Chapter 159: Kushida: "Huh? You Said You'd Solve My Trouble, but You're Just Finding Me a Job?"
As the four large buses slowly rolled into the campus, the sky had completely darkened.
Streetlights stood in a line along the tree-lined boulevard, casting a dim, gentle amber glow. The sound of tires crushing the pavement was exceptionally clear in the quiet evening, carrying a grounded sense of "we're finally here."
Outside the windows, the teaching buildings, the cafeteria, and the gymnasium stood one after another in the twilight, appearing exactly as they had when the students left. Someone in their seat took a long, exaggerated stretch; someone else leaned against the window, dazed; and others had already begun packing their belongings. The sound of backpack zippers and the rustle of plastic bags mingled, gradually bringing the cabin to life.
Two weeks of life on the cruise ship had indeed been wonderful. Soft beds, twenty-four-hour meal service, the endless sea breeze on the deck, and pigeons so overfed their bellies were round. But returning now to this place enclosed by high walls brought an indescribable sense of relief. It was perhaps the steadiness of "finally being back," or the inevitability of "no matter how long you're out, you always end up back here."
The buses for the four classes parked side-by-side, but the atmospheres inside were polar opposites.
The two buses on the left were quiet to the point of being stifling. The students of the original Class A sat in their seats; some stared down at their phones, others stared blankly out the window, and a few pulled their hat brims low as if afraid of being seen. They knew better than anyone what returning to school meant—from tomorrow, the signs at their classroom doors would change. The words "Class A" would be moved from above their heads to the door of the bus parked right next to them.
Inside the bus to the right, it was a completely different scene.
Laughter drifted out from the gaps in the windows, intermittent and irrepressible. People stood up to lean over the back rows, others turned around to drape themselves over headrests, and some simply left their seats to crowd into the aisle to talk. That excitement wasn't forced; it overflowed naturally from every face, hand, and voice.
Rising to Class A. This was something they hadn't even dared to dream of before, and now it was firmly in their grasp.
Hachiman sat in a window seat, his backpack on his lap and his hands resting on the straps. His expression was no different from usual—half-lidded eyes and slightly pursed lips, looking as if he were spacing out. However, his peripheral vision was constantly darting sideways because the voices were converging toward him.
"Hikigaya-kun!" A boy in the front turned around, gripping the back of the seat, his eyes shining as if he'd found treasure. "Thank you so much for this exam! To be honest, when I learned the
truth about this school, I never thought we could reach Class A, but in the very first semester—"
"Exactly, exactly," someone nearby immediately chimed in. "That play during the Island Test... I still think it's insane when I remember it. Class A and Class C were led by the nose while we just sat back and took the points."
"And the VIP Test!" A girl from the back row leaned over, her voice carrying unrestrained excitement. "I heard from people in other classes that they stayed up for several nights trying to deduce the pattern, and they were all wrong. Our class didn't have to do anything, and our points just went up on their own."
"Wasn't that Hikigaya-kun's strategy?" someone corrected with a laugh. "What do you mean 'didn't have to do anything'?"
"Right, right! What I meant was—Hikigaya-kun is too amazing!"
Laughter erupted again.
More and more people joined in, every sentence ending with sentiments like "Thankfully we have Hikigaya-kun" or "It's all thanks to Hikigaya-kun." Hachiman sat there, his expression shifting from calm to subtle, and from subtle to a helpless look of "I know you mean well, but could you please stop?"
It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, but being surrounded and praised by a crowd was a situation far too foreign and agonizing for him. His gaze began to drift toward the front of the bus, looking for a literal lifeline.
Ichinose Honami was sitting a few rows ahead, listening to the commotion in the back.
She had specifically chosen not to sit with Hachiman today, considering the class atmosphere. She wanted Hachiman to experience and accept the enthusiasm of his classmates firsthand. Naturally, she didn't join the discussion herself, only occasionally looking back with that signature gentle smile.
However, when her gaze met Hachiman's for the third time, she finally couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. She stood up, crossed the aisle, and sat in the empty seat next to Hachiman. The movement was natural, as if she were just switching seats for a bit. But as she sat down, the noise level of the surrounding discussion noticeably dropped.
