The impromptu quartet had disbanded. Sakura, with a renewed, if fragile, sense of purpose, had gone to prepare herself mentally. Sudou, charged with a strange mix of gratitude and determination, went to get in a few last-minute practice shots at the gym, channeling his nervous energy into something productive.
This left Hikigaya Hachiman and Horikita Suzune to walk back towards their classrooms, a comfortable silence settling between them.
"Our strategy seems sound," Horikita finally said, breaking the quiet. "We have a witness, albeit a shaky one. We have circumstantial evidence questioning Ishizaki's motives. Class C is relying on lies and provocation." She paused, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "But their confidence is unsettling. I wonder how Nii-san would approach this situation… He would likely have three contingency plans and would have already dismantled their entire argument before they even spoke."
Hachiman stopped walking, a sigh escaping his lips that seemed to carry the weight of all the world's foolishness. He turned to face her.
"Horikita," he began, his voice flat. "Do you try to run every single situation through a 'What Would Big Brother Do?' filter?"
She looked at him, slightly taken aback by his directness. "Yes. His methods are ruthlessly effective. He always reaches the optimal conclusion. To mimic his way of thinking is the most logical path to victory."
Hachiman physically recoiled, as if he'd been slapped with a wet fish. He brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his temples with a weary groan. "I can't believe this," he muttered. "You're deliberately putting a ceiling on your own potential. You're trying to mimic someone else's thought process instead of developing your own."
He dropped his hand and met her gaze, his dead-fish eyes unusually intense. "You are not your brother, Horikita. You don't have his experiences, his exact personality, or his specific skill set. Trying to copy his thinking is like trying to run software on incompatible hardware. It might work sometimes, but it will never be as efficient as software designed specifically for your system. You're limiting yourself."
If it had been anyone else—Ike, Yamauchi, even Hirata—Horikita would have dismissed their words with a scathing retort, a cutting remark about the inferiority of their intellect. But this was Hikigaya Hachiman. The boy who had seen through the S-System, who had unmasked Kushida, who had orchestrated their midterm victory, and who had just masterfully begun the rehabilitation of two of their most problematic classmates. His track record was, infuriatingly, perfect. He was also… her first friend. His criticism wasn't an attack; it was an observation. A diagnosis.
"But… his way is proven," she argued, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.
"His way is a way. It's not the only way," Hachiman countered. "Your analysis of the midterm pass/fail condition was something I missed. My method for handling the 'Three Idiots' was something you couldn't do. We succeed when we use our own strengths, not when you try to wear a mask of your brother."
A mask of her brother. The words struck a chord deep within her, a dissonant, jarring note that shook her very foundations. A sudden, chilling realization washed over her. It wasn't just his way of thinking she had been copying. Her relentless pursuit of Class A, her self-imposed isolation, her belief that friendships were an unnecessary hindrance, her very philosophy on how to navigate this school… was any of it truly hers? Or was it all just a hollow echo of the brother she so desperately wanted to be acknowledged by? She had spent years trying to become him, and in doing so, had she completely lost herself? The thought was terrifying, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of doubt.
She had no response for him. For the first time, she was truly speechless.
They walked the rest of the way in a heavy silence. As they reached the point where their paths to their respective dorms diverged, they simply parted ways with a quiet nod, leaving Horikita to grapple with the new, uncomfortable questions that now plagued her mind.
Three days later, the day of the testimony arrived. The air outside the Student Council room was cold and sterile, smelling faintly of old paper and institutional power. It felt less like a school hallway and more like the waiting room for a tribunal.
The opposing forces were gathered. On one side stood the plaintiffs from Class C: Ishizaki and his two cronies, looking smug and confident. Their homeroom teacher, Sakagami-sensei, stood with them, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, clearly believing this was an open-and-shut case. Hachiman observed them with detached disdain. Not a single person with an independent brain cell among them. All bluster and groupthink exept the teacher. That should work in our favor.
On their side stood the defense. Hachiman and Horikita were there to support their key player, Sudou, who, to his credit, was standing stiffly, his hands shoved in his pockets, managing to look more tense than aggressive. Chabashira-sensei stood beside them, her expression as unreadable as ever.
Just as a member of the student council was about to call them in, the grand doors at the end of the hall swung open. A figure emerged, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone present. Tall, imposing, with sharp features and an aura of absolute authority.
