So It's Bad, As I Expected

The English lesson dragged to a close, the teacher's voice fading into the background as the bell rang. I packed up my things, deliberately slow to avoid the initial rush.

My destination was Class D.

Ichinose's words lingered in my head.

"Things aren't looking great in Class D right now."

Vague, but concerning enough to warrant a look.

As I made my way through the second-year wing, I finally spotted the classroom labeled for Class D. I paused at the door, peering through the small window.

The sight inside wasn't exactly uplifting.

Some students sat stiffly at their desks, staring down at textbooks with the kind of intense focus reserved for those desperate to pretend they weren't there. Others slouched, arms crossed, their expressions a mix of boredom and barely concealed irritation. There was an invisible line dividing the room—those who looked dead inside, and those who still had enough energy left to be angry about it.

Interactions with the Sobu students weren't much better. I could spot a few strained attempts at small talk, but most conversations seemed to fizzle out quickly, leaving behind awkward silences or polite nods.

At least no one was throwing chairs. Low bar, but I'd take it.

Sliding the door open quietly, I stepped inside.

The shift in the atmosphere was immediate, like stepping into a room that had long since given up. The air felt heavier somehow, thick with unspoken apathy. A few heads lazily turned toward me, but their interest fizzled out before it could properly ignite. The rest stayed glued to their desks or phones as if acknowledging my existence would require too much effort.

I wasn't offended. Honestly, I appreciated the consistency. This was the kind of reception I was used to.

Still, I couldn't help but notice the student in the front row.

His hair was slightly disheveled—though not in a fashionable way—and the dark circles under his eyes hinted at a long-standing battle with sleep deprivation. He sat hunched over his desk, one hand lazily propping up his head, eyes staring into nothingness like he was experiencing a particularly dull existential crisis.

So, this was Class D.

I approached his desk, stopping just beside him.

"Yo. This is Class D, right?"

The boy blinked slowly, dragging his gaze toward me as if the act of moving his eyes alone was a tremendous burden.

"Yeah… you're in the right place," he muttered, his voice carrying the kind of weariness that felt like second nature now. After a brief pause, he straightened up slightly, as though realizing his social instincts were rusting over. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, registering me as something more than classroom furniture. "Are you here because of the exam?"

I slipped my hands into my pockets, maintaining my usual slouch. "Would I be here for any other reason?"

His lips quirked upward in something that technically qualified as a smile but didn't quite make it past the drafting stage.

"I see… Hirata Yosuke, class representative," he said, extending his hand with the kind of reflexive politeness. What is this, Europe?

I took his hand briefly, noticing how light his grip felt. For someone who seemed to carry the weight of his classmates, his handshake suggested he wasn't gripping that responsibility too tightly.

So this was Hirata. On paper, he fits the image of a popular guy or class rep, with good looks, and appearing friendly despite these dark circles. The kind of person people naturally gravitate toward.

But that thin, fragile smile betrayed something else.

My first impression? If I were honest, it was a riajuu. But the subtle droop of his shoulders told me he wasn't living the carefree life of someone destined to dominate class rosters and school events. More like the kind of guy who had volunteered to herd sheep, only to realize the sheep were perfectly content wandering off cliffs.

"Didn't expect the class rep to look like he's two steps away from collapse," I spoke silently, my eyes scanning his tired face.

Hirata tilted his head slightly, clearly not catching or perhaps choosing to ignore the jab. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing important. Just confirming some suspicions."

He didn't pry. Whether it was disinterest or just exhaustion, I couldn't tell. But I'd take the lack of follow-up as a win.

I shifted my gaze toward the room. The state of the class wasn't much better. Students slouched against their desks like corpses that hadn't been notified of their passing. The few awake enough to function were glued to their phones, eyes flicking over screens like they were absorbing vital information from the depths of social media.

"Is the class always this lively?" I asked, gesturing vaguely toward the nearest coma victim.

Hirata followed my gaze, his faint smile dimming further. "Does it really seem that bad?"

