"Youth is a lie. It is nothing but evil. However, to my great regret, it is a necessary and biologically justified evil. Much like the teenage hormonal rebellion. One cannot truly escape it. And, once again, due to an overabundance of serotonin in the body, the typical representative of high school society is doomed to view the surrounding world not through the prism of rational and logical thinking, but with the help of so-called 'rose-colored glasses.' Is this bad? It's hard to say. Does it hinder one's life? For me, personally — yes.
If it were up to me, I would eliminate the factor of social interaction based on hormonal influence entirely, which, in turn, impacts the emotional background, as stated above. People in a society ought to use their brains, not whatever substance their conditional pineal gland is actively pumping out. How many mistakes could be avoided? Although, for some reason, everyone believes that these very 'mistakes' are an immutable property of youth. They even deify it. I imagine infants left in coin lockers would unanimously support this thesis. Provided, of course, they lived to a conscious age.
This also raises the question: what is the point of this 'schooltime,' the 'joys of young life,' and other such things? Since the adult world hammers absolutely opposite values into us, essentially shattering those rose-colored glasses? Does it not turn out that the factor of 'youth' itself is merely a convenient opportunity to break a person?
Then, if we accept this as truth, it follows that those who do not wish to drive themselves into the framework of hormonal slavery and moral foundations imposed from above can rightfully call themselves the most rational people. Why? Because they avoid unnecessary pain at the end of the universally cherished 'season of youth.'
If you want true youth — pop some antidepressants.
P.S. Before use, consult your physician!"
Judging by Shizuka Hiratsuka's twitching eyelid, my text had a definite impact. Most likely, she is unsatisfied with the number of tautologies I had to use in the work. But what can be done if there are no high-quality synonyms to be found? Or perhaps I should have avoided the medical terminology? The length? The postscript? Something is clearly bothering her.
— Hikigaya, tell me, please, what was the topic of this assignment? — having finished reading my opus, the woman shifted a heavy gaze onto me.
— "My Life in High School," — I shrugged, not entirely understanding the point of the question.
— And in what way does this, — for clarity, she shook the sheet of paper, — relate to the assignment?
I raised an eyebrow, once again questioning the reasonableness of her complaints.
— It is simple and straightforward. I repeat, the formulation was to write an essay on the topic: "My Life in High School," with no further clarifications. Since I do not particularly interact with the society represented in the classroom, the text would have fit into three lines. Arrived, studied, left. Given that you are a Japanese language teacher, one can safely assume that the main essence of the task set was to demonstrate the ability to use the language. Again, deprived of the opportunity to use examples of a "bright school life," — I made air quotes with my fingers, — I had no other option but to arrange a reflection session that fully reflects the essence of the assignment. Or do you mean to say that I do not have the right to reflect my subjective view on…
Hiratsuka raised a palm, stopping my flow of words.
— Are you an idiot?
— More like an unacknowledged genius — and just a tiny bit of a masochist, since I perfectly imagined the teacher's reaction to my words.
— Idiot, — to my disappointment, I failed to provoke Shizuka. She simply repeated her word, accompanying it with a disappointed sigh. — Do you think that by doing this you are distinguishing yourself from the others?
— Not at all. I already said: I had no other choice. Although, to be honest, I won't deny my own superiority in intellectual development over my classmates.
— Narcissism won't lead to any good, boy, — her heavy gaze seemed ready to nail me to the floor.
— I will definitely convey your words to my psychiatrist.
I am perfectly aware that my replies only heat up the atmosphere, yet I cannot stop myself. Most likely, it's those cursed hormones at work, since by behaving this way I receive extra attention from the teacher. By the way, an extremely attractive woman slightly over twenty years old. Extremely.
I wonder, is it possible to cut out one's own pineal gland?
— I don't like the look in your eyes, Hikigaya, — Hiratsuka furrowed her brows. Charming. My inner masochist rubbed his palms together in satisfaction, sensing a wonderful opportunity to pour oil on the fire.
— Because it isn't directed at, — I initially wanted to compliment her appearance, but, spending a moment in thought, decided against such a move, — you?
Let's be honest, Sensei is still older than me, plus she has more experience, and one shouldn't forget her attitude toward me — in short, some boundaries are too early to cross. I am a masochist, but without suicidal tendencies.
— I will pretend I didn't notice the subtext, — the teacher responded dryly. — But, to your great regret, I am hinting that someone is overly dramatizing the situation.
— Is that what you call "looking at the world soberly"? — that stung a little. Just a bit. Who, in principle, wouldn't be offended if someone wanted to mix their established worldview with shit?
