Komachi had never done something like this before.
And was this what a girl's hand felt like?
Warm. Soft. Real.
Hachiman nodded stiffly.
"If you want to come, sure," he said.
He didn't believe Kushida had any special feelings for him. They weren't friends, not even close. She was probably just tagging along because of the earlier conversation. Maybe she wanted to see what information he'd dig up about the school.
In other words, she was being strategic.
Kushida-san… you're more pragmatic than you look.
Even so.
"Can you let go of my hand now?" he asked.
Kushida froze.
Then slowly, almost sheepishly, she brushed a strand of her short golden hair behind her ear and let go. It was awkward, but she quickly caught up as he began walking again.
Maybe she hadn't expected such a blunt reaction.
He was used to it though. He didn't trust kindness easily. Not when it came wrapped in beauty and sweetness.
Girls had a way of making people misunderstand.
Their warmth, their smiles, their concern—they could easily be mistaken for affection. And once someone misread the signal, heartbreak was inevitable. Arguments, confusion, pain.
He hated it.
Because he'd been there.
So they walked in silence, side by side, toward the first-year building. Kushida didn't retreat. She kept pace with him, shoulders just twenty centimeters apart.
And then—
"Have you ever been hurt by a girl before, Hikigaya?"
The question hit harder than he expected.
He stopped.
"I feel like you keep people at arm's length," she continued. "Like you don't want anyone getting close."
He turned to her slowly.
Was she trying to get into his heart?
"I have a bit of a history," he admitted. "Back in middle school, a girl asked for my contact info. I thought it meant something."
It didn't.
She'd asked everyone.
He'd misunderstood. And he'd paid the price.
"I see," Kushida murmured, her expression thoughtful.
She nodded gently. "But I think your way of thinking is different from the others."
She looked up at him again.
"And I like it. A lot."
Hachiman's internal alarms flared.
Hold it.
Was she trying to... was this a setup?
She had moved closer. The distance between them had shrunk from twenty centimeters to ten. He could smell her shampoo. When he turned his head, she was right there—head tilted, smile gentle, eyes shimmering.
Don't fall for it, Hachiman.
She didn't like him. Not really.
She was just following her goal of being friends with everyone.
Using him. Testing him.
"Our building is just up ahead," Kushida said, voice light.
Hachiman forced himself to snap back to focus.
They were standing on the first floor of the first-year wing. The morning had been packed with ceremonies and orientations. He hadn't had time to explore until now.
A digital bulletin board flickered nearby, just like the one shown in the school guide. Sleek. High-tech. A display of wealth and polish.
Beside it was a small blackboard, currently blank.
The bulletin simply displayed a greeting from the Student Council and instructions to attend the opening ceremony at 10 a.m.
He moved on, heading for the third-year building.
The halls were quiet. It was the weekend. No classes. No teachers.
The first floor looked nearly identical, though another blackboard hung beside the bulletin board.
This one wasn't blank.
It had numbers scribbled across it:
A: 2530
B: 1300
C: 300
D: 20
Hachiman pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
Kushida looked, but didn't seem to think anything of it.
"Wanna go upstairs?" she asked.
"No. It's the weekend. Classrooms might be locked. We'd just be wasting time."
"Right," she nodded.
They walked together to the second-year building.
Same setup. Bulletin board. Small blackboard.
But this one also had numbers:
A: 2000
B: 600
C: 400
D: 200
Unlike the third-year stats, these were rounder, neater. Maybe organized deliberately.
He raised his phone to take a photo again.
And that's when a voice rang out.
"You two. First-years, right? What are you doing in the senior area?"
It was a girl's voice. Calm, but firm.
Familiar.
He and Kushida turned.
At the far end of the hall stood two upperclassmen.
One of them was the Student Council President—tall, sharp, glasses glinting as he stood in place.
The other was a girl with her hair tied into a distinct bun.
She approached them with quick steps.
"That's Tachibana Akane," Hachiman muttered to Kushida. "Student Council secretary. She introduced herself at the opening ceremony."
"Wow," Kushida whispered. "You've got a good memory, Hikigaya-san."
Please stop doing that, Hachiman thought silently. He was already close to breaking.
But now wasn't the time.
The upperclassman reached them.
"We're just getting familiar with the school," Hachiman said evenly. "We checked the first-year wing, then third-year, and now second-year. We haven't gone upstairs."
Tachibana tilted her head.
"Alright," she said finally.
It wasn't strange. New students often explored the campus. She didn't push further and returned to her companion.
"They're just normal freshmen getting to know the place," she reported.
"This sort of behavior is common. Nothing to worry about."
But the Student Council President adjusted his glasses, watching the two retreat.
"Not necessarily," he said. "You didn't see it, but that boy took a photo. He was recording the blackboard."
Tachibana blinked.
"So he noticed something?"
"Yes. And both he and the girl are from Class D."
"That's…"
"Never mind. We need to head to the chess and card club."
Because trouble was already brewing.
An arrogant first-year from Class A had appeared in the forum.
Sakayanagi Arisu.
She wasn't just boasting—she was winning. Crushing upperclassmen in chess. Accumulating close to a million points.
And she wasn't alone.
Half her class was involved.
Instead of spending their points or exploring the school, they were gathering information and exploiting every loophole.
They understood what points truly were.
Currency.
Leverage.
And if they had already realized that, then this year's Class A… was a different beast entirely.
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