During those not particularly long yet detail-filled days together, in the Service Club classroom, while handling all kinds of requests, amid conversations brimming with gunpowder yet not lacking verbal sparring.
She could not deny that she had indeed come to understand this Hachiman Hikigaya of "this world" little by little.
She had seen the pain and self-mockery that occasionally flashed through his eyes when he carried out those utterly terrible "self-destructive" plans, and the clumsy sense of Justice hidden beneath his cutting words whenever he faced true unfairness;
She had seen his undisguised doting and tenderness toward his younger sister Komachi, as well as that embarrassed, flustered look of his when her sharp words struck at his sore spot—like he had been found out.
These details overlapped with the image from the Memory Copy, yet because they were happening right beside her, they felt more vivid and more tangible.
The ice of prejudice had unknowingly been melted by that genuine warmth, leaving tiny gaps behind.
Her rational "wariness" still remained, but her emotional "affection"—the affection born from understanding, resonance, and even seeing the same clumsiness and persistence in him that she possessed herself—grew quietly through those cracks like tenacious vines.
She could not deceive herself.
Even through tinted glasses, she could still see those qualities in his soul that drew her in; even while warning herself to keep her distance, her gaze would still unconsciously follow his every move in the Service Club;
Even if she remained troubled by the "crimes" of another world, she had to admit that the Hachiman Hikigaya before her, at least so far, was still that young man who pursued the genuine in his clumsy way, who acted for the sake of others, and who was fundamentally the same kind of person as herself.
This