F i n a l l y , R e s t

The morning sun filtered through the trees, its warmth seeping past the fabric of my tracksuit and into my skin. I sat back on the bench, arms spread out like I owned the world, but in reality, I was just claiming temporary dominion over this one spot in the schoolyard.

The gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, and I tilted my head back, closing my eyes. For a fleeting moment, I felt at peace. My muscles ached from running around during the Special Exam, like a salaryman who clocked out after a brutal overtime shift. The exam was over—at least, the first part—and for once, I didn't have to think about strategies or opponents.

This must be how old men feel when they sit on park benches to reminisce about their youth. Except I don't have any great memories to look back on. Well, maybe besides...

Through my closed eyelids, I could see the light shifting as the clouds moved. It was a calming, almost hypnotic effect. And then, just as I was about to succumb to this rare tranquility, a shadow fell over me.

I cracked an eye open, already scowling in preemptive annoyance. My irritation wasn't misplaced. It was Hirata, standing in front of me with his usual unnervingly pleasant smile.

"Good morning, Hikigaya-kun," he said, his voice as warm and welcoming as ever.

I sighed and straightened up, begrudgingly meeting his gaze. "Morning, Hirata. What brings you here?"

Hirata's smile widened, like he didn't notice or more likely, chose to ignore my reluctance to engage. "I noticed you sitting here and thought I'd check in. You've been working so hard during the Special Exam. I figured you might be tired."

He noticed me? What am I, an endangered species on display? And why is he so concerned? I'm not one of his charity cases. But then again, this is Hirata.

"I'm fine," I replied flatly, leaning back against the bench again. "Just taking a breather. You know, for my health."

He chuckled softly. "That's good to hear. Still, you've been running around so much. It's like you've taken responsibility for everything. It's impressive, Hikigaya-kun."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge if he was being sarcastic. But no, this was Hirata. He was sincere to a fault.

"It's not impressive," I said, waving him off. "It's just… necessary."

Hirata tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You don't give yourself enough credit. A lot of people wouldn't have stepped up the way you did."

Spare me the motivational speech, Hirata. I'm not one of your loyal fans who swoons at your every word. You're wasting your breath on me.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind next time," I muttered.

Hirata didn't seem deterred by my dismissive tone. Instead, he took a seat on the bench next to me, his movements casual yet graceful like some kind of prince taking a moment to mingle with the peasants.

I resisted the urge to groan. So much for my peaceful morning.

"You know," Hirata began, "even though the first part of the exam is over, the next phase won't be any easier. Have you thought about how we'll approach it?"

I gave him a sidelong glance. "Why? Are you here to offer advice?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Not at all. I just thought it might help to talk things through. Sometimes sharing ideas can make things clearer."

Sharing ideas? With me? Sorry, Hirata, but my brain doesn't work like that. I'm not a team player. Never have been, never will be.

But then, I let out a sigh and sat up straighter, meeting his gaze. "You don't get it, do you?"

Hirata blinked, visibly caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not helping you in this part of the Special Exam," I said bluntly.

His brows knitted together in confusion. "You're not?"

I shook my head, resting my elbow on my knee and propping my chin in my hand. "The whole reason I got involved in the first place was because of a request to the Service Club. That request was to help Class D stand on its own two feet. Not to lead you by the hand through every problem."

Hirata's lips parted slightly as if to respond, but I raised a hand to cut him off.

"Besides," I continued, leaning back against the bench again, "I barely even read the details for today's exam. Something about sports and pairs, right? I skimmed through it. I didn't exactly take notes."

His eyes widened, and I could see the gears turning in his head. He looked genuinely surprised.

I sighed again, this time heavier. "Look, I'm tired. I mean really tired. I've been running around like a lunatic, pulling strings and trying to keep everything from falling apart. If you're expecting me to do that all over again, go ask Horikita instead. She's more cut out for that kind of thing."

For a moment, silence hung between us. I half-expected Hirata to frown or press me further, but instead, his brow furrowed briefly before softening. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a small, genuine smile.