Horikita Manabu, the Student Council President, had arrived.
"I will be overseeing this hearing personally," he announced, his voice cool and authoritative, leaving no room for argument.
Hachiman glanced at Horikita Suzune. The carefully constructed composure she had maintained for the past three days shattered like glass. Her back, already ramrod straight, became impossibly rigid. Her breath hitched, and he saw a faint tremor start in her hand. The doubt and identity crisis Hachiman had inflicted upon her, combined with the sudden, intimidating presence of the very person who was the source of it all, had completely thrown her off balance. She was nervous, visibly so, and a nervous Horikita was a compromised asset.
He thought back to her words—my friend. The designation was still strange, foreign, and probably just a strategic utterance on her part. But in that moment, seeing her on the verge of crumbling, a strange and unfamiliar sense of responsibility stirred within him. This was not pragmatism. Or, maybe it was. A panicked ally was a useless ally. He needed her sharp, logical mind for the coming battle. Yes, that was it. It was a strategic move.
Without a second thought, acting on an impulse that was equal parts strategy and something else he refused to name, he reached out and took her trembling hand in his.
Horikita flinched, startled by the sudden contact. She looked down at their joined hands—his, surprisingly warm and steady—and then up at his face.
But Hachiman wasn't looking at her. He was staring straight ahead, his dead-fish eyes fixed on her brother, meeting the President's cold, appraising gaze without flinching. There was no romance in the gesture, no awkwardness, just a simple, solid statement: I'm here. We're in this together.
The effect was immediate. The simple, firm pressure of his hand was a physical anchor in the storm of her anxiety. It was a tether to the present, a silent reassurance that she was not alone in the lion's den. Her breathing steadied. The trembling stopped. The icy mask of composure, her own genuine version this time, settled back over her features.
She gave his hand a barely perceptible squeeze of acknowledgment, a silent "thank you."
Just then, the council room doors opened. "The hearing will now begin. Please enter."
Together, a united, if unconventional, front, they walked into the room to face their judgment.
The Student Council room was an intimidating space. A long, polished mahogany table dominated the center, reflecting the cold, fluorescent lights overhead. At its head sat Horikita Manabu, his mere presence casting a palpable weight over the proceedings. Flanking him were other members of the council, their faces stern and impartial.
Everyone took their seats. The two factions faced each other across the gleaming wood: Hachiman, Horikita, Sudou, and Chabashira on one side; Ishizaki Daichi, Komiya Kyogo, Kondo Ryuji, and their smirking teacher, Sakagami of Class C, on the other.
Chabashira leaned back in her chair, a flicker of amusement in her eyes as she addressed the head of the table. "My, my, Student Council President," she said, her tone dripping with mock reverence. "I'm surprised you have time for such a trivial matter in your undoubtedly tight schedule."
Manabu's gaze remained fixed on the documents before him. "I had a moment to spare," he replied, his voice a cool monotone. "The details of the case piqued my curiosity."
Liar, Hachiman thought, a ghost of a smirk on his face. You're not curious about the case; you're curious about your sister. You're here to see if my little lecture did any good, to witness her growth for yourself. He found a perverse satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten under the infallible President's skin.
The council secretary, a prim girl named Tachibana, briefly explained the official complaint. "The students of Class 1-C—Ishizaki Daichi, Komiya Kyogo, and Kondo Ryuji—have reported an act of unprovoked violence perpetrated against them by Sudou Ken of Class 1-D and sudo ken claims it was self defence the testimony will now start ."
The testimony began, and Sakagami immediately went on the offensive. "My students are the victims here, President," he declared, gesturing dramatically. "They are good, honest boys who were ruthlessly attacked by this… this violent delinquent!" He shot a venomous glare at Sudou, clearly intending to light his notoriously short fuse. "One only needs to look at his history, his attitude, to know what kind of person he is!"
To Sakagami's profound surprise, Sudou didn't explode. He sat there, his jaw tight and a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he remained silent. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table, but he didn't rise to the bait. The hours of Hachiman and Horikita's verbal abuse, the relentless stress test, were paying off. He was holding.
Seeing her moment, Horikita rose, her voice clear and steady. "President," she began, her gaze respectful but firm, "I have a procedural question. If this matter is an incident between students, why are the homeroom teachers permitted to speak and influence the proceedings?"