Ichinose wasn't in a hurry to speak. She first looked at Hachiman's face, which was practically screaming "Help," then scanned the classmates who were still eager to keep praising him. The curve of her smile deepened.
"Everyone." Her voice wasn't loud, but the bus quickly fell silent.
She clasped her hands gently on her lap and turned slightly toward Hachiman. Her bright eyes were serious yet filled with a tenderness that made it impossible to argue.
"Hikigaya-kun." She spoke softly, her voice lower than before, as if meant only for him. "Thank you for leading Class B to where we are now."
Her fingertips pressed together as if she were holding something precious. Strands of her gold-pink hair slipped from behind her ear, dangling by her cheek and swaying slightly with the bus's motion. The lights caught her face, making her appearance seem even more radiant. This was Ichinose Honami; ignoring class rankings, she was easily the most popular girl.
Hachiman froze for a moment and looked away. "No need to thank me. I'm a member of Class B too."
Ichinose didn't say anything more, simply sitting quietly beside him with that faint smile.
Just then, a figure walked down from the front of the bus. It was the homeroom teacher, Hoshinomiya Chie. She was holding a folder she hadn't had time to put down, a breezy smile on her face.
"Alright, alright—" Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a penetrating quality that ensured everyone heard. "Good work, everyone. After you get off, go back to the dorms and get some rest. Because tomorrow—"
She intentionally dragged out the last word, her eyes scanning everyone in the cabin, her smile widening.
"Classes resume!"
A collective wail instantly filled the bus.
Hoshinomiya remained unmoved, merely tilting her head with an "I can't help it" expression. Once the wailing died down, she walked back to the front with light steps. Hachiman leaned back, finally liberated from the predicament of being surrounded. He let out a soft breath, and his gaze inadvertently drifted toward the front.
He happened to catch Hoshinomiya Chie's gaze as she turned around.
She sat in her seat, torso twisted back, chin slightly tilted, with a smug grin on her face. Her expression seemed to say—"How about that? Your teacher was pretty reliable just now, right?"
Hachiman paused, then pulled his phone from his pocket.
The moment the screen lit up, a new message was indeed waiting there.
[Hoshinomiya]: How was that? Your teacher was very responsible just now, right?~
He stared at that tilde and the "right?", falling silent for two seconds. He looked up; Hoshinomiya had already turned back, showing only the back of her chestnut hair and a small section of her fair neck. She seemed to be in a very good mood.
'So, are you asking for a reward? Even if you act cute like that, Hoshinomiya-sensei, Hachiman isn't going to tell you who it was that changed Chabashira-sensei.'
Hachiman locked his phone and stuffed it back. Even if Hoshinomiya-sensei acted like that, he wouldn't tell her the truth. No, definitely not. After all, he really couldn't. Once she found out it was him who changed Chabashira, Hoshinomiya... would likely go off the rails.
With that thought, Hachiman took out his phone and sent a message.
"Send?"
Yes.
Hachiman pressed the send button.
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Inside the Class D bus, the atmosphere was nowhere near as lively as next door.
Students moved toward the doors in twos and threes; some carried backpacks, others dragged suitcases, the wheels making a dull thudding sound against the floor. No one spoke loudly, and no one was in a rush—they were already here; arriving at the dorm a minute earlier or later made no difference.
But this silence wasn't due to fatigue. After two weeks of good food and sleep on the ship, everyone was well-rested. What actually kept them silent was something else.
"Once we're back," Ike Kanji swung his bag over his shoulder, his voice tinged with an indescribable melancholy, "we'll have to pay for our own food again."
Yamauchi Haruki was zipping his suitcase. Hearing this, his face looked as though someone had poked a sore spot. He opened his mouth to retort, but after a long struggle, he only managed: "...Would it kill you not to mention that?"
"I'm just reminding you." Ike scratched his head. "Since it was free for two weeks, suddenly having to pay for it yourself feels like—"
"Feels like what?" Yamauchi gave the zipper a hard pull. "Feels like it doesn't taste as good?"
Ike didn't answer, but his silence was an answer in itself.
Sudo Ken walked up from behind, one hand in his pocket and the other carrying a bulging duffel bag. He glanced at the two, said nothing, and headed straight for the door. After two steps he stopped and looked back. "Stop dawdling, it's already dark."
Ike and Yamauchi looked at each other and hurried to follow.