"Thank you, Hikigaya-kun," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

I blinked. "What?"

"You've already done so much," Hirata continued. "Without you, Class D might've faced a far worse fate. I know you don't think much of yourself, but I'm truly grateful for everything you've done."

His words caught me off guard. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting—maybe frustration, maybe disappointment. But understanding? Gratitude? That was… unexpected.

Wait a second. Is Hirata actually the messiah?

No, no. Calm down. He's just a nice guy. That's all.

For a moment, I thought the conversation was over. Hirata had thanked me, I'd done my part, and now he could go on his merry way to rally the troops.

"Do you have any suggestions? Even if you're not involved this time, I think your perspective could still help us," Hirata asked, his tone earnest and curious.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "If you really want my opinion, then just… give it your all and try to approach things logically. Keep a level head and make decisions that make sense. That's the best I've got."

Hirata nodded, but I wasn't finished.

"Also, watch out for dirty tricks. Someone like Ryuen could try to mess with you, maybe even injure someone on purpose to tip the scales. If you can keep an eye on everyone and avoid falling into traps, things might go smoothly. Or at least, that's the hope."

Hirata's smile returned, and he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Now he'll finally leave me alone so I can enjoy my—

"I have one more thing to ask," Hirata said.

I groaned internally. Why? Why can't people just let me sit here in peace?

"Even if you're not going to work toward Class D's victory anymore…

...would you consider being my friend?"

My brain screeched to a halt, struggling to process what I'd just heard.

"Friend?"

He nodded, his expression completely genuine. "Yes. You've helped us so much, and I'd like to get to know you better. Not as a stranger, but as a friend."

For a moment, I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the hidden agenda, the ulterior motive, anything. But Hirata's expression didn't waver. He wasn't joking.

What kind of person actually asks something like that? Doesn't friendship just happen naturally, like mold on bread? Why does he have to be so direct about it?

I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, crossing my arms. "You don't have to go that far. I'm not exactly the friendly type, you know."

"I don't think that's true," Hirata said, his tone warm but firm. "You care more than you let on, Hikigaya-kun. That's why I wanted to ask."

"Look, if you're expecting me to hang out and sing campfire songs with you when summer starts, it's not happening. But… if you want to call this thing between us 'friendship,' then I guess I won't stop you."

Hirata smiled, and I could swear it got even brighter.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, looking away.

As the conversation drifted into an oddly comfortable silence, both of us gazed at the sun dipping higher in the sky, its warm shiny glow spreading across the horizon. The stillness was broken when Hirata spoke again, his voice quiet yet reflective.

"You know, there's a story I heard once," he began, his tone distant, "It's about a boy who had a close friend. They were inseparable, like brothers. But the friend… he wasn't as strong. People picked on him—bullied him relentlessly."

I glanced at him sideways.

"The boy thought he was helping by being there, by being his friend. But one day, the bullying got worse. And instead of standing by him, the boy… left." Hirata's voice faltered for just a second, so faint it was almost imperceptible.

"Left?" I repeated.

Hirata nodded slowly. "Not because he wanted to. He was scared. Scared of getting caught up in it himself. So he walked away, thinking someone else would step in. But no one did."

The air seemed heavier now as if the weight of his words had seeped into the atmosphere.

"And the boy," Hirata continued, his voice quieter, "he told himself it was the right thing to do. That if he stayed, things would get worse, and someone else might get hurt. But deep down, he knew the truth." His hands clenched briefly before relaxing. "He was just a coward. Too afraid to act. Too afraid to take responsibility until it was too late."

I raised an eyebrow at his sudden self-awareness, letting the silence stretch between us for a beat.

"You know," I said, breaking the tension, "there's a certain person I know who'd probably tell you something like this: 'You can hurt someone just by existing.'"

Hirata looked at me, startled for a moment before his expression softened into thoughtfulness.

"Maybe they're right," he murmured, almost to himself. "But… that doesn't mean you can't try to do better, does it?"

