And So, I Continue

As I parked my bike near the school, I locked it with the kind of care that only someone with a deep distrust of humanity could muster. Walking toward the entrance, I pulled out my phone to kill time and, out of habit, checked my notifications.

One message stood out. Party because of who sent it, but also because it existed at all.

Horikita Suzune: I've decided that tomorrow I'll handle the tests for Mathematics, English, and Sciences while you take care of Japanese and Social Sciences.

I glared at the screen. How the hell did she get my number?

It didn't take long to figure it out. Yesterday, when the ANHS Student Council sent us a message about the Special Exam, there was some kind of feature in it. If you tapped your partner's name twice, it displayed their LINE contact info for "easier communication." Convenient. Too convenient.

Honestly, this was exactly the kind of invasive functionality that probably seemed like a great idea to the geniuses who designed it. "Here, have the tools to interact with your partner efficiently," they'd probably say, ignoring the fact that no one asked for this level of accessibility.

At least it had one upside: I wouldn't need to see her in person. That alone was worth enduring the mild irritation of her assuming authority over test distribution.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I walked into the school, my eyes scanning the hallways. My mission was simple: find Hirata.

Eventually, I spotted him in his classroom. He was surrounded by a group of classmates, his presence radiating that weird, magnetic energy he seemed to have regained. Girls laughed at something he said, practically glowing, while the guys started talking to each other. Everyone looked... less dead.

How much protagonist energy does this guy have?

I leaned against the wall a few steps away from the door, just enough in Hirata's line of sight for him to notice me. I wasn't about to barge into that picture-perfect scene. Hirata didn't need me ruining the vibe.

After a moment, his eyes met mine. With that trademark polite smile of his, Hirata excused himself from the group. "Sorry, I'll catch up with you later. There's something I need to handle."

The disappointment on their faces was almost enough to make me feel bad.

Hirata walked over, still smiling like the perfect role model he was. "Hikigaya-kun, good morning. Did you need something?"

"Good morning," I said, my voice flat. "You know, they looked like they were having the time of their lives. I'd hate to ruin your perfect reputation by associating with me."

Hirata chuckled softly, completely unbothered. "Don't worry about that. They'll survive without me for a few minutes. And you don't ruin anything, Hikigaya-kun. In any case, what's on your mind?"

"I need to ask about the test discussions. It's logistical."

"Of course," Hirata said, his tone shifting into something more professional. "Let's talk about it."

We started walking together, Hirata maintaining his usual air of calm friendliness while I, as always, exuded the aura of someone who would rather be anywhere else. There was something almost amazing about how at ease he seemed, even with someone like me.

We walked in silence for a moment, the chatter of students and the occasional echo of a slamming locker filling the background. Eventually, I decided to break the quiet.

"So, how's the situation in your class?" I asked.

Hirata smiled faintly, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "I've been doing my best to improve things. Instead of addressing everyone at once, I approached them individually. Having one-on-one conversations with them, trying to understand their concerns and help them find motivation."

When you approach people one-on-one, it's harder for them to deflect. There's no audience to impress, no need to save face. Hirata's soft-spoken demeanor probably made him seem less threatening too, like a kind friend rather than someone pointing out their flaws. It wasn't just efficient—it was disarming.

"That's a good strategy," I said, nodding. "So, do you think your class will manage to keep up with their Sobu partners for the tests?"

For the first time, Hirata's smile faltered, just slightly. It wasn't much, but for someone like him, even a subtle shift was telling. "I've managed to convince some of them to focus on studying, and they're doing their best. But…" His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted away, hesitant.

"There's still the other half, right?" I finished for him, earning a small nod. "The group that doesn't care enough to put in the effort."

"Yes," Hirata admitted, his tone quieter now. "They're the ones who aren't interested in academics, no matter how much I try to motivate them."

I sighed, "Let me guess. It's the same group of geniuses who've been spending their time ogling the Sobu girls, analyzing their bust sizes like it's some kind of scientific breakthrough?"

Hirata's polite smile turned uneasy, and he glanced away, scratching the back of his neck. "I wouldn't put it that bluntly, but… yeah, that seems to be the case."

"You can't reason with the terminally distracted."

"Still," Hirata added quickly, "I haven't given up on them. If I can find the right way to connect with them, I'm sure I'll make progress."

