My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected

My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected (My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected) Author: Wataru Watari

A romantic comedy about a gloomy, friendless, and girlfriend-less protagonist who rails against his classmates celebrating their youth, calling them liars and wishing they'd just break down and reveal their true selves. His future dream is to "not work"—

This is the story of such a high school student, Hachiman, who is brought to the "Service Club" by his guidance counselor. The club is attended by the school's most beautiful girl, Yukino, and he has an unexpected encounter with her... This is bound to be a romance story, right!?

However, Yukino can't forgive Hachiman's disappointingly terrible personality no matter what!

A youth filled with endless cycles of problems—What's wrong with my youth!?

Volume 1 Chapter 1: Anyway, Hachiman Hikigaya Just Has Dead Fish Eyes

Class 2-F Hachiman Hikigaya

Youth is a lie, a sin.

Those who extol youth often deceive themselves and those around them. They face everything in their environment head-on.

Even if they commit some terrible mistake, they consider it a symbol of youth, etching it into their memories.

For example, if they commit crimes like theft or join a biker gang, they'll call it "youthful indiscretion"; if they fail an exam, they'll argue that school isn't just about studying.

As long as they wave the banner of youth, they can twist even the most mundane logic or social norms. To them, lies, secrets, sins, and even failures are merely seasonings for youth.

Furthermore, they can find something special in those sins and failures.

Therefore, all their failures are considered part of their youth.

However, other people's failures are not youth, but simply failures.

If failure is a symbol of youth, then aren't those who can't make friends at the peak of their youth?

However, they wouldn't think that way, would they?

To put it bluntly, they only choose interpretations that benefit them.

Isn't that already deception?

Lying, deceiving, concealing, or fraud—all must be condemned.

They are sinful.

Conversely, those who do not extol youth are the true righteous ones.

The conclusion is:

May all those who enjoy their youth explode!

Chapter 1: Anyway, Hachiman Hikigaya Just Has Dead Fish Eyes

Shizuka Hiratsuka, the Japanese teacher, read my essay aloud with veins bulging on her forehead.

After hearing it myself, I realized my writing still needed refinement. I felt like an unknown writer whose opportunistic thoughts had been seen through, thinking that using slightly more difficult vocabulary would make me seem smarter.

So, was it this immature essay that got me called here?

No, of course not, I knew that deep down.

After finishing the essay, Teacher Hiratsuka pressed her forehead and sighed deeply.

"Hachiman, do you remember what the essay topic I gave you in class was?"

"...I remember. It was 'A Review of High School Life'."

"That's right. Then why did you submit a declaration of crime? Are you a terrorist or an idiot?"

Teacher Hiratsuka sighed again, running her hand through her hair as if deeply troubled.

Come to think of it, the word "female teacher" spoken as "Onnna-KYOUSHI" sounds more sensual than "JYO-KYOUSHI" (In Japanese, the former pronunciation emphasizes gender more).

The thought made me grin slyly, and the next second, a whole stack of papers hit me.

"Listen seriously."

"Yes."

"Your eyes look like rotten fish."

"Are they rich in DHA? Sounds pretty smart."

Teacher Hiratsuka's lips curved slightly.

"Hachiman, what's the deal with this messed-up essay? I'll hear your excuse for now."

The teacher glared at me fiercely. She could be considered a beauty, but her gaze right now was so sharp it was almost suffocating, truly terrifying.

"N-no, I did review my high school life properly. Aren't most high schoolers like this these days? I didn't write anything wrong!"

I was so startled that I stammered, as I normally get nervous talking to people, let alone an older woman.

"This kind of topic is meant for you to reflect on your own high school life."

"Then please explain it clearly beforehand, and I'll write it obediently. This is a flaw in the teacher's assignment."

"You brat, don't try to talk your way out of it."

"Brat? Given your age, I am indeed a brat."

Just then, a gust of wind blew by.

It was a fist.

A straight punch came out of nowhere, grazing my cheek perfectly.

"The next one won't miss."

The teacher's eyes were serious.

"I'm sorry, I'll rewrite it."

I decided to show my apology and remorse.

However, Mrs. Hiratsuka didn't seem satisfied. This is bad, do I have to kneel and apologize? I straightened my pant legs, smoothed out the wrinkles, and bent my right leg, preparing to kneel on the ground, my every move elegant and unhesitating.

"I'm not angry."

Ah... here it comes, that phrase again.

People who say that are the most troublesome, just like "Tell me the truth, I won't get angry." But in my life, I haven't met anyone who truly doesn't get angry.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Hiratsuka didn't seem angry at all, at least not unhappy about anything other than her age. I retracted my half-bent right knee and secretly observed her expression.

Mrs. Hiratsuka took out a Seven Stars cigarette from her chest pocket, which was about to burst, and tapped the filter on the table, her movements like those of a middle-aged man. After stuffing the tobacco, she lit the cigarette with a hundred-yen lighter with a "click," then exhaled smoke with a "huff," and finally looked at me with a serious expression.

"You're not in any club activities, are you?"

"No."

