Chapter 020: Meeting Horikita Suzune! Part One!
Sakayanagi Arisu suddenly sneezed.
Since she happened to be with Sakayanagi at the moment, Kamuro turned her head to look at her, her brow furrowing slightly. "A cold? That shouldn't be possible."
Sakayanagi gently dabbed the tip of her nose with a handkerchief and shook her head. "I am not quite that fragile."
Kamuro glanced at her but didn't press further. Sakayanagi's health was indeed poor, but she never complained about such things. If she said "no," then it was no; there was no need to ask twice.
"Sakayanagi—" A somewhat lively voice came from the side.
Morishita Ai came jogging over, her violet-blue long hair shimmering in the sunlight, her face wearing an indefinable look of excitement.
She stopped in front of Sakayanagi, panted slightly, and then lowered her voice. "I have something to tell you."
Sakayanagi looked at her without speaking, waiting for her to continue.
Morishita Ai looked left and right to ensure no one else was paying attention before leaning in closer.
"For the mandatory three-legged race, didn't I choose Shiraishi-san as my partner?"
Sakayanagi nodded. She knew about this. Morishita Ai's physical ability wasn't bad, though not the best. Shiraishi Asuka's physical evaluation in the class data was "average." The two of them teaming up was a standard choice.
"During practice just now," Morishita Ai's voice dropped even lower, carrying a hint of confusion, "I discovered that Shiraishi-san's physical ability seems a bit out of the ordinary."
Sakayanagi's eyebrows twitched slightly.
Morishita Ai continued, "Her speed is clearly slower than mine, but I'm able to keep up with her rhythm every time. It's not me leading her; it's—I feel like she's leading me." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "That feeling is very strange. She clearly looks like she's not using much strength, but I'm just being pulled along by her."
Sakayanagi's finger tapped lightly on the handle of her cane. She exchanged a glance with Kamuro.
Kamuro's face remained expressionless, but a flash of understanding crossed her eyes.
Because, of course, they knew why.
The words Hikigaya Hachiman had said in the private room were still swirling in their minds.
Shiraishi Asuka was very likely a "White Room" student from the same generation as Ayanokouji.
Then, at age eight, due to excessive training, she started her period early. Her body couldn't withstand that high-intensity cultivation, so she was abandoned by the White Room. But her foundation—the things carved into her bones within the White Room—remained.
Physical ability? How could it be average.
At eight years old, that was the time when they could directly take down instructors!
"I see." Sakayanagi's voice was very light, the smile at the corners of her mouth deepening. "Go back to your training."
Morishita Ai looked at her, feeling that Sakayanagi's reaction was far too calm. She had expected Sakayanagi to be surprised, to ask questions, or at least say "really?" But there was nothing. Just "I see," and that was it.
She had thought she'd discovered a new, special point of interest.
As it turned out, Sakayanagi-san's performance was just too dull!
"Oh..." Thus, Morishita Ai responded and turned to run back to the training grounds.
But after a few steps, she looked back. Sakayanagi was still sitting there, her expression identical to before. She scratched her head, stopped thinking about it, and continued practicing the three-legged race.
Kamuro stood beside Sakayanagi, watching Morishita Ai's back. She remained silent for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh.
"As expected," her voice was very low, audible only to Sakayanagi, "Shiraishi-san is not simple."
Sakayanagi did not speak.
Kamuro continued, "My physical ability is decent, but in front of these geniuses, it seems like nothing special."
Her tone held a hint of self-deprecation, but no resentment.
Clearly, after a semester at this school, she had already moved past the "why am I inferior to others" phase. Comparing oneself to others only leads to anger. Rather than obsessing over it, it was better to do what one could.
Sakayanagi turned her head and glanced at her.
"Masumi-san, you have your own advantages."
Kamuro froze for a moment, then gave a soft "mhm" and said no more.
Meanwhile, on the field, training continued. Shiraishi Asuka and Morishita Ai ran another lap in the three-legged race, seemingly in even better sync than before.
The White Room.
Just what kind of monsters did that place produce?
Kamuro withdrew her gaze and shook her head.
