Please, More Coffee

"Hikigaya-kun! There you are!"

I froze mid-step, my headache momentarily forgotten. The voice was clear, resolute, and strangely familiar. Turning my head, I spotted Hirata Yosuke of all people jogging toward me. Well, not jogging exactly, more like walking briskly with the kind of determination that made it seem like the hallway itself was parting for him.

"What?" I muttered under my breath, "What is this transformation?"

"I'm glad I found you,"

When he finally reached me, I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're going to tell me it's my fault because you don't have my number, and that's why it took you so long to find me?"

Hirata blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, of course not. Why would I say something so unpleasant?"

Boys: 1, Girls: 0.

Hehe, point for me, Yuigahama.

I allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction, recalling how Yuigahama had recently nitpicked me about something similar. Chalk one up for the male supremacy, I guess.

It's a joke.

But as I really looked at him, something felt… off. Hirata didn't seem like the same guy I'd seen recently, the one who had been dragging himself around like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sure, the dark circles under his eyes were still there, but there was a faint light in his gaze now—a spark that I hadn't noticed before.

What the hell? Was his ikemen energy regenerating right before my eyes? With every passing second, he seemed to stand a little straighter, his aura growing more radiant like some shounen protagonist powering up mid-episode.

I could practically feel my younger self's ghost beside me, seething with jealousy at this unfair progress.

Hirata, either oblivious to my staring or choosing to ignore it, took a deep breath. "Hikigaya-kun, I've made a decision."

"Really?"

"I'm going to fight for my class."

"What?"

"I've been thinking about it a lot," Hirata continued, his voice steady but passionate. "And I realized something, I can't just give up. If I want to make things better, I have to take action. I have to stand up for my classmates, even if it's difficult."

I squinted at him. "Are you sure you're not concussed? Or possessed? Because this is… uh, new."

He smiled a genuine, hopeful smile that made me almost want to shield my eyes. "I mean it, Hikigaya-kun. I've been selfish. I let my own doubts and fears get in the way, but not anymore. I want to make things right. And I need your help."

"What happened to the guy who couldn't even make eye contact two hours ago?" I muttered, more to myself than him. Hirata's transformation was so sudden, it felt like I'd just stepped into one of those inspirational sports dramas.

"Hikigaya-kun," Hirata said, his voice dropping an octave as he stared at me with that infuriatingly earnest look. "Please lend me your strength."

I rubbed my temples, partly because of the lingering headache, partly because of his sheer audacity. "What the hell happened to you? Did you binge-watch a motivational video playlist or something?"

His laugh was soft but genuine. "Something like that. I thought it was called the famous Hikigaya talk."

I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. "I don't remember my 'talk' being motivational. Depressing, sure. Grounded in cold, hard reality? Absolutely. But motivational? That's a stretch."

Hirata smiled again, this time with a hint of something more thoughtful. "You know, for a while, I thought the only way to get my classmates to cooperate was to force them. But that… doesn't feel right after all. I guess I realized that's not the kind of leader I want to be."

"...Wait, what did you just say?"

"So, I decided I need to do my best for them," he continued, his voice brimming with the kind of conviction that felt like it belonged in a shounen anime.

There it is again. The protagonist energy is off the charts. This guy needs a cape and a theme song.

I sighed, letting the disbelief roll off me. "Fine. Let's meet later at the Service Club to discuss it. But if this turns into some kind of cheesy 'together we can do anything' speech, I'm leaving."

Hirata nodded, undeterred. His newfound resolve wasn't just jarring—it was almost contagious. And as much as I wanted to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all, I couldn't help but feel… happy.

As I turned to leave, Hirata suddenly called out, "Wait, Hikigaya-kun! I just realized… where is this 'Service Club'?"

I stopped in my tracks and glanced back at him, feigning exasperation. "Seriously? You're asking now?"

He chuckled a bit, "It slipped my mind."

I smirked, an idea already forming. "Fine, here's what you do: find a teacher who looks like she radiates the aura of someone who's deeply single and probably spends her weekends watching anime."

Hirata blinked, visibly confused. "What?"

"She's the club advisor," I said with mock seriousness, holding back a snicker. "Just tell her you're looking for the clubroom. She'll understand."

