Can a misanthrope have a harem?

[Saturday]

The mall was already crowded when I arrived, too loud and too humid, like someone had tried to compress every adolescent fantasy into one overpriced concrete building. People laughed too easily. Smiled too wide. Carried shopping bags like trophies.

I hated it.

I spotted Iroha before she saw me. She was standing near the entrance fountain, nervously fiddling with the hem of her blouse, pastel blue, frilly. The kind of thing someone wears when they're trying to look effortlessly cute. Which, in her case, worked too well.

She waved when she noticed me, her eyes lighting up with something dangerously close to hope.

"Aiko-senpai~! You're early!"

"You're just late," I replied.

Her pout was automatic, practiced. "You're supposed to say, 'You look cute today,' y'know."

"I'm not supposed to say anything," I muttered. "That's kind of my whole thing."

She laughed anyway. "You're lucky I like jerks."

I wasn't.

...

[Somewhere nearby...]

"Target is approaching the mall," Alya said, peering through a pair of sunglasses that were way too expensive for stakeouts. "Yui, you're too close. She'll notice the pink scrunchie."

Yui yelped and ducked behind the bush. "But I wanna seeeee! She's so cute when she's nervous!"

"Can you all shut up?" Yukino muttered, crouching beside a lamppost, voice sharp as broken glass. "This was supposed to be subtle."

Mahiru stood slightly apart, arms folded, not bothering to hide. "It was never going to be subtle."

They didn't say it aloud, but the tension in the air was obvious.

They'd all seen him look at Iroha today, the way he used to look at them.

...

[The Mall]

We wandered through air-conditioned corridors lined with glass storefronts. Iroha pulled me into a few places, mostly accessory shops and boutiques she had no intention of buying from. She pointed out absurd trinkets and asked what I thought of them.

"This cat-shaped purse is adorable, right?"

"It looks like it's suffering."

"That's what makes it cute!"

She clung to my arm once. I didn't react. I think that disappointed her more than if I'd pulled away.

At one point, she bought us matching bubble teas without asking. Mine was mango with too many tapioca pearls. She watched me sip it, like she expected me to recoil. I didn't.

"I expected you to hate it," she said.

"I do."

"But you drank it anyway?"

"Thirst was stronger than disgust."

She smiled, a real one this time.

...

[The Arcade]

I didn't want to go in. I told her that.

She ignored me.

The inside was loud and strobe-lit and crawling with middle schoolers. I stood near the wall, arms folded, as she bounced from crane games to rhythm machines, dragging me behind her like some reluctant bodyguard.

Somehow, I got pulled into a two-player shooter game. Plastic rifles. Fake blood. Neon zombies.

She beat me by four points.

"I win! What do I get?"

"You get to stop talking for thirty seconds."

She giggled, then did something that almost made me short-circuit: she leaned up, close to my ear, and whispered, "You used to smile more, you know."

That was the first crack.

Something in my chest shifted. It wasn't a memory, exactly, just pressure. A feeling like something buried was trying to claw its way up.

I didn't say anything. Just looked away.

She didn't push.

...

[The Park]

It was late afternoon by the time we wandered into the park, a quiet green tucked between apartment blocks. Cicadas screamed in the trees. A slow breeze rustled the leaves above us.

Iroha bought canned juice from a vending machine and sat on a shaded bench. I sat beside her, careful not to let our shoulders touch.

"Thanks for today," she said, her voice quieter now. Less performative. "Even if you didn't want to come."

"I didn't."

"But you did anyway."

"Against my better judgment."

She looked up at the sky, her tone light but distant. "Do you ever feel like everyone around you is waiting for something from you? Like they're all hoping you'll just… become who they want?"

I didn't answer. Because yes. Constantly.

And that silence must've been answer enough, because she just smiled, softer this time, and said, "Thought so."

...

We were walking past the public garden when Iroha suddenly stopped. Her gaze locked onto something behind me. I turned, Instinct, nothing more, but saw nothing out of place.

When I looked back, her expression had changed. The smile was gone. She was… sharp now. A glint in her honey-colored eyes I hadn't seen before.

