Can a misanthrope have a harem?

As the train rattled along the tracks, I found myself seated together with Mahiru and Yukino, with Komi Shouko already quietly occupying the seat beside Mahiru. The day had been long, and the events of the Service Club still lingered in my mind. The train car was relatively empty, giving us a sense of quiet and space.

We had just said our goodbyes to Alya and Yui, who decided to tag along, their usual exuberance toned down to a warm smile as they waved us off. Now, as the train moved, I watched the scenery blur past the window, lost in thought.

Mahiru sat quietly, her presence a steady comfort. She had a way of being there without demanding attention, and I appreciated that about her. Yukino, on the other hand, seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, her gaze fixed on something outside the window. Komi sat with her usual quiet grace, her notebook resting on her lap.

I glanced at Komi while Mahiru said ,"Hey, Komi, how was your day?"

Komi responded by writing a few words in her notebook and showing it to me and Mahiru. "It was good. Just finished up some club activities."

Yukino glanced at Komi and then at me, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. I realized she didn't know Komi, so I made a quick introduction. "Yukino, this is Komi Shouko. Komi, this is Yukino Yukinoshita."

"It's nice to meet you, Komi-san," she said, her voice carrying its usual refined tone.

She quickly wrote in her notebook again, turning it around: "Nice to meet you too, Yukinoshita-san."

The train swayed gently as it rounded a curve, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows in golden strips across our laps. I leaned back in my seat, watching the interaction with interest.

"Komi-san doesn't speak much," I explained to Yukino, keeping my voice casual. "But she communicates quite effectively in her own way."

Yukino's eyes showed understanding. "I see. Sometimes those who speak less have more meaningful things to convey when they do choose to express themselves."

Mahiru smiled softly at that. "That's true. I've always thought Komi-san's way of communicating has a certain honesty to it."

Komi blushed slightly at the compliment, her fingers fidgeting with the corner of her notebook page.

As the train came to a halt at Yukino's stop, she stood up gracefully, offering a polite nod to each of us. "It was nice meeting you, Komi-san. And as always, it's been a pleasure, Mahiru, Aiko." Her gaze lingered on me for a second. With that, she stepped off the train, leaving the three of us to continue our journey.

The train doors closed with a mechanical hiss, and I felt a subtle relief wash over me. One less person to deal with. Yukino wasn't terrible, as far as people went, but social interactions drained me regardless of who they were with.

I turned my attention back to the window, hoping the conversation would naturally die out. People always felt the need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. It was exhausting.

"Aiko-san, are you feeling alright?" Mahiru's voice interrupted my thoughts. Her concern seemed genuine.

"I'm fine," I replied curtly. "Just tired."

Komi observed our exchange, her dark eyes thoughtful. There was something about her silence that I grudgingly respected. At least she didn't waste breath on pointless small talk.

Mahiru, ever the mediator, smiled gently. "It was a long day at the Service Club. Mahiru's request was... unusual."

I snorted. "Unusual is one way to put it. Pointless would be another. Why people can't solve their trivial problems is beyond me."

Komi started writing in her notebook, and I braced myself for some platitude about helping others. Instead, she turned it toward me: "Sometimes people just want to be seen."

I stared at her words, unexpectedly struck by their simplicity. Not that I'd admit it.

"Being seen is overrated," I muttered, but without my usual edge.

As the train pulled into our station, we stepped off together. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the platform, and the air was filled with the distant hum of the city. We walked side by side, the familiar streets stretching out before us.

Komi, who had been quiet for most of the walk, suddenly stopped and turned to face Mahiru and me. She took a deep breath, her hands clutching her notebook tightly.

"I... I want to continue the talk we had last time," Komi said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with determination.

As Komi stood before us, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands, I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me. Mahiru looked at Komi, her expression a mix of confusion and concern, then turned to me, clearly seeking some sort of explanation.

"Now isn't the time for this conversation. We should leave this for later."

Komi's eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and resolve, but she nodded slowly, her hands still gripping her notebook. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she needed to say next.

"I understand, Aiko," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I need you to know that this is important to me. It's important to us."

Mahiru looked at me, her eyes reflecting a deep concern. "Aiko, what is she talking about?" she asked gently, her voice filled with a quiet urgency.

Mahiru's gaze was steady, searching my face for an answer I wasn't sure I was ready to give.

I sighed, not because I wanted to, but because apparently that's the only language people understand. The universal signal for I don't want to do this, but I will if you keep staring at me like that.

"Komi and I talked. Once." I kept my tone flat, detached. "It wasn't a big deal."

Mahiru tilted her head slightly, not buying it. Komi still looked at me like I was supposed to give her something, reassurance, permission, maybe even vulnerability. I didn't have any of those on hand.

"Just... a mutual understanding," I added, "Of what it's like to be surrounded by people and still feel completely isolated. You know, cheerful stuff."

Komi's fingers gripped her notebook again, her knuckles white. She opened to a page she had written earlier.

"We're the same in ways we don't say out loud." 

I glanced at it, then away. I didn't need poetry.

Mahiru looked between the two of us, processing. Probably trying to turn it into one of her emotional Hallmark moments.

