Zaimokuza leaned forward excitedly and shouted, "So why did you give them those names in the first place?"
"Meteorite Annihilation..." Everyone murmured along thoughtfully. "Why are you guys accepting that name too?!"
It was nothing special, just a high fly ball caught by the catcher.
Let me explain. I didn't have many friends as a child, so I invented a brand-new sport called "Solo Baseball," where I pitched, batted, and played catcher all by myself. To play for longer periods of time, I researched tirelessly and eventually discovered that an extremely high fly ball gave me the most enjoyment.
The other rules were these: catching the ball meant an out; if I missed it and caught it after it bounced once, it counted as a hit; and if I hit it too far, it counted as a home run. The flaