These dead-fish eyes… He looks like your typical gloomy loner, yet his composure is surprisingly steady.
But men will be men.
Exchange?
Could he possibly be trying to ask me out under some flimsy excuse?
Kushida Kikyo sneered inwardly, though her outward smile remained flawless and cheerful.
"Sure~" she said sweetly. "As long as Hikigaya-san can help me get Horikita-san to open up, I'll agree to any request you make."
Her voice dripped with innocence, her eyes glimmering as if she were a bashful maiden. It was the perfect display of cuteness as a weapon.
To be honest, even knowing she had ulterior motives, Hikigaya couldn't bring himself to feel disgusted.
After all, Kushida Kikyo was genuinely cute.
Hikigaya didn't even mind the fleeting thought of her becoming the third 'wife' in his dreams.
Pfft! No way! Is there seriously a waiting line now?
Hikigaya seriously suspected he was developing some sort of delusional disorder lately.
Noticing the subtle shifts in his expression, Kushida's lips curved ever so slightly.
Are you wavering? Trying to act calm? You're totally thinking about marrying me already, aren't you?
"I'll do my best," Hikigaya said with a hint of awkwardness.
He figured Kushida probably saw him as another hormone-driven idiot like Ike, Yamauchi, or Sudo.
That thought was irritating—but unfortunately, he couldn't fully deny it either.
***
When Hikigaya entered Class D, the usual chaos greeted him.
Some boys were showing off their new handheld consoles, while others were openly reading sister-con manga.
Wow… I like that genre too, but at least I have the decency to read it at home where no one can see.
The girls weren't much better—wearing colorful bracelets, headbands, and accessories, chatting about fashion instead of schoolwork.
Worthy of Class D indeed…
Hikigaya sighed and quietly returned to his seat.
Horikita Suzune, sitting beside him, was as composed as ever—reading quietly amid the noise, a picture of calm focus.
Thinking about his deal with Kushida, Hikigaya decided to break the ice.
"Hikiguya Suzu—uhm!"
The name slipped out halfway before he caught himself, clapping both hands over his mouth.
Horikita blinked, puzzled. "What kind of new greeting is that? Giving others your last name?"
"N-no! Nothing like that!" Hikigaya frantically shook his head.
That was close—way too close. He almost called her the name of his 'wife' from his dream.
He didn't even want to imagine how Horikita would react to that.
In his mind, he could already see her grabbing his wrist, throwing him over her shoulder, and finishing with a perfect armbar.
Just the thought made his back ache.
Ugh… déjà vu? Or is my imagination running wild again?
"Don't talk to me casually," Horikita said coldly.
Yup, reality and dreams couldn't be more different.
Dream-Horikita was a short-haired tsundere—cold outside, warm inside.
Real-life Horikita was a long-haired, serious beauty with zero tolerance for nonsense.
First Period: Mathematics.
Hikigaya's lifelong nemesis.
Normally, he would've dozed off immediately, but after hearing that the new students were under a one-month behavioral evaluation, he forced himself to stay upright.
Even if he didn't understand a single thing the teacher said, he at least had to pretend to pay attention.
Most of Class D didn't even bother pretending—they either slept, whispered, or scrolled through their phones.
The math teacher didn't even reprimand them, just continued the lesson expressionlessly.
***
Monitoring Room — Advanced Nurturing High School.
"They really are a bunch of hopeless kids," muttered Chabashira Sae, half mocking, half sighing.
After so many years teaching Class D, she'd long since given up on miracles. Every batch had been full of defective students, each time crushing what little hope she had left.
But then, one particular student caught her attention on the monitor.
"…Is that Hikigaya Hachiman?"
She remembered his file. Excellent liberal arts scores—top three in the entrance exams—but abysmal science grades.
Especially math, where he scored an impressive nine points. That imbalance alone made him memorable.
"…He's listening so attentively?"
Years of experience sharpened Chabashira's instincts.
"No way. He's pretending."
"What's your game, Hikigaya Hachiman? Playing the model student?"
"Or did you… notice something?"
For forty minutes, she silently observed him.
Then, right as the bell rang, Hikigaya nonchalantly looked up—his gaze meeting the exact direction of the surveillance camera.
Chabashira froze.
"…Interesting," she murmured.
It was like a drowning woman spotting a straw to cling to.
This time, she wasn't letting go.
***
After three consecutive science classes, Hikigaya's spirit was on the verge of collapse.
Thankfully, the last class before lunch was Japanese Literature—his one safe haven.
After class, Horikita remained in her seat, carefully organizing her notes.
Hikigaya took a breath and braced himself.
"Horikita-san," he said.
She turned, eyebrow raised. "You finally couldn't help yourself? You've already looked at me seven times this morning."
Wait, she counted?!
Hikigaya suppressed the urge to make a snarky remark, coughed lightly, and tried to sound composed.
He placed a hand over his chest and declared solemnly:
"If you come at four o'clock this afternoon, I'll start feeling happy from three."
"Pff—!"
Kushida Kikyo, who had been pretending to pack her bag while eavesdropping, nearly choked from holding in her laughter.
No way! Did this dead-fish-eyed loner just confess like that?!
The entire class fell silent.
Horikita Suzune was beautiful, sure—but her frosty aura usually discouraged even the boldest admirers.
"Wait, did he just confess?"
"Seriously?" Ike Kanji whispered, stunned.
"Ha—Penguin-kun's really overestimating himself," Yamauchi snorted.
Sudo frowned, glancing between them. "No way Horikita would—"
"Okay."
Horikita's calm voice cut through the whispers.
Everyone froze.
Horikita glanced briefly at Hikigaya, then said evenly, "The temperature of the food is the measure of your feelings."
"Eh—?"
"…So that means she agreed?" someone whispered.
The conversation made no sense to the others, but the class interpreted it as Horikita's indirect acceptance.
When school ended, Hikigaya and Horikita left together under a sea of astonished stares.
"You actually quoted the fox's philosophy from The Little Prince," Horikita murmured as they walked. "How audacious."
The line referenced Saint-Exupéry's classic story—a favorite of hers.
"Sorry," Hikigaya said, scratching his head sheepishly. "It was the only thing I could think of that might get you to agree."
He really had no other plan to invite her successfully. Using her love for literature as bait was a desperate but clever move.