And that’s how Yui Yuigahama decided to study. ( 1)

A corner of the faculty office was set up as a reception area. There was a

glass-topped table by a black leather sofa, and the whole thing was set off by

a partition. Immediately to one side was a window, and from it you could see

out to the library. A mild early-summer breeze swept in through the open

window, making a single piece of paper dance. Moved by the impressionistic

scene, I followed the scrap of paper with my eyes to see where the wind was

going. The paper fluttered gently, whisking toward the floor, fleeting as a

falling tear.

And then, BAM! A stiletto heel stabbed it like an iron poker. Supple legs

stretched up from those heels. It was quite apparent just how long and

shapely those legs were, even sheathed in a tight pantsuit. It takes impeccable

style to pull off a pantsuit. The bare legs and pantyhose that accompany a

skirt can compensate for a lot when it comes to fulfilling the erotic component, but the pantsuit—which intentionally obscures that allure—is

prone to leave an impression of lacking sophistication and elegance. Unless

sported by a figure sufficiently slim but possessing legs of the proper

curvaceousness, the pantsuit can lose its essential shape and even end up

looking ugly.

However, the ensemble before me was different. These legs were of such

balanced proportion that one might go so far as to call them an example of

the golden ratio. And it wasn't just her legs. Her tight waist drew a gentle

curve that eventually arrived at the superb mounds of her breasts. Oh-ho!

Mount Fuji, here I come! The line from her feet to her chest was like a violin

—nay, not just any violin. Like that famous instrument, the Stradivarius, it

boasted a perfect shape.

The problem was the terrifying expression that topped it all off, like those

on the Nio statues by Unkei and Kaikei. It was terrifying from an artistic,

cultural, and historical perspective. Miss Hiratsuka, my Japanese teacher,

chewed roughly on the filter of her cigarette and glared at me with an

expression that bespoke the suppression of extreme rage. "Hikigaya. Do you

understand what I want to talk to you about?"

"No…" Unable to take the glare from her wide, flashing eyes, I quietly

played dumb and turned my head away.

Miss Hiratsuka began clenching each of the digits of her right hand,

starting with her index finger. That alone was sufficient to squeeze a crack

from her joints. "You didn't just tell me that you have no idea, now, did

you?"

"No…no way I wouldn't understand! Is what I was going to say! I wasn't

going to just say no! I understand! I'll write it over! Don't punch me!"

"Of course you will. Geez… Just when I think you've changed a little bit,

you pull this."

"My motto is Always stick to your guns, so." I gave her a little tee-hee.

I felt like I could hear the vein popping out of her temple. "So I have no

choice but to fix you with a whack after all. It's always faster just to whack

things—like you would a TV or anything else."

"H-hey, I'm a precision instrument, so that may not be the best idea. And

by the way, TVs these days are thin, so you can't whack them like the old

ones. You're really showing your age—"

"Shocking First Bullet!" Thunk. The sound her fist made as it sank into my stomach was bland

compared to her dramatic battle cry.

"Guh." I raised my head, desperately trying to reel in my departing

consciousness, and saw Miss Hiratsuka giving me an unpleasant smirk.

"If you don't want to eat the Annihilating Second Bullet, you should stop

talking."

"I-I apologize… Please spare me the Exterminating Last Bullet." I

obediently apologized, and Miss Hiratsuka sat down on her chair with a

creak, looking satisfied. Perhaps my immediate apology had borne fruit,

because she was smiling and looking somehow refreshed. Most of the time

her behavior was so cringeworthy that I'd forgotten for a moment, but she

was actually quite beautiful.

"S-CRY-ed is a good show. I'm glad you caught on, Hikigaya."

Correction. She really was just a cringeworthy human being after all.

Apparently, she was just happy I'd gotten her reference.

Lately, I had come to understand her tastes. Basically, she was into

dramatic action manga and anime. I'd been learning more useless crap than I

knew what to do with.

