something beyond the words I'd said.

I kept my arms crossed, meeting his eyes without flinching. I wasn't about to let some stranger dissect my entire existence like some after-school special.

After a moment, he shifted topics effortlessly, as if this conversation had been happening all along.

"What do you think?" he asked suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About whether society treats young people fairly these days."

I winced internally. Okay. Definitely wasn't expecting that.

I cast a sideways glance toward Kawasaki, half-hoping she'd step in with one of her usual blunt remarks and cut the conversation short. But she kept her focus on wiping down the counter, leaving me to fend for myself.

I considered brushing the question off with a noncommittal answer, but something about the way the man asked made me pause.

"…I guess it depends on who you ask," I said after a moment. "Some people seem to get a head start. Others have to figure things out the hard way."

The man nodded thoughtfully. "And which group do you fall into?"

I exhaled softly, resting my arms on the counter. "The latter, obviously."

He smiled. "I see. It's an interesting perspective. I suppose fairness is often a matter of perception."

I crossed my arms, watching him carefully. "That's a fancy way of saying 'life's unfair, deal with it.'"

"Perhaps," he replied, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "But understanding that might be the first step to changing it."

That sounded suspiciously like something Hiratsuka-sensei would say right before assigning me some group project I'd inevitably do alone.

"You sound like you've given this a lot of thought," I said, eyeing him carefully.

The man chuckled softly, but his expression didn't shift.

"I've lived long enough to see patterns repeat," he said instead. "People like you… you remind me of someone I know."

Excellent. Now I'm being compared to some mysterious figure from his past. This is starting to feel more like the setup for a novel than a normal bar conversation.

Before I could formulate some dry remark, the man shifted forward, placing his empty glass neatly on the counter. His movements were smooth and deliberate. He didn't waste time lingering.

"Well then," he said, rising from his seat, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. "I'll be on my way."

I barely had time to process the sudden shift in the atmosphere before he glanced at me, eyes faintly narrowed in what might've been amusement.

"Take care, Hikigaya-kun."

My breath hitched.

I stared at him, words stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. When did I—?

Before I could open my mouth, the man turned toward the exit, his steps light, unhurried. The soft rhyme of the door closing followed, signaling his quiet departure into the night.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the kind that lingered just a little too long.

A faint clink snapped me back as Kawasaki returned, setting the wine bottle back on the counter. Her gaze flicked toward the now-empty seat.

"…Where'd he go?" she asked, glancing toward the door as if expecting him to reappear.

I parted my lips to answer, but the words didn't come out.

How did he know my name?

A cold chill prickled at the back of my neck. I replayed the interaction in my head, but no matter how far I traced it back, I couldn't remember ever introducing myself.

"Hikigaya," Kawasaki pressed, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Did he say anything?"

I blinked, realizing I'd been silent for too long.

"N-No," I muttered, clearing my throat. "He just… left."

Kawasaki gave me a brief, suspicious look but didn't press further.

"Right," she mumbled, returning to her work like nothing had happened.

I sat there for a few moments longer, arms crossed tightly as if that would somehow ground me.

Even as I tried to brush it off, that single detail gnawed at the edge of my mind, refusing to let go.

I didn't tell him my name.

My gaze wandered absently to the counter, landing on a small slip of paper near where the man had been sitting. A reservation ticket.

I leaned forward and took it, squinting to make out the details.

Tsukishiro.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

A few days had passed since my unnerving encounter at the Angel Ladder Cafe. The Service Club room was filled with the usual atmosphere: Yukinoshita was engrossed in a book, Yuigahama humming softly as she organized some papers, and I, pretending to be occupied with something remotely productive.

The door slid open with a decisive sound, revealing Hiratsuka-sensei. Her expression was serious, a departure from her typical demeanor.

"Come with me you all," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're going to the Student Council Room."

Yukinoshita looked up, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "May I ask what this is about, sensei?"

Hiratsuka-sensei shook her head. "You'll find out soon enough. Please, follow me."

Exchanging puzzled glances, we complied, trailing behind her through the corridors of Sobu High. The walk was silent, each of us lost in our thoughts, speculating about the unexpected summons.

Naturally, Yuigahama was the first to break it.

"Umm… does anyone else feel like we're about to get scolded or something?" she whispered, leaning closer to me and Yukinoshita.

"It's not impossible. But if it were serious, she'd be lighting a cigarette by now." I spoke.

Yuigahama giggled softly. "Yeah, that's true."