Manabu looked at her, his expression unreadable.
To the surprise of everyone on the Class D side, Chabashira spoke up in support. "An excellent point, Horikita. The President is here to adjudicate a dispute between his fellow students but in this school students are expect to solve their own problems. The opinions and character assassinations of us teachers are irrelevant."
Manabu considered this for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "A valid point. From this moment on, the teachers will act only as observers. Sakagami-sensei, Chabashira-sensei, please refrain from speaking unless directly addressed by the council."
Sakagami sputtered, his face flushing with anger as he was effectively muzzled. He shot a murderous glare at Horikita, who met it with an icy calm. The first blow had been struck, and Class D had won the round. The three Class C boys were now on their own.
"Now," Horikita continued, turning her attention back to the plaintiffs, "let us examine the facts. Firstly, the incident was, by all accounts, one student versus three. An unfavorable situation for my classmate, Sudou-kun."
"He's a monster! He's way stronger than us!" Komiya blurted out.
"Which brings me to my second point," Horikita said, unfazed. "Ishizaki-kun." She fixed her gaze on the boy. "My research indicates you had a reputation for being quite the violent delinquent in middle school yourself. Furthermore, you are not a member of the basketball club. So I must ask, what reason did you have to be at the special annexe building, a place primarily used by the club, at that specific time?"
Ishizaki flinched. "We… we knew Sudou was a violent psycho! We brought Ishizaki along for protection! Just in case!" Kondo interjected, trying to cover for his friend.
Horikita's lips curved into a faint, predatory smile. "For protection? A fascinating claim. You brought a known fighter for protection, instigated a confrontation, and yet, somehow, the three of you still ended up with injuries severe enough to file this complaint, while my classmate, the supposed aggressor in a one-on-three fight, has barely a scratch on him." She let the absurdity of their claim hang in the air. "It seems your 'protection' was remarkably ineffective."
"You bitch!" Ishizaki roared, losing his composure completely. He shot to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "What do you know?!"
His two friends followed suit, shouting curses and denials, their carefully constructed victim narrative crumbling into a mess of rage and panic. Their outburst did more to damage their credibility than any argument Horikita could have made.
Manabu watched the chaotic display, a subtle frown on his face. "Silence," he commanded, and the room instantly fell quiet.
"And now," Horikita said, playing her final card, "we have a witness." She gestured to the door, where Sakura Airi was waiting.
Sakura entered, trembling, but she walked with a newfound resolve, her eyes fixed on Horikita. When she presented her phone, the photo was, as expected, blurry and inconclusive on its own. But in the wake of the Class C boys' meltdown, it took on new significance. It proved Sakura was there, corroborating her testimony. It placed all four boys at the scene. And it shattered the last vestiges of the plaintiffs' credibility.
The tide had turned heavily in Class D's favor. It was clear to everyone in the room that the Class C students had instigated the fight. However, one undeniable fact remained: they were injured, and Sudou had fought back.
"It is clear," Manabu stated after a period of deliberation with his council, "that the students of Class C instigated this conflict and provided false testimony. However, it is also clear that Sudou-ken engaged in violence."
Hachiman knew this was the best they could hope for. While it was likely someone else—perhaps from another class entirely—had inflicted the more serious, additional damage on the Class C boys after their initial scuffle with Sudou to escalate the situation, they had no way to prove it.
"The verdict is as follows," Manabu announced. "The complaint of unprovoked assault is dismissed. However, for their roles in the conflict and for providing false information to the student council, Ishizaki Daichi, Komiya Kyogo, and Kondo Ryuji will each receive a two-week suspension from all club activities. Sudou Ken, for his part in escalating the situation to physical violence instead of reporting it, will receive a one-week suspension. The case is closed."
Horikita nodded, accepting the judgment. Sudou needed to learn that violence, even in self-defense, has consequences in this school. It was a fair, if not perfect, outcome. Sudou, though grumbling under his breath, reluctantly accepted it as well. It was infinitely better than being expelled.
As everyone began to file out of the room, Hachiman saw Horikita Manabu watching his sister go. There was no smile on his face, no outward sign of approval. But in his eyes, for just a fraction of a second, Hachiman saw it: a flicker of unmistakable pride in his sister's progression, and a grudging respect for the strange, fish-eyed boy who had, somehow, helped make it happen. The case was over. Class D had survived, scarred but intact.