Sakayanagi Arisu, however, recalled what Hachiman had said.
White Room, White Room.
Ayanokouji's father had sent Ayanokouji in here, so for this exam, Ayanokouji would surely have to show some results.
Therefore, this Sports Festival might become very interesting.
.
.
.
Five days had passed since the opening ceremony.
During these five days, the entire first-year group was immersed in physical tests and training. Each class chose different times for testing. People were running on the tracks from morning to night. Physical education teachers scurried about with clipboards, occasionally blowing whistles that echoed across the open field.
Progress in Hachiman's Class A was faster than expected.
Physical testing was entirely finished, and the data was organized. The next step was event-specific training.
P.E. class was no longer for free activities but was dedicated to practicing the exam events—the girls' ball-toss, the boys' pole-toppling, as well as the three-legged race, tug-of-war, and relay, going through them one by one.
Hachiman stood at the edge of the field, watching the girls practicing the ball-toss in the distance.
"Hikigaya-kun, what are you thinking about?" Shibata Souta's voice came from the side.
Hachiman withdrew his gaze and shook his head. "Nothing."
Shibata glanced at him, didn't press, and turned to continue practicing pole-toppling. As someone with top-tier physical stats, he was clearly quite interested in the sports events.
Pole-toppling.
Hachiman looked at the thick wooden pole standing in the center of the field, and images suddenly flashed in his mind. During Sobu High's sports festival, he was also the one participating in pole-toppling. He was in the same camp as Zaimokuza, facing Hayama Hayato. Back then, he wasn't like he was now; back then, he still felt he could go on like that forever.
Thinking about it now, Hirata Yosuke—who shared a similar aura with Hayama—was always in the opposing camp during every exam, which was quite interesting. It felt like time-traveling, yet always being surrounded by "familiar faces." They weren't the same people, but that feeling—that "ah, it's this type again" feeling—always popped up in some careless moment.
"Hachiman?"
While Hachiman was lost in thought, a voice came from across him.
Hachiman looked up and saw Karuizawa Kei sitting across the table, holding a cup of milk tea with the straw poked through the lid, tilting her head as she looked at him. Her blonde ponytail was exceptionally striking in the sunlight, and a red hair tie was tied into a small bow at the end.
One could notice that whenever Kei came to see him, there were always small changes.
Hearing her voice, Hachiman blanked for a moment. Only then did he remember it was currently lunch break, and he was with Kei in a private room in the third-floor cafeteria.
He had been zoning out just now, thinking about random things.
"What were you thinking about?" Kei asked, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity.
Hachiman was silent for a second, then said, "Thinking about an old friend."
Kei blinked. "A friend?"
"Oh, no," Hachiman shook his head, "an acquaintance. I don't think Hayama and I were friends."
Kei's eyebrows twitched slightly.
Hayama?
She hadn't heard this name before.
But she quickly realized—Hachiman was a "transmigrator."
So, he was talking about things from another world.
Speaking of which, she didn't actually know that much about him.
"Hachiman," thus, Kei spoke quickly, her voice a bit lower than usual, "In your world, what was your life like?"
Hachiman looked at her and remained silent for two seconds. Then he leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the sky outside the window.
"I was a second-year student," he said, "one grade higher than your current grade."
Kei's eyes widened slightly.
"So I wasn't too worried about schoolwork," Hachiman continued, "I'd already learned most of the high school content."
Kei stared at him for two seconds, then shook her head. "No. Your academic ability was high to begin with. That has nothing to do with whether you were a second-year."
Hachiman glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "That's only true for humanities. My science subjects were only slightly above average."
Kei picked up her phone, opened her notes app, and her fingers tapped rapidly on the screen. She was recording. Every word Hachiman said, she was recording.
It wasn't because she needed the intel, but because she wanted to remember. This person's past, this person's story, this person's everything—she wanted to collect it bit by bit.
Watching her typing with her head down, Hachiman suddenly spoke. "My parents were both salarymen."
Kei's fingers paused, and she looked up.