— You are still a schoolboy.
— Does that mean my view of society is devoid of truth?
— Spot on, Hikigaya.
Dirty and rude. Risk it? Why not.
— And it seems to me that someone's principles are excessively outdated, and forcing them on someone smacks of… — my self-preservation instinct hinted subtly that I should shut my mouth and turn into a nightstand, as Shizuka's gaze promised trouble.
Good Lord, where is the justice in this world? She forces a conflict herself, but as soon as I finish warming up, she shuts me down immediately. Or am I obliged, like an obedient boy, to patiently listen to all the moralizing, nod my head, and submissively lick her shoes?
The latter is definitely a miss; foot fetishism doesn't appeal to me at all. Although, if we're talking about Sensei…
Stop. Bad Hachiman. An excess of testosterone will lead to no good.
— A tip for the future: hinting at a woman's age is bad manners, — flicking a cigarette out of the pack, Hiratsuka pointed it in my direction like a rapier.
My tongue itched to say that I implied nothing of the sort, because, in essence, someone just filled in the blanks herself, on the principle of "a guilty mind betrays itself…" — but, thanks to restraint and a subconscious desire not to aggravate the situation, I remained silent.
— Hikigaya, — blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, Shizuka looked me carefully in the eyes. — Tell me honestly: you don't have any friends, do you?
— I haven't found a person fitting those criteria yet, — there was no point in dodging here.
— And no girlfriend either?
— Have you seen me? — my answer was met with a questioning look from the teacher. Sighing, I scratched the back of my head. — Sensei, in the ranking of popular guys, I can't even secure the first place from the bottom. My appearance leaves much to be desired, I'm not into sports, I can't throw money around, and my communication skills make girls avoid me like the plague. You understand all this perfectly well.
— I wanted to know if you acknowledge your flaws, — Hiratsuka crossed her legs. Moments like these made it a pity she preferred trousers.
— It's enough to change the second to last point, and suddenly no one will give a damn about the rest.
— That would be merely a facade; due to the presence of wealth, people would simply start pretending that everything is normal, — the teacher flicked the ash off the edge of her white lab coat with a snap of her fingernail.
— As if all social interaction isn't built on that? — truthfully, the current conversation had already begun to slowly tire me out. I should have slipped away somewhere in the middle. In principle, I had successfully received my dose of attention from Shizuka.
— Your teenage cynicism freezes me to the bone, Hikigaya, — she took a final drag and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. — So be it, I will accept your essay…
Oho, now that was a twist I definitely didn't expect. Only, there was a sense of something left unsaid, and the teacher's gaze was a bit frightening. More specifically, the intentions hidden within it.
— However, being concerned about your social life and your stance on school days, I believe you need help, — with these words, she rose from the desk, throwing her mass of dark hair back over her shoulders. — Remind me once more: you don't belong to any club?
— No, — still in a state of bewilderment, I answered automatically.
— Excellent. Follow me, — throwing open the door of the staff room, she beckoned me with a finger.
— Where to?
— Stop asking questions, Hikigaya, or I'll change my mind about my decision. Or would you like to write ten "correct" essays on a famous topic?
Knowing her character, the threat was real, so I made the only correct decision in the circumstances — I shut my trap.
Especially since, walking behind Hiratsuka, I changed my opinion about the necessity of a skirt.
Tight trousers aren't bad either. Pity the lab coat obstructs the view.
***
The teacher clicked her heels along the linoleum, leading me toward the special building.
It reminded me of a scene from a certain extremely interesting movie of a very peculiar genre. Only the outfit was lacking; it needed more leather elements. And at the end, there clearly wouldn't be a test on the correct pronunciation of a safeword.
— Maybe I should gift you a whip? — it was stronger than me; I couldn't resist.
— Did you say something? — fortunately, Shizuka didn't hear. Or tactfully pretended not to. Although, Sensei — and tactfulness?..
— I asked: where are you taking me?
— To where you can realize the incorrectness of your chosen path.
— The nearest church is a couple of kilometers from here.
— Hikigaya.
I rolled my eyes but obeyed the instruction to shut up. She didn't even need to say anything extra; simply pronouncing my name with certain intonations was enough.
And who would dare argue that there isn't a deep bond between us? Yes, it resembles sadomasochism, but it exists!
…Sometimes I am truly pathetic.
What can you do? The downsides of existing at the bottom of the social barrel.
Lost in thoughts about my own deviancy, I didn't notice that Hiratsuka had stopped in front of an unmarked classroom.