I raised a brow. "You really think you can change their priorities? There is very little time left until tomorrow, Hirata."

Hirata's unease seemed to dissipate as he squared his shoulders and spoke with a renewed sense of purpose. "I haven't lost hope. In fact, Horikita-san handed out something this morning that might actually help. She compiled key topics that are likely to appear on the tests. It's about ten pages long."

What...?

He paused, a flicker of amazement crossing his face. "To be honest, I was startled when it happened. Horikita-san isn't known for stepping forward like that at all, especially not to help others in such a hands-on way. It's... surprising, but I think it's a good kind of surprise."

"Horikita? Are we talking about the same person here?"

Hirata chuckled lightly, his expression still tinged with disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but it's true. She gave it out to everyone this morning, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world."

I crossed my arms, skepticism practically radiating off me. "I don't buy it. Even if her intentions were good, there's no way the class would just take something like that from her. Her reputation isn't exactly one that screams 'trustworthy ally.' Some of those geniuses you're dealing with would probably refuse it out of sheer spite toward her, even if it meant failing the tests. Are you lying to me?"

Hirata's polite smile faltered for just a moment before he sighed, shaking his head with a sheepish look. "You got me, Hikigaya-kun. That's… not entirely how it happened."

He continued, "Horikita-san asked me for help with it," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "She thought it would be more effective if it came from someone like me. And honestly, why would I refuse? It's for the good of the class, after all."

I smirked, shaking my head slightly as the realization hit me. "So, Horikita's finally come to terms with the fact that no one in the class actually likes her. Must've been quite the wake-up call. I'm guessing she tried to awkwardly help someone at some point and got shot down so hard it left a mark."

Hirata gave me a half-smile, not refuting my theory.

I continued, "She's not exactly used to playing the whole 'team player' game, so when that backfired, she probably didn't have many options left. Desperation at the eleventh hour tends to do that. She had no choice but to rely on you, the guy with charisma stats maxed out so high, even video game protagonists would be jealous."

Hirata laughed softly, though it was clear he was trying to deflect the more cutting edge of my words. "I wouldn't say it quite like that, but… you're not entirely wrong, Hikigaya-kun. Still, I think her heart was in the right place."

"Sure," I said, shrugging. "Desperation or not, I'll admit it's a smart move. If it had been her personally handing out these notes, half the class wouldn't have taken them out of spite, or worse, they'd have chucked them in the trash just to make a point. But with you? They're probably acting like you handed them the Holy Grail."

"Here," he said, handing out a folder from his hand that I had been wondering about for a while now and handing it to me. "Take a look."

Reluctantly, I accepted the folder and opened it. Inside was a neatly organized document, each section broken down into straightforward bullet points. It was shockingly detailed, yet written in a way that even the most clueless student could follow.

As I flipped through the pages, something felt off. This level of thoroughness wasn't normal. "Wait a second," I muttered under my breath. "How the hell does Horikita even have this kind of information? Did she find a secret cheat sheet from the teachers or something?"

Hirata shook his head, his expression calm but serious. "No, she didn't. Horikita-san worked on it herself. According to her, she analyzed all her notes from prep lectures to narrow down the most probable topics."

I stopped flipping through the pages and stared at him. "You're telling me that instead of taking the night to relax or study for her own tests, she made this? A guide for complete idiots? And it's actually... good?"

Hirata smiled softly, though I could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes—likely from my rare acknowledgment of someone else's effort. "It's more than good. It's clear, concise, and exactly what some of the struggling students need. Honestly, I was shocked!"

"Guess it's true what they say," I muttered, handing the folder back to Hirata. "Sometimes the people who act like they don't care are the ones doing the most work behind the scenes."

How ironic.

Hirata looked thoughtful at my comment, then gave a nod. "That might be it. Horikita-san has her own way of showing it, but I think she does care about this class. Even if she'd never admit it outright."

I looked at him for a moment but decided to stay silent.

"Well, good luck getting the rest of your class to actually read it. Knowing them, they'll skim it at best and hope for a miracle."

Hirata chuckled lightly. "That's why I plan to walk them through the key points during our breaks. It's not much time, but it's better than nothing."

"You really do have protagonist syndrome, Hirata," I said, shaking my head. "But I guess if anyone can pull it off, it's you."

