The restaurant lights steadied again after Haruno's reveal. The air felt heavier, charged with tension.
Everyone's eyes slid toward Yukino. She sat perfectly straight, her pale hands folded in her lap. Her expression was as sharp as ever, but her ears betrayed her — tinged faint pink.
The voice wasted no time.
"Next reveal: Yukino Yukinoshita."
The table jolted as if struck.
"E-ehhh?!" Yui squeaked, almost spilling her water."No way," Iroha gasped. "Yukino-senpai too?! Isn't that, like, super obvious?!""It is the destined rival route!" Zaimokuza bellowed."Shut up," Kawasaki muttered, but her own eyes flicked between Yukino and Hachiman with faint curiosity.Ebina clutched her cheeks, sparkling. "Ohhh, the forbidden triangle! This is getting so juicy!"
Hachiman, meanwhile, froze. His hands clenched under the table. "…This system really is trying to kill me."
Yukino finally spoke, her voice low, steady — too steady. "I deny nothing until I see this so-called 'proof.'"
"Aw, you're blushing, Yukino-chan," Haruno teased, leaning on her elbow.
"Be quiet, sister," Yukino snapped, sharper than glass.
The restaurant dimmed once again. The walls shimmered with light.
The projection began.
The Service Club room — quiet,
Yukino sat at the table, pristine as always, flipping through a book tea on the table . Then the door opened.
Hachiman entered, late as usual, his gait slouched, his face unreadable.
Yui had bounded in first, cheerful and bright. But Yukino's eyes, for a fleeting moment, had shifted to Hachiman. Just a flicker. Just a second.
Her inner thought echoed:
"…He came. Again. Even after everything. He still came."
The projection shifted.
A summer day. The cultural festival — chaos, arguments, responsibilities weighing heavy. Yukino stood firm, proud, but isolated, her classmates whispering behind her back.
And then Hachiman appeared, taking the brunt of their scorn, absorbing the malice, his expression unreadable but his stance unyielding.
"…Why? Why is he shouldering it? For me? No, for everyone. Even when they hate him. Reckless. Foolish. And yet…"
Another flash.
The next projection lingered.
A quiet afternoon, the Service Club empty except for the two of them. Yukino sat reading, Hachiman tapping lazily at his notebook.
The silence stretched — not awkward, but steady. Comfortable.
"…When did this silence stop feeling heavy? When did it start to feel like… home?"
The projection shifted again.
Hachiman's crooked smile as he took on scorn during the cultural festival. His blunt words cutting through pretenses. His steady presence, infuriating and comforting all at once.
"…I tried to reject it. To deny it. But somewhere along the way, I realized… I couldn't."
The projection dimmed.
"W-wha—so it's true?!" Yui squeaked, her face pink, her hands gripping the menu so tight it crumpled.
"This is getting so good," Ebina whispered, eyes shining. "My ship sails itself!"
"No way," Iroha gasped, pointing dramatically at Yukino. "You're, like, the ice queen! You're not supposed to melt!"
"…That's the point," Kawasaki muttered.
Hayama said nothing, but his calm mask faltered for a split second.
"Yukino-chan, how bold," Haruno teased, her grin wolfish.
Yukino's glare could have frozen steel. "…Be silent, sister."
"Ehhh, so scary."
Hachiman, meanwhile, buried his face in his hand. "…This is torture. Literal torture. Youth is hell."
The voice returned, cutting through the noise.
"Proceeding to the next reveal."
The restaurant lights brightened once more, but the atmosphere had shifted permanently.
Everyone was rattled.
Especially Hachiman.