— You know, Sensei, God granted me legs at birth, so I am capable of walking on my own.
— It is a pity He didn't forget to endow you with a tongue, Hikigaya. Life would be simpler.
— Rude, — grumbling, I made one last attempt to break free from Shizuka's firm grip, but nothing came of it. I wonder, does she work out?
Hiratsuka had caught me on the way out of the classroom when I wanted to tactically bail on visiting the club. My words: "No one said I actually had to attend" — were ignored in the most brazen manner, and, for the full effect, Sensei decided to personally escort me to the location, grabbing me by the arm and pressing me against herself.
On the plus side, if one were to completely pervert the situation, one could say we were walking almost in an embrace. On the downside, we were walking toward Yukinoshita. The latter outweighed the former.
— Tell me, Hikigaya, what stops you from simply being a model human being?
— A subconscious desire to stand out from the gray mass of ordinary people and the presence of an established worldview that in no way correlates with your views on life.
— Smart words won't change the fact that you are a socially maladjusted teenager with inflated self-esteem.
— In your opinion, is low self-esteem better? — deciding not to waste an opportunity, I slightly shifted the position of my arm to "accidentally" brush against Shizuka's chest. What? If it's offered, take it; if they strike, run.
Hiratsuka sighed noisily.
— Is it mandatory to bicker at every opportunity? — she measured me with a tired gaze.
I shrugged.
— The position obliges me. If I weren't the way I am, would you be paying me this much attention? I'll answer that myself: no.
— Sometimes uniqueness can only be detrimental.
— Depends on how you look at it, — a pair of female students passing by giggled after us. Yes, yes, incredibly funny, look, the teacher is dragging Hachiman down the corridor. — Who knows, maybe I have a developed attention deficit complex that I'm trying to compensate for with deviant behavior?
— Are you serious right now? — Shizuka narrowed her eyes.
— Possibly.
Giving a definite answer would be rash. I really should steer the topic in a different direction. I have no desire to swap interactions with Hiratsuka for chats with a psychologist.
— And anyway, are you sure this scheme with Yukinoshita will bear any fruit at all? I don't think a girl with that kind of character and attitude toward people can fix me.
The teacher snorted loudly and tugged me slightly, accelerating our pace. Thanks to this, my elbow felt the pleasant firmness of her chest. A small thing, seemingly, but my heart sped up. A couple more times and wet dreams are guaranteed.
— And how do you see Yukino? — Shizuka inquired.
I scratched my cheek, involuntarily inhaling the scent of the woman's body. Well, it's more a mixture of perfume and cigarettes. Not that the latter bothered me somehow: in the end, that is Sensei's personal choice. Plus, being honest with myself, I would like to try sucking the cigarette smoke out of her mouth. With my own mouth.
…I hate hormones.
— I don't. It's too early to judge.
After all, unlike some, I don't form an opinion about someone immediately or based on the words of others. Or rather, I try not to.
— Is that so, — Hiratsuka sighed again. — Everything is so complicated with you.
— But interesting.
To my surprise, Sensei smiled.
— I won't argue.
Amidst the conversation, we imperceptibly reached the special building, which meant my cozy walk with the teacher would soon come to an end.
— By the way, why exactly was I shoved into this club? Let's be frank, it would have been enough for you to ask me…
Shizuka shrugged, which allowed me to once again feel the full delight of my position.
— I just want you to be under my supervision, — she answered simply and concisely, causing me to raise my eyebrows.
— Yes, after all, you are a teacher. Sometimes I forget, — I sighed demonstratively, bowing my head slightly.
Hiratsuka loosened her grip a tiny bit and frowned, but didn't answer anything.
The ensuing silence lasted right up until we approached the club door. Before shoving me inside, Sensei finally broke the silence:
— Look, Hikigaya. If you try to run away, I will count it as a defeat.
I rolled my eyes but nodded.
— Don't worry, I am sufficiently motivated. The opportunity to make a wish of you is at stake.
Shizuka laughed.
— I dread to imagine what you've come up with.
— Oh-ho, you'll like it, I promise, — I supplemented my words with a sly look.
— Watch it, keep it within the bounds of decency.
— I remember, I remember, — I demonstratively added disappointment to my voice.
Although, in reality, I hadn't even thought yet about what exactly to request from Hiratsuka. But she absolutely doesn't need to know that.