"I grew up influenced by it," Hachiman's voice was very calm, as if talking about something from a long time ago. "Leaving early and returning late every day, so tired they'd collapse into sleep. Having to deal with complex workplace relationships—even if they were unhappy inside, they had to force a smile. I've been sick of that kind of life since I was a kid."
He paused.
"So I won't become someone like them."
Kei looked at him and didn't speak.
"Of course," Hachiman added, "I'm also grateful to them for working hard to raise the family. That won't change."
Kei lowered her head and continued typing in her notes. Her fingers were a bit slower than before, as if she were weighing every word.
She remembered what Hachiman had said before—his goal was to be a househusband, a man supported by an excellent wife. At the time, she thought he was joking; later she thought he was serious; and now she felt he was serious and had his reasons.
It wasn't an escape; it was a choice.
Kei put her phone down, looked up, and stared at Hachiman.
"Hachiman." She spoke.
"Mhm?"
"Is there anything you've wanted lately?"
Hachiman blanked for a moment. "Something I want?"
Kei's fingers tapped lightly on the milk tea cup, her cheeks flushing slightly.
Then, she took a deep breath and said it. "Your birthday is coming up. I was thinking—what gift to give you."
Oh, so that was it.
Because Komachi wasn't here, he had already prepared himself for the fact that no one would remember his birthday.
Hachiman looked at her and was silent for a second. Then he leaned back and looked at the ceiling, thinking for a bit.
"Buy a book," he said.
Kei blinked. "A book?"
"Mhm. Lately, I've wanted to read a book I've read before, but the library doesn't have it."
Kei's brow furrowed slightly. "Something that niche?"
"It's not niche." Hachiman shook his head. "It's just that whenever I want to read it, someone has borrowed it. And they keep renewing the loan. Every time I check, it says 'Checked Out.'"
Kei pulled out a small notebook she carried in her bag, flipped to a new page, and picked up a pen. "The title?"
"Dostoevsky's The Insulted and Humiliated."
Kei's pen tip stopped on the paper. She looked up at Hachiman, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Dostoevsky? A work by the great Russian literary master?"
"Mhm." Hachiman nodded.
Thus, Kei also lowered her head and wrote the title in her notebook. Her handwriting was a bit more neat than usual, stroke by stroke, as if she were taking something important seriously. After finishing, she looked up. "What's it about?"
Hachiman thought for a moment. "A long novel depicting the tragic fate of the lower classes in 19th-century Russian society, revealing the bullying and exploitation of ordinary people by the powerful."
Kei nodded, preparing to close the notebook.
"The protagonist inside is a 'simp'," Hachiman added.
Kei's fingers stopped.
"The childhood friend he likes falls for someone else—a playboy. This protagonist even helps cover it up and assists them in eloping together," Hachiman elaborated. "At the end of the book, that childhood friend regrets it."
He paused, as if recalling the plot of the original text.
"'Vanya,' she said, 'Vanya, it was just a dream!' 'What was a dream?' I asked. 'Everything. Everything,' she replied. 'Everything that happened in this whole year. Vanya, why did I have to ruin your happiness as well?'"
Hachiman stopped and looked at the sky outside the window, continuing the narration.
"I read in her eyes: 'We could have grown old together and been happy forever.'"
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Kei stared at Hachiman, the pen still gripped in her fingers, but she didn't write anymore. Her expression shifted from calm to confused, then from confused to startled.
Because...
"Wait, dude," her voice was a bit dry, "Why are you reading that kind of book?"
Hachiman turned his head to look at her. "What's wrong?"
"No," Kei shook her head, her brow furrowing tighter, "You specifically pointed out that the protagonist was 'so generous' toward the person he liked—are you trying to hint at something to me?"
Hachiman blanked for a moment.
He looked at Kei, noticing a hint of wariness in those burgundy eyes. "Do you want me to be 'that generous' too?"
'Make you be that generous?'
"It's not a hint," Hachiman said quickly. "I was just talking about the content of the book."
Kei stared at him for two seconds before letting out a soft "oh," lowering her head, and closing her notebook.
Although Hachiman's inner voice used to be like a public channel everyone could hear, now she was at least his girlfriend, so he probably wouldn't exaggerate to the point of becoming "public" again, right?
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