You Smile, I Answer

It all starts with a smile, doesn't it? As children, we learn that a smile is a sign of kindness, of friendship, something that says "everything's fine," even when it isn't. It begins in elementary school, where kids can be genuinely cruel.

It's as if they know how to hide everything behind a smile – that quiet laugh when someone can't answer a teacher's question, followed by an outburst of ridicule. Or those so-called "games," which were really just excuses to be mean – like that one kid who was always too slow to catch the ball, and everyone bursts into laughter while he has no idea what's going on. Pure malice dressed up as the innocence of a child's smile.

In high school, it gets more sophisticated. It's not about making you laugh anymore; it's about making you invisible. In high school, everyone pretends to be so polite and mature. "It's nothing personal," they say, and then you start wondering why they make it a point to ignore you. Isn't that the worst kind of violence? They smile at you, but their eyes show nothing but cold indifference.

It might be subtle, but when you look at someone who's avoiding you, and you see that smile, you know it's just a mask. Of course, everyone pretends it's just about group dynamics or needing time. But I know how it works. There's always something more, something darker hidden behind the smile. Maybe it's the dark pleasure of watching someone spiral, while you stand by and do nothing. Maybe it's that unspoken agreement to let things go unsaid.

But the best part of it all? The adults. Yeah, adults. It seems that with age, it only gets worse. Smiles become more calculated, even more convincing as if someone's trying to convince you that everything is fine while keeping you at arm's length.

You know, those people who fake friendships just to get something in return? The ones who stand behind their desks and tell you everything will be okay, while their hands shake with excitement because they've figured out a way to use you. Of course, it all boils down to the same smile. You'd think that with age, people would get wiser, and more transparent, but that's not true.

In reality, as we get older, we get better at hiding what we really think. And that same smile that once was a simple sign of disdain in elementary school becomes a tool of manipulation. They tell you that "everything will be okay" – but it's just a way to mask what they're really planning. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's just for fun. Or maybe it's something far more unsettling.

It's funny, how long one can keep pretending those smiles are still innocent.

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

I trudged back toward the school building. The MAX COFFEE I bought earlier no longer tasted the same, and the can felt heavier than it should've. My mind kept circling back to what I'd seen behind the vending machine.

I didn't know much, but I had enough sense to realize guys like that weren't the friendly type. The memory of that blond riajuu crumpled on the ground stuck with me. Not my problem. I wasn't about to start playing the hero again.

I kept my head down, focusing on the floor tiles like they held the secrets to life's mysteries. Unfortunately, no such wisdom surfaced. Instead, I heard a presence approaching from behind, too fast, too enthusiastic.

Ah… Great. Here we go again.

"Hey! Excuse me!"

I glanced over, already regretting whatever social encounter was about to ruin my perfectly fine walk of solitude.

A girl with short brown hair practically bounced toward me, waving like we were long-lost friends. Her smile was radiant. The kind that felt more like a performance than genuine warmth.

I recognized the uniform. She wasn't from Sobu, which meant she was part of Advanced Nurturing High School.

A quick once-over told me everything I needed to know—polished looks, bright eyes. This girl probably spent half of the middle school collecting confessions and the other half rejecting them with grace. She had that unmistakable glow that popular girls exuded, like an unspoken contract with the universe ensured they'd always land on top.

It was the type of glow that used to blind me. Now it just hurt my eyes.

"Are you the guy who was talking to Horikita-san earlier?" she asked, tilting her head just enough to appear curious but not invasive.

Ah. That explains the approach. Word travels fast around here. Maybe too fast.

"Didn't know she had people keeping tabs on her."

The girl giggled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with the kind of grace that only reinforced my suspicion. That was a rehearsed move practiced it in front of a mirror who knows how many times.

People don't just stumble into looking perfect by accident.

"Oh no, nothing like that. I just happened to notice." She leaned in slightly as if she were about to share a secret. "I'm Kushida Kikyou, by the way! I share the same class with Horikita-san."

"Hikigaya," I replied flatly. "I doubt I'm worth remembering."

Kushida's smile brightened. Impressive. Most people flinch when they realize I'm not here to play nice.

"I wouldn't say that. You stood out just by talking to Horikita-san even as her partner! She mostly avoids interacting with people."

"She's not the easiest person to work with," I muttered, more to myself than her.

Kushida's eyes narrowed slightly, her head tilting again in that same curious way. "Oh? Did something happen?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

There was no point diving into details. Kushida seemed nice enough, but something told me I'd regret handing over too much information. People like her collected secrets like trading cards.

And I wasn't in the mood to end up in her binder.

"Well," Kushida said, clasping her hands behind her back, "if you need help with anything, feel free to ask. I know Horikita-san seems distant, but I'd be happy to lend a hand if you're struggling with the Special Exam."

Her words were wrapped in kindness but it wasn't the soft sincerity you'd expect from someone like, say, Yukinoshita. No, this was closer to Ichinose, kind to the point where it almost felt strategic.

