Can a misanthrope have a harem?

The soft light of dawn filtered through the classroom windows, casting long shadows over empty desks. The air smelled faintly of chalk dust and old books, mingling with the sharp scent of freshly polished floors.

Aiko moved slowly down the quiet hallway, his footsteps the only sound. Somewhere distant, a door creaked closed, a fragile noise that seemed to hang in the air longer than it should. For a heartbeat, the sound twisted, merging with a lighter, warmer echo of laughter from another time. It brushed against the edges of his mind, stirring a cold frost that shimmered briefly at the corners of his vision, like winter's breath pressing against his skin. A faint whisper, a promise, a warning, lingered on the wind, but just as quickly, it dissolved into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

He stopped outside the student council room. A soft murmur of voices spilled through the door's slight crack. When it slid open silently, three figures stepped out.

Maria led the way, poised and deliberate, her eyes sharp but veiled behind a calm, almost unreadable expression. She held herself with quiet authority, yet the slightest twitch in her jaw betrayed an old ache she worked hard to hide.

Yuki followed, a warm smile reaching her eyes, but shadows flickered beneath the surface, a flicker of sadness, or regret. Her voice carried a gentle melody, but there was a fragile edge, as if each word was carefully measured against some internal sorrow.

Chisaki came last, playful grin intact, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was an electric undercurrent to her presence, teasing, yes, but also a hardness that suggested she used her easy charm as a shield.

"Morning, Aiko," Maria said, her voice low but steady, the scent of jasmine soap and faint citrus trailing her like a subtle signature. "Early start for you."

Aiko forced a small nod, the words stuck somewhere in his throat. The scent clung to him, oddly grounding, but also stirring something deeper, a flash of a long-forgotten smile, a fragment of warmth he wasn't sure he recognized.

Yuki stepped forward, her tone soft but edged with something unspoken, concern, maybe guilt. She glanced sideways at Maria for a flicker of a second, a silent exchange that passed unnoticed by Aiko. "We were just finishing up a student council meeting. You're welcome to join us, if you're not busy."

Chisaki gave him a light shove, grinning. "Yeah, it's not all paperwork and boring speeches. We've got things we could use your help with." Her eyes briefly flicked toward Maria, challenging, testing.

Maria's gaze sharpened, and she folded her arms, voice calm but firm. "Besides, it's important we keep an eye on things. Especially you." Her words dropped like stones, weighted and deliberate.

Aiko blinked, caught off guard by the unspoken meaning beneath her tone. "Me?"

Maria's lips curled into a faint, almost teasing smile, but her eyes remained unreadable. "You know the rumors. About… patterns repeating. About certain dates that matter more than others."

Yuki's voice softened to a whisper, barely audible. "We're here to help. And to make sure you don't fall through the cracks." Her gaze lingered on Aiko a moment longer, troubled.

Chisaki shrugged, grin flickering into something almost serious. "Or get lost again." Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her hip, betraying a restless impatience.

Aiko hesitated, the memory of cold snow and whispered promises swirling in his mind, mingling with the fresh scent of the polished floors and jasmine. He could almost feel the winter's bite on his skin again, the weight of that day pressing down like a shadow he couldn't outrun.

He nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll come."

Maria stepped aside, her movement fluid, almost deliberate. "Good. We could use your insight. And besides…" She paused, the teasing smile returning briefly. "It's about time you stopped drifting."

The three girls led him inside, the door closing softly behind them. The quiet space hummed with unfinished business, whispered secrets, and ghosts neither spoken nor fully laid to rest.

Inside, the room was modest but orderly, bathed in soft morning light filtering through tall windows. Aiko took a seat at the long table, feeling their gazes settle on him like a storm barely contained.

Maria opened a folder, but her eyes found his first. "Before we get into school business, how are you feeling today, Aiko?"

He shrugged, voice rough. "Like I'm still waking up."

Yuki's smile softened, but her eyes flickered with something fragile, a sadness. "Waking up is hard when parts of you don't quite fit where you are. Does that make sense?"

Aiko blinked, surprised. "Yeah. It's like… everything's familiar, but distant. Like a reflection I can't quite reach."

Chisaki leaned forward, her playful grin dimming just a fraction. "We hear you've been having strange moments? Flashes? Things that don't add up?"

His throat tightened. "Sometimes sounds or smells… they hit me out of nowhere. Like memories I don't own. It's confusing."