"And what happened to the friend?" I asked, though I already knew it wasn't going to be a happy ending.

"They're no longer friends," Hirata's eyes flickered, his smile faint but brittle, like glass on the verge of shattering. "They never saw each other again. But what stayed with him the most wasn't the loss—it was the guilt. The knowledge that he could've done something. That he should've done something."

I leaned back against the bench, letting out a short huff. "You're not exactly subtle, you know."

For a split second, Hirata's expression froze, but then he chuckled softly, "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a story I think about sometimes."

Hirata let the silence linger for a moment, then spoke again, his tone quieter but filled with determination. "Now, my dream—no, my goal—is to make sure Class D keeps moving forward, no matter what. To help everyone handle their problems and become stronger together."

I was curious where this was going.

He turned to me, "What about you, Hikigaya-kun? What's your goal?"

The question caught me off guard.

I leaned back on the bench, folding my arms and staring at the horizon as I thought about it.

"My goal?" I repeated, almost scoffing. "A year ago, I'd have said I wanted to marry a simple working woman and live as a househusband. Sounded like a simple, hassle-free life."

Hirata didn't laugh much to my surprise. He tilted his head, intrigued. "And now?"

"I've probably buried that idea too deep to dig it back out. Guess that makes me a hypocrite, huh?"

He didn't laugh or try to brush off my self-deprecation. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think that makes you a hypocrite. Sometimes, our experiences change the way we see something more precious. It's normal to outgrow old dreams."

Hirata stood up, shaking the dust from his tracksuit, "Well, I hope we can talk again, Hikigaya-kun. You're more thoughtful than you let on."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure, if you're okay with wasting your time."

His smile returned, soft and understanding.

"It wouldn't be a waste."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone on the bench.

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ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

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The sprawling school grounds stretched out before me, the track freshly marked with crisp white lines. Students bustled about, the air buzzing with a mix of nerves and excitement. Sobu High's sports field, what I'd reluctantly consider the heart of this madness, was alive and well.

I leaned against the railing, observing the chaos below. From the looks of it, the first event would be some kind of paired race. The objective? Run fast enough with your partner to crush the competition while not tripping over yourself in the process. A simple task, really, provided you had decent coordination, balance, and, you know, two functioning legs.

My gaze drifted to the students of Class B gathered near the edge of the field. Their usual energy seemed muted, weighed down by something heavier than mere pre-race jitters.

The thought naturally led to Ichinose. How was she holding up? I couldn't imagine her folding under pressure, but still… her absence from the fray stood out. Before I could follow that train of thought any further, an unmistakable voice snapped me back to reality.

"Hikigaya!"

Hiratsuka-sensei's sharp tone cut through the noise, and I turned to find her striding toward me with purpose. That look on her face spelled trouble or work. Probably both.

"What now?" I muttered, straightening up slightly.

"We've run out of the connecting bands for the paired races," she said, hands on her hips. "Go to the upper floor of the school and grab the extras from the storage room."

I stared at her, unimpressed. "Why me?"

"Because I asked you to," she replied, her glare intensifying.

"Pretty sure that's not how delegation works," I shot back. "And I thought the Service Club wasn't meant to be taken literally."

Her brow twitched, and for a moment, I wondered if she'd sock me in the jaw. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned in slightly, her voice low and unmistakably commanding.

I couldn't help but notice the bandana tied neatly around her head, its bold red color contrasting sharply with her usual no-nonsense vibe.

Wait, what's with the bandana? Did she suddenly decide to channel some Shonen anime protagonist? Or maybe she's secretly training to be a head chef in a ramen shop.

The thought made my lips twitch upward before I quickly stifled the expression. No need to invite death by sensei.

"Fine. If you won't do it as a favor, consider this a direct request. Or would you rather I personally drag you up there?"

The glare was enough to silence me. I sighed heavily, waving a hand in mock defeat. "Alright, alright. I'll go. No need to get violent, sensei."