"Oh, uh… okay?" Hirata nodded hesitantly, his polite nature preventing him from questioning the bizarre description. "Thanks,"

"Anytime," I replied, walking off with a nonchalant wave. But inside, I was already imagining Hiratsuka-sensei's reaction when Hirata repeated my words. The thought was enough to make the corners of my mouth twitch upward into a rare, devilish grin.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

Walking toward the Service Club room, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the day pressing down on me like a wet blanket. Social interactions—too many of them! They were supposed to be spread out, rationed like precious resources, not thrown at me all at once. It felt like I'd stumbled into those chaotic summer festivals, where every stand tries to pull you, each one louder and more exhausting than the last. Except this wasn't festive. It was just tiring.

I remembered my last summer festival and felt a rare rush of nostalgia, making me grimace.

And then there was the matter of my current lifeline. MAX COFFEE. The sweet, syrupy nectar of the gods. At this point, I needed it like oxygen. My body was practically screaming for the caffeine boost, the only thing keeping me tethered to this mortal plane.

Without it, I'd be like a supporting character who forgot to equip the MP regen item—utterly useless. But there was no time to grab another can. My earlier failure to buy two and stockpile them in my bag felt like a betrayal of my own survival instincts. Rookie mistake. No wonder I felt like a zombie dragging my feet through the endless abyss of social interactions.

"Hikigaya."

I sighed. The air felt heavier than usual, and I could almost hear the distant, echoing voice of my social battery screaming Critical levels! Warning! Shutdown imminent!

Amidst my self-pity, a faint voice started to break through the fog.

At first, I ignored it. Probably my imagination. Or worse, someone actually addressed me. Either way, I wasn't in the mood.

"Hikigaya."

There it was again. Louder this time. Was I finally going insane?

"HIKIGAYA."

WHAT DO YOU WANT, WOMAN?! The words rang out sharply in my head as I nearly groaned aloud. Wincing, I brought myself back to reality, half-expecting to see Hiratsuka-sensei glaring at me, ready to deliver some sarcastic remark about my slacker tendencies or lack of presence in class. It would've been just like her to shout my name from halfway across the hallway. But instead…

Before me stood a girl. Blue hair tied neatly, a faintly awkward expression on her face. She was looking right at me.

"...Hikigaya," she said again, her tone a mix of uncertainty and effort.

I blinked once. Twice. My mind scrolled through the database of people I knew or, at least, vaguely recognized. Who was this? She looked familiar, but the name wasn't clicking. Definitely not Hiratsuka-sensei. This wasn't someone who threw chalk at your head when you dozed off in class.

"Uh… hey," I muttered, half-squinting at her. "Do you… need something?"

She frowned slightly, her gaze flicking over my face. "You look awful."

Direct. Very direct. Great. Just what I needed today—a reality check from a mysterious stranger. Or was she a stranger? Her pretty face seemed familiar, but her name was buried under too many layers of apathy and irrelevance in my brain.

"Wow, thanks. Just what every guy wants to hear," I replied, keeping my tone dry.

The mysterious girl fidgeted slightly, her hands adjusting the strap of her bag. "No, I mean, you just look… tired. I noticed earlier, and—uh, never mind." She averted her gaze, almost as if second-guessing her decision to speak up.

What is this? Most people would either avoid me entirely or let me rot in peace. Why was this random girl, who I still couldn't place, suddenly so concerned?

"...T-Thanks, I guess...?" I said, nodding even though I was desperately piecing it together from memory fragments. Play it cool, Hachiman. No need to make this an awkward ordeal.

She looked familiar now—especially this blue hair, kind of a lone wolf vibe. I distinctly remember handling a case in the Service Club. Something about helping her younger siblings or the part-time job she didn't want anyone to know about: but for some inexplicable reason, her name still refused to fully click in my mind. Was this some selective amnesia? Maybe my brain was running low on RAM.

Or maybe… was this girl cursed?

"Right," I said, glancing away to dodge the awkward tension. "So… what's with the sudden concern?"

She looked away again, her expression unreadable. "It's not sudden. You've just looked… worse than usual today. Like you're about to collapse or something. I thought I should say something."

That was… unexpectedly considerate. And kind of embarrassing to hear. But mostly considerate.

"Huh," I muttered, "Didn't think I looked that bad. Guess you caught me on an off day."

Her gaze flicked back to me, slightly sharper now. "You shouldn't joke about stuff like that. If you're tired, you should take care of yourself."

Her tone was serious, but there was a hint of awkwardness beneath it. It wasn't like she was lecturing me. Heck, it almost seemed like she genuinely cared.

