Hikigaya Hachiman knew exactly what these people wanted to see most.
A tense, dramatic unfolding—a sudden explosion of conflict and contradiction—would be the most excellent outcome.
If he were to perform some unexpected, absurd action toward Shikimori-san, the watching students would immediately burst into cheers and revel in the excitement.
If he did nothing and walked into their respective classrooms in peace, such a predictable development would be the most realistic, while still leaving everyone with huge room for imagination.
This well-timed “void” left by their silence would allow the audience to exchange viewpoints and information, providing the greatest psychological pleasure.
However, Hikigaya Hachiman was also very clear about what they disliked seeing most.
Like the mundane, repetitive entries of a childhood diary—”I was so happy today”—such straightforward expression of feelings is vulgar, simply unbearable.
The moment this thought crossed his mind, Hachiman could barely suppress the corners of his mouth.
Even if Shikimori claimed she didn’t care about others’ opinions, she had, after all, saved his life.
Now, Hachiman and Shikimori were walking in the center of the atrium.
Hachiman turned, bowed, and opened his mouth, all in one fluid motion.
“In any case, thank you very much!”
Shikimori responded with a generous smile.
“It’s a small thing.
Just a casual effort.”
Feeling the noisy chatter rising from the surroundings again, Hachiman felt immensely pleased.
“Excuse me, I have something to take care of in class, so I’ll be going first.”
Shikimori shook her head, reassuring him: “It’s fine.”
Then, Hachiman turned and walked away, making his figure look exceptionally desolate.
‘See?
Managing public opinion is my specialty.’
A breeze blew past, and the refreshing feeling instantly allowed Hachiman to calm down.
‘Come to think of it, I acted like an idiot earlier…’
After changing into his indoor shoes, Hachiman headed toward the classroom.
But just as he stepped onto the eleventh stair to the second floor, he suddenly froze.
“Good morning, Yukinoshita.”
“Good morning.”
The girl was standing in front of the glass window at the stairwell corner, staring distractedly at the courtyard below.
Hearing Hachiman’s greeting, she didn’t turn around; she only gave a faint reply, and there was no follow-up.
The sunlight shining through the glass spilled gently onto her, creating an ethereal atmosphere, and the breeze drifting in from the open window inadvertently stirred her hair, adding a hint of melancholy.
“Many things have happened, haven’t they?” Her voice was cold and kept very low, like a self-muttering, but also like an inquiry.
Out of etiquette, Yukinoshita rarely looked at people sideways.
This unintentional glance put immense pressure on Hachiman, and he opened his mouth to prevaricate: “Ye…
yeah.”
As if she hadn’t heard the response, the girl turned around nimbly and stepped away up the stairs.
‘Completely ignored.’
Hachiman stood there, hesitant.
“Hey, Hikigaya, explain everything properly during club activities.”
Hachiman looked up to see the girl standing gracefully a few steps higher, a smile finally appearing on her face.
It wasn’t until the girl disappeared from view that Hachiman finally came to his senses.
‘What was that forced smile about?’
Could it be because she saw his interaction with Shikimori in the atrium?
Thinking this, Hachiman quickened his pace as if chasing someone.
After finally failing to see Yukinoshita Yukino in the corridor, he stepped into Class 2-F, feeling dejected.
With his salesman-like Western-style uniform, slightly messy hair, calm and deadpan eyes, and that gloomy expression—a dispirited person had entered Class 2-F.
No one noticed his arrival, yet it seemed everyone had noticed him.
The boisterous conversation stopped just at the right moment as he entered the classroom.
The noise resumed, but it seemed much quieter than usual.
‘What was that smile from Yukinoshita?’
As if seeking an answer, Hachiman looked toward a figure in the back row.
He saw that it was indeed Yuigahama Yui, whose figure was deliberately turned away, her orange-haired bun trembling.
Beside her, Miura Yumiko, who noticed Yuigahama’s mood, glared at him like a mother who had just discovered her daughter being bullied by some loser, making the room’s temperature drop by a few degrees.
Completely ignoring her gaze, Hachiman arrived at his desk.
His seat was in the dead center of the classroom.
Because class hadn’t started, the area around him was empty—a environment that should have made him feel at ease, yet he could always sense a vague gaze fixated on him.
It was very unsettling.
But the gaze wasn’t intentional; it was as if she were probing something.
If he turned around now, he would surely catch her in the act.
So, Hachiman looked to the left and met that gaze, causing the other person to be the first to turn her head away.
The blue-haired girl sitting by the window held her chin in one hand, twirling her pen as if nothing had happened, when suddenly, the pen at her fingertips hit the floor with a crisp clack.
‘Hmm, what’s her name…
Kawa something, right, Kawasaki Saki…
and black lace.’
The bell rang, and the owners of the surrounding seats gradually returned.
The Japanese history teacher stood on the podium, and before he could begin, Hachiman felt a wave of exhaustion hit him.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
By the time he opened them, it was the last period of the morning.
His literature teacher, Hiratsuka Shizuka, was droning on about some classical text.
Seemingly noticing Hachiman’s gaze, she punished him by calling his name.
“Hikigaya Hachiman, ‘After a great army, there must be a famine year.’ How do you explain that?”
After being called, Hachiman stood up immediately.
This sudden question was a bit unexpected, but after all, he was third in the grade in the humanities.
After thinking for a moment, he answered: “After the chaos of war, there will definitely be a famine, expressing an anti-war stance.”
Shizuka nodded noncommittally but didn’t continue to make things difficult for him.
“Good, sit down.”
In truth, what Hikigaya Hachiman said was not what he was thinking.
‘Those who assist the ruler by the Tao do not dominate the world with force; such things tend to return.
Where the army has been, thorns and briars grow.
After a great army, there must be a
famine year…
Objects that are strong grow old, which is called ‘not Tao,’ and ‘not Tao’ ends prematurely.’
Those who assist with the Tao do not rely on military force to conquer the world; those who bring troops to the world often meet with retribution.
Where the army goes, thorns grow; after war, famine is inevitable.
Therefore, those who have attained the Tao seek only their objectives and do not rely on military force to win.
Do not be arrogant after reaching your goal, do not brag, do not be proud, do not be conceited, and reaching the goal is a last resort…
Therefore, Hiratsuka-sensei did not just call Hikigaya up for a simple translation.
She was reminding him.
‘Is arrogance and liking to play the strong my biggest flaw?’
Whether it was Yukinoshita or Yuigahama, they were just afraid.
The doubt in his heart was resolved, and his anxious state of mind eased slightly.