At the front of the bus, Chabashira Sae leaned against her headrest with her eyes closed. She wasn't in a hurry to disembark. The homeroom teacher was always the last to leave; a habit
she had maintained for years. The students passed by her one by one—footsteps, wheels, hushed conversations—mingling and fading into the distance.
She didn't open her eyes, simply counting in her head how many people were left.
Her phone vibrated.
Though she noticed, Chabashira didn't reach for it immediately. After waiting about three seconds, she unhurriedly opened her eyes and pulled the phone from her coat pocket. The screen's glow reflected on her face, making her cold features appear somewhat pale. When the sender's name popped up, her finger paused slightly.
'Hikigaya Hachiman.'
She opened the message. It was short, only two lines.
[Hachiman]: Your best friend is truly quite terrifying. Also, please do not tell her that we are in contact. I'm afraid she'll go off the deep end.**
Chabashira stared at those lines for several seconds. The light from the screen cast two tiny, unmoving points of light in her eyes.
"...What." She whispered, her voice so low only she could hear it.
Her first reaction wasn't anger or confusion, but a pure, blank lack of knowing what expression to make.
'What did Chie do now?'
The thought arose almost instinctively. But then she wondered why Hikigaya Hachiman would go out of his way to send this. He said "Your best friend"—that was Chie. He said "Truly quite terrifying"—what did Chie do to him? He said "Please do not tell her we are in contact"—was there something between them that Chie shouldn't know?
Chabashira turned off the screen.
She leaned back again and closed her eyes. She suddenly remembered what Hikigaya had said before—that she was very similar to Horikita Suzune. At the time, she thought it was nonsense; after all, she understood the human heart far better than Horikita did at that age.
However, right now, she truly could not understand Hikigaya Hachiman.
But one thing was clear—Chie must have done something again.
Thus, Chabashira opened her eyes and put her phone back into her pocket with measured movements. She didn't reply to the message, nor did she think further on it. Some questions didn't need answers, or rather, the answers would emerge on their own sooner or later.
The bus was nearly empty now. Only a few stragglers lingered in the aisle, bending over to tie shoelaces or checking seats for forgotten items. Her gaze passed over those figures and landed near the door.
Kushida Kikyo was standing up from her seat, one hand pressing down her skirt, the other holding a light-colored handbag. Her movements were delicate, as if afraid of disturbing anyone. She was meticulous, looking down at the seat to ensure nothing was left behind before turning toward the aisle.
Horikita Suzune was half a step ahead of her. Her long black hair swayed with her steps; she carried only a single backpack without any extra luggage, though she wore a green coat. Her expression remained cold and blank, but her gait was more relaxed than usual—likely because she was finally back in familiar territory.
Seeing the two of them walking together was a rare sight. After all, Kushida was popular and usually hung out with her circle of friends—Wang Mei-Yu, Inogashira Kokoro, Mori Nene, or Hasabe Haruka.
Chabashira's gaze lingered on them for a moment. She recalled Hikigaya's words—that she was similar to Horikita Suzune. If that were true, was the role Kushida Kikyo played beside Horikita the same as the one Chie played beside her?
She looked at Kushida's profile. That face wore a perfect smile, eyes crinkling gently, looking warm and harmless, appearing like someone who could talk to anyone. But Chabashira suddenly remembered that Chie was exactly the same during their student days. A sweet smile, a soft voice, someone everyone wanted to be friends with. Only she knew that the stubbornness and obsession hidden in that person's heart was deeper than anyone's.
Was Kushida another version of Chie?
The thought felt absurd even to herself. She shook her head, tossing away the baseless association.
Kushida seemed to sense something and paused slightly. She turned her head, her gaze passing over Horikita's shoulder to lock directly with Chabashira's. A flash of surprise appeared in those burgundy eyes, but it was quickly masked by a cute smile.
"Chabashira-sensei?" Kushida spoke softly, her voice sweet. "Is there something you need?"
Chabashira looked at her, silent for a second, then shook her head.
"No." She paused, her voice faint but carrying an indefinable quality. "Just a reminder—classes start tomorrow."
The bus went silent for a beat.
Then—
"EHHH—?!"
Ike Kanji's wail erupted from the doorway, so loud the entire bus seemed to vibrate. "No way, Sensei! Classes right after getting back?!"