"That depends. If this is your idea of enthusiasm, then sure. Thriving, even."

His shoulders slouched further, which I hadn't thought possible.

"I guess it's obvious," he admitted, releasing a chuckle that might've started out sincere before getting lost somewhere along the way.

There wasn't much point in prolonging the awkward small talk, but I figured introductions were the least I could do.

"Hikigaya Hachiman. Sobu High," I said plainly. No need for pleasantries.

Hirata nodded, though I noticed his attention was already drifting. His eyes flickered toward the back of the room, where a small group quietly exchanged messages, phones concealed under their desks with all the grace of children hiding candy.

"And how's that going?" I asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

He hesitated. I could see the internal debate on his face. The choice between pretending things were fine or admitting the obvious. Predictably, reality won out.

"Not well. A lot of my classmates don't really care about this competition. Some skip the sessions entirely, and the ones that show up… well, you can see for yourself." His eyes lingered on one student who had fully immersed himself in what looked like level 347 of some mobile game.

It was comforting to know that no matter the school, disinterest remained a timeless tradition.

"Phones during class, huh? I guess that's one way to engage with the material. Interactive learning," I said.

Hirata laughed softly, but it faded just as quickly. "They're not interested in school life, let alone competing against other classes. Most of them think it's pointless."

"Can't blame them. It's hard to care when it feels like the deck's already stacked against you."

His gaze flicked toward me, something resembling mild surprise crossing his features.

"You're… surprisingly understanding,"

I shrugged. "Just an observation. It's easier to tune things out when failure feels inevitable."

After all, no one asked the gears at the bottom how the clock was doing.

Hirata's expression softened, but I could tell my words hadn't exactly comforted him. He gazed out over the classroom again, wearing the look of someone who had long accepted his thankless role as shepherd to the indifferent masses.

Maybe he was the popular, well-liked type once. But currently? This guy looked one motivational speech away from collapsing in on himself.

"You know, for someone who's supposed to lead the class, you don't look much better off than the rest of them," I added, watching as his shoulders drooped in quiet agreement.

"Yeah… I guess I don't."

For a few moments, silence settled between us.

I thought about pushing further, maybe prying into the finer details of Class D's struggles. But the weight of their apathy spoke louder than words ever could. Whatever was happening in Class D wasn't the kind of thing a few encouraging words could fix.

Still, I'm not here to save them. I just needed to get them through this exam.

And from the looks of it, that might be easier said than done.

"Hey, do you know who I'm paired with for this?" I asked, casually shifting the conversation. No point standing around if I could figure out the next step. I pulled out my phone and showed him the name.

Hirata's gaze flickered to me with something unreadable like he was holding back a chuckle, or maybe just pitying me.

"It's Horikita-san," he replied after a beat, his tone carefully neutral. But the slight downturn at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's with that look?"

"Nothing," Hirata said quickly, but his eyes didn't quite meet mine. "It's just… you'll see."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I decided not to press. If my partner was some social recluse, it wasn't my problem.

"Horikita, huh?" I repeated, glancing around. "Where is she?"

Hirata subtly nodded toward the back of the classroom. "She's the girl sitting over there. Black hair."

I followed his gaze and spotted her almost immediately.

It wasn't hard, not when someone looks that out of place, it's like they demand attention without even trying.

Horikita Suzune sat at the farthest desk by the window, practically glowing under the afternoon light. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her back, the kind of hair that wouldn't look out of place in a painting of Yuki-onna.

She reminded me a lot of Yukinoshita in appearance. There was a sharpness to her features—refined, elegant like she'd stepped right out of a period drama as the aloof, cold-hearted ojou-sama. The kind of character who'd dismiss commoners with a glance but secretly carries some tragic backstory the audience sympathizes with.

But unlike the usual archetype, there was no air of elegance or cheerfulness. Instead, her face was blank, eyes fixed on the notebook in front of her. She flipped through the pages with mechanical precision, ignoring the world around her entirely.

Yeah, this definitely wasn't going to be easy.

"Thanks for the heads-up," I said to Hirata.