Maria's eyes narrowed, the calm edge sharpening. "Do you ever remember that date?"

Aiko tensed, fingers twitching. "I've heard it. But… it doesn't make sense."

Maria's gaze held him steady, unwavering. "December 28 isn't just a date to you."

The faint scent of citrus suddenly seemed sharp in Aiko's nose, pulling at a thread in his mind, a flash of cold breath in snow, a hand slipping away, a whispered goodbye.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I've seen it. Felt it. Mahiru…"

Yuki's smile faltered for a fraction. "That day weighs on all of us, even those who aren't there when it comes."

Chisaki's grin softened, serious now. "You hold on, sometimes too tight, sometimes slipping away. Which is it?"

Aiko swallowed hard. "I don't know. I'm scared of what I might forget. Or what I might lose if I remember too much."

Maria leaned forward, voice calm but firm. "You're not alone. We're here to help. Not just with school, but… everything."

Yuki nodded, eyes steady. "There's no shame in fear. But hiding from it only makes the fractures deeper."

Chisaki's grin softened into something genuine. "You don't have to face it alone. Let us in. Even if just a little."

Aiko looked around at the three faces, poised, warm, and mischievous, each carrying their own quiet strength. For the first time that morning, the weight on his chest eased, just a little.

Maria smiled faintly. "That's why we asked you here. To be part of something bigger than the day that waits for you."

Yuki added, voice barely above a whisper, "To find the moments worth holding onto."

Chisaki gave a small nod. "And maybe… to rewrite some parts of the story."

...

Aiko sat at the table, leaning back in his chair slightly, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard. The words flash mob, calligraphy, and art club were still scrawled across it in messy strokes, like echoes of a conversation that had never really involved him. The morning light had shifted, casting warmer golds across the floor now. Dust floated lazily in the air.

He didn't speak right away. The scent of citrus from earlier still lingered, sharp and strangely nostalgic. Somewhere behind his eyes, he felt the brush of snow against his cheek, the weight of a scarf slipping from his shoulders. A soft voice, Maria's? In the dark.

It passed before he could hold it.

Maria stood near the window, hands folded behind her back, looking out. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was quieter than before. "You're carrying so much, Aiko. We all are. But pretending it's not there doesn't make it any lighter."

Yuki didn't turn, but she glanced at him sidelong. "You've already started remembering. Even if you don't want to call it that yet."

Chisaki sat cross-legged on a desk, rocking gently, arms wrapped around one knee. "You don't have to explain anything. We're not asking for some tearful reunion or whatever."

Aiko exhaled, slowly. "Then what are you asking for?"

Maria turned back toward him. "A chance to stay close. To help you, when it starts getting heavier again."

Aiko's jaw tightened. He didn't look at her. "I don't know what help looks like."

Yuki's smile was quiet, almost sad. "Sometimes it looks like silence. Or just… staying, even when you're scared."

The silence between them stretched thin.

Aiko didn't push them away. He didn't rise. He didn't lash out. Instead, he glanced at his own hands on the table, fingers twitching like they might remember holding someone else's.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel," he admitted. "Sometimes I see snow and my chest just… locks up. Or I hear someone laughing down the hall and it sounds like someone I lost. But it's all-"

"Fuzzy?" Chisaki offered, voice gentler now. "Like it's behind glass?"

He nodded, reluctant. "Like if I tried too hard, I'd shatter something."

Maria's expression softened. "Maybe you would. But maybe it's something that needed to break open."

A pause. Then, before anyone else could speak, Yuki said, "You don't have to fix everything today. Just… don't shut the door."

Another memory flickered. Mahiru's voice calling his name on a rainy day. A soft towel pressed to his hair. Warmth that shouldn't have stayed with him, but did.

Aiko closed his eyes briefly. Then looked up at the three of them.

"I'm not pushing you out," he said finally, voice quiet. "I'm just still… trying to find the ground under my feet."

Maria smiled first. "That's enough."

Chisaki added, "Took you long enough to say it, though."

Yuki stepped closer, her hand brushing his shoulder just barely, the contact featherlight. "Then let us help you stand."

This time, he didn't pull away.

...