"Now, Hikigaya, I'll ask you just to be sure. What was your goal in

writing that smart-ass application form? If you don't give me a satisfactory

answer, you'd better prepare for trouble."

And make it double, I'm sure. "I don't know what to say…" I'd poured

my entire heart out on that sheet of paper. I hadn't prepared a more in-depth

response than that. If she'd read it but still didn't get it, what could I do about

that?

As if she'd read my mind, Miss Hiratsuka flicked her gaze in my

direction, exhaling cigarette smoke. "I understand your rotten, sordid

personality. I just thought you'd grown a bit. Hasn't spending time in the

Service Club influenced you at all?"

"Huh?" I replied, thinking back on my time with the Service Club of

which she spoke. Simply put, members of the Service Club listen to students'

problems and then help solve them. But in actuality, the club was just a

bunch of kids who had a crappy time at school, all thrown together into an

isolation ward. I had been forced into helping them, as that was somehow

supposed to correct my deviant personality and do away with the rotten look

in my eyes, but the club didn't do anything particularly worthy of mention, so I wasn't really attached to it. What would I even say about it?

Totsuka was cute. Yeah, that was about it.

"Hikigaya, that gleam in your eyes is rapidly devolving into something

even more sordid. And wipe off that drool."

"Ah! Oh, crap, I was zoning out." I rubbed my mouth with my sleeve.

That was close. I'd been inches from discovering my emerging sexuality.

"You're a sad sack, and you're not getting any better. You're getting

worse."

"Compared to you, I don't think I'm so bad. Bringing up S-CRY-ed, at

your age—"

"Annihilating…"

"—really is something a mature woman would do. I can really tell you

feel a strong sense of duty to instruct me on the classics. Indeed. Honestly,

truly." I somehow managed to rattle off something in an attempt to avoid

getting punched, and Miss Hiratsuka sheathed her fist. But her eyes were

sharp, as usual, reminding me of a wild beast.

"Geez… Anyway, redo your Workplace Tour Application Form. And

you're going to help me sort the forms, too, as a punishment for hurting my

feelings."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a thick stack of papers before me. I was forced to sort through

each and every one like I was a part-timer at a bread factory or something.

Plus, I was being monitored.

Though I was alone with a female teacher, nothing exciting was going to

happen here. Neither would the impact of her punch somehow result in me

touching her chest, obviously, nor would there be any other convenient,

accidental groping. Stuff like that is all total fabrication. You liars! All you

dating sim and rom-com light-novel writers had better come and apologize to

me.

***

actually go there. It's a Yutori education–style program that just cuts into the

curriculum and is supposed to give us experience interacting in society. That

in itself wasn't a particularly big deal. Most schools probably have similar

programs. The problem with this thing was that it fell immediately after

midterms. I was being forced to waste part of my precious prep time on these

frivolities.

"Man, why does the program have to be at this time of year?" I asked as I

sorted the stack of papers by job type.

Miss Hiratsuka, who was sitting in an empty desk, replied with a cigarette

in her mouth. "We're doing it precisely because it is this time of year,

Hikigaya. You've heard that you have course selections for third year right

after summer break, right?"

"We do?"

"I told you about it in homeroom."

"Oh, I feel like I'm less home and more away team there, so I wasn't

listening." No, seriously, why do you call it homeroom? I don't feel at home

there at all. I hate it.

Plus, the whole "day duty" system used to run homeroom is just terrible.

Day duty is when you're forced to lead the morning greetings for the whole

class. When I say, Rise! Bow! Be seated! things go deathly quiet, and I'd like

it if people would stop being like that. When Hayama does it, fits of tittering

flit through the class. He'll caution them with a smile, and they're all like one

big, happy family, but when it's me—nothing. Come to think of it, they don't

even boo me, so I'm even less than an away team.

"Anyway, we set the date for the work experience to fall between the

midterms and summer vacation so students form a concrete plan for their

future instead of just mindlessly taking their exams. I doubt it's very

effective, though," she added, then blew out a smoke ring with a puff.