Hirata nodded weakly as if silently apologizing for my fate. "Good luck."

Before I could go, Hirata stopped me for the last time.

"She's not bad," he spoke with a faint smile, but there was hesitation behind his words. "Just… don't expect her to be too cooperative."

A loner who doesn't play well with others.

Still, I wasn't exactly Mr. Teamwork either. Maybe we'd cancel each other out. Or kill each other trying.

I spared one last look at Hirata, whose attention had already drifted elsewhere, most likely toward the students he was trying and failing to wrangle into something resembling a functioning class.

"See you around,"

"Yeah… same," he replied, but his focus was already gone.

I took that as my cue and made my way toward the back of the room, bracing myself for whatever this Horikita person was going to throw at me.

Stopping next to Horikita's desk, I awkwardly hovered for a second, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment. None came. Her eyes stayed glued to the notebook, pen moving in quick, precise strokes as if I didn't exist.

"Uh… hey," I greeted, raising a hand slightly.

Horikita's pen stopped mid-word. She glanced up at me with the kind of look you'd give an uninvited guest standing in your doorway at midnight.

"What do you want?" Her tone was flat, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to it like she was annoyed I'd dared to exist near her.

Straight to the point. Guess subtle pleasantries weren't on the menu.

"I'm Hikigaya. Hikigaya Hachiman," I said, letting my hands fall to avoid looking more awkward than I already did. "Apparently, you're my partner for this Special Exam."

Horikita's expression didn't change much, but her eyes narrowed slightly as if she were assessing me for defects.

"I see," she replied, already drifting back to her notebook like I'd wasted more than enough of her time. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

I blinked. "...Sorry?"

"You won't have to do anything. I'll handle it," she said without even sparing me a glance. "All five tests. Just stay out of the way."

There was no arrogance in her voice. Just a cold, blunt dismissal.

It took me a second to register what she'd just said.

"Wait, you're planning to handle all five exams… by yourself?" I asked incredulously.

"Are you possibly deaf?" she replied, eyes still locked on the page. There wasn't even a flicker of patience in her voice.

I frowned. "You do realize we've got, what… two days until the exams? You're seriously going to learn everything for five subjects in less than forty-eight hours?"

"As long as I don't waste my time on irrelevant conversations, yes," she replied smoothly, flipping a page with the kind of indifference you'd show swatting a mosquito. "I've already started reviewing the material during breaks."

"Wow. That's… ambitious," I muttered, leaning slightly against the desk next to hers. "Or delusional."

"Did I ask for your opinion?" she cut in before I could say more, eyes flicking toward me for the briefest second, just to make sure I knew how little I mattered in this equation. "Just make sure you're present during the exam. Beyond that, you're free to occupy your time elsewhere."

She said it so matter-of-factly that I almost believed she could pull it off.

"You know," I began, tilting my head, "this whole thing was designed to be a team effort. Pretty sure the school didn't expect someone to brute-force their way through five entire subjects alone."

Horikita finally paused, her sharp eyes meeting mine with a look that suggested I was dangerously close to overstaying my welcome.

"I disagree. If the material is covered adequately, there's no reason why one competent person can't handle the load."

Her confidence was either impressive or incredibly misguided. Maybe both. Does she really believe that?

"Right. Because it's that simple," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

She didn't respond, already back to ignoring me like I was white noise.

Honestly, her attitude reminded me of how I used to handle group projects. The only difference was, I wasn't under the illusion that doing everything myself would end well.

At this point, it was clear: continuing this conversation was pointless. The more I tried to engage, the more I felt like I was sinking into a quicksand of irritation. There was no reason to force something that was never going to work.

With a heavy sigh, I turned and left her, the weight of this entire mess pressing down on me. How are we supposed to pass this exam with a team like this?

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

I walked aimlessly down the hallway, trying to shake off the discomfort that was starting to build up in my chest. I needed something to cool my head. My brain was running a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how I was going to fix this when I barely even knew where to start.