Ahead of us, Yukinoshita's gaze remained forward, but I caught the subtle twitch of her eyebrows. It's rare for her to look even the slightest bit off-balance. Makes me wonder what's going on here.

"If Hiratsuka-sensei was planning to reprimand us, she wouldn't take us to the Student Council Room. Sensei isn't the type to make a public spectacle out of it," Yukinoshita said calmly.

Yuigahama nodded thoughtfully. "So... maybe it's not about us?"

"Or maybe it is and she's just outsourcing the scolding," I added, earning a sharp glance from Hiratsuka-sensei, though she said nothing.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Yukinoshita said dryly.

It's classic Hiratsuka-sensei to drag us into something without explaining. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that 'we'll find out soon enough' usually means 'brace yourselves for something you're not prepared for.'

So I guess this is the part where we become model students or something.

"Oh! Maybe it's a special project," Yuigahama declared, brightening.

"Don't get your hopes up," I cut in. "Optimism only leads to blowing your ego."

Yuigahama puffed her cheeks. "Hikki! You don't know that!"

"Experience says otherwise," I replied.

Yukinoshita shot me a sidelong glance. "I find it hard to believe you've had enough experience to make that claim."

"I've been let down plenty of times," I said with a mock-serious tone. I mean, haven't we all? Hope is the quickest way to get blindsided by the harsh reality that no one really cares about your expectations.

"By whom?" Yukinoshita asked flatly.

"Society," I replied without hesitation. It's the one constant in my life.

Yuigahama giggled at our chit-chat, but Hiratsuka-sensei finally decided to chime in, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Try to act a little more composed when we get there. This isn't the usual comedy routine."

"Yes, sensei," I muttered, though I caught Yuigahama still stifling laughter beside me. It's not like I was trying to be funny, but sometimes I forget we're not exactly in the middle of a sitcom.

As we approached the Student Council Room, the lighthearted mood gradually faded, replaced by a sense of anticipation.

"Whatever this is, we'll handle it," Yukinoshita said quietly, her tone more serious now.

I nodded. "Right. Worst case, we just let Yuigahama do the talking."

"Ehh?! Why me?!"

"It's called delegating," I replied smoothly. If the fate of the Service Club hinges on one person's ability to charm the Student Council, it's Yuigahama. She'll do the talking, I'll do the observing, and Yukinoshita will—well, be her Yukinoshita self.

Yukinoshita sighed. "With you two, let's hope for their sake that the Student Council doesn't need anything from Service Club."

True. I don't exactly have high expectations of our performance in these kinds of things. But, hey, it's not like we ever get a choice.

With that, Hiratsuka-sensei slid the door open, and whatever we were about to face awaited us inside.

Upon reaching the Student Council Room, Hiratsuka-sensei opened the door and gestured for us to enter.

Inside, the room was already occupied. A few Sobu students stood near the back, their expressions a little nervous, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the two individuals at the center of the room.

Their uniforms stood out vividly against the muted tones of the Sobu standard attire.

One of them, a tall young man with black hair, wore a sleek red blazer with gold trim. His posture was straight, almost unnaturally so, and the sheer weight of his presence seemed to shift the atmosphere in the room.

The other, a girl with purple hair styled into two buns, wore a uniform that mirrored his, though tailored slightly differently. Her peach-brown eyes flicked over us with quiet calculation, and there was something about her that reminded me of Yukinoshita—distant, composed, and not the type to entertain small talk.

Advanced Nurturing High School.

I forgot how to breathe.

After a moment of silence, he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over us with analytical precision.

"Since everyone is here," he began, his voice sharp and authoritative, "let us proceed."

He adjusted his glasses with a precise motion, his violet eyes reflecting the light in the room.

"I am Horikita Manabu, Student Council President of Advanced Nurturing High School," he introduced himself, his tone calm but carrying undeniable weight.

His gaze drifted over each of us slowly, pausing on Yukinoshita for a second longer than necessary before shifting to Hiratsuka-sensei. When his eyes met mine, there was no hostility but something about the way he looked felt intrusive.

The girl beside him bowed slightly.

"My name is Tachibana Akane, Student Council Secretary. I will be assisting Horikita-kaichou in managing our time at this school."

Her tone was polite but distant, as if formality had been drilled into her. She didn't smile, and judging by her posture, I doubted she did that often.

The silence in the room stretched on for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over us.

And that was when he dropped the bombshell. Or, more accurately, it wasn't just a bomb—this felt more like a nuke.

"I will be overseeing your school's participation in the upcoming Special Exam."