— We have arrived, — she confidently threw the door open and nodded expressively, leaving me no option but to enter first.
And I so wanted to just pick up and run away…
The room represented the most ordinary classroom, only all the furniture had been pushed to the back wall, leaving a huge empty space.
Empty, if not counting the solitary schoolgirl sitting on a chair in the very center, reading a book.
Is she comfortable? It wouldn't be very comfortable for me. And she's maintaining posture too. Horror.
— Hiratsuka-san, I asked you to knock before entering, — letting out a sigh, the girl closed the volume and turned in our direction.
By the way, she has a cute face. I'd boldly give her eight Shizukas out of ten. Only, um… the face is about it. Well, the hair isn't bad either; long, black, shiny. I wonder what conditioner she uses?
But below that… deduct two points. Or three?
I shifted my gaze to Hiratsuka for a second, then returned to the schoolgirl.
Definitely three.
Total — seven.
And what does that mean? Correct. I don't have a shot.
— …who did you bring, anyway? — it seems I missed part of the conversation.
— This is Hikigaya, he wants to join the club, — the woman smiled.
I didn't understand. And, before the person unknown to me could react, I interjected:
— This is Hikigaya. He does not want to join any club! — I failed to hide the indignation in my voice.
Shizuka answered my outburst almost immediately, as if knowing in advance that this was exactly what I would say:
— You, — she poked me in the chest with a finger, — are joining. Next time, think before showing off in front of a teacher.
Is expressing one's own opinion so punishable? When did we manage to return from democracy to rigid totalitarianism?! And here they were explaining to me that school is a place where they teach you to think, give you the opportunity to reveal your inner potential. Sure, ten times over. Another lie that everyone naively believes.
— Simplify your face, boy, — the Sensei snorted. am I really that easy to read? Or is this another proof of our bond? — And stop thinking about nonsense.
Now this is getting scary. Am I on the right path?
— So, Yukinoshita, I entrust him to your hands, — oh, there's the schoolgirl's name. I seem to have heard it before, but I'm not sure. What is the point of memorizing information that won't be needed soon?
— I don't like him, — the girl measured me with a contemptuous gaze. — Therefore, I do not agree with your proposal.
Closing my eyes to the obvious rudeness in her words, she earned a tenth of a point. The only thing worse than club activities is forced club activities.
— Don't worry, despite his repulsive appearance, inability to hold his tongue, and constant attempts to bail on any responsibility, — so many compliments and all for me? How lovely, — he's not a bad guy.
A-and…
To my utter disappointment, the teacher didn't mention any positive traits. However, I understand her perfectly: we don't have much time.
— Regardless, I sense that he will cause problems, — oh, look, Mr. Sherlock Holmes is on the case, only without his legendary charisma. And, quite likely, without the several monographs dedicated to various topics upon which Arthur Conan Doyle's hero based his deductions.
— Can you really not handle him?
Phrasing the question as if talking about an animal.
Play along? Why not.
— Wild hamsters don't take to training, Hiratsuka-san, — I crossed my arms over my chest. — They can infect you with rabies, too. Do you care so little for the fate of this "innocent maiden"?
The indicated "innocent maiden" made a good attempt to mix me with dirt using her gaze. It turned out so-so; she should take lessons from Shizuka.
— They say castration fixes that problem perfectly, — there! Take note, Yukinoshita, that is exactly how professionals work. A passive-aggressive statement, a clearly traceable threat in the eyes, and a calibrated tone!
I adore this woman.
For some unknown reason, the teacher took a step back.
— You won't accept a refusal? — the schoolgirl sighed again and placed a palm to her face. — To avoid wasting energy and our nerves, I yield.
Sensei smiled with satisfaction.
— Excellent! I believe you will succeed in making him an adequate member of society.
— You have set me an extremely difficult task.
— You'll manage. Who, if not you? — with these words, Hiratsuka looked at me and made a "watching you" gesture with her hand.
Rolling my eyes, I gave a salute, accepting the severe punishment.
***
As Arthur Schopenhauer wrote: "Smart people don't seek solitude so much as they avoid the fuss created by fools."
In my humble opinion, if one lives by this principle, it is actually possible to avoid unnecessary complications. Like, argue or don't argue, but the root of almost all conflicts a person encounters throughout their life rests precisely on social interaction.
One could, of course, say there is also internal strife, only its severity depends strictly on mental health, but certainly not on the mood of an interlocutor.
Therefore, I was grateful to Yukinoshita to some extent for the provided opportunity to read calmly in silence.
