I opened my eyes to the sun rays. The clock read 5 00 AM. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, barely aware of my surroundings. My body moved on its own, wired to wake up at this unforgiving hour. This wasn't natural it was a habit drilled into me from my time in the Black Room. Back then, waking up this early would've seemed absurd. But now, I just did it without thinking, like a machine set on autopilot.
Slowly, I sat up, memories of those cold, lifeless days creeping in. There was no comfort then, no warmth just endless cycles of breaking and rebuilding until everything felt numb. Even getting up was controlled, taught, perfected. The Black Room wasn't about pushing me to greatness it was about making survival second nature. Waking up like this wasn't just a habit it was a reminder of what I'd become and what I could never fully escape.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and let out a sigh. There was one thing that helped me get through those days coffee. The simplest pleasure. I'd cling to that aroma, that taste, as if it were the last piece of sanity in an otherwise empty existence. I shuffled into the kitchen, still lost in thought, and began my morning ritual.
Everything had to be just right the exact beans I liked, the specific water, the precise brewing temperature. There was a method to it, a sequence that was uniquely mine. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air. I took a deep breath, the scent waking me up more than any alarm clock could. I remembered the sterile atmosphere of the Black Room, and how this was the one thing I could control. No one dictated how I made my coffee it was the only luxury I had back then.
Carefully, I poured boiling water over the coffee grounds, watching as the dark liquid slowly filled the pot. It felt like art. Each step, each moment this was mine. And it always had been. When the coffee was ready, I poured it into a small, dark mug. Sitting down, I felt the warmth seep into my hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.
I took the first sip, letting the bitterness spread across my tongue. It grounded me. A sigh slipped from my lips as I leaned back, savoring the taste.
"This is it. This is life," I murmured.
For a moment everything else school, Ayanokoji, the Black Room faded into the background. It was just me and my coffee, the one constant that had survived those bleak days. It was enough, at least for now.
After enjoying my morning coffee i decided to leave my apartment earlier than usual. The campus was relatively empty, and the crisp morning air did a better job of waking me up than any caffeine could. As I approached the school gate, I noticed a bold-looking guy with a strong build standing there, staring intently at a piece of paper. He had a serious expression on his face. I narrowed my eyes. There was something about him that stood out.
"Should I analyze this guy?" I mused to myself. "Nah, that's too much effort. But then again..."
ANALYSIS INITIATED...
SUBJECT UNKNOWN MALE
PHYSICAL BUILD STRONG, MUSCULAR INDICATORS LIKELY ATHLETIC BACKGROUND OR TRAINING.
POSTURE RIGID, DISCIPLINED. SHOULDERS BACK, FEET PLANTED FIRMLY COMMANDING PRESENCE.
EXPRESSION SERIOUS, FOCUSED. PROBABLY DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO SMILE.
CLOTHING UNIFORM NEATLY PRESSED, SHOES POLISHED. ATTENTION TO DETAIL IMPLIES OCD OR MILITARY UPBRINGING.
CONCLUSION HIGH-RANKING STUDENT. PROBABILITY OF LEADERSHIP ROLE OVER 60%. TYPE LEADER, AUTHORITATIVE, POSSIBLY ALLERGIC TO FUN.
I let the conclusions settle in my mind. This guy definitely wasn't just any regular student.
Just then, he looked up and noticed me. His eyes sharpened a bit, and after a moment, he walked over. His movements were calculated, almost military-like. Up close, he seemed even more straightforward and no-nonsense.
"Excuse me," he said formally. "Have you seen Tomonari-Sensei around here?"
I blinked, a bit thrown off. "Uh, no. I'm a first-year, so I wouldn't know who that is. It's only my second day here," I replied, trying to sound clueless (i was truly clueless).
He nodded, unfazed by my casual tone. "Mashima-sensei is a man in his forties, wears a black suit, has brownish-black hair. You might have seen him around."
"Sorry, dude, haven't seen him," I said with a shrug. My eyes went to his immaculate uniform. This guy was dressed so sharply, he could probably cut steel with those creases.
