"It should be me saying that, Emiya," Hachiman replied, his voice a flat, practiced deadpan. "I didn't even know you were a high schooler—let alone one at my own school."
When they finally departed from that room back then, both Tsukasa and Hachiman had managed to pull off a spectacular social failure: they completely forgot to ask for Shirou's number. It left them with zero way to communicate, which was exactly the kind of professional start one would expect from a group like theirs.
*Heroes of the Multiverse.* The title alone made Hachiman want to throw up. It sounded way too cringe; how had something that felt like a middle-school fever dream managed to become his actual reality?
"Ahahaha... am I really that old-looking or something?" Shirou laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.
Hachiman looked at him, his internal monologue firing off sharp assessments. *More like an ikemen than "old,"* he thought. Shirou's face was a masterpiece of "main character" energy; Hachiman couldn't find a single flaw in it from the moment the guy walked in. And his food? Hachiman had sampled it—it was good. Actually, it was ridiculously good.
"No, it's just that you look more mature than most people," Hachiman said, attempting to steer the conversation back to something grounded. "Also... do you want your bowl back?"
"Bowl? Oh, right. I actually forgot about that. Um... just keep it, I guess. I have plenty at home."
The casual way Shirou said it made one thing clear to Hachiman: this guy was either from a high-income family or he was one of those pathologically kind people who couldn't stand the idea of inconveniencing someone else. Of course, there was a slim chance he was just an introvert who didn't know how to ask for his property back, but with a face like that? Hachiman highly doubted it.
But whether Shirou was just a typical riajuu or a genuinely "good guy" was still for Hachiman to decide. But even so, a guy was better than a "kind girl." At least with Shirou, Hachiman could walk into the conversation with zero expectations and zero chance of being disappointed.
However, one thing did surprise Hachiman: how had someone like Shirou escaped the spotlight? Someone with his looks and aura should have been the talk of the town. Heck, even Tsukasa had managed to become a school-wide enigma by day one.
"Now that we've found Emiya, how about a party?" Tsukasa suggested, leaning in with a look that promised trouble. "How about we have it at your home, Hikigaya?"
"How about a 'no'?" Hachiman shot back instantly.
"Come on, Hikigaya, we should celebrate this! Maybe Emiya can even cook for the party," Tsukasa added, his eyes gleaming with the transparent greed of a man who just wanted a free five-star meal.
"Oi, you're just trying to take advantage of him, aren't you?"
"Oh, that's a great idea, Tsukasa!" Shirou chimed in, completely ignoring Hachiman's warning. "How about we do it after school?"
Hachiman stared at him, his cynicism hitting a new peak. *Did you just agree to be used?* How naive was this guy? It was one thing to be a "good person," but this level of pure-hearted compliance was practically a disability.
"My, Yuigahama-san... it seems Hikigaya-kun has forgotten we're even in the room," Yukinoshita remarked, her voice dripping with its usual refined ice. "It appears he isn't quite as lonely as he leads us to believe."
Yuigahama's face morphed into a look of genuine surprise, her eyes darting between Hachiman and the two newcomers. Hearing the jab, Hachiman turned his head toward Yukinoshita, his expression remaining as flat as a dead battery.
"There's no need for that kind of commentary," he muttered. "These two are just acquaintances."
In Hachiman's mind, the logic was sound. It had only been three days since they had met; calling them "friends" was a massive, uncomfortable stretch of the imagination. Friendships required maintenance, emotional investment, and a level of trust he wasn't willing to pawn off so easily.
"Hey, we can call ourselves friends, can't we?" Tsukasa cut in, his grin never wavering. "We're going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on, after all."
If that statement had come from anyone else in a normal high school hallway, it would have been a meaningless cliché—the kind of sugary sentimentality people throw around to feel included. But coming from Tsukasa, it wasn't just social fluff. It was a literal assessment of their status. They were teammates, bound by a reality far more exhausting than school spirit.
Hachiman turned toward Emiya. Despite Tsukasa's insistence that they were "friends," Hachiman realized he knew nothing about these two beyond the immediate threat of death and cringe titles. He had a question that had been nagging at him.