"I think we should go somewhere else," she said quietly.

"Why?"

She just grabbed my hand, properly, this time, and ran.

Not in the flirty, fake-chase kind of way. In the real way. Full speed. Through alleys, around corners, between parked cars.

I didn't ask questions. I didn't need to.

I already knew we were being followed.

...

"She noticed us," Yukino said sharply, lowering her binoculars. "She ran."

"Ughhhh!" Yui flopped against the wall. "But I wanted to see the fireworks!"

"She took his hand," Alya muttered darkly. "I saw it. She ran, but she smiled first."

"…Where are they going?" Mahiru asked softly, but no one answered her.

...

[Elsewhere: A quiet rooftop, minutes later]

We'd ended up on top of a parking garage. Iroha leaned against the railing, panting slightly, her chest heaving. The city sprawled out below, golden in the summer light.

I stood a few feet behind her, hands in my pockets.

"What the hell was that?" I finally asked.

"I saw them," she said, not turning around. "They were watching us. I don't know why. Maybe jealousy. Maybe regret."

Her voice wasn't trembling anymore.

"You're surprisingly good at running," I muttered.

She laughed softly. "I used to run away from a lot of things."

Then, silence.

Until she turned.

And her eyes, usually filled with feigned innocence, were unguarded now.

"I liked you before this," she said. "Before the Service Club. Before the memory thing."

My blood turned to ice.

"What?"

"You don't remember, right?" she whispered. "Of course you don't. But I confessed to you once. On a rooftop just like this one. You turned me down. Gently, but still. You told me something I never forgot."

She stepped closer.

"You said, 'I don't date people I might disappoint.'"

My vision blurred. For a split second, the world cracked.

That same rooftop. A cooler wind. Her hair was longer. Pink sparkles on a lunchbox. A boy who looked like me, but smiled more easily. He was saying those words.

'I don't date people I might disappoint.'

And then he walked away.

And she was left holding the box, smiling too brightly, tears already forming.

The present crashed down on me again.

I staggered, one hand against the railing. My head throbbed like someone had cracked it open from the inside.

"…You okay?" Iroha asked, voice soft again.

I didn't answer right away.

"…I think I remembered something."

She nodded, not surprised.

"I thought you might."

I looked at her, this strange, brave, manipulative girl who wore her insecurities like accessories.

The wind was softer now, brushing past us like a breath that never fully left. The golden hour had settled over the city, making even cracked concrete and rusted rails look romantic.

I leaned against the railing, both palms gripping the cool metal. My pulse still hadn't slowed. Not from the running, that part was mechanical. It was the other thing. The crack, the memory, the echo that still rang in my head like a ghost whispering into a canyon.

"I turned you down," I said again. Not to mock her. Just to make sure the words were real.

Iroha nodded. "You did."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

She looked at me for a long time, then tilted her head.

"Because I think you're about to do it again."

That caught me off guard.

I scoffed, more to stall than anything else. "You dragged me on this farce of a date just to get rejected again? You're a masochist."

"No," she said softly. "I just wanted to see if you still looked at me the way you did back then. Just once."

"…And?"

"You don't," she admitted, but there wasn't bitterness in her voice. Only acceptance. "But you're still you, somehow. Even if you don't remember."

I rubbed my temple. My head still buzzed like a TV left on mute. That other rooftop, that other life, it didn't belong to me. But I felt it, and that was worse than remembering. Because it meant something inside me, I still believed it.

"…What did that version of me say when I turned you down?"

Iroha smiled faintly. "He said I deserved someone who'd stay."

I laughed once, a low, hollow thing. "Sounds like something a loser says when he's trying to be noble."

"Maybe. But it was kind. You weren't always kind."

A silence stretched between us. Honest, uncomfortable.

"Why are you here, Iroha?" I asked finally. "Why this… game? What are you trying to prove?"

"I don't know." She stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe I just wanted to matter to you again. Even if you don't remember why."

Her words settled in the pit of my stomach, heavy and bitter.

"I hate this," I muttered. "This whole thing. The stalking. The pretending. The date. This whole club of broken people trying to fix each other."

"I know," she said. "You've always hated people."

"And yet I keep ending up surrounded by them."

"Maybe that's the universe's way of punishing you."

I barked out a laugh. "Then it needs to try harder."

Iroha's smile faded. "You're going to disappear again, aren't you?"

"…What makes you say that?"

"Because you're not supposed to make it past December."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because I didn't expect them, I did. But hearing them from her, like it was a known fact, something they all remembered…

"How do you know that?" My voice came out low. "Who told you?"

She didn't answer.

The sun was setting now, bleeding color into the clouds.

"I don't want to lose you again," she said finally. "But I also know I can't stop it."

I stared out over the city. The wind was warmer now, sticking to my skin. I didn't speak for a long time.

"…I don't know who I used to be," I said quietly. "But he sounds like an idiot."

Iroha laughed softly, brushing hair behind her ear. "He was. But he made me feel like I was worth something."

"…And what about now?"

She turned to me, eyes solemn.

"You're still worth something, too, Aiko. Even if you don't see it yet."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. Something in her gaze made me feel like the version of myself I hated the most, the one who cared.

The worst part?

Some piece of me, the part I didn't trust, was glad she remembered.

Even if I didn't.

...

The sky had deepened into gold and lavender by the time we descended from the rooftop. Iroha didn't speak, and I was grateful for that. My head was still swimming with static, that flicker of memory burning like a cigarette ember behind my ribs.

The rooftop had changed something. Not just the date - me.

I didn't want to admit that.

We returned to the park's walking path, the kind people passed through on the way home, arms full of shopping bags and dripping soft serve. Iroha was quieter than usual, her steps lighter, as if she was afraid to disturb what had just happened.

We walked in near silence until we stopped at a vending machine. I bought another can of coffee. Something bitter to burn away the noise in my head.

"You okay?" she asked finally, her voice small.

"No," I said, cracking the can open. "But I'm used to that."

She didn't smile, but I caught the way her hand hovered near mine for a moment, then pulled back. It didn't touch me. Still, I felt it.

We reached the edge of the street near the station when it happened.

Iroha's steps slowed. I followed her gaze.

There, standing just a little too far apart to be casual, were Yukino, Mahiru, Alya, and Yui pretending to be there by coincidence.

They all had different excuses painted on their faces.

Yui had the most obvious expression, all wide-eyed panic, like a kid caught with chocolate on her mouth, insisting she didn't eat anything.

Alya just leaned back against the lamppost, arms folded, one eyebrow cocked with a smirk that dared me to call her out.

Yukino stood composed, as always, but she was blinking too much, her version of embarrassment.

And Mahiru…

Mahiru looked at me. Not at Iroha. Not at the ground.

At me. Her gaze unreadable, but deep, like she saw something she hadn't wanted to find.

"…Really?" I said flatly, stopping in my tracks.

Yui was the first to blurt out anything. "W-we just happened to be-!"

"Spare me," I muttered.

Iroha stepped forward before anyone else could speak. "You were following us the whole time, weren't you?"

No one answered.

That was enough of an answer.

She gave a short, almost-laugh, not amused. Not even surprised. "Figures."

Yukino stepped forward, her tone measured. "We didn't mean to intrude. We just… wanted to be sure you were okay."

"By stalking us?" I asked.

Mahiru flinched slightly. But she didn't deny it.

Alya clicked her tongue. "You could've told us if you were gonna make it real. The date."

"Real?" Iroha repeated. "It was always real to me."

That shut everyone up.

I stayed still, eyes locked with Mahiru's. She didn't blink this time. And I saw it in her face, the recognition. She knew.

She knew I had remembered something.

That made me sick.

"I'm going home," I said.

Iroha touched my sleeve. "Aiko-"

"I'm done."

She froze, hand dropping.

The others didn't stop me. Maybe because they knew they couldn't. Or maybe because this had never been about the date at all.

Just like always, I was the center of a stage I didn't ask for. A role I never auditioned for.

And I hated them for putting me here.

But most of all, I hated that a part of me didn't want to leave.

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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.