I suppressed a grin. This guy was a walking stereotype of the overachieving student.
He seemed to consider me for a moment. "I see. My name is Katsuragi from Class 1-A," he said, extending his hand in a manner that suggested he'd practiced it.
I took his hand, putting on my most amicable grin. "Hikigaya Hachiman, Class 1-D. You look like you're about to start a military operation just standing there, Katsuragi-san," I said with a chuckle.
Katsuragi's brow furrowed slightly. "It's important to be prepared," he replied seriously.
I couldn't help but smirk. This guy was all business.
We started walking toward the school building together, falling into an awkward side-by-side stride. We didn't say much, but there was this odd understanding between us Katsuragi with his serious demeanor, and me with my laid-back attitude. It was kind of amusing how two completely different people could end up walking together.
As we reached the hallway where our classes split, I decided to push my luck. "Hey, Katsuragi-kun, mind if I grab your number? Might be useful, you know, in case I ever spot Mashima-sensei."
He paused for a second before giving a curt nod. "Sure." We exchanged numbers quickly. The whole thing felt almost transactional, but I was satisfied.
Just then, another student from Class 1-A approached us. He seemed almost deferential as he handed Katsuragi a stack of papers. "Katsuragi-san, I've got the papers you requested."
I watched the interaction with interest. So, Katsuragi had subordinates already. Definitely the leader type.
ANALYSIS UPDATE... PROBABILITY OF SUBJECT BEING CLASS 1-A LEADER > 90%.
Katsuragi took the papers with a simple nod before turning back to me. "Guess I'll see you around, Hikigaya-kun."
"Sure thing, Katsuragi-san," I replied, giving a lazy wave.
As I watched him walk away, my mind started piecing things together. He's got subordinates, carries himself like a military captain... Someone worth keeping tabs on. Might be useful later.
With that, I continued down the hallway toward Class 1-D. I couldn't help but smirk at how easily things seemed to fall into place. Getting Katsuragi's number might turn out to be valuable.
I then walked into the classroom scanning the room as usual. Hirata was surrounded by girls laughing and chatting. Typical. This is why I call you "aniki," Hirata-san, I thought to myself.
Without missing a beat, I approached him with an exaggerated grin. "Aniki! Been too long since yesterday!" I exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
Hirata looked flustered, scratching his cheek nervously. "Hachiman-kun, we talked about this. We're in the same class. You really shouldn't call me that," he said.
"Who cares about that aniki? In my heart youre my big bro" I replied. The girls around him giggled.
"You're so funny, Hachiman-kun." one of the girls said.
"Oh, you think so?" I smirked. "I try my best."
"Why do you call him aniki anyway?" another girl asked.
I put a hand on my chin pretending to think deeply. "Well, you see, Hirata here is like the big brother I never had. Always helping out, always popular with the ladies."
"You're exaggerating, really," Hirata waved his hands dismissively.
"Not at all!" I exclaimed. "Looks like I underestimated you, aniki. You got yourself a fan club on just the first day?"
"We're not his fan club!" one of the girls protested, blushing.
"Oh? Then what are you?" I asked teasingly.
"We're just classmates," another said, fiddling with her hair.
"I see, I see. Just classmates who happen to gather around Hirata," I nodded sagely.
"Hachiman-kun, you're going to give them the wrong idea," Hirata sighed.
"What idea would that be?" I asked innocently.
"You're impossible!" one of the girls shook her head.
I noticed Kei Karuizawa among them. She had an air of confidence, but something about her seemed contradictory. Her charisma was evident, but there was something she was hiding.
"So, Karuizawa-san, how are you finding the class so far?" I asked.
She looked at me, surprised. "Me? Its fine, I guess."
"Just fine?" I probed. "Not overwhelmed by Hirata's charm like the rest?"
She scoffed lightly. "I think you might be the one who's overwhelmed."
The girls laughed. "She got you there, Hachiman-kun!"
I raised up my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. You got me."
"So, Hachiman-kun, have you joined any clubs yet?" another girl spoke up.
I shrugged. "Im thinking of joining the Go Home Club."