"Aiko…" she said softly, "you don't have to-"

"Don't start," I cut her off. Not loudly, just tired. "I'm not about to unpack my trauma on a train platform like this is some kind of after-school special."

Silence fell again, but this time no one tried to break it. Komi looked disappointed, but… understanding. Mahiru looked sad, but wisely stayed quiet.

After a moment, I turned away, hands shoved deep in my pockets.

"Let's just go. I'm starving, and emotional confrontations weren't on my to-do list."

Komi fell in step beside me, still clutching her notebook. Mahiru followed a step behind.

They didn't press. Maybe they finally got it.

I wasn't looking for rescue. I wasn't about to join hands and start healing. But maybe walking with them was better than walking alone. Even if I wouldn't admit it.

We walked in silence.

The evening air was cooler now, brushing against my skin like static, just enough to make me feel something, though I wasn't sure what. The streets were mostly empty. Just the occasional car or dim porch light blinking past.

Komi was to my right, quiet as ever, her notebook pressed tightly to her chest like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. Mahiru walked on my left, hands clasped loosely behind her back, that peaceful posture she always carried, as if nothing could rattle her.

Then Komi spoke.

Not loudly. Not confidently. Just barely above a whisper, but somehow it cut through the stillness.

"You said the same thing… back then. Before you left."

I stopped walking. I hadn't meant to. My body just… reacted. Like a gear had jammed.

"…What?"

Mahiru froze too, not startled, exactly, but alert. Like a deer that had heard a twig snap.

Komi didn't answer. She simply opened her notebook and showed me the page she had prepared ahead of time:

"You said: 'I'm not good at staying. So don't wait for me.' Then you smiled like it didn't hurt you too."

My breath hitched. And just like that, something cracked inside my head.

Not a memory. Not exactly. More like a shadow of one. A feeling. A smell. Cold air, snowy. A train station.

The sound of raindrops hitting a metal roof.

A platform. A train pulling away. It was snowy. Komi, wet hair, trembling hands, her voice caught in her throat. Mahiru, standing behind her, no, not this time. Another memory. Another place. Her eyes were red from crying, scarf in her hand. Wind biting our faces. My back turned.

Two versions. Two endings.

Both on the same day. Both ending the same way.

"What the hell was that?"

My vision swam, chest tight. I stumbled back a step.

Mahiru looked at me. Not surprised.

She knew that look. That reaction.

But with recognition. Like she had seen this before.

"…You remember something, don't you?" she said quietly.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

There was a ringing in my ears, and the city felt too loud, too bright, too unreal. My mouth was dry. My hands, shaking, subtly.

"I don't-" I started, then stopped. My throat tightened. "That didn't happen. I've never said that. I've never-"

"You died. Winter. December 28th. I still remember it every time."

I didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Komi looked at Mahiru now, confused. Her hand trembled as she wrote something quickly and showed it:

"You too?"

Mahiru's eyes flicked to the notebook. Her lips parted slightly. Then the realization dawned. Her entire posture shifted, just a fraction, enough for me to feel the weight of it. She hadn't known.

"…He was mine," she said, barely audible.

"No," Komi wrote, shaking her head slowly. "He was mine."

The cold wind passed through us like a breath being held too long. And I stood in the middle of it, the hollow where someone used to be.

"So," I said, trying to force something resembling logic into my voice, "in your version, we were, what? Together?"

Mahiru nodded. "You loved me. I loved you. And then… you died."

Komi looked down, then scribbled something.

"You promised me we'd make it to spring."

The words pierced deeper than I was ready for. My throat tightened.

I scoffed, but it was hollow, just a reflex now. "Well. Guess I'm not very good at keeping promises."

Neither of them responded.

I turned away from both of them, staring into the dark horizon like it might hand me a solution. Or a reason. Or a way out.

"I didn't ask to come back," I said. "I didn't even know I'd been gone."

Mahiru stepped forward, her voice steady. "You didn't ask. You begged."

Komi clutched her notebook tighter. Her eyes shimmered in the streetlight, but she didn't cry. Not this time. And neither did Mahiru.

They had already mourned me once. Or twice. Or a hundred times.

But now… now they were standing here again. With me. Or what was left of me.

"…Why?" I asked. "Why would anyone stay after that?"

Mahiru smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Because you did."

Mahiru looked at Komi. Komi looked at Mahiru.

There was no hostility in their expressions. No jealousy. Just a quiet, sinking understanding. They had both lost me. And somehow, I was standing right here, not remembering a goddamn thing.

I stood there, caught between two people who each claimed a version of me that no longer existed. One loved the version of me that was cold and distant. The other loved the version that smiled when he thought no one was watching.

They were both insane. Obviously.

"I hate people," I muttered, mostly to myself.

Komi tilted her head. Mahiru gave a tired smile.

"You didn't use to," Mahiru said.

"No," I snapped. "I always did. I just got better at hiding it."

Komi scribbled something and showed it to me.

"But you cared. Even when you pretended not to."

"That's the thing," I said, rubbing my temple, "Pretending's exhausting. That's why I stopped."

Mahiru walked a little closer, her eyes steady. "Then don't pretend. Just exist. With us."