Sensei likely assumed that, amidst the irritation of forced actions, I would start arguing with the schoolgirl or engage her in conversation somehow. But Shizuka forgot one important thing.
Hachiman is not stupid! Hachiman is actually quite smart!
Finding a spot for myself wasn't difficult: dragging a chair out of the pile of furniture, pulling a desk up to it — consciously further away from the girl. Then, settling my posterior, I engaged in the most pleasant thing — surrendering to intellectual degradation.
More precisely — I began scrolling through yet another dull light novel about the adventures of a successful and attractive hero in another world. Nothing remarkable, clichéd tropes, predictable plot twists, and absolutely cardboard characters… But something held my interest, keeping me from tossing the reading material away in a gut-wrenching spasm. Just the thing to kill time until the end of the school day.
Ideally, I'd need a kettle and a couple of pillows here, and I could simulate a home environment.
About five minutes passed, during which I managed to get drawn into the story presented by the author.
— Are you going to continue pretending you don't care, hiding behind reading?
I slowly raised my head, tearing myself away from the phone screen, looked at Yukinoshita, and asked the most logical question:
— Yes? — considering my mission to establish contact with alien intelligence successful, I attempted to return to reading the novel.
— You aren't even interested in the theme of the club you were forcibly dragged into?
— Did the Jews care about the manufacturer of the gas ovens?
— Trying to retreat into sophistry, afraid of entering a full-fledged dialogue?
Sighing, I turned off the phone screen and put it in my pocket. If the schoolgirl wants to play "make Hachiman lose his cool" so badly, I can certainly oblige.
A session of ping-pong.
— Do you need this dialogue yourself?
— No, of course not, but you understand yourself, the sooner we start — the sooner we finish, — the girl noisily slammed her book shut and set it aside.
— Judging by your words, you have experience to spare, — let's test her durability.
— Resorting to personal insults? How low, — pursing her lips, she crossed her arms under her chest.
— Is it? In my opinion, someone is simply interpreting my words to the measure of their own depravity, — lazily crossing one leg over the other, I "returned" the serve.
— In any case, your communication skills leave much to be desired. Do you have any friends at all?
A beautiful attempt to slide off the topic.
— Well, actually, it isn't me sitting in total solitude in an empty classroom, pretending to be doing something useful, — at these words, her delicate facial features sharpened.
— We aren't talking about me right now.
— Wait, — I held out a hand. — How can I accept help in social adaptation from a person who is possibly an outcast herself?
I could go harder, but I should leave the sweets for last.
— Given your position in society, you should be grateful for any attempt to help, — Yukinoshita frowned, diligently burning a hole in me with a "cold and aristocratic" gaze.
— And who said I need help? — I raised an eyebrow, calmly meeting her gaze.
— I see, — the schoolgirl clicked her tongue and shook her head dejectedly. — Escapism in all its glory.
— I am running away from responsibility, not from my problems, don't confuse them, — I politely corrected.
No matter how much Hiratsuka-san scolded, I am perfectly aware that my behavior in school causes certain concerns, because, as much as I might want to deny it, the social factor plays nearly a decisive role in the process of personality formation. However!
— Keeping a distance from people is my conscious choice.
An immediate answer from the girl did not follow. She merely pursed her lips tighter and turned slightly away.
Did I strike a nerve?
I couldn't find out for sure, because at that very moment, the door to the classroom slid open noisily.
— Well, how are things going?
Sensei in the flesh.
— Can I write ten "essays" instead? — I smiled at the woman who had entered.
— Too late, the bets have been placed, — Shizuka cut me off and looked at Yukinoshita, who continued to maintain silence.
— But the idea with ten essays might help, — correcting a stray lock of hair, the girl feigned a sweet smile.
Definitely struck a nerve.
Judging by the shock that flashed in Hiratsuka's eyes, she clearly hadn't expected such a turn of events.
— Giving up, Yukino? — recovering from her words, the teacher asked with a noticeable dose of malice.
— You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink, — the girl snorted.
— That means you need to induce thirst in it, — the Sensei parried unfazed.
— Yes, that is an option, Hiratsuka-san.
— Aren't you two crossing the line by chance? — having gained the attention of both individuals, I rose from the chair and leaned my hands on the desk. — I understand your urge for me to abruptly abandon all my principles, worldview, and personality. Quite logical: no social adaptation, I make no contact — horror and gloom, I need saving.