They giggled at that. "That's not a real club!"
"Isn't it? I've been a dedicated member for years," I said with mock seriousness.
"You should consider joining a real club. It might be fun," Hirata spoke softly.
"Perhaps," I mused. "What about you all? Any clubs catching your interest?"
"I'm thinking of joining the tennis club!" one of the girls nodded excitedly.
"Ah, tennis. A sport of elegance and precision," I commented.
"You play?" she asked.
I shook my head. "Only on the Wii."
They laughed again. "You're funny, Hachiman-kun."
"I aim to please," I replied.
After a bit more banter, I decided to wrap things up. "Well, I should get back to my seat. See you later, girls. And hey, if Hirata isn't around, you can count on me!"
They giggled. "Okay, Hachiman-kun!"
As I walked away, I thought to myself, Kei Karuizawa. Very interesting girl.
On my way to my seat, I passed by Sudou, Ike, and Yamauchi, who were joking around loudly.
"Yo, Hachiman!" Ike called out. "Got any good jokes today?"
I smirked. "Only my life."
They laughed. "That's dark, man," Yamauchi said.
"Just keeping it real," I replied.
"You should join us for basketball sometime," Sudou grinned.
"Maybe I'll consider it," I said noncommittally.
"Don't just consider it! We need more players," Sudou insisted.
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you that desperate?"
"Hey, we're trying to build a strong team," he retorted.
"Well, I'll think about it," I said, waving as I continued on.
Approaching my seat, I noticed the blond guy near Horikita's desk Koenji. He was admiring himself in a handheld mirror.
I walked slowly to my seat, eyeing the blond with a hint of disdain. Useless people annoyed me, but Koenji was different. He had talent extraordinary talent and yet he chose to waste it. It was like watching someone extinguish a star.
At least Yamauchi, despite his limitations, contributed something to the class a small cog in the machine. But Koenji? He was a powerful engine choosing to idle.
The chaos I sought wasn't meaningless disorder in the Black Room Id learned that chaos could reveal patterns and possibilities invisible to the eye. My chaos was a tool, a means of forcing hidden potentials to the surface. I wanted to see what people were truly capable of when pushed beyond their comfort zones.
I reached my seat and plopped down beside Ayanokouji leaning back with a smirk. "What's up, Koji? Your face is as boring as ever."
Ayanokouji turned to me with his usual blank stare. "And yours is as lively as ever, Hikigaya"
I chuckled, thinking to myself, His deadpan responses were amusing, a slice of normalcy in a class full of complex personalities.
Chabashira-sensei came in, and time passed until the bell signaled lunch. I stood up and moved over to Hirata's desk, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. "Hey, aniki, you didn't forget, did you? You were supposed to introduce me to Kushida-san today."
Hirata's eyes widened. "Oh, right! Sorry, Hachiman-kun. Thanks for reminding me. How about now during lunch? I'll invite her to eat with us."
I gave a thumbs-up. "I knew I could count on you, aniki."
"You really won't stop calling me that, will you?" he sighed, a small, resigned smile on his face.
"Nah, not while you keep giving me such a good reaction," I grinned mischievously.
We walked over to Kushida's seat. Hirata politely asked her, "Kushida-san, would you like to join us for lunch? I think it'd be a great chance to get to know each other better since it's only our second day."
Her face lit up, her hands coming together cheerfully. "Of course! That sounds lovely, Hirata-kun."
As they talked, I analyzed Kushida's behavior.
ANALYSIS INITIATED...
SUBJECT: KUSHIDA KIKYO
BODY LANGUAGE: PERFECT ALIGNMENT WITH SOCIAL NORMS. EYE CONTACT: CALIBRATED TO ENGAGE. VOICE PITCH AND INTONATION: DESIGNED TO APPEAR INVITING AND NON-THREATENING.
CALCULATED APPROACH. CONCLUSION: SOCIAL QUEEN, WELL-VERSED IN MANIPULATION, POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS BUT USEFUL. IMPRESSIVE.
"I'm in love," I thought sarcastically. Well, not really.
We headed to the cafeteria together.