"...Do you have any friends?"

As she asked, she had already preemptively established the premise that I had no friends.

"I, I value fairness, so I don't want to get too close to specific people!"

"In other words, you don't have friends?"

"S-simply put, no..."

Upon hearing my answer, Mrs. Hiratsuka immediately became energetic.

"Really? You truly have no friends! I knew it! The moment I saw those dead fish eyes of yours, I understood!"

You understood just by looking at my eyes? Then why ask!

Mrs. Hiratsuka nodded repeatedly in understanding, then looked at my face again and asked tactfully:

"...So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?"

What's with the "or anything"? If I said I had a boyfriend, what would you do?

"Not yet."

I put emphasis on "yet," holding onto hope for the future.

"Oh..."

This time, the teacher's eyes seemed a little teary. I hoped it was from the cigarette smoke. Hey, don't do that! Don't look at me with such caring, gentle eyes!

Speaking of which, what is going on? Is she some kind of passionate teacher? Will she call students rotten oranges or something later? Or does she want to return to teach at that "passionate school" (referring to a Japanese TV drama about teachers)? If so, I wish she'd go back sooner.

Mrs. Hiratsuka pondered for a moment, then exhaled smoke mixed with a sigh, "Hoo~~."

"Alright, that's settled. You'll rewrite the essay."

"Yes."

Just as I expected.

Okay, this time I'll write it safely and steadily, like a gravure idol or voice actor's blog post saying, "Tonight's dinner reveal... it's curry!" What's so revealing about that? There's no sense of surprise at all.

Up to this point, everything was within my expectations, but what followed was beyond my prediction.

"However, your careless words and attitude have deeply hurt my feelings. Has no one ever taught you not to casually mention a woman's age? Therefore, I demand that you participate in 'Service Club activities' as punishment for your mistake."

Mrs. Hiratsuka looked so excited, more energetic than usual, it was hard to believe she was truly hurt inside.

It suddenly occurred to me that the word "勃发" (bó fā - to erupt/flare up) sounds a bit like "波霸" (bō bà - big breasts)... I started to escape reality and looked at her ample chest, which strained her shirt.

This is bad... But Mrs. Hiratsuka is strange, why is she happy about being able to punish a student?

"Service Club activities... what do they involve?"

I asked timidly. In this situation, I felt like she might ask me to clean gutters or force me to be a kidnapper.

"Follow me."

The teacher pressed her cigarette into the overflowing ashtray and stood up. Without any explanation or clarification, I was stunned in place. But the teacher called back from the doorway, urging me on:

"Hey, hurry up!"

Mrs. Hiratsuka raised her eyebrows and glared, and I quickly followed.

× × ×

The school building of Chiba Municipal Sōbu High School has a somewhat peculiar shape.

If viewed from high above, the school building resembles the Chinese character "口" (kǒu - mouth/opening). Adding a multimedia building below it completes the bird's-eye view of this school.

The corridor is flanked by the classroom building and the special building, with a walkway connecting the two buildings on the second floor, forming a quadrilateral.

The open space in the middle, surrounded by the four-cornered school building, was the holy ground for the abundant "reality enjoyers" – the courtyard.

When lunchtime arrived, they would come to the courtyard together, both boys and girls, to eat their lunches, then play badminton to aid digestion. During the twilight hours after school, they would use the school building as a backdrop to confess their love, feel the sea breeze, and gaze at the stars.

It was simply too much!

From an observer's perspective, these people looked like they were trying their best to act out some teen idol drama, which was truly disheartening. And I was playing the role of someone like "the tree."

Shizuka Hiratsuka's footsteps made "creak, creak" sounds on the waxed floor. She seemed to be heading towards the special building.

--I had a bad feeling about this.

After all, service club activities never led to anything good.

The word "service" isn't used casually in everyday life; it's only employed in certain special situations, like a maid serving her master. If it were that kind of service, I'd definitely say "Let's party!" with both hands and feet raised, but there's no such good fortune in reality... Correction, it can be achieved if you pay some money. However, if you can get it by paying, then dreams and hopes are out of the question. In short, service is not a good thing.

What's more, we were going to the special building. Coming here meant either helping to move the piano from the music room, cleaning up the biology classroom's trash, or organizing the library's collection. I'd better set up a defense line.

"Ah, I have some back problems... I think they called it something like Pao, what was it, Pao, herpes?"

"You mean hernia, right? Don't worry, I'm not asking you to do manual labor."

Shizuka Hiratsuka said to me with a look of disdain.

Hmm, would it be some kind of paperwork, like looking up data? In a way, that kind of tedious work is more tiring than manual labor, like an interrogation where you fill a hole you dug only to dig it open again.

"I have a disease that kills me the moment I walk into a classroom."

"Are you some kind of long-nosed sniper? From the Straw Hat Pirates?"

You watch shonen manga!

Oh well, I don't mind burying myself in work alone. As long as I turn off the switch in my mind and tell myself I'm a machine. If things continue like this, I might end up pursuing a mechanical body and eventually become a screw (alluding to the manga Galaxy Express 999).