The few hours of class students have to sit through on Saturday mornings before earning their week-end have always come across as particularly cruel to Yosuke, so his class’s homeroom teacher deciding to have his students clean their classroom during the last period of this agonizing coda to an already grueling week must have been a calculated act of cruelty. 

The theory, of course, is to have students tie a neat bow around another week of learning by coordinating the various chores to be done and dividing the work equally amongst themselves. In practice, however, most of his classmates goof off and bail as soon as the bell rings, leaving him and his damned perfectionism to quite literally clean up after them.

He sighs as the only other student who didn’t cut her losses — a mousy girl with classes whose name he is ashamed to admit he can’t remember — hands him a bucket of water. She must have gone and filled it up while he was lost cursing himself for having to play the hero all the time.

Girl: Here. You do the back of the class, I’ll do the front, okay?

Yosuke: Y-Yeah… I’ll, eh, do that. Thanks, eh—

As if right on cue to save him the embarrassment of having to admit he doesn’t know this poor girl’s name, the door to their classroom opens up with a deafening clank. Before he can worry about any potential damage to the infrastructure however, a firm hand grabs onto his wrists and starts dragging him out of the room, clearly not taking no for an answer.

Yosuke: S-Senpai?

Koharu: Why were you still cleaning? I was waiting for you?

Yosuke: I thought we were—H-Hold on, where are we going?

Koharu: Date. 

Yosuke: A d-d-date? W-Wait, just like this? Can’t it wait until Sund—

Koharu: (as she continues dragging him through the hallway, attracting many a puzzled stare from fellow students passing by, she comes to a sudden halt in front of the men’s bathroom) There. Make yourself look nice.

Yosuke: What? W-Why?

Koharu: Because it’s a date. You have to look nice. See you here in ten. (she lets go off his wrist, storming off towards the ladies’ on the other side of the hallway, picking up a duffle bag from the ground before she closes the door behind her)

Yosuke: … Am I dreaming?

Befuddled, he slaps himself on the cheek. It hurts.