"I appreciate it," I replied, even though I didn't. "But I think I'll manage. I doubt Horikita wants anyone interfering anyway."

For the first time, Kushida's smile faltered. Just for a second. A flicker, but it was there.

"Oh… that's too bad," she said, voice softening. "I was hoping maybe you'd help me, too."

I raised an eyebrow. "Help you?"

She nodded, the brightness in her eyes returning just as quickly as it had faded. "I'm trying to do everything I can to make sure no one in our class gets expelled. But… it's hard doing it alone. Horikita-san isn't exactly the cooperative type, and I thought maybe you could convince her to help the class."

So that's what this was about.

"You're that worried about your classmates?"

Kushida's face lit up with sincerity. "Of course! I want everyone to pass. I've been trying to improve things between our class and others, but it's been a little tricky."

Uh-huh. Sounds noble. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that people rarely extend kindness without expecting something in return.

"Strange," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "I don't remember seeing you during the break in the classroom."

Kushida froze for milliseconds. It was scarcely noticeable, the kind of reaction someone trained to keep up appearances would brush off instantly. But not me.

"Oh, well… I was working behind the scenes," she answered, recovering quickly. "Making sure relationships between classes stayed positive. I thought that might help."

I stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch.

Kushida's smile faded slightly, and for a moment, she looked genuinely troubled.

"I just want to help," she said, her voice dipping into something softer. "That's all."

Her words hung in the air like a fishing line, waiting for me to bite.

I pushed myself forward, stepping around her without breaking stride.

"That's nice of you. But I'm not interested."

Kushida blinked, visibly caught off guard.

"Wait—"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." I walked past her without another glance.

I could feel her eyes on my back as I left.

People like Kushida Kikyou.

They smile at all the right times. Say all the right things.

Spending time around Evil God has sharpened something in me. Like staring into the abyss long enough makes you better at spotting the shadows clinging to other people. That's what I wrote in my essay for Hiratsuka-sensei.

And Kushida?

Her darkness was there, hidden behind bright eyes and honeyed words.

It's not like I blame her. Everyone wears a mask in life. Some are just better at keeping theirs from slipping.

But in the end, I've seen this play before.

And I wasn't going to be her supporting actor.

The best way to avoid them? Stay as far as possible.

But then again… shouldn't that thought scare me? Meeting someone like Kushida should set off alarms, right?

I paused for a moment, the weight of the MAX COFFEE in my hand grounding me.

No. I've already met the scariest person I could possibly encounter. Not even that Ryuen guy could come close.

If you stare into nothingness long enough and keep walking forward, eventually, nothing else scares you.

All that's left is to stay cautious.

Maybe that's why I don't hesitate to say what I think anymore.

Because if I hadn't met Evil God, I'd probably still be avoiding people out of social anxiety and getting hurt, not indifference.

And that's the contrast.

I'm not intimidated by seclusion anymore.

I embrace it.

Still, I want answers to continue our delusion.

And I will do anything to achieve it.

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

I found myself wandering again.

It wasn't entirely aimless. I told myself that. At least, that's what I wanted to believe. There was still some purpose to it. Yukinoshita had evaporated somewhere in this part of the school from the information provided by Yuigahama, and my self-appointed task was to find her. But honestly, it felt more like an excuse to avoid the upcoming class. A little procrastination never hurt anyone, right?

As I rounded the corner near the Student Council room, my pace instinctively slowed.

Two people were engaged in what looked like a quiet yet deliberate conversation.

There, standing by the door, were two figures. One of them, unmistakable, was Horikita Manabu. His presence could practically be measured with a ruler. The sharp, focused expression on his face never faltered, and his posture was so precise that even a professional seamstress might think his shoulders were sewn into place. He looked like he belonged in some sort of corporate training video, giving a lecture on how to be the perfect boss.

The other figure... well, that was the surprise.

Tsukishiro.

The same man I'd met at the Angel Ladder Café. Back then, he was just some strange, overly polite guy who felt like he was out of place in every room he entered, like a shadow hiding just outside of the light. But now? Now he was standing next to Horikita Manabu, engaged in some quiet conversation that seemed too deliberate to be just a casual chat. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that something about the whole scene was off.

I considered turning around. Maybe pretend I hadn't noticed them, that I was just another mindless student on his way to nowhere in particular.

"Hikigaya-kun."

So much for my stealth skills. What the hell happened to me?

I cursed under my breath. Of course, Tsukishiro would spot me.

I glanced up to see Tsukishiro's gaze land directly on me. His expression didn't shift. That same polite, almost exaggerated smile curved his lips. The kind of smile that belonged more in sales pitches than casual conversations.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise. We meet again."

If this was "pleasant," then I could only fear what "unpleasant" looked like.

I nodded, carefully masking whatever distaste might have surfaced. It was a skill I had honed over the years. That is, keeping my face as neutral as possible, even when the situation screamed otherwise.

"I could say the same," I replied, though the words felt hollow. "Didn't think I'd run into you outside of that place."