My school, Chiba City Municipal Soubu High School, is an academically

oriented institution. The majority of the students here either hope to or

actually are going on to university. Of course, I'd had university on my mind

since first starting this school. Maybe it was because I'd already included a

four-year postponement of adulthood in my calculations, but I wasn't that

excited about my future. I'm the only one here who's actually been thinking

properly about my future. I'm definitely not getting a job.

"You look like you've got nothing good on your mind. So which are you going with, arts or sciences?" Miss Hiratsuka inquired, exasperated.

"Me? I—"

"Oh! There you are!" The moment I opened my mouth, I was interrupted

by a boisterous cry. Her bright hair, twisted into a bun, swung in displeasure.

As usual, her skirt was on the short side, and there were two or three buttons

undone over her open and breezy chest. It was Yui Yuigahama, with whom

I'd only recently become acquainted. But we're in the same class, so the fact

that I'd only just gotten to know her actually meant that my communication

skills were impressive, in a way. Impressively bad.

"Oh, Yuigahama. Sorry, but I'm using Hikigaya right now."

"I-it's not like he's mine. I-it's totally okay," she stammered, denying her

possession of me as she violently waved her hands back and forth. I couldn't

help feeling like there was a nuance of No, I don't need that thing! in her

expression. It kind of hurt watching someone rejecting me that hard.

"Did you need something?" The one posing the question wasn't

Yuigahama, but rather the girl who'd popped up in front of her. Black pigtails

bobbed as she stepped forward. "You never came to the clubroom even

though it's long past time, so she came looking for you. Yuigahama did, that

is."

"You don't have to add that last bit to emphasize that it wasn't you. I

know."

The black-haired girl was Yukino Yukinoshita. Her face is the only nice

thing about her. She looks as pretty as a porcelain doll, and her attitude is as

chilly as ceramic to match. The first thing out of her mouth to me was a

subtle dig, so you can infer from that what our relationship is like.

Yukinoshita and I are in the same club, more or less—the aforementioned

Service Club. She's the captain. When we're together, we're constantly at

each other's throats, retreating occasionally, and basically just digging at each

other's open wounds and grinding salt into them. We spend day and night on

our pointless disputes.

At Yukinoshita's remark, Yuigahama huffily put her hands on her hips,

looking quite annoyed. "I went all over asking around, but everyone was like

'Hikigaya? Who?' It was horrible."

"I didn't need to know that." Had she come just to pierce my heart with

pinpointaccuracy? She wasn't even aiming. What kind of natural sniper was she ?

"It was really horrible!" For some reason she said it again, still looking

put out and painfully reminding me once more that nobody at this school

even knows I exist. Oh well, I guess if everyone at school knows you, you're

easy to find, huh? If I'm this socially invisible, maybe ninja would be the

most appropriate career path.

"Oh, um, sorry." This was the first time I'd ever apologized for the fact

that no one knows me. Sad. Anyone of lesser mental fortitude would have

bidets spraying from their eyes by now.

"It's…o-okay… U-um, so…" Yuigahama clasped her fingers together in

front of her chest and began fidgeting as she wiggled them. "T-tell me your

number? L-look! It's weird for me to go to all this trouble looking for you,

and it's embarrassing… People asking me if we have a thing and stuff, and

it's just…unbelievable." Unbearably embarrassed that she had been searching

for me, she blushed at the memory. Averting her eyes, she squeezed her

fidgety hands poised before her chest tighter and turned away before casting

one more questioning look my way.

"Well, sure, why not…," I said, producing my cell phone. Yuigahama

pulled out hers, all sparkly and jewel encrusted.

"What the heck is that? A phone or a disco monster truck?"

"Huh? Isn't it cute?" It looked like a cheap chandelier. Yuigahama shoved

her cell phone in my face, a charm that looked like a strange plush mushroom

dangling from it. It was superbly annoying.