It wasn't long before I found myself outside, standing by one of the vending machines. I took a look and scanned the options for my MAX COFFEE. That'll do. I jammed the button with more force than necessary, the machine hummed and dropped the can with a satisfying clink.

I grabbed it and leaned against the side of the machine, cracking it open. I took a deep swig, letting the bittersweetness do its job. My mind raced. Special Exam, Special Exam… What are we to do when Class D is such a mess?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to just call it a day. If we didn't pull something together soon, we'd probably be the ones dragging the class down. And what the hell was I supposed to do with Horikita? Someone who thought she could do everything on her own. Yeah, sure. Five tests in two days. Keep dreaming.

As I took another sip, a sound suddenly interrupted my thoughts. What the—?

A loud crash echoed from the other side of the vending machine. Something hard hit it with enough force to make the whole thing rattle. My heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, I dropped to the ground, pressing my back against the wall. What the hell was that?!

I scrambled to the ground, trying not to make a sound. My pulse was hammering in my ears. I barely had time to process what was happening before I saw a blonde student in a Sobu school uniform hit the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out something bad was going on, but I didn't have the luxury of getting involved.

I pressed my back tighter against the wall, praying to whatever gods existed that I wasn't noticed. Just stay out of sight. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode. My breaths were shallow and quick, trying not to make a noise.

From the corner of my eye, I saw two figures approaching the student on the ground, one was a guy with magenta hair, the other… well, I didn't care enough to look. They didn't seem like the type of people you'd want to engage with.

"You know," a voice drawled, "Ryuen-san hates dealing with idiots like you. How the hell did you even get into this Special Exam? Maybe I should just send you back where you came from."

The words sliced through the tension in the air like a hot knife through butter. I could barely process what I was hearing before the sound of another harsh kick echoed through the empty space. I couldn't make out the words they were saying clearly, but it was obvious the two of them weren't interested in listening to the Sobu student on the ground.

Then I heard the second guy speak, his voice dripping with an air of superiority like he was used to making people cower.

"You're gonna regret this," the second voice said. This one was sharper, like a blade cutting through the air. "We've got this whole Special Exam to deal with, and I'm not wasting any more time on weaklings like you. So be smart and follow my orders."

The voice was low, dripping with contempt, as if he were talking down to a bug that had been annoying him for too long.

Another thud. The student was kicked again, and I saw him wince in pain. What the fuck.

I couldn't see his face, but the tone was unmistakable. He wasn't just bullying this guy—he was enjoying it. My instincts screamed to stay hidden, to not draw attention to myself.

I felt the weight of the situation hit me all at once. Who the hell are these guys?

"Get up," the other guy in ANHS uniform ordered. "Get up or get lost. Don't make Ryuen-san repeat himself."

It was the kind of tone that made you feel small. It was commanding, and demanding, and it clearly made the student on the ground flinch. But all he could do was groan weakly, trying to push himself up, only to collapse back down.

I stayed low glued to the vending machine, not daring to move. My pulse thundered in my ears.

The words that followed made my stomach drop even lower.

"Ichizaki, I don't have time for this crap," Ryuen sounded, seemingly tired of the whole situation. "We've got our own problems with this Special Exam, so let's move. I'm done here."

Ryuen. That name… I didn't know who he was, but something about the way the guy said it told me he wasn't someone I wanted to cross.

Their footsteps grew faint as they walked away, leaving the blonde student crumpled on the ground. I waited for a moment, just listening to the silence that hung in the air, feeling the tension bleed away slowly as their presence faded.

What the hell was that?

I didn't want to stick around any longer. I had no clue what just happened, but I wasn't about to get caught up in whatever twisted power play was going on here.

Once the coast was clear, I took a step forward, glancing at the student still lying motionless on the ground. God, this place really is full of people like that, huh?

I forced myself to look away. Whatever was going on here, I wasn't getting involved in this. Not now, not ever.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves, and began walking back to the school building. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd just witnessed.

Ryuen and Ichizaki… I didn't know who they were, but I had a feeling I'd be hearing their names again. And the thought made my skin crawl.