The Service Club was quiet. Not peaceful quiet, but suffocating quiet the kind that made you overly aware of your own breathing.
Yuigahama Yui fidgeted restlessly in her seat, her thumbs tapping her phone screen though it wasn't on. Every so often, she peeked at Yukinoshita Yukino, who sat with her back perfectly straight, a book balanced in her hands. Her expression was composed, cold the embodiment of an elegant wall.
Me? I sat opposite them, perfectly at ease. Silence was comfortable. In fact, silence was easier than chatter. Words carried weight, while silence only asked for patience.
But Yui couldn't take it.
"S-So, um," she blurted suddenly, scratching her cheek, "don't you think this club is kinda weird, Ras-kun? We're supposed to help people, right? But, like, nobody's come in at all. Not even once."
Yukino didn't look up. "Patience. If someone requires help, they'll come. If not, then the Service Club exists as a monument to futility which, frankly, describes most human endeavors."
Yui's mouth dropped. "…H-Harsh!"
I folded my arms and leaned back, voice calm. "She's not wrong. People don't like exposing themselves. They'd rather suffer quietly than admit they need help."
Yui looked at me as if I'd kicked a puppy. "That's so gloomy, Ras-kun."
"Realistic," Yukino corrected smoothly.
I smirked faintly. "Sometimes those overlap."
"Ugh, you guys are, like… evil twins," Yui pouted. "Cold Ras and Ice Queen Yukino."
"I'd rather not be compared to anyone," Yukino replied, though her eyes flicked toward me, faint curiosity in their coldness.
Before I could answer, the door slid open. A timid knock, followed by a hesitant voice.
"E-Excuse me… is this the Service Club?"
Yui practically leapt out of her chair. "Yes! Come in, come in!"
A first-year girl entered, clutching a notebook to her chest like it might shield her from the world. She bowed quickly, nervously. "I… I was told I could ask for advice here."
"Correct," Yukino said, closing her book with a soft snap. "State your problem."
The girl shifted on her feet. "I… um… I had a fight with my friends. They said I'm too pushy, that I don't listen. I just wanted to spend more time with them, but now they're ignoring me. I don't know what to do."
Yui gasped, eyes immediately brimming with sympathy. "That's awful! Don't worry, I'm sure if you just apologize, they'll forgive you. Friends always do!"
"Wrong," Yukino said sharply. "An apology without meaning is self-degradation. If she bows and scrapes at the first sign of rejection, she'll be treated like a doormat. Assert yourself, or be discarded."
The girl flinched, shoulders trembling. Yui frowned. "That's way too harsh, Yukino!"
Their eyes turned toward me.
I met the girl's gaze. Her hands gripped her notebook tighter, knuckles white. "Tell me. Do you want to fix this because you miss them… or because you hate being ignored?"
Her eyes widened. "…Both."
"Then tell them both," I said evenly. "Apologize... but not like someone begging. Tell them you care, but also that it hurt to be pushed aside. If they're truly your friends, they'll listen. If not… then maybe they never were."
Her breath caught. Yukino's lips parted slightly, her sharp eyes studying me.
"C-Can I… really say that?" the girl whispered.
"Of course," I said. "Friends aren't friends if you have to erase yourself just to keep them."
Silence. Then the girl bowed deeply. "Thank you! I'll try!"
She scurried out, holding her notebook like it was a lifeline.
The room grew quiet again.
"…You handled that well," Yukino said finally, her tone clipped but not unkind.
Yui smiled brightly. "Yeah! Ras-kun, you're, like, really cool when you talk like that."
I arched a brow. "Only when I talk?"
Yui flailed. "N-No! I mean—um, you're cool all the time, butt~!"
Yukino sighed and reopened her book.
I leaned back again, letting the silence return. Comfortable for me. Uncomfortable for them.
---
After School
The sun painted long shadows across the courtyard, gilding the air with gold. Students trickled out, laughing in groups. I adjusted my bag and headed for the gate.
"Ras-kun!"
Her voice rang like sunlight itself. Totsuka Saika jogged up, hair bouncing, smile warm and unguarded.
"Heading home?" she asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"Practice later. But I wanted to say… it's nice having you here. Everyone's been talking about the new transfer student." She laughed softly.
"Good things, I hope."
"Mostly." Her lips curved wryly. "Though some people said you're scary. Too calm."
"Scary?" I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know breathing quietly was a threat."
She laughed, covering her mouth. "I don't think you're scary at all. You're… reassuring."
Her eyes softened. For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say more. Then she hesitated, cheeks faintly pink.
"…Sometimes I wonder if people think I'm too soft," she admitted quietly. "Like, I smile too much. Or I'm too nice. Maybe it looks fake."
I looked at her. "Does it matter if it's fake, as long as you mean it?"
She blinked, then laughed again, the sound lighter now.
Before I could say more, movement caught my eye.
In the shadow of the corridor, Hachika stood. Her dead-fish eyes fixed on us. For a moment, her usual apathy cracked ~ her gaze sharpened, lips pressed thin.
Then she turned abruptly, footsteps clipped against the floor.
"…I see," I murmured.
"Hm?" Totsuka tilted her head.
"Nothing. Just the wind."
She smiled, unconvinced but gentle.
We walked together a little longer before parting ways.
---
Night
The city was quiet, but not silent. Neon hummed in the distance. Cicadas rasped faintly from the trees. But beneath it all, something heavier lurked.
The Book in my bag pulsed faintly. Pages shifted though I hadn't touched them.
At the far end of the street, under a flickering lamp, something writhed. A smear against reality jagged, formless, pulling light into itself.
An evil spirit.
Most wouldn't see it. Maybe that was kindness.
It twisted unnaturally, then lunged.
I set my bag down gently. My hand rose, calm and deliberate. The Book pulsed, words whispering into shape.
"Dark Absorb."
The shadows beneath it stretched, sticky as tar, wrapping around its limbs. The spirit froze mid-lunge, writhing against unseen bonds. Its maw opened soundlessly, clawing at nothing.
Not strong. But dangerous if ignored.
I exhaled softly. "Lightning Arrow."
Energy gathered in my hand sharp, silent, crackling into a glowing lance. I loosed it.
The bolt pierced its core. The spirit convulsed once, then shattered into dust, carried away by the night wind.
The streetlight flickered once, then steadied. The air lightened.
I lowered my hand, chest tightening briefly. Then eased. Relief, not pride.
I picked up my bag, brushed the strap, and slung it neatly over my shoulder. The Book pulsed once, faint and warm, then quieted.
The city looked unchanged, but I knew better.
This place wasn't as safe as it pretended to be.