The heavy doors of the Student Council room clicked shut behind them, the sound finalizing their small, messy victory. The sterile air of the hallway felt like a gulp of freedom after the suffocating tension of the hearing. Sudou let out a long, shaky breath, running a hand through his bright red hair. Sakura was still pale, but the trembling had subsided, replaced by a quiet, exhausted relief.
Just as the Class D contingent was about to disperse, two figures approached them, their steps unhurried. It was Ichinose Honami and Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.
"Horikita-san! Sudou-kun!" Ichinose called out, her expression a mixture of relief and genuine concern. "We were waiting. How did it go? Is everything alright?"
Horikita, who was still mentally cataloging the proceedings, gave a curt nod. "It was not a complete victory," she reported, her voice as factual as a lab report. "Sudou-kun received a one-week suspension. But the Class C students received two weeks, and more importantly, the primary accusation was dismissed. Expulsion has been avoided. The outcome was… acceptable."
A brilliant smile bloomed on Ichinose's face, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere of the hallway. "That's wonderful news! I'm so glad. I was really worried."
Sudou, for his part, managed a gruff "Thanks for the help," a clear acknowledgment of the crucial tip about Ishizaki.
Ichinose's expression then shifted, becoming more serious and strategic. "Horikita-san," she began, "seeing how Class C operates, their willingness to lie and fabricate evidence… I'd like to propose a formal alliance between Class B and Class D."
Horikita's eyes narrowed slightly. Hachiman, ever the silent observer, watched the exchange with keen interest. An alliance? From the class directly above them?
"An alliance?" Horikita repeated, testing the word.
"Yes," Ichinose affirmed. "The point difference between our classes and Class A is significant. Class C, meanwhile, seems content to drag everyone else down with them. It would be strategically sound for us to cooperate, to share information when it's mutually beneficial, and to present a united front against underhanded tactics. Together, we stand a much better chance of climbing."
Horikita considered this for a long moment. Hachiman could practically see the gears turning in her head. The logic was sound. Class D was at the bottom of the barrel; any help was good help. The point difference between D and B was vast enough that they weren't immediate competitors, but allies against a common foe.
"Your proposal is logical," Horikita finally conceded. "Class D accepts. An alliance would be… strategically sound." She extended a hand.
Ichinose took it, her grip warm and firm. "I look forward to working with you, Horikita-san."
With the agreement sealed, the two groups parted ways, a new and fragile pact formed in the sterile corridors of power.
As Ichinose and Ayanokoji walked back towards the dorms, the silence between them was comfortable, thoughtful. It was Ayanokoji who broke it.
"You're trying very hard, Ichinose," he stated, not as a question, but as an observation.
Ichinose laughed, a light, airy sound. "What do you mean, Ayanokoji-kun? We all have to try hard here if we want to reach Class A."
"That's not what I mean," he said, his voice quiet but persistent. "I understand working hard for our class. I even understand the strategic value in allying with Class D; if they become a challenge for Class C, it diverts attention from us. But you go further."
He paused, gathering his thoughts into a precise, analytical stream. "The notice on the bulletin board, offering your own private points as a reward for information that would help another class… You seem to be shouldering the burdens of others, not just for strategic gain, but because you feel you have to. It's like you're pushing yourself to be the 'perfect good person,' and… it looks heavy."
Ichinose's cheerful mask faltered for just a moment. A shadow, fleeting but undeniable, crossed her features. She looked away, towards the manicured lawns of the campus.
Her shield has cracks, Ayanokoji thought, his mind working with cold precision. He had chosen to be in her class, to use her as a buffer, a source of protection for the peaceful life he craved. She was also his primary case study, his best chance to understand the human emotions that his father's 'education' had stripped from him, the very kindness that Matsuo had died for. A shield with cracks was a liability. It could shatter. And if she shattered, the peace she provided would shatter with her. He couldn't let that happen.
"Let's just say," Ichinose said, her voice a little softer than before, "I have my reasons for wanting to be a person who helps others. It's… a personal promise I made to myself." The vagueness was a wall, and he knew pushing against it would only make it stronger.
So, he changed his approach. He stopped walking and turned to face her.
