My name is Shiro Hachiman. I'm a first-year student in Class F at Sobu High School. I'm a lone wolf.
As the term implies—I don't go along with the herd and I judge them silently in my head.
Foolish classmates glorify youth, friendship, and boring delusions…
In short, all you popular kids—explode.
Not out of jealousy. Out of ridicule.
After countless trials, I have become strong. I am the Jotaro of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders.
After enduring being ostracized, getting nicknames, having my name intentionally mispronounced, being forgotten in group activities, misunderstanding a gentle girl's actions as affection only to be rejected instantly, and so many other hardships, I have reached the state of invincibility.
Invincibility might really be a debuff, though—yesterday I faced yet another unprecedented trial.
Once again, I was deceived by false words. Once again, I made an over-self-conscious decision. Once again, I experienced the shame of wanting to restart life.
I packed up my textbooks and bag, ignoring the small groups of classmates leaving together. These are the people who need a buddy to go to the bathroom, who constantly stress "doing things together," who lie constantly—they are fundamentally different from me.
Am I going to that suspicious club activity? Of course I am. I already agreed to attend, and if I don't show, that violent teacher might suddenly appear and blow me to bits. So… I have no choice. I must go to that classroom.
It's absolutely not my will.
Yeah, absolutely not. I'm only there because I have to interact with suspicious people in the club.
I slung my shoulder bag over my back and stepped out of the classroom, slightly hunched, weaving past groups of students heading off to play soccer, basketball, chatting, laughing, their happiness in sharp contrast to my detached stride.
As I walked, my dead-fish eyes moved slightly, scanning the crowd behind me. There she was—a girl with a peach-colored bun.
Lately, I've been seeing her a lot…
It must be coincidence. No one really thinks seeing a certain girl often means she's after them, right? There can't be people that deluded, can there?
Hmph. Anyone who harbors that shallow thought is destined for disaster.
I've become stronger. I won't make the same mistake twice.
…
"Welcome, welcome."
"Hello."
A casual greeting drifted over, while another sounded far more sincere.
Yukino Yukinoshita sat by the window, greeted me, then returned to her book.
"This is your spot. Sit wherever you like. Need a desk? Grab one from the back."
Shiro sat against the wall. After a few words, he returned to typing on his laptop.
"Oh."
A half-hearted, casual reply—showing indifference while still acknowledging them. Excellent.
I took a seat, observing the two of them. "So… do we just sit here during club activities?"
"The lost will naturally find their way here. Until then, just wait."
Shiro smiled. "During this time, you can do your own thing. No rules, no attendance, no fines. Time is yours."
Sounds legit… so it really is just a club where people wait for others to come asking for help? Not some shady organization that builds influence, recruits followers, and dominates the school?
I considered opening the conversation with, "So… what kind of treatment should I receive?"
"The request is already made," Yukino said coolly. "The teacher has assigned it, hasn't he? You're to treat Shiro Hachiman's corrupted personality and twisted sensibilities."
Ohhh! Well done, Miss Yukinoshita! But… she seems a little down. Wait—Hachiman! Don't overthink! Remember all the stupid things you've done before!
"Shiro doesn't need treatment. Whether the assignment is completed is up to me. Yukinoshita-san doesn't need to worry. And of course, I won't cheat the terms of the bet—if it isn't completed, it doesn't count."
Shiro looked up from his laptop, hand on chin, eyes locking with mine. A prime opportunity! Come on! My strongest opponent yet—let's see what kind of thoughts you're hiding… this time, I won't fall for your lies or disguises!
"Shiro is interesting. He doesn't need treatment. He's a fine person," Shiro said, nodding confidently and returning to his typing.
Not Komachi's praise—completely unshakable!
Komachi's praise is the only one that counts!
I pulled a book from my bag and flipped it open, casually responding: "I also think my personality is great."
Whoa—Yukinoshita's gaze sharpened!
"Can you really help others with a personality that gives up on its own?" she asked flatly.
Shiro replied with interest: "Oh? Then Yukinoshita-san, can you compliment yourself?"
"M-My personality is of course great. No need to confirm such things excessively."
Wait, wait, wait—she paused. Hesitated. Even perfect, high-standing Yukinoshita has… a hint of insecurity?
I held the book to my face, pretending to read, sneaking glances at them, engaging in my favorite activity: human observation.
Shiro lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. "Crystal is beautiful, but fragile."