"It's the first day back! Can't you let us ease into it—" Yamauchi's voice followed, filled with a despair that suggested his life was over.
Sudo didn't speak, but his face fell as he stood by the door.
Kushida blinked, her smile becoming a bit more helpless. She turned back and gave Chabashira a small bow. "Understood, Sensei. We'll be going now."
Horikita gave a curt nod as well.
The two turned to the door. Kushida's footsteps were light, her handbag swaying gently on her wrist. Horikita led the way, her pace steady, her black hair tracing smooth arcs on her shoulders.
Chabashira leaned back, watching their silhouettes disappear at the door. The bus was finally, completely silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead fluorescent lights.
She pulled her phone out again, lit the screen, and looked at the message one more time.
"Your best friend is truly quite terrifying."
She sighed softly and put the phone away.
'Chie, oh Chie.'
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Twenty minutes later, all students had entered the school.
When Hachiman pushed open his dorm room door, the light from the corridor followed him inside, casting a long, slanted patch of light on the floor. He stood at the threshold, not rushing in. After being away for two weeks, the air in the room held a faint, "unoccupied" scent—not mold or dust, but an atmosphere that had been static for too long, lacking human presence.
The bottle tree plant he had bought earlier seemed to have curled into a small ball in the gloom, as if complaining about being neglected for two weeks.
He dropped his backpack at his feet and reached for the light switch on the wall. With a click, the fluorescent tube flickered twice and then lit up steadily. The white light illuminated every corner—the bed was still exactly as he had folded it before leaving, the creases still visible.
The open book on the corner of the desk remained in its flipped position; he probably wouldn't remember the page number anymore. The curtains were half-drawn, the other half hanging crookedly, revealing a patch of pitch-black sky.
Hachiman stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, cutting off the corridor light. The room was left with only the low hum of the fluorescent bulb.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his palm down and feeling a thin layer of dust under his fingertips. It felt slightly coarse, unlike the soft, laundered sheets on the cruise ship. Yet, this hard, dusty single bed made him feel grounded.
I really am someone who clings to the old. When the thought occurred, he found it somewhat amusing. He had been staying in a fifty-square-meter double room on the ship, with a sea view he could stare at all afternoon and a restaurant full of endless desserts and steaks. Yet, returning to this cramped, slightly yellowed single dorm felt like finally putting down a heavy burden.
Hachiman moved his backpack to the chair and unzipped it but didn't rush to unpack. He leaned against the headboard, pulled out his phone, and opened the school's exam results that he had already looked at many times.
Class B had already surpassed the original story's trajectory and risen to Class A.
The evaluation scores for the four classes were as follows:
1st Year Class A (Hikigaya's Class): 1,266 points 1st Year Class B (Katsuragi's Class): 825 points 1st Year Class C (Ryuen's Class): 550 points 1st Year Class D (Ayanokouji's Class): 130 points
Class B had already exceeded the Class A from the original work.
This fact had cycled through his mind many times, yet every time he remembered it, it still felt slightly surreal. It wasn't excitement or pride, just a quiet, steady confirmation that he had indeed accomplished something.
He locked his phone, placed it by his pillow, and stared up at the fluorescent light. The light was blindingly white, but he didn't look away.
Even if he couldn't ultimately graduate from Class A, at this moment, the class had changed the path it was meant to take. "Defeating Class A at the fastest speed"—that was a title worth bragging about for a long time. But Hachiman wasn't thinking about that now. He was thinking about the expressions on the faces of his Class B classmates when they surrounded him on the bus to thank him. That happiness wasn't faked, and it wasn't just because of the points; it was because of the feeling of "we did it."
He closed his eyes, his lips twitching slightly. On the windowsill, the bottle tree swayed gently in the night breeze, making a faint rustling sound.
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Meanwhile, at the Student Council. Today was Sunday, and it was already night.
However, the lights in the Student Council office illuminated every corner. The council members were working overtime tonight!
Tachibana Akane stood by the window, holding a cup of freshly brewed black tea, gazing out at the campus shrouded in darkness.
"The first-years are back," she reported, turning around.
Horikita Manabu gave a brief "Mhm." Today's work was mostly finished, but the information regarding the first-year exam results was still displayed on the computer screen.
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