"I don't know what it is," he said, his gaze steady and his voice devoid of pity or judgment. "But a shield can break if it takes too many hits from all sides. You carry the weight of our entire class, and now you're trying to carry others, too."
He took a small step closer. "So, when the time comes… if that weight ever becomes too much… you can talk to me."
Ichinose looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. From anyone else, the offer might have sounded like a platitude. But coming from the quiet, reserved, almost invisible Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, it held a strange gravity.
"I won't judge you," he continued, his tone unwavering. "I won't offer useless advice or tell you to 'cheer up.' I'll just listen."
She stared at him, searching his placid face for any hint of insincerity, for any ulterior motive she might have missed, she was always the one who listen to others but it was first time that someone else is willing to listen to her, "Ayanokoji-kun… are you being truthful? Why would you…?"
"Yes," he replied simply, cutting through her question with the quiet finality of his answer. There was no warmth in his eyes, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his promise. He was a vault, and he was offering her the key.
A slow smile spread across Ichinose's lips. It was different from her usual bright, public-facing grin. This one was softer, more genuine, and tinged with a hint of melancholy vulnerability. It was a smile that acknowledged a shared secret, even if that secret hadn't yet been spoken.
"Thank you, Ayanokoji-kun," she said, her voice quiet. "I'll… I'll hold on to those words."
He simply nodded. They resumed their walk, the silence between them now filled with a new, unspoken understanding.
I've planted a seed, Ayanokoji thought, his expression unchanging. For her sake, and for mine. He needed her to remain strong, to be the benevolent leader everyone saw her as. But more than that, he needed to understand her. He needed to comprehend the logic behind this self-destructive kindness, this strange, beautiful idiocy that a good man had once sacrificed his life for. And Ichinose Honami, the girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders with a smile, was his best, and perhaps only, chance to find the answer.
Excellent. Let's explore this crucial period of character development and the dramatic culmination of the stalker subplot.
Sudou Ken's one-week suspension was a strange, isolating experience. Barred from classes and club activities, he found himself with a surplus of time and a deficit of things to do. The basketball court, his usual sanctuary, was off-limits. His usual companions, Ike and Yamauchi, offered little in the way of actual company, their interactions limited to brief, resentful grunts in the hallways.
His only consistent point of contact was Sakura Airi.
Their communication began through text messages, an awkward staccato of two vastly different personalities. His were blunt and often misspelled; hers were hesitant and overly formal. But it was a start. After class, they would meet on a quiet bench, a neutral territory where their worlds could cautiously overlap.
It was, at first, like mixing oil and water. Sudou would talk loudly about basketball, his arms waving animatedly.
Sakura would listen, nodding timidly, her replies barely audible whispers about photography or the weather. But slowly, they found a middle ground. He learned to lower his voice, and she, in turn, learned to look up from the ground when she spoke.
On the fourth day of his suspension, his so-called friends cornered him after he'd just finished talking with Sakura.
"Dude, what's the deal?" Ike asked, a sneer on his face. "Why are you always hanging out with that gloomy girl?"
"Yeah," Yamauchi chimed in. "I mean, I'll admit, she's got some serious boobs on her, but that's all she's got going for her. She's so bland and boring."
A few weeks ago, Sudou might have agreed, or at least laughed along. But something had shifted inside him. He thought of the trial, of Ike and Yamauchi turning their backs on him in an instant, and of the quiet, terrified girl who had walked into a lion's den for his sake.
"Shut up," Sudou said, his voice low but firm. "When you two were busy blaming me for something I didn't do, she was the one who stood up. She did something you two cowards would never do. So you don't get to talk about her."
He turned and walked away, leaving them speechless.
From a distance, observing from his usual spot on the periphery of social interaction, Hachiman watched the scene unfold with a detached sense of irony. They call her bland, he mused, while Sudou, the luckiest idiot in this school, has hit the jackpot without even knowing it. He, alone, knew that the "bland" Sakura was also the captivating "Shizuku." Sudou had stumbled into a diamond mine while his friends were still busy arguing over shiny rocks.
The time Sudou spent with Sakura was changing him in ways Hachiman hadn't fully anticipated. In their quiet conversations, Sakura, emboldened by Sudou's simple, non-judgmental friendship, began to open up about her own life. She spoke of the unwanted attention of creepy people , of the constant, low-level fear of being followed or harassed that was a daily reality for many girls but she was still keeping her shizuku persona a secret for a reason .