"…Yeah, that sounds worse."

Komi let out a small, breathy laugh. She wrote again:

"We're not asking you to be someone you're not."

"But you are," I said flatly. "You're asking me to be the version of me you knew. The dead one. The romanticized corpse."

Mahiru flinched slightly. Good. Maybe I'd pushed too far, but I needed to say it.

"You two lost someone you cared about. I get it. I sympathize, in the vaguest way a broken filing cabinet full of dead feelings can. But I'm not him. I'm me. A guy who doesn't like people, who finds most emotions either performative or parasitic, and who wakes up every morning wondering why he's still breathing."

Komi looked away. Mahiru didn't.

She just said, "And yet here you are. Still walking beside us."

I clicked my tongue. "That's not sentiment. That's gravity. You're the ones orbiting me, not the other way around."

Neither said anything.

I sighed. "Look. You want to follow me around? Fine. But I'm not suddenly going to start monologuing about my feelings or cuddling under the stars. You get me like this, jagged, disinterested, and probably better off alone."

Komi wrote something quickly and shoved the notebook toward me, a little more forceful this time.

"You always say that. Right before you let someone stay."

I stared at the page for a moment too long.

Mahiru's voice was softer now. "You're not pushing us away. You're warning us. Like you always did."

"…Tch."

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and started walking again. "Whatever. If you two want to make your lives harder, be my guests. Just don't expect me to hold your hand while you do it."

Footsteps followed, one on each side. Not ahead. Not behind.

Beside me.

Komi looked at Mahiru.

Mahiru looked at Komi.

Then both looked at me, the broken version of a man they once loved.

And in some miserable, cosmic joke, I realized I was walking home with two ghosts of people who remembered loving me better than I ever remembered living.

"…Don't get used to this," I muttered.

Mahiru smiled faintly. "You said that last time too."

The silence between us lingered like smoke after a fire, heavy, metallic, and impossible to breathe in for long.

They never shut up in the summer , that endless, electric chorus in the trees. Too loud to ignore, too natural to stop. The air hung thick, even after sundown. The kind of heat that didn't burn but just refused to leave. Like it had nowhere else to go.

We walked without speaking.

Komi was on my right. Mahiru, to my left. Same arrangement as before, but now the air between us felt tighter. Tense with something none of us wanted to poke too hard.

At the next corner, I stopped walking.

"Komi," I said, without turning, "your house is this way, right?"

She blinked at me, surprised, then nodded once.

"I'll walk you."

Mahiru tilted her head slightly, confused. "You don't have to-"

"I know," I cut in. "I'm not doing it to impress anyone."

Komi looked unsure, as if debating whether to accept. But she didn't protest. She just fell into step beside me, quiet as ever.

I glanced sideways at Mahiru. "You can head back. Not like it's far."

She crossed her arms. "We live next door to each other. You do realize that, right?"

"Unfortunately."

Mahiru exhaled, but didn't argue. "I'll leave the light on," she said after a beat, and turned toward the path home.

Komi and I walked on in silence.

The asphalt was still warm from the sun. The streetlights buzzed. Now and then, a mosquito flitted around my ear, and I resisted the urge to swat at it. Komi stayed close, not touching me, never that, but within arm's reach. Like she was afraid I might disappear again.

When we got to her gate, she hesitated. Then flipped open her notebook and wrote something slowly.

"I'm sorry if remembering hurts."

I looked at the words, then at her.

The cicadas kept screeching in the background.

"…It doesn't hurt," I said. "It's just… annoying."

She looked confused.

"Like a song stuck in your head. But only the chorus. And you don't know where you heard it, but it feels like it's yours anyway."

Komi blinked.

Then smiled, small and sad.

She wrote again.

"Even when you didn't remember me, you always said stuff like that."

"Tch." I looked away. "I'll take your word for it."

"Go. Before I change my mind and pretend I got lost bringing you here."

She giggled softly, nodded, and gave a short wave before slipping inside.

I stood there for a second longer, just listening to the cicadas, before turning back.

The walk home was short, maybe four or five minutes, but every step felt like I was sinking deeper into the night. Not like it was swallowing me. More like it knew I belonged there.

When I got to my front door, Mahiru was sitting on her porch, legs folded under her, sipping something from a glass. It looked like barley tea. Her hair was pinned up, neck glistening slightly from the heat.

She didn't speak right away. Neither did I.

Eventually, she said, "Did she say anything?"

"Some cryptic stuff. You'd be proud."

Mahiru smiled faintly, but didn't push further. I moved to my door and paused.

"…You're not waiting out here for me, are you?"

"No," she said, stretching slightly. "I'm just thinking."

"Dangerous habit."

"I know."

I didn't go inside immediately. Just stood there, hand on the door handle.

"…Goodnight, Mahiru."

"Goodnight, Aiko."

The cicadas sang louder as the door shut behind me.

Inside, the air was cooler. Still not comfortable. Just… less.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, and waited for the noise in my head to quiet down.

It didn't.

Not that I expected it to.

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Thanks for reading. You can also give me ideas for the future or pinpoint plot holes that I may have forgotten, if you want. Longest chapter as of now.