[Come to the rooftop - Alya]

The sun was already starting to dip when Aiko stepped onto the rooftop, the metal door clanging shut behind him. The sky burned orange and pink, casting the school buildings in soft gold. The breeze tugged at his uniform collar. The faint scent of asphalt, sun-warmed and dry, filled his lungs.

Alya sat on the railing with one leg draped over, dangerously casual. The wind teased a few strands of her platinum hair loose from her braid. She didn't look back when he approached, just said:

"So. You talked to them."

Aiko stopped a few steps away. "…Yeah."

Silence stretched between them for a beat. Long enough for the wind to shift again. Long enough for the weight of things unsaid to settle between their shoulders.

She finally turned her head, a small smirk playing at her lips, but her eyes were sharper than usual. Too observant. "You're quieter than usual. That's saying something."

He leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed. "Just tired."

"From remembering?" she asked, voice deceptively light.

He glanced at her. "…Not really. From pretending I don't."

That got a reaction. Alya's posture stiffened just slightly, the smile faltering before she quickly masked it with a shrug. "So Maria got through to you."

He didn't answer immediately.

"Yuki," he said instead. "Chisaki. All of them."

Alya didn't respond. She just stared straight ahead. The air between them turned taut.

"I'm not replacing you," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Alya's laugh was soft and hollow. "I'm not worried about being replaced, Aiko. I'm worried you'll start believing they were always more important."

A beat.

He looked at her then, studied the guarded set of her jaw, the way her fingers curled tightly against the railing.

"You were the first to talk to me," he said. "In this life."

She blinked.

"And you're the only one who didn't pretend I was someone I'm not."

Alya turned toward him fully now, her eyes suddenly a storm, relief, longing, and something darker tangled up behind them. "Then why does it feel like I'm already losing?"

Aiko looked down at his hands, his voice quieter. "Because I'm not just yours."

The wind caught her breath before she could answer.

"I don't know how this ends," he continued. "But I know I didn't come back to belong to just one person. I think I came back because… I never figured out how to belong at all."

Alya reached out then, slowly, deliberately, and her fingers brushed his sleeve. Not his hand. Not yet.

"You're not an answer, Aiko," she murmured. "You're a question that keeps getting rewritten."

He met her eyes. "And you're the only one who keeps asking it out loud."

For a moment, the rooftop fell silent again. Their shadows stretched long across the tiles, almost touching.

Then she sighed, stepping back with a wry smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "Next time they want to drag you into a council meeting, tell them to come through me first. I'm still the one who dragged you into this mess."

"Understood," he said, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

She saw it, and that was enough. For now.

Alya didn't move immediately. She just watched him, that storm still flickering in her eyes. The wind tugged at her braid again, strands catching the light like thread spun from silver.

Aiko didn't look away. He should've. He knew the warning signs, that pull behind his ribs, that quiet hush that settled over the world when something irreversible was about to happen.

But he stayed.

And Alya stepped closer.

"You really don't remember the winter carnival, do you?" she asked, softly. Not accusing. Just sad.

"…No," he said.

Her fingers brushed his wrist. Light at first. Then firmer, grounding. "You kissed me back then. Under a red umbrella. I laughed so hard I dropped the cotton candy. You told me it was fine, that we'd find sweeter things together someday."

Aiko's throat tightened. He couldn't picture it. But his chest ached, like maybe his body remembered what his mind refused.

He didn't answer.

Alya's voice barely carried over the wind now. "I kept waiting for you to come back the next year. And the year after. And every year after that."

She was close now, not touching him, but close enough he could feel the warmth of her. The faint scent of lemon balm and crushed grass. Sunlight still clung to her skin.

"You're here now," she said. "And maybe you're broken, and maybe you're lost, and maybe you'll die again in December…"

Her voice trembled.

"…but I still want this."

And then, slowly, like she was giving him every chance to turn away, she leaned in.

Aiko didn't move.

Their lips met in a quiet, cautious kiss. Not desperate. Not fevered. Just... real.

Soft. Trembling. Searching.

Alya's fingers curled into his jacket, pulling him just slightly closer. Aiko's eyes fluttered shut. Something broke loose in his chest, not pain, not joy, but a kind of fragile surrender.

When they finally parted, Alya didn't step back right away. Her forehead rested lightly against his. Her breath came in soft, unsteady pulses.

"Even if you forget," she whispered, "I won't."

Aiko didn't answer. Not with words.

But his hand, shaking slightly, found hers, and didn't let go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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