***
Finding a place for myself again proved not to be difficult: once more dragging a chair out of the pile of furniture, pulling a desk up to it — consciously further away from Yukino, who sat in the same spot, in the same pose, with the same expression on her face.
Is she actually comfortable sitting like that, every day, in an empty classroom, reading books? Is this definitely not a literature club?
But it's better for me that she pretends I didn't even enter.
Nah, according to the logic of a standard ordinary person, I am obliged to start an awkward conversation, break the "dreary" silence, or, I don't know, stare at Yukinoshita as if seeing a woman for the first time. Or however they all interact?
However, I had absolutely no desire to enter into a stifling conversation with the schoolgirl.
So let's continue reading yet another piece of trash, thanks to which time flies by unnoticed.
— Surprised you came, — a quiet voice violated the blissful silence.
Sighing, I turned off the phone screen in advance and placed it nearby.
Not more than half an hour has passed. Is she lacking attention or something?..
Ah, right.
— I don't believe it myself, — I propped my head up with my hand. — Woke up in the morning, like, washed my face, combed my hair, and thought: "If only classes would end sooner so I could see Yukinoshita." I just couldn't live or find a place for myself. She captured my heart at first sight.
— Oh, so you like me? — she slammed the book shut and shifted her gaze to me. — What a pity.
— Absolutely. Fell in love to the point of unconsciousness, ready to give my heart right now, — the sarcasm in my tone would have been enough to fill the school swimming pool.
Yukino smiled condescendingly. Oh, I can throw in half a point; the image of a typical "mistress" from harem mangas suits her. You know, the ones who first say they will teach you the correct way to live, and then, in private, ask you to take them as roughly as possible.
As Freud said: "Sadist at work, masochist in bed."
— So be it, I will allow you to admire me. From a respectful distance. And, preferably, without saying a word, — Yukinoshita snorted disdainfully.
I covered my face with my palm.
Then, perhaps, you yourself won't try to draw me into a dialogue?
— I hear and obey, — taking the phone back into my hands, I returned to reading, noticing with peripheral vision how the girl frowned.
She said it herself; no one pulled her tongue.
However, as it happens in life, after one problem — another immediately arrives in its place.
No sooner had I immersed myself again in the "masterpiece" world of martial arts than a knock on the door sounded. Judging by the fact that the person standing there was waiting for an answer — it wasn't Hiratsuka.
Sad.
— Come in, — Yukinoshita looked up from her book.
— E-excuse me! — a strangely familiar girl entered the room, immediately paying attention to me.
Technically my classmate, I even know the name — Yui Yuigahama. I can't say anything more, and is more needed?
Blinking a couple of times, as if falling out of the world, she turned to Yukino without saying anything to me.
— Umm… — and froze.
I looked at Yukinoshita. Well, why are you delaying? It's high time to show your dominance, intercept the dialogue, and rack up conquest points.
Theoretically, I could break the awkward atmosphere myself, ask the most logical question in this situation, but do I need that? No.
Therefore, regretting the absence of popcorn, I settled in more comfortably.
Yui, touching her index fingers together, lowered her head, covering her face with chestnut bangs, and muttered something barely audible. Unfortunately, I failed to hear it. Judging by Yukino's frowning expression — it was the same story for her.
— Yui Yuigahama, correct? — oh, really, the "Ice Queen" deigned to descend to the pathetic plebs.
— Y-yes! You know my name? — the classmate instantly livened up, practically glowing from within. Interesting reaction.
— I have a good memory, — Yukinoshita responded evasively, casting an incomprehensible glance at me for a second. What do you want? I'm just a piece of the interior here generally. Deal with it yourself.
— I see, heh-heh, — Yui laughed awkwardly at the end, looking anywhere but at us.
And silence fell again, so viscous and sticky, in which the measured ticking of the clock echoed. I exaggerated about the echo, of course, but no one canceled the theatricality of the moment.
In principle, nothing unusual, a quite typical scene from real life when a person needs to address completely unfamiliar people for some reason, and the volitional component of their personality is limping heavily.
Well, for example, when your mom sends you to a clothing store to buy things on your own. You arrive, look, understand nothing. Like, following logic, you should find a sales consultant and simply ask.