For Sudou, who had previously viewed girls primarily through a leering, perverted lens alongside Ike and Yamauchi, these conversations were a revelation. He started to see the world from the other side, to understand the unease and fear his own past boorish behavior might have caused. It was a slow, humbling process of reflection. He was still loud, still brash, but the aggressive, predatory edge was beginning to dull, replaced by a nascent, clumsy empathy.
And Sakura, in turn, was becoming a little more confident. With Sudou, she didn't have to worry about hidden meanings or social maneuvering. His emotions were always on the surface. It was a safe, predictable environment, and in it, her own timid voice began to find its strength.
On the 5th evening of Sudou's suspension . Hachiman, in a rare moment of seeking simple pleasure, was sitting on a campus bench eating a vanilla ice cream cone when Sudou happened to walk by. With a shrug, Sudou bought his own and sat down. They ate in a comfortable, masculine silence for a few minutes.
Suddenly, Sudou's phone rang. The caller ID read 'Sakura'.
"Yo, Sakura," he answered, a grin on his face. "What's up?"
He listened for a moment, his grin faltering. "Hey, are you okay? You sound… scared…"
Hachiman watched as the color drained from Sudou's face. He heard a faint, panicked cry from the other end of the line, followed by the distinct, sharp clatter of a phone hitting the ground. The line went dead.
"Sakura!" Sudou yelled into the phone. "Sakura!" He was panicking, his eyes wide with fear, looking around wildly as if she might just appear.
Hachiman, his own heart giving an unpleasant lurch, immediately switched into crisis mode. "Sudou, give me your phone."
Sudou, dazed, handed it over. Hachiman quickly navigated to the school's pre-installed student app. "Every student's phone has a GPS tracker for 'safety purposes'," he explained, his fingers flying across the screen. "There. I have her location." He showed the map to Sudou. A single red dot pulsed behind the electronics store in the Keyaki Mall.
The moment Sudou saw the location, something primal took over. He didn't say a word. He just moved. It wasn't just an athlete's run; it was a desperate, explosive sprint fueled by pure, unadulterated adrenaline. He was a blur of motion, a red-headed missile aimed at a single target. Hachiman, who considered a brisk walk a significant cardiovascular event, was left in the dust immediately.
"Hey, wait up, you idiot!" he called out, but Sudou was already gone.
With a groan, Hachiman began to jog, a pace that felt both undignified and exhausting.
By the time Hachiman arrived at the scene, breathless and with a stitch in his side, the crisis was already over. The alley behind the electronics store was cast in long evening shadows. Lying on the ground, groaning and clutching his stomach, was the fat, balding manager of the store—the stalker.
And standing a few feet away was Sudou. But he wasn't triumphant, nor was he raging. His back was to the fallen man. He was holding Sakura, who was sobbing into his chest, her small frame trembling violently. Sudou's arms were wrapped around her, his large frame a protective shield. His expression was one of grim fury, but his voice, when he spoke, was incredibly gentle.
"It's okay," he was murmuring, stroking her hair. "I'm here now. He didn't… he didn't hurt you. You're safe. It's okay."
It didn't take a genius to piece together what had happened. The manager, a man they now knew was a creep, had been stalking her, sending her a barrage of creepy messages. Sakura, in a moment of newfound bravery, had decided to confront him today, to tell him to stop. He had refused, and when she tried to leave, he had tried to force himself on her. She had tried to call Sudou, her one and only friend, her protector. The man had knocked the phone from her hand, but it was too late. Her savior had already been on his way.
Moments later, school security guards, alerted by the commotion, arrived on the scene. The manager, still moaning on the ground, was hauled to his feet and escorted away, his career at the school undoubtedly over.
The three of them walked back to the dorms in the deepening twilight. Sakura walked between the two boys, her crying having subsided to quiet, hiccuping breaths. Sudou stayed close to her side, a silent, looming guardian.
Hachiman watched them. He had planted the seeds of this relationship for purely pragmatic reasons, to create a new asset for Class D. But what had grown was something far beyond his cynical machinations. It was something… genuine but not entirely sakura was still hiding her Shizuku persona from sudo but if she tells him what then ? Could their Relation became genuine ? Hikigaya wanted to find out and he is eager to see the results.
....END....