Frankly speaking, the situation had begun to seriously piss me off. Not only am I literally being equated to a horse, not only is a strange girl looking at me like I'm shit, sincerely believing that only she is right and my opinion isn't worth a yen. But Sensei is also supporting this undertaking. Why the hell is something being decided for me, pretending it's for my own good? Because I am a "loser"? Because I have no "friends"? Because I allow myself to express an opinion different from theirs?
Pausing, I exhaled noisily and leaned forward, looking straight into Shizuka's eyes.
— Clearly describe the model of behavior I need to realign myself to. Point by point. Without figurative "be a good boy" or "start appreciating those around you."
Sensei was the first to look away and laughed awkwardly.
— Don't be dramatic, Hikigaya. It's not as bad as you think…
Here Yukino intervened.
— You will have to adapt to someone one way or another, because we live in a society. Or you can choose not to do so, but then you must be better, so that society adapts to you.
I snorted and closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm in my soul and not break into another spiral of swearing, especially in front of Hiratsuka.
Although, if one thinks about it, no answer to my question was ultimately provided; they shifted the focus again. But fine, let's leave it.
I've said too much already.
Although there is one point I am obliged to clarify.
— You aren't a communist by any chance? — no, really, how else am I supposed to interpret her words?
Yukino opened her mouth to answer, but Shizuka intervened:
— Okay! Break! Political debates are the last thing I needed, — she cleared her throat loudly, measuring me with a particularly heavy gaze.
Well, yes, who else is to blame? Hachiman. No one else.
— So, I've understood everything, — Sensei, you lack confidence in your voice for such a declaration, — therefore I came up with an option that won't suit either of you. Since there is no pleasing you assholes.
She muttered the last phrase under her breath.
— And what do you propose, Hiratsuka-san? — Yukinoshita crossed her arms under her chest, demonstratively turning away from me.
Sensei smiled slyly and narrowed her eyes.
— It's very simple. You will work it off!
— I am too young to work, — the familiar intonations in Shizuka's voice forced my internal excuse generator to start working at full power.
— Nobody asked you.
Dictatorship. Definitely dictatorship.
— Anyway, boys and girls, — the teacher looked at us. — It is extremely simple. I will send volunteers individuals in need of help to this club, and you blockheads will provide it. Whoever is best wins. Verstehen?
— I didn't sign up for this, — Yukino voiced her indignation.
— Objections are not accepted. And, to add some motivation for you, — Sensei put a finger to her lips, then chuckled and smiled, — as a reward, the winner gets the right to any wish from the loser.
Hearing this, I narrowed my eyes.
— Absolutely any? — Yukino immediately looked in my direction with disgust, as if I had asked something vile.
— Within the bounds of decency, Hikigaya, — Good Lord, the teacher too?
I am surrounded by perverts.
— I agree, only if we can replace the loser with you.
— Ha-a-ah? — Shizuka tilted her head. — Have you lost your mind?
— Otherwise, I have no motivation to participate in this, — and I demonstratively looked at Yukinoshita's chest.
— Pervert, — the girl covered herself with her hands from my gaze.
What are you hiding there? calm down. I've seen enough flatlands on TV.
— Oh, what am I to do with you, — Hiratsuka clicked her tongue. — But, so be it. The winner, whom I determine myself, can make a wish of me. Yukinoshita, does everything suit you? Or are you afraid?
Is she daring her? Only children fall for su…
— I agree. I need to deal with this guy anyway. This cannot be left as is.
She fell for it.
— Then it's a deal!
Along with her words, the bell rang. Sensei glanced at her wristwatch and, waving her hand at us, evaporated from the classroom, leaving me alone with Yukino. However, the girl herself didn't linger much longer — she silently put the unfinished book into her bag and walked out after Shizuka, not even rewarding me with a cold glare.
And so Hachiman was left in total solitude.
Habitual.
Sighing, I put the chair and desk back in place, freezing for a second by the window. Down below, actively talking to each other, students were dispersing. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of cars could be heard. Perhaps I should hurry home too; my little sister should be back soon.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I closed the club door behind me and stretched.
Maybe I should just give up on everything and play the role they're asking for? In principle, portraying a sociable idiot interested in meaningless conversations about sports or… whatever my comrades discuss isn't a particular problem. Of course, I'll have to break my principles over my knee, plus confirm that Sensei and Yukinoshita were right, but on the other hand, they will stop mercilessly raping my brain.
Although…
To hell with them all. I'll have to bend to someone eventually; there is no escaping it in adult life, but right now I can preserve the remnants of my own dignity.
Let youth be a time of active life and socializing for everyone else.
For me, "youth" is the forced necessity of existing within this society, in an attempt not to lose myself.