Hirata smiled brilliantly. "Thanks, Hikigaya-kun. I appreciate that."

As Hirata and I were about to part ways, I stopped and asked, "By the way, why'd you lie earlier about who handed out those test notes? I mean, it's not like it's a big deal, but still."

Hirata's usual composed smile faltered slightly, and he scratched the back of his neck, looking genuinely bashful. "To be honest, I wasn't sure how well you and Horikita-san get along. From what I've seen, it doesn't seem like you two see eye to eye. I thought... maybe if you believed she was making an effort, it might improve your opinion of her."

I raised a brow, almost impressed by how far Hirata would go to try to smooth things over for everyone. "Horikita doesn't hate me, Hirata. She despises me. And honestly, the feeling's pretty mutual. If it weren't for this partner system, I'd be doing my best to pretend she doesn't exist."

Hirata blinked, looking surprised but still retaining that ever-patient demeanor of his.

"That's why I didn't even bother stepping into Class D," I added with a shrug. "I'd rather avoid the whole 'cold stare of judgment' thing altogether."

Hirata seemed to consider my words for a moment before nodding slightly, a trace of guilt still lingering on his face. "I understand. But... I do think she's trying to help in her own way. Maybe it's not perfect, but it's something."

"Sure," I said noncommittally, tucking the folder he'd given me under my arm. "And maybe pigs will start flying while they're at it. Anyway, good luck with your miraculous save-the-class mission. I'll let you get back to your fans now."

Hirata laughed softly, shaking his head. "Take care, Hikigaya-kun."

As he walked away, I sighed and glanced at the folder again. It was shaping up to be a long day.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

I tossed the folder onto the desk with more force than necessary, the dull thud echoing through the quiet room. My glare bore into the man sitting across from me, his expression as calm and calculating as ever.

"What is this?" Horikita Manabu's voice carried the same deliberate cadence, his sharp gaze shifting between me and the stack of papers that now rested on his desk. His secretary, Tachibana, stood behind him, arms crossed, her barely concealed irritation radiating at the disrespect I showed like heat from a furnace.

"It's exactly what you've been pestering me about," I said, leaning back in my chair with a disinterested scowl. "The results you were so desperate to see."

His eyes flicked back to the folder, unimpressed but curious nonetheless. "Results?"

"Your sister," I said, deliberately dragging out the words, "worked with the leader of Class D this morning to create something that could pass for a trial test scheme. A compilation of key topics from previous lessons. I'd bet my limited and very precious free time that before today's over, Class D will have another one of these for material from today's classes."

Manabu's brow rose slightly, though his expression didn't waver. He reached out and picked up the folder, flipping through its contents with the same detached precision he probably applied to everything in life.

Tachibana's glare only intensified as her gaze flitted between him and the folder, but she said nothing. It was almost like she was restraining herself from launching into a tirade about my "complete lack of decorum."

"This is foolish," Horikita Manabu said after a moment, snapping the folder shut with a faint clap. "If this material somehow ends up in the hands of other classes, what would be the point of this endeavor? It renders the effort meaningless."

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I gave him an equally bored and pointed look. "And? Who cares?"

Manabu raised a brow, the faintest twitch of interest in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

"Your sister," I continued, "has managed to show that she can think for the good of others, that she's willing to cooperate with them. Isn't that enough for now? Or is your definition of success so narrow that even that's not worth acknowledging?"

He studied me in silence for a moment, his piercing gaze giving the distinct impression that he was dissecting my words for every hidden implication. Meanwhile, I could practically feel Secretary Tachibana glaring daggers at me, as though my mere existence offended her sensibilities. Not that I particularly cared.

Finally, Horikita Manabu spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of someone who was used to having the final word. "And you believe such a gesture, no matter how calculated, is sufficient proof of growth?"

"Why not?" I shot back, shrugging. "It's not perfect, sure. But for someone like her, this is practically a leap of faith. If that's not enough to prove she's maturing, then I don't know what is. Maybe you can enlighten me, oh wise and benevolent president."

I could tell by the faintest curve of his lips that he saw through my sarcasm, but he didn't rise to it. Instead, he placed the folder back on the desk and laced his fingers together.