Tsukishiro chuckled lightly, almost like we were two old friends exchanging pleasantries.

"Well, it appears we're destined to meet in unusual places."

Destined. That's one way to frame it. If this was destiny, then I must've been cursed by it.

Horikita Manabu shifted his gaze from Tsukishiro to me, his sharp eyes taking in the exchange. He didn't say anything, but his stare lingered for a moment too long, as if weighing the situation. Calculating.

"I was unaware you were acquainted," He finally said, his voice as flat and professional as ever. But the underlying curiosity in his words was hard to ignore. Like a prosecutor questioning an unreliable witness.

"We met by chance," I quickly interjected, eager to avoid any further elaboration. The last thing I needed was Tsukishiro to turn my life into an open book.

Tsukishiro, however, seemed to take delight in elaborating.

"Yes, we happened to share a fascinating discussion regarding the fairness of current society. Hikigaya-kun left quite the impression on me."

Fascinating discussion? Was he talking about me or some twisted version of a conversation he had made up in his head?

I felt Horikita's gaze harden, just for a fraction of a second. It wasn't hostile, more like he was carefully analyzing something, trying to conclude our relationship.

"Is that so?" Manabu said quietly, but his expression betrayed nothing.

The discomfort in my chest grew, pushing me to redirect the conversation.

"So… what brings you to Sobu High?" I asked Tsukishiro, not-so-subtly attempting to shift the spotlight away from myself.

Tsukishiro's smile deepened, but it felt colder now for some reason.

"Ah, I suppose you wouldn't know. I've recently been appointed Acting Director of Advanced Nurturing High School."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

"…You're the Acting Director?"

Acting Director.

The man sipping wine and tossing cryptic remarks about life and society was supervising the school that rivaled the best ones in the country.

My mind scrambled to process it, but before I could, my mouth slipped.

"That's quite the promotion from a wine enthusiast,"

Tsukishiro's laugh didn't reach his eyes, not even slightly.

"Well, one must wear many hats."

I wasn't buying it for a second.

"And during the Special Exam announcements? I didn't see you there," I added, trying to gauge his reaction.

His smile didn't flicker.

"Ah, I had pressing matters in Chiba. I'm afraid I couldn't personally attend."

Before I could counter, Horikita Manabu's voice sliced through the air like a well-sharpened blade.

"An Acting Director shouldn't be involved in affairs that extend beyond his role."

Tsukishiro's smile remained, but there was a flicker of something darker behind his eyes.

"Responsibilities can be broad, Horikita-kun," Tsukishiro said smoothly, his words dripping with quiet confidence. "Sometimes, they require attention in ways not outlined by a simple job description."

There it was. That tension. Like two swordsmen circling each other, subtly testing for weaknesses.

I feel like these two don't like each other.

Horikita Manabu adjusted his glasses slightly, the faintest trace of disapproval crossing his features.

Horikita wasn't the type to let things slide easily. And judging by how he held his ground, Tsukishiro wasn't winning him over anytime soon.

"A chairman should operate within the confines of his position. Straying too far often leads to confusion within students… or worse, unnecessary interference."

It wasn't a challenge, but it sure felt like one. I'm sure anyone else hearing that would run scared for his life. Horikita Manabu had that skill, didn't he? The ability to dismantle someone with nothing but a few choice words, delivered in that perfect, cold tone of his. A way of dismantling his opponent's footing with words alone.

I stepped back, not literally but mentally. This wasn't my fight. It was more like watching two titans exchanging polite banter before the inevitable showdown. And I was just the guy standing in the corner, trying not to get crushed by the fallout.

"Well, I assure you everything I do is in the interest of the students," Tsukishiro spoke, his voice pleasant as ever. "We all have the same goal, after all."

Horikita's gaze didn't shift.

"Let's hope that's true."

It was almost a challenge in itself, and for a moment, I thought Tsukishiro might actually rise to it. But he didn't. I wasn't sure if that was the best thing or the worst.

Tsukishiro glanced at me, almost like he hadn't forgotten I was there.

"Hikigaya-kun, I hope you'll visit my office during this Special Exam. I'm sure you'd find it enlightening."

Yeah. I'd get right on that after prioritizing dental surgery.

If I had to guess, Tsukishiro was the kind of man who could talk a rabbit into a snare while smiling the whole time. The kind of person who would make you second-guess everything you said, even if it was something as simple as asking about the weather.

"I'll think about it," I said, giving the most non-committal answer I could muster.

Horikita Manabu's gaze flicked to me again, though this time, it seemed thoughtful. Like he was considering something.

"If you have nothing else to do here, Hikigaya," He said, "I suggest you return to your classroom. This isn't a conversation you need to involve yourself in."

Translation: You're in the way.

I didn't need to be told twice.

"On it," I said, already turning.

Tsukishiro gave me a small, nearly mocking wave.

"Take care, Hikigaya-kun. I'm sure we'll meet again soon."

I left without another word.