She smirked faintly, triumphant, and gestured toward the building. "Good. Get moving."

Grumbling under my breath, I made my way toward the school building, wondering how I always ended up as everyone's errand boy.

I trudged up the stairs, my footsteps echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet stairwell. By the time I reached the designated room, I was already preparing to mentally check out and grab whatever was needed with minimal interaction.

Sliding the door open, I was greeted by none other than Kushida Kikyou. Her bright, cheerful aura was almost blinding compared to the dull atmosphere of the storage room.

"Oh, Hikigaya-kun!" she greeted with her usual enthusiasm, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

I gave a small nod in return. "Yo. Let me guess—they roped you into this, too?"

She let out a small sigh, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. "Mhm, apparently someone forgot their water bottle, and they said there might be a spare here somewhere. I couldn't just refuse!" She smiled sheepishly, then added, "But I don't know my way around Sobu all that well yet, so I kind of got lost a few times."

"Getting lost, huh?" I muttered, glancing around the cluttered room. "Sounds like the perfect excuse to bail, honestly."

"Eh?" She tilted her head, clearly amused by my deadpan tone but not taking it seriously.

I scanned the shelves, my eyes narrowing as something caught my attention. In one of the partially open cabinets, a cylindrical object peeked out. I stepped closer and pulled it out—a few water bottles, slightly dusty but functional.

Turning back to Kushida, I held it out. "This what you're looking for?"

Her eyes lit up as she clapped her hands together. "Yes! That's perfect! Thank you so much, Hikigaya-kun!"

"Yeah, sure," I said, brushing off her gratitude. "Next time, try not to get lost."

She giggled softly, "I'll work on that. Anyway, I'll take this back now. Thanks again!"

I shifted through the mess of the storage room. After a bit of effort, I finally spotted what Hiratsuka-sensei had sent me for. A bundle of straps tucked under some dusty cardboard boxes.

Mission accomplished.

Grabbing the items, I made my way to the door, expecting to head back solo. Rather, I found Kushida waiting just outside.

I raised an eyebrow. "Still here?"

She flashed a sheepish smile. "Well, I didn't want to risk getting lost again, so I figured I'd wait for you. It's easier to stick together, right?"

"Sure," I muttered, though my tone was far from enthusiastic. I started walking, and, predictably, she fell into step beside me.

As we headed for the stairs, she glanced at me curiously. "By the way, Hikigaya-kun, are you going to be okay during the race? You look… distracted."

Her observation was annoyingly accurate, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of a proper answer. I kept my expression neutral and didn't bother responding, picking up my pace.

Unfazed, she followed, her voice light and conversational. "You've been working hard for Class D, haven't you? Do you think they'll win thanks to your help?"

I shot her a side glance before replying in my usual monotone. "I wouldn't know. I'm not exactly keeping track of the score."

Her laughter was soft, almost musical. "You're so modest, Hikigaya-kun. I know you've done more than you think."

I let out a quiet, frustrated breath as I walked, trying to ignore the constant prattling beside me. It was almost as if she wasn't even trying to gauge the mood.

"You're really good at pretending, you know?" I said, half to myself. "You keep up this whole 'nice girl' routine, but it's so obvious there's nothing real about it. What's the point of putting on that mask when there's no one around to watch?"

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"You're right, Hikigaya."

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One second, I was walking, annoyed by the pointless conversation, the next—

My feet slipped from under me.

It wasn't a gentle stumble or a misstep. It was a brutal shove, and I had no time to react. My body flew back, a disorienting rush of motion that left me no space to brace for the impact. Pain exploded through my chest.

My mind scrambled, trying to piece together what was happening, but my body was already in freefall.

I tried to catch myself, but everything was moving too fast. My hands reached out instinctively, but they found nothing but air. I couldn't think—couldn't breathe—everything was a blur, too quick, too sharp.

And then—her face.

T-w-i-s-t-e-d s-m-i-l-e.

There was no warning. No chance to stop it. Just pain. Then silence.