"I dunno. I don't understand ho taste. Are you into glossy stuff? Are you a

crow? Or do you just like technical literature?"

"What? Literature?! And don't call me a ho." Yuigahama looked at me

like I was some kind of fantastic beast.

"Hikigaya. I don't think most high school students are going to get your

gloss puns. That joke was outside her frame of reference… Get it, like

reference material?" Miss Hiratsuka's eyes sparkled as she gave my humor a

failing grade. Man, that expression on her face like I'm so witty! was so

annoying…

"If you can't see this is cute, then your eyes are rotten," said Yuigahama.

I was on the road to being dubbed Hikigaya of the Rotten Eye. Yes, I

happened to be the poster child of the affliction. Whatever. I'd already given

up, anyway.

She shrugged. "Whatever. We can just bump it, right?"

"No, I don't have a smartphone, so it doesn't do that."

"Huh? Then you have to type numbers in by hand? What a pain."

"I don't need those kinds of functions. I hate phones, anyway. Here." I

held out my cell, and Yuigahama timidly accepted it.

"I-I'll type it in… I don't mind. But wow, it's amazing that you don't

even hesitate to hand me your cell phone."

"Well, there's nothing on it to embarrass me. I only get e-mails from my

sister, Amazon, and McDonald's."

"Whoa! It's true! And they're almost all from Amazon?!"

Leave me alone.

Yuigahama took the phone and began typing something with incredible

speed. She looked like a slow girl, but she sure could type fast. From now on,

I'd call her the Ayrton Senna of fingertips.

"That's fast."

"Hmm? Isn't this normal? But, like, I guess you don't have anyone to e-

mail, so your fingers must be degenerating, huh?"

"That's rude! I e-mailed girls in middle school, at least." I said, and

Yuigahama dropped my cell phone with a clack. Hey, that's my phone. My

phone!

"No way…"

"Hey, do you even realize how mean that reaction was? You don't, do

you? Please do."

"Oh, like, I just couldn't imagine you talking to a girl." Yuigahama

laughed to avoid the question, picking up the phone she had dropped.

"You idiot. I'm actually, like…when I feel like it, I can do all that stuff. I

was popular enough with girls that when we were switching classes and

everyone was exchanging e-mails, I took out my phone and glanced around,

and this girl said to me, 'Oh…so I guess we could exchange e-mails?'"

"'I guess'? Kindness can be cruel, huh?" Yukinoshita smiled warmly.

"Don't you pity me! We actually e-mailed each other after that!"

"What was she like?" Yuigahama asked indifferently, dropping her gaze

to her cell. But her previously swift fingers mysteriously ceased their

clacking entirely, not even twitching.

"Hmm… She seemed health conscious and reserved. She was so health

conscious that when I'd send her an e-mail at seven PM, she'd reply the next morning with something like 'Sorry, I fell asleep. See you at school.' But

then after that, she'd be all shy in class. She was so introverted and quiet that

she wouldn't talk to me."

"Erp, that's actually…" Yuigahama put her hand to her mouth like she

was holding back a sob as tears poured from her eyes.

I didn't need to hear the rest of that sentence. I'd figured it out myself.

"She pretended to be asleep in order to ignore your message. Don't avert

your eyes from the truth, Hikigaya. You need to confront reality."

How can you say such a thing, Yukinoshita? How can you say that with

such a triumphant expression on your face, Yukinoshita? "I know all about

reality. I know so much I could practically write a Hikipedia." Ahhhh-ha-ha-

ha-ha-ha, this was all so nostalgic. I guess you could call it the folly of youth.

I was so pure back then. I'd had no idea that she'd only asked for my e-mail

to be nice and then only replied to my messages out of pity. In the end, after

two weeks, I noticed that she hadn't sent me a single message even though

I'd sent her several, so I stopped.

So, like, I keep getting these e-mails from Hikigaya… He's so creepy, it's,

like, enough already!