Before I could think of something half-decent to say, she suddenly spoke again, her voice quieter. "Thanks. For what you did a week ago."

I blinked. Huh?

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the side. "Back then… you helped me. With Taishi. Things were rough, but we managed to work it out because of your help."

Oh. That. Her brother. That brat who stood far too close to Komachi to my liking. It all started falling into place now, like the puzzle pieces my brain had been hoarding for no apparent reason. The Service Club had stepped in to help with her family situation, and it had worked out. Taishi and she had patched things up.

Scratching the back of my neck, I muttered, "Well… it's not like I did anything special. Just pointed you in the right direction."

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she quickly turned her gaze away again. Was that her version of gratitude? Awkward, sure, but oddly sincere.

I looked at her properly this time, my mind trying to connect the dots. Something about her figure, her posture, sparked a vague memory. Suddenly, a vision hit me like a jarring flashback from a poorly edited drama. A bar with her standing there in a black outfit. The memory clicked into place with all the grace of a car skidding on ice.

"W-why do you keep staring at me?"

Kawa—Kawa—Kawa—KAWASAKI SAKI!

Ah, right. That was when we helped her keep her part-time job under wraps. The elegant atmosphere of that place had been completely at odds with her usual aura. For some, she may have as well been a delinquent.

Before I could spiral further into my thoughts, she broke the silence by coughing. "Where were you even headed, anyway?"

"To the Service Club," I replied automatically.

She paused as if debating something internally. Finally, she asked, "Do you... do you want help?"

Her tone was normal but something about the way she said it felt hesitant.

"Help with what?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"You," she said bluntly. "You're clearly running on fumes. Maybe… I don't know. I could help, or something."

I gave her a quick, dismissive wave, trying to brush off her offer. "I will manage." I turned my body slightly, preparing to leave. I didn't want to linger any longer and this conversation was already dragging on longer than I'd like.

Kawasaki paused for a moment, "You sure? You look—"

I started walking again, pushing my legs to move one step after another. Each step felt heavier than the last, but I couldn't let her see that. If she kept insisting, I'd just have to find a way to shut her down and get away from this... this.

But before I could take another step, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. It was like I was underwater, the sounds around me muffled and far away.

My vision blurred, and I had to lean on the nearby wall to keep myself from collapsing.

You're just tired. Nothing more.

The hallway stretched.

Steps slow. Focus... where?

Her voice. Faint. Echoing. Was she speaking?

I waved it off, but the words felt like they came from someone else.

Just tired. Just tired.

Focus. Focus. What was I doing?

What was I even thinking about?

Everything's blurry. My head—heavy.

"Hikigaya?"

Her voice. Was she closer?

Nothing makes sense.

I hate it when it doesn't.

"Hikigaya!?"

...Huh?

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

The first thing I noticed was the throbbing pain in my head. It felt as though a group of delinquent construction workers had set up a jackhammering operation inside my skull. I groaned, attempting to rub my temples, but the movement only made it worse.

Ugh, great. I'm not even awake for five seconds, and life is already punishing me.

I opened my overdried, squinting at the ceiling above me. Ah, white tiles. Fluorescent lighting. This could only mean one thing.

"Finally…" I smiled, voice rasping. "Did I actually wake up in a psychiatric hospital? Is this the big twist? Was it all just a long, elaborate nightmare?"

For one glorious moment, I entertained the idea. Perhaps none of it was real—the Service Club, Hiratsuka-sensei's lectures, Kawasaki awkwardly trying to be nice. Maybe I was simply a misunderstood boy, locked away by society for being too ahead of my time. Yes, that had to be it.

But as I sat up—a decision I regretted instantly—my surroundings came into focus. The bed I was on was... too cheap for a hospital. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and misery of teenagers. There was a curtain dividing the space, and a small desk cluttered with medical supplies sat in the corner.

The school nurse's office.

I let out a long sigh. "I'm still kicking, huh?"

I stared at the ceiling for a moment. No way I accept that.

"Why am I not dead yet? If so, where's hell, Evil God!? WHERE IS HELL!?"

"Shuuut up already, you brat!" A sharp voice snapped from somewhere nearby.

Startled, I turned my head toward the source. A woman stood in the doorway, glaring at me with the expression one might reserve for a particularly stubborn cockroach. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her white coat looked slightly too large for her. She was holding a clipboard, but the way she was clutching it made me think she was considering using it as a weapon.

Oh. A new nurse. That explains why I didn't recognize her.