"Right... what class are you even in, Emiya? I've never seen you around this school."
Hachiman wasn't exactly the social butterfly of Sobu High, but someone like Emiya—with that face and that presence—should have been a blip on his radar. He was the kind of person who usually had a gravitational pull on the school's social hierarchy.
"I'm in Class 2-C," Emiya replied, his tone as earnest as a textbook. "Our classroom is located down near the junior wing this year. That might be the reason we've never crossed paths."
"Ah... that makes sense," Hachiman muttered. The school's layout was a labyrinthine mess; if someone was tucked away in the annex or near the juniors, they might as well be in another zip code.
Emiya then turned his attention to the girls, offering a polite introduction to Yuigahama and then to Yukinoshita.
"Hey, I'm Emiya Shirou, Class 2-C. It's nice to meet you both," he said, accompanied by a smile so blindingly sincere it surpassed even the radiant aura of Hayama Hayato. It was the kind of smile that could probably resolve international conflicts or, at the very least, get him a free refill at a cafe.
Yukinoshita didn't immediately reciprocate. Instead, she stared at Emiya's offered hand as if she were examining a suspicious specimen under a microscope. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her mind clearly working through some internal calculation.
"Is there something wrong?" Emiya asked, his smile faltering just a fraction.
"Huh... I suppose Hikigaya-kun isn't quite as isolated as I thought," Yukinoshita finally said, her voice cool and analytical. "But I really have never seen you in this school before. Regardless, my name is Yukinoshita Yukino."
Hachiman's internal alarm went off. Yukinoshita didn't know him? That was statistically improbable. She had claimed to know everyone in the school—or at least everyone worth knowing. As far as Hachiman remembered, Class J and Class C were practically neighbors. For her to have zero data on a guy who looked like that was weird.
Either she was lying about her encyclopedic knowledge of the student body, or Emiya was a phantom—a guy who somehow managed to be even more invisible than Hachiman himself despite having the face of a lead actor.
Then again, Hachiman's life had recently taken a sharp turn into the surreal. In a world wherehe was drafted into a multiverse-saving trio, a missing face in the hallway was probably the least weird thing he'd deal with today. He'd learned one thing: when logic failed, it was best to just blame the universe and move on.
"My name is Yuigahama! Nice to meet you, Emiyachi!"
There it was. Yuigahama had already activated her high-tier riajuu skill: the ability to bypass a person's actual name and replace it with a cutesy nickname within seconds of meeting them. It was a social maneuver Hachiman found both fascinating and deeply exhausting to witness.
"Nice to meet you both," Shirou replied, his smile steady and polite.
Tsukasa, who had been leaning against a desk as if he owned the place, finally chimed in. "So... what exactly is this club anyway? I see books, tea, and a lot of brooding, but not much else."
"This is the Service Club," Yukinoshita stated simply, her posture perfect.
A heavy, suffocating silence followed. No one spoke. No one moved. The only sound punctuating the stillness was the distant, mocking caw-caw of a crow passing by the window. To someone like Tsukasa, the name "Service Club" clearly didn't translate to "helping students with their problems."
Tsukasa scratched his cheek, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Ah... I think I understand now. No wonder you're the only guy in this room, Hikigaya."
The implication hung in the air like a bad smell.
"Oi, Tsukasa," Hachiman barked, his dead-fish eyes narrowing even further. "You're thinking something incredibly weird right now, aren't you? Stop that. Whatever 'service' your distorted brain is imagining, I can guarantee it's the exact opposite of what actually happens here."
"Come on, Hikigaya," Tsukasa said, leaning in with a conspiratorial nudge. "Even if it is not that kind of 'service,' you're definitely enjoying yourself in secret, aren't you?" He flashed a thumb-up, his expression the universal sign for 'I see what you're doing, you sly dog.'
Hachiman felt a cold shiver of social dread crawl down his spine. Before he could even open his mouth to protest, a much sharper voice cut through the air.
"I find myself in rare agreement with you, Tsukasa-kun," Yukinoshita said, closing her book with a soft but definitive thud. She turned her icy gaze toward Hachiman, her eyes narrowing in mock-evaluation. "Given those rotten, predatory eyes of his, it is only logical to assume he is constantly entertaining some manner of perverted fantasy. The 'Service' in the club name likely acts as a catalyst for his delusions."
"Hikki..." Yuigahama chimed in, actually taking a half-step away from him. Her face was a mask of genuine concern and slight revulsion. "That's... that's actually really disgusting, you know?"
"HEY!" Hachiman barked, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of the collective accusation. "Don't believe a single word coming out of this guy's mouth! I am being systematically framed here! This is character assassination of the highest order!"
He looked at the three of them—the grinning transfer student, the cold-blooded ice queen, and the horrified socialite—and realized his social standing hadn't just hit rock bottom. It had started digging.
Beside them, Emiya Shirou stood there looking confused, clearly too wholesome to understand the "service" Tsukasa was implying. At least someone in the room wasn't trying to ruin Hachiman's life, though Emiya's silence almost felt like a different kind of judgment.
"Hey Tsukasa, can I join you guys for the party?" Yuigahama asked, her eyes sparkling with the chance to do something social.
"Sure, why not?" Tsukasa shrugged, then shot a look toward the other two . "How about you two? Any objections?"
"That's great. More people is usually better for these things," Shirou said, his voice carrying that nauseatingly genuine warmth.
"No," Hachiman interjected immediately. His voice was flat, final, and ignored.
"Alright! That's the majority!" Tsukasa declared, clapping his hands together as if the matter were settled by a democratic process that didn't actually exist.
Hey, I'm the one against it! Are my vocal cords just vibrating for my own amusement? Does my voice even carry sound anymore? Hachiman screamed internally. He looked at the group, realization sinking in like a lead weight. When the hell did I agree to any of this? Since when did my house become a public venue for the multiverse's most cringe-inducing social gathering?
As the group finalized their plans for a party Hachiman had explicitly rejected, a familiar, ethereal voice echoed directly into his mind, cutting through the social noise.
[Hikigaya-san, why do you speak as if this is such a negative development?]
Hachiman froze, his dead-fish eyes widening just a fraction. That voice... Lucia? You're back? Did you finally finish charging or something?
[While I am indeed an Artificial Intelligence, I am not your "normal" Artificial Intelligence. As a creation of the Outer Gods, I exist above the constraints of your reality. I do not require a battery,] she replied, her tone carrying a hint of digital haughtiness.
Right. How could he forget? Lucia was the entity who had dragged him into this supernatural nightmare in the first place before vanishing for the last two days. Introduced back in Chapter 3, she was supposed to be their "AI Assistant" for this journey—a concept so absurd it still made Hachiman's head ache.
[Hikigaya-san, could you please stop breaking the fourth wall? You know we aren't allowed to do that, right?]
Silence! My mind, my choice! Hachiman snapped back internally. He loathed the fact that she could eavesdrop on his internal monologue. For a man whose only sanctuary was his own cynicism, having a literal voice in his head was the ultimate invasion of privacy. He just hoped the others couldn't hear the mental shouting match occurring behind his blank expression.
[Do not worry, Hikigaya-san. You are only connected with me at this moment. Your cynical thinking is safe with me.]
You make it sound like that's a bad thing, he thought, his mental tone dripping with sarcasm.
[It is a bad thing,] she retorted instantly.
So, what do you want? Hachiman thought, leaning back into his chair while the others continued their "party planning" chatter in the background. You said our mission doesn't start until Saturday. I assumed you had no reason to talk to me until then.
[I believe I have every reason. I need to remind you again: your first mission is not standard. Compared to the 'Heroes' from other observable multiversal linears who begin with an 'Easy' rank tutorial, the three of you are starting at 'Medium' difficulty.]
Hachiman felt a familiar weight settling in his chest. How could he forget? It had taken a considerable amount of mental pressure and circular logic back in a previous chapter to get the truth out of her. She'd played dumb at first, but eventually, the data spilled: they weren't the only team out there. There were other "Heroes" in other timelines, other realities, all drafted for the same multiversal salvage operation.
[It is because of the nature of your reality, Hikigaya-san. Your multiverse—Linear-4—is the most volatile and complex of them all. To maintain balance here, the gods have set the baseline difficulty to its peak.]
Linear-4, huh? Sounds like a low-budget sci-fi sequel, Hachiman thought, leaning his cheek against his palm as he watched Tsukasa and Yuigahama bicker about snack preferences.
But why would they even set it up like that? he complained internally. I'm a normal human, you know? Just a high school student with a slightly above-average appreciation for Max Coffee and a social life that's currently in the negatives. I don't belong in a 'Medium' difficulty bracket. I belong in the 'Tutorial' section, preferably one where I can skip the combat encounters.
He glanced over at his teammates. Tsukasa was clearly an exception—some kind of reality-hopping entity called a Kamen Rider. "Decade," he had called himself. Even just standing there, Tsukasa looked like he was barely tethered to the floor, like the world around him was just a stage set he was planning to tear down.
Then there was Emiya Shirou. Hachiman still didn't know the guy's full story, but he carried that same "unnatural" air. If Tsukasa was the wild card who broke the rules, Shirou looked like the ace who would die following them.
And then there was Hachiman. A nobody. A spectator who had been accidentally dragged onto the field.
[The gods have the highest expectations for each of you,] Lucia's voice chimed in, sounding far too cheerful for the news she was delivering. [That is why your team has been given such treatment. You should be proud, Hikigaya-san.]
You mean those two should be proud, he countered, watching Shirou patiently explain a recipe to a curious Yuigahama while Yukinoshita watched with a hawk-like intensity. They're the ones with the 'potential.' I'm just the guy who's going to get caught in the crossfire while they're busy being legendary.
[Do not be so humble, Hikigaya-san. The gods do not choose their pawns at random,] Lucia whispered, her digital voice carrying a weight that made his skin crawl. [You possess a somewhat exceptional skill, even if you refuse to acknowledge it yourself. Your presence in Linear-4 is no accident.]
Exceptional, huh... Hachiman thought, a bitter taste settling in his mouth. If being a world-class cynic was a multiversal skill, then the gods had a terrible sense of humor.
"Hikigaya."
"Hikigaya."
"Hikigaya!"
Hachiman blinked, the mental void snapping shut as the physical world rushed back in.
"Yes, yes, what is it, Tsukasa?" he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Why are you just standing there like a statue? Are you alright?" Tsukasa asked, tilting his head with a look of mild amusement.
Hachiman let out a long, exhausted breath. He leaned in toward Tsukasa, ensuring his voice wouldn't carry across the clubroom to where Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were sitting. "It's nothing," he muttered quietly into Tsukasa's ear. "Just that Lucia seems to have finally woken up from her so-called slumber."
[Hi, Tsukasa-san!] Lucia's voice instantly rang out, seamlessly bridging the gap between their minds.
Ah, Lucia! Hi, how are you? Tsukasa replied in his head, adopting the telepathic connection with the effortless ease of someone who treated reality like a mere suggestion.
[I am fine. Sorry for being gone for a bit,] she answered cheerfully.
It's fine. Hey, can I talk to Hikigaya like this too? Tsukasa thought, his mental voice practically grinning.
Yes, I can hear you, Tsukasa, Hachiman thought back, already feeling a sharp migraine forming behind his eyes. His brain was officially a public group chat.
Huh... what is this voice?
The new thought suddenly echoed through the mental link, vibrating with pure, unadulterated confusion.
Hachiman and Tsukasa both paused, shifting their gaze across the room. Emiya Shirou was standing frozen right in front of Yuigahama, who was mid-sentence. He was looking around the room as if he expected to find a hidden speaker system in the ceiling. The "ace" had just been forcefully logged into the network.
[Oops, seems like I need to go now! Though I do want to tell all of you to rest up a lot for your first mission!] And just like that, the voice was gone. The mental link severed, leaving a heavy silence in Hachiman's head. While Tsukasa and Hachiman began to internally process the ominous implication of "rest up," Shirou was left stranded in a state of utter bewilderment.
He blinked twice, shook his head as if trying to physically dislodge the voice from his ears, and then seamlessly snapped his attention back to Yuigahama.
"So, to make lasagna, you need...
to be continue..