He definitely has a crush on you, Kaori.

What? I would never—not ever!

Just imagining what sort of conversation had transpired between those

girls made me want to die. I really had liked her!

I'd tried my best to use emotes and stuff; it was so sad. I'd thought that

using hearts would be creepy, so I used sparkles and suns and music notes…

Just remembering it was agonizing enough to make me faint, seriously.

"Hikigaya… Y-you could exchange e-mails with me. I'll actually return

your messages, okay? I won't pretend to be asleep," Miss Hiratsuka said,

taking my phone from Yuigahama's hand and typing in her e-mail. This was

crashing waves of pity here.

"Uh, I don't need you to be nice to me…" E-mailing your teacher is just

sad. It's about on par with my mom giving me chocolates on Valentine's Day

every year. Where was this wave of pity coming from all of a sudden? At

times like this, I was grateful for Yukinoshita's indifference.

In the end, my phone was returned with the addition of their numbers.

Though merely adding data shouldn't have affected its weight, for some

reason, it felt heavier. So this was the weight of human bonds, huh…? How light. So light that, looking back at how desperate I was—how I would beg

for a few kilobytes of data—just made me laugh. Thinking about how I'd

never fill up the memory in this phone, I opened my address book. When I

did, I saw…

Yui

…written on the screen. Hey, where is this supposed to go if the contacts

are organized alphabetically? And no matter how you looked at it, this was

like the sender line on spam. The ho-ishness of it was very Yuigahama. I

pretended I hadn't seen it and stuffed away my phone.

I'd been brisk with my task, so I had only a few sheets of paper left. I

sorted them quickly. Miss Hiratsuka glanced at my work from the corner of

her eye and cleared her throat. "Hikigaya. That's enough. Thanks for helping

me out. You may go," she said without turning toward me, lighting the

cigarette in her lips with a sizzle. Perhaps the pity I'd inspired in her mere

moments before still lingered, as she was being uncharacteristically kind.

Wait, if this passed as kindness for her, then how mean was she most of the

time?

"Yes'm. I'm going to my club, then." I picked up the bag that I'd left

flopped over on the floor and pulled it over my right shoulder. Inside was the

manga I'd brought to read during club time today and a few textbooks for

studying for midterms. Club time was likely going to be another few hours of

idleness with no one coming to seek our help, as usual.

I started walking, and Yuigahama followed me. If she hadn't come to get

me, I would have just gone home. As I approached the door, I heard a voice

at my back.

"Oh, yeah. Hikigaya. I forgot to tell you, but for the upcoming workplace

tour, we're going in groups of three. You get to choose your own groups, so

keep that in mind."

Wh-what did she just say…? As she spoke, my shoulders slumped. "Aw,

man. I really don't want anyone from class coming over to my house…"

"You're still planning to do your workplace tour at home?" The

determination Miss Hiratsuka saw in me turned her expression horrified. "I

thought the 'form groups of three' part would turn you off that, though."

"What? What are you talking about?" I brushed my hair up as I turned,

flared my eyes, and fixed Miss Hiratsuka with my most intense gaze. I also made my teeth sparkle. "The pain of loneliness is nothing to me at this point!

I'm used to it!"

"Lame."

"D-don't be stupid. A hero is always alone, but he's still cool. In other

words, alone equals cool!"

"Oh yeah, there is that hero who says that love and courage are his only

friends, isn't there?"

"Exactly! Wait, I'm surprised you know about him."

"Yes, I find him quite interesting. I wonder when small children first

recognize that love and courage are not friends."

"You have twisted interests." But it was just as Yukinoshita said; love and

courage are not friends. That's nothing more than a sprinkling of powdered,

sugary words over false pretenses. The essence of it is nothing more than

greed and self-satisfaction. They're not friends. By the way, soccer balls

aren't friends, either.

Kindness, pity, love, courage, friends, and also soccer balls… I don't need

any of them.