"You're awake," she said flatly, her eyes scanning me like I was a particularly disappointing test subject. "And loud, apparently."

Her disgusted tone was almost comforting.

"Ah, I see. Still on Earth, then."

Guess the forces of evil weren't interested in claiming me just yet.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you babbling about?"

"Nothing," I muttered, waving a hand. "So, who brought me here? And, uh… how long was I out? Days? Weeks? I assume I was in a coma."

Her expression soured even more, which I hadn't thought possible. "A coma? You fainted, you idiot. And some girl nice enough dragged you in here. You've been out for like… twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes. Crestfallen didn't even begin to cover it. I'd barely had enough time to stage a dramatic reentry into society as a tragic, coma-surviving hero. Life was truly cruel.

"You're an odd kid," she said, shaking her head. "Really weird."

"There's a difference," I replied dryly, "between being weird and being… mentally damaged."

Her lips quirked in what might've been a smirk if it wasn't so drenched in exasperation. "You're definitely the second one."

I shrugged.

Leaning back against the bed frame, I gestured to her. "So, do you have any painkillers, or are you just here to insult me? Because this headache might actually kill me."

She let out an irritated huff. "No, I don't. I already used up my supply on at least ten other students today. You're lucky I even had time to deal with you."

Ten students? On the first day? No wonder she looked like she was one sarcastic comment away from snapping.

"Huh. That explains why I didn't recognize you," I said, mostly to myself. "You're new."

"First day," she confirmed, rubbing her temple like I was the headache she needed painkillers for. "First damn day! And this place is already insane."

She pointed at me dramatically.

"YOU ARE INSANE!"

DAGA KOTOWARU!

"I'm not." I refused.

I, Hikigaya Hachiman, am the Prophet of Rational Thinking.

"Have some respect, brat!"

She muttered something under her breath that I didn't quite catch but was probably a comment on my mental state.

Before the nurse could unleash another tirade about my supposed state, a soft knock interrupted the tense atmosphere. The door creaked open, and Kawasaki Saki stepped in, looking at us weirdly.

Her eyes scanned the room quickly before settling on me. "I heard yelling. Is… everything okay?"

Without missing a beat, the nurse and I both replied, almost in unison, "Everything's fine."

The synchronization was unsettling, even for me. I glanced at the nurse, who had crossed her arms and was staring daggers at Kawasaki as if daring her to question the situation further. Kawasaki didn't flinch but looked unconvinced.

She took another step into the room, her gaze sharpening as it landed on me. "Are you okay, Hikigaya? You look…" She paused, searching for the right word. "...better than before."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Headache's a little better now."

The nurse snorted, clearly unimpressed by my downplaying of the situation. "He's fine, physically. But judging by how he ended up here, I'd say he's been under a ridiculous amount of stress in the last 24 hours. Probably hasn't been sleeping, either." I was, she lied. The nurse crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, her voice softening slightly. Was she trying to sound wise? "People think they can power through it, but stress builds up. It's like a dam, and when it breaks…" She gestured vaguely at me as if I were the cautionary tale.

"Anyway," She coughed, "He will be fine."

For some reason, Kawasaki seemed… pleased by this revelation. Her lips twitched, not in her usual frustrated way but almost as though she were trying not to smile.

My brain struggled to connect the dots, but no satisfying conclusion came to mind. I filed it under "problems for future Hachiman" and decided to move on.

Kawasaki took another step closer, crossing her arms.

"Did you… tell anyone about what happened? Like Hiratsuka-sensei? Or, uh…" She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the side. "Yukinoshita? Yuigahama?" I asked.

The thought of any of them knowing sent a cold shiver down my spine. "No," she added quickly, "I didn't tell anyone."

I sighed in relief, a weight lifting off my chest. "You're the best, Kawasaki."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. The room grew strangely quiet after that, the silence pressing in on me like an awkward third party. Kawasaki froze for a moment, her posture stiffening. Was her face… red? No, no, it couldn't be. I shouldn't think like that. I won't ever make the same mistakes. Must've been the fluorescent lighting.

"Well," I said quickly, shifting to sit up straighter. "I've got things to do, so I should probably get going."

The nurse narrowed her eyes at me. "Excuse me? You're staying here until I'm sure you're not going to collapse. Sit down."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Don't worry, I'll collapse outside if I have to. Wouldn't want to be a burden."

Her glare intensified, but I was already moving toward the door.

I stepped out to finish what we started.