But! That requires entering into a dialogue with a new person. And what if, as if mocking you, she is a beautiful young girl? You, meanwhile, are a guy with low self-esteem and a pile of complexes. Without thinking long, one could scribble a whole book about the mental torments tearing the unhappy teenager apart from the inside while he gathers the remnants of his strength to approach the consultant and bleat: "Excuse me, I need help."
How good that nowadays they run up to you themselves. Although it's very simple to find downsides here too.
— So, for what reason did you come, Yuigahama? — apparently tired of waiting, Yukino inquired.
— Teacher Hiratsuka told me that here they can help with various… things, — Yui laughed awkwardly again, looking anywhere but at us.
Shizuka sent her, then? Then everything is clear.
I sighed quietly and folded my arms across my chest. I should not have moved, because due to this, Yuigahama turned toward me.
Don't tell me you're going to…
— Oh, Hikki, you're here too?!
No, I am Mother Teresa in her fifth incarnation! Pretending so ineptly that she only just noticed me?! She herself burned a hole in me for fifteen seconds when she walked in.
I even got a little angry at such impudence. And she calls me by a stupid nickname, as if by name.
In any case, I didn't answer, using my signature "dead fish washed ashore" look instead of words.
Apparently, my universal approach to avoiding any forms of dialogue did not please Yukino.
— Hikigaya, in such cases, it is customary to answer. I, of course, understand perfectly well that your ignorance is conditioned by your lack of social adaptability, however…
— Snowball, your opinion is very important to me, — I interrupted her mid-sentence.
It turned out well: she closed her mouth and stared at me with growing anger in her gaze.
What? Yukino. Yuki. Yuki-onna or "snow maiden."
I wouldn't be surprised if her parents also proceeded from this logic. I wonder, is Yukinoshita's birthday in winter, when the first snow fell? I should ask Hiratsuka. At the same time, I'll pretend I've started taking an interest in those around me.
— An incredible display of logic, I am full of admiration. You were able to put two and two together, congratulations. By any chance, do you want to become the *boke*? It would suit you.
She answered beautifully, can't argue with that.
— I've always seen myself as the *tsukkomi*. Although, in principle, if you agree to perform as a pair with me, I am ready for any role, — hope that worked. A double-entendre phrase that can be interpreted however convenient.
— Oh, it's so much fun with you guys! — Yui clapped her hands, interrupting the match at the very beginning.
I shifted my gaze to her. Someone's sense of humor is clearly atrophied.
— That'll be one hundred and fifty yen from you then, — I extended a hand for persuasiveness. — We aren't running a charity here.
— Actually, we are a club of volunteers, — Yukinoshita intervened. — And we work on a gratis basis…
— Right! That's exactly what I came to you about! — Yuigahama started rattling off. — The teacher told me that you fulfill students' wishes, so…
Yukino raised a hand, cutting the girl off.
— We do not help directly, but suggest the path to solving the problem, — oho, listen to us talk. And she returned her expression to the usual one, in the spirit of: "Rejoice that I have condescended to you."
Arrogant Snowball.
— Do you disagree with something, Hikigaya? — Yukinoshita didn't miss my quiet chuckle.
Good Lord, is it mandatory for you to constantly show your superiority? It's starting to get scary.
— Everything suits me, — I could have snapped back, but I didn't want to continue a meaningless dialogue. Speaking of adding meaning…
I looked at Yui.
— So what do you need? — better to speed up the process, otherwise we'll be stuck here until evening.
Simultaneously caught a slightly irritated glance from Yukino, clearly unhappy that I decided to participate.
— Honestly speaking, it's a little uncomfortable to talk about it… — the classmate looked away to the side, starting to mumble again. The former enthusiasm evaporated without a trace. Is it really because I'm the one who has to answer?
— Unfortunately, we can't read minds. Spit it out already, — I crossed one leg over the other, mentally rubbing my palms together from the realization that once again I didn't let Snowball seize the initiative. Seemingly a small thing, but pleasant.
The main thing is that she doesn't take this personally, like, "I'm such a good girl, I managed to motivate the unsociable Hachiman into a dialogue with a girl."
I know how to hold conversations.
It's just that, often, I don't need to.
— We-ell, I wanted to make cookies… — and she fell silent again, diligently avoiding eye contact.