"You have a tendency to interpret matters in... unorthodox ways, Hikigaya Hachiman. It's simultaneously irritating and—" he paused as if reluctant to finish the thought, "—interesting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said dryly.

"It wasn't," Tachibana muttered under her breath, her composure finally cracking.

Manabu silenced her with a glance before turning his attention back to me. "Very well. If my sister is indeed capable of demonstrating this level of initiative, then perhaps it warrants further observation."

Horikita Manabu leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded me. "I don't know how you did it, Hikigaya. But somehow, you've managed to change my sister in a single day."

"What?" I tried to play dumb but as I expected, it didn't work.

Manabu's expression remained cool, but there was a faint hint of something more underneath the surface. "Suzune has always been someone who isolates herself, someone who only cares about her own goals to reach me as you know. But suddenly, she's trying to do something for others. She's attempting to work toward something beyond herself. I don't know how you made that happen, but I can't deny that it's... notable."

I crossed my arms, a skeptical look forming on my face. "How do you know it was me, though? Maybe her classmates had something to do with it. You can't seriously think I'm the only reason she's changing."

His eyes flashed briefly, the calm façade slipping just enough to let his frustration show. "You think I'm unaware of how she's been acting?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more pointed. "It's not about her classmates. You know as well as I do that Suzune doesn't listen to anyone unless she has no other choice. You must know that she hasn't shown a single sign of change since this Special Exam started."

I sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. There was no point in denying it anymore. "Fine," I muttered. "It's me. I'm the one responsible for the change in her behavior. But as for how that change will turn out—well, she's the one who's working on it now, not me. I'm not the one helping her."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "So you're telling me that after all this, Suzune's making the effort on her own?"

I nodded, leaning back slightly. "Yeah. I'm not some miraculous savior if that's what you're thinking. Your sister is the one who's putting in the work now, and frankly, I think she probably hates me for it. I'm comfortable with that, though. The last thing I want is for her to look for guidance from someone like me."

His stoic expression softened just a fraction, and he looked at me for a moment, studying me as if searching for something deeper. Then, almost as if he'd come to a conclusion, he spoke again.

"You're quite an interesting person, Hikigaya Hachiman. I've always been a good judge of character, and despite what you may think, I'm sure that whatever you did—or didn't do—was ultimately good for my sister."

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. It wasn't the usual cold calculation or the cold arrogance I expected from him.

A beat of silence passed before he added, "In the end, I suppose I'll have to admit it. You're a good man, Hikigaya."

I stood there for a second, processing his words. I didn't know how to respond. Horikita Manabu was far from someone who threw compliments around casually, so to hear him say that... caught me off guard.

"Good man?" I scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off. "That's a bit much, don't you think?"

Manabu didn't reply immediately.

"I don't think so. You might not show it in the usual ways, but I've seen enough. The result of your actions speaks louder than your words."

Horikita Manabu suddenly stood up, "Hikigaya, tell me..."

A beat of silence hung between us, and then Horikita Manabu spoke again, breaking the tension with something that caught me completely off guard.

"Do you accept marriage proposals?"

Without thinking, I swung. The impact landed squarely across his face, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

Manabu didn't flinch. He didn't even seem surprised. He just stood there, taking it, as if he had been expecting something like this. Tachibana, on the other hand, was beyond furious. Her face twisted in a mixture of shock and rage as she shouted at me, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

But to my surprise, Manabu didn't respond to Tachibana's fury. Instead, he smirked and fixed his glasses. It was subtle, but there was something almost satisfied in his expression like he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

"Stop, Tachibana," He said calmly, his voice firm, as he turned his gaze toward her.

Tachibana froze, eyes wide with disbelief. "Why?!" she demanded, her voice incredulous. "Why would you let him—!?"

Manabu's smirk grew wider, and he answered with a cold but amused tone. "Hikigaya had a good reason for hitting me, after all."

"You're sick! That's my reason!"

I turned to leave, my frustration bubbling to the surface. I had enough of this twisted game, the endless back-and-forth that led nowhere. I was done.

But before I could take another step, Horikita Manabu's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"This is where the jokes end, Hikigaya," he said, his tone suddenly colder, more serious than before.

I stopped with my hand still on the door handle. What now? What did he want?

He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made me tense up. "Regarding the student, the one you're searching for," he began, his voice measured.

"There's something I haven't told you."