"Shiro, your voice and tone… it's like a siren song luring fools to their doom. Hachiman was clearly seduced by it, led astray. What a pity," Yukino said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Impossible to deny—his voice carries power. Different tones for different lines create an intimidating effect. Stop, Hachiman! Don't recall painful memories!
Shiro suddenly asked: "Yukinoshita-san, can you perform that line? The 'I'm so cute' line."
"'I'm so cute'? I know that. You're asking this…"
"I'm so cute? I'm so cute, I'm so cute…"
He repeated it, the tone shifting to an ethereal, slightly husky melody.
Beautiful, yes—but no voice can overcome the limits of flesh.
Yukinoshita stared, seeing something bizarre. "A female voice… I didn't expect this fetish of yours. Modern technology hasn't perfected gender transformation. Think carefully before doing anything reckless."
Shiro nodded, voice calm and commanding: "Fine. I am cute."
Thud.
My book hit the floor. I nearly fell out of my chair, horrified.
"Are you two running a circus?" Yukinoshita glanced at me.
"Yukinoshita-san…" I lowered to pick up my book. "Bone conduction makes hearing your own voice strange."
Her eyes widened in realization.
Shiro, now improvising with a new voice, declared: "I am Yukinoshita Yukino! I will grow into a kind and righteous person! My dream is to correct the insect-like stupidity of people like you! To change the world in the name of justice! I will become the god of a new world—!"
What happened that day? Only one phrase comes to mind: never judge a book by its cover.
This seemingly delicate girl had an immense vocabulary and speaking speed, a masterful way of teasing, mocking, and ridiculing without swearing…
I had the feeling Shiro did it deliberately. After that performance, Yukinoshita's gloom vanished.
Probably replaced by murderous intent toward Shiro.
…
Shiro is strange. Hard to understand.
Not to brag, but I think I'm decent at reading people. Observing behavior reveals most people's true nature. In social settings, people wear masks to gain advantage or appear friendlier. I've seen enough to know who's being genuine.
Because I gain nothing socially, I, unpopular Hachiman, see reality more clearly than anyone.
Some people's masks become their faces. Some, part of their flesh. Some refuse to remove them.
Shiro is genuine, but oddly unpredictable, only occasionally glancing at Yukinoshita, with an incomprehensible foreign aura. Sometimes, he even looks at me in a way I can't understand.
Yukinoshita is genuine too—righteous, firm, strong, like a goddess on a high plateau. Yet, especially in confrontations with Shiro, perhaps she isn't as strong as she seems.
This club is good, though—relaxed, and the people aren't unpleasant.
Watching Shiro's impromptu mini-dramas is rare fun, whether it's verbal sparring or seeing Yukinoshita calmly lose her cool…
As long as it doesn't involve me.
…
"Shiro, why are you dancing all of a sudden?"
I'm panicking—why? Why does my all-encompassing defense system fail against you? Damn it! I updated my system, yet you bypass it effortlessly!
"Don't think. Feel the rhythm. Even without song, every movement sings of self," Shiro said.
He held my hand, guiding me through simple steps in the narrow classroom.
Yukinoshita clutched her book, afraid of laughing.
Apparently, Shiro got caught in inspiration while writing, stared out the window, then suddenly stood and invited me onto the "stage."
"Shiro, dance with me!"
"Ah? Oh… um?!"
Why didn't I refuse? I could have blamed Yukinoshita! Damn it! This is too weird!
No noble motive of "overcoming your loneliness" or "teaching you dance out of pity." He simply acted because he thought of it—so I couldn't refuse. And… I felt he needed help. I couldn't say no.
Scary. The club president is terrifying.
This is the horror of someone filled with artistic obsession.
Fine. I'll help. No harm done. Just self-satisfaction.
Even if it's stupid, who hasn't done something foolish before?
I ranted internally like a storm.
"Don't overthink. Enjoy the moment," Shiro hummed, stepping, guiding, transforming inner fire into dance.
I tried to take it seriously. His guidance was strong—just follow his lead. His grip was firm, probably for better control.
Bang bang.
A knock interrupted our rhythm. My left foot stumbled over my right.
Shiro immediately adjusted, stepped toward me, right hand pulling, left hand steadying, catching me safely.
"Come in," Yukinoshita said at the right moment.
"Yahha… hello—?"
A cheerful voice entered, then got stuck in its throat.
The peach-haired girl stood in the doorway, staring at the two boys in mid-embrace, waving her hand more and more slowly.