Eh? Can't do it herself, or what, or ask her mom?
Ah, right, if she could — she wouldn't be here.
— Hikigaya, — Yukino demonstratively tilted her head toward the door, like, get out, the girls need to talk. Such an obvious hint cannot be interpreted any other way.
Why do they need this? Is it really all because Yuigahama is afraid to be open in my presence?
Never understood that. And I was also a little angry, due to the fact that Yukinoshita, instead of a polite request, simply pointed at the door, like to some mutt. Therefore, I jumped to my feet and smiled — out of lack of habit, it came out a bit crooked.
— Or maybe let's just go cook? Why wait?
The main thing is as much enthusiasm in the voice as possible, so that Snowball has no chance to "throw me with a suplex."
— I thought you were astute enough to understand a hint, — Yukinoshita sighed disappointedly.
— To expect such from a socially maladjusted teenager with inflated self-esteem and a reluctance to change for the better? And you talk to me about astuteness?
This time the grin came out naturally and, to save face, I shook my head:
— So be it, since you need to "talk," — I accompanied the words with air quotes, — I'll go get coffee.
And left the classroom without waiting for an answer.
Although, honestly, before closing the door behind me, I wanted to flip two middle fingers without turning around.
But I am not that cruel.
***
Cooking is done for two things.
For the soul, finding in the culinary process a certain peace or delight.
For necessity, since the need for food is primary and biologically justified.
— We followed the recipe exactly, how did this happen to you? — Snowball looked in shock at the creation of Yui's hands.
I chuckled.
By the way, I still don't understand why it was necessary to kick me out the door. As if it wasn't clear that, in the end, we would go to the cooking class and try to help the classmate. What is there to discuss "between girls"?
However, that isn't important now. The less you know, the better you sleep.
Frankly speaking, I probably wouldn't have done any better. Of course, assuming the same conditions, where you are told what to do without the process itself being monitored.
— Well, maybe it only looks like this? — Yuigahama drew out with the remnants of fading hope.
I doubt that burnt chunks of dough of incomprehensible shape are capable of possessing an exquisite taste.
Next to them, as if in mockery, stood a tray with perfectly even cookies, like from a store — the creation of Yukinoshita's hands.
— I don't understand how one could make so many mistakes… — muttered Yukino, covering her eyes with her palm.
Simple and easy. When you are asked for help with something, it is logical to imply that the person does not possess the necessary skills. And that means you need to scrupulously and accessibly explain to them how to do it correctly. Why waste time talentlessly and watch Yui mess up time after time? Left the shell in, didn't melt the butter, throwing in a cold block, mixed it wrong…
You could have corrected and forced her right away, along the way.
Plus, it is visible that Yuigahama has problems with dosage.
— Tell me honestly, is it hard for you to follow a recipe? — I couldn't stand it, walking up to the girl and taking the cookbook into my hands.
— What do you mean? — the schoolgirl was indignant, fixing a wrathful gaze on me. Hmm, she didn't allow herself that with Snowball. The difference in attitude is immediately visible.
— Literally, — sighing, I poked a finger at the recipe. — What is written here?
— Break three eggs, add butter and sugar, a pinch of salt, vanilla, and mix thoroughly, — Yui reluctantly obeyed the instruction.
— Then why did you, for example, instead of a pinch, throw in nearly half the shaker?
— Well, — the girl looked away. — That is a pinch? Isn't it?
I pondered.
There is logic in her words.
After all, I, looking at the recipe, roughly imagine what "pinch" is being referred to. And that's because I've encountered this a couple of times in life.
In Yuigahama's case, it seems everything is much worse. From which the next question arises: do they not know how to cook at her home either? Somewhat doubtful…
— Yukinoshita, you understood what the problem is, right? — somehow I've started talking too much; Snowball rules the ball here. So let her handle the ladle, let her figure it out further.
— That she is incapable of following a recipe? — Yukino inquired irritably.
A passionate desire arose to slam my forehead against the table.
The main problem of overly "perfect" people — they view the actions of those around them through their own "ideal" prism. Simply put, they judge by themselves.
— Then how much, in your opinion, is in a pinch — of salt? Fifty grams or a hundred?
Yukinoshita opened her mouth to answer immediately but abruptly shut it, frowning. She raised her hand, looked at her palm, after which, continuing to remain silent, turned around and took out the scales. The final chord, which nearly killed me, was that she, narrowing her eyes, carefully took that very pinch of salt with her fingers and dropped it onto the bowl.
The scales barely showed a few grams, not even reaching five, wavering in indecision from such small quantities.
— Between three and four grams! — Yukino announced solemnly, accompanied by Yuigahama's admiring gaze.
I tried with all my might not to collapse on the floor in a fit of Homeric laughter. Apparently, Snowball, seeing my face, guessed something. At least, a small blush of embarrassment clearly flashed on her cheeks.
The second attempt that followed this turned out much better. This time Yukinoshita didn't start showing off her superiority but began to lead, giving advice and explaining every action in detail, like to a child, thereby carefully tracking the result.
Of course, Yui didn't manage to reach Yukino's level right away, however, her cookies didn't cause disgust either. Yes, crudely molded, the shape and size differ, but…
— Not bad actually, just the thing with coffee, — I dusted the crumbs off my hands.
— Do you think they'll appreciate it as a gift? — Yuigahama asked quietly, suspiciously lowering her gaze.
Good Lord, what did you find so interesting on the floor that you're constantly staring there?!
— They'll appreciate it, of course, — to check, I ate another one. No, truly not bad. — Especially since the fact of the effort spent is important here. And your relationship.
— In what sense? — the girl tilted her head amusingly.
— Hikigaya means to say that a friend will appreciate the gesture, even if it is inedible. An enemy, however, even if it is tasty, will still look only for the bad, — Yukinoshita said for me.
A perfectly legitimate question arises: are you trying to help in social adaptation or do you want to completely kill any desire in me to meet people halfway?
You chose the wrong person, Sensei. Wrong person.
— Is that so, — Yui smiled brightly. — Then everything is definitely okay, thanks for the help, Yukinoshita!
Hey.
— And to you, Hikki! — the smile directed my way was no longer so sincere and reeked of falseness.
That nickname again.
With an effort of will, I held back the urge to speak out with the breadth of my soul. She isn't Yukino and definitely not Shizuka; she might take it too seriously. Therefore, I will try simply, as if for the mentally retarded.
— Yuigahama, — I scratched my cheek. — Tell me, please, one thing. If people called you a bitch, would you be offended?
The classmate instantly bristled.
— Yes or no, — not wishing to listen to the stream of abuse that would surely burst from her mouth, I repeated the question with a touch of fatigue.
— Of course I'd be offended! — puffing up, Yui glared at me angrily.
— Then why do you address me that way? Or, in your opinion, is it pleasant for me to hear? For your information, I have a name, — she involuntarily took a step back, bumping her back against the kitchen table.
I shifted my gaze to Yukinoshita, hoping she would also understand the "hint."
In any interaction, there is a certain line that should not be crossed. What you can allow yourself to say in a circle of friends or comrades might not be perceived that way by someone else.
Simplifying everything to a single-celled state: my patience has a limit too.
This isn't elementary school or the beginning of middle school, where I submissively soaked up all the insults and nicknames classmates generously awarded me. Gone is the time when I powerlessly clenched my fists and only at home, under the blanket, allowed myself to vent emotions, imagining in vivid colors how I would answer the offenders, put them in their place.
To be honest, to some extent I am a little grateful for such an experience. It served as an excellent stimulus to learn to fight back in such situations, even though I had to overcome the fear of possible consequences, stepping on the throat of nurtured complexes.
Sometimes anger is stronger than fear.
…Ugh, that last part came out too pretentious. I should think about the phrasing later. And not forget that sometimes it is better to bow your head, since it is simpler to heal pride than broken ribs. Hope Snowball doesn't know karate, just saying.
Sighing, I scratched the back of my head, calming down little by little.
I'm somehow excessively irritable today. Apparently, an overabundance of human interaction.
Especially since, why waste precious nerves on Yukino and Yui? My opinion means nothing to them anyway.
I'll leave my sarcasm and masterful irony for true connoisseurs.
For example, for Hiratsuka.
— Fine, don't worry your head about it, — not waiting for an answer from Yuigahama, I waved my hand and, grabbing my school bag, left the home economics classroom.
Hmm.
Maybe bake some cookies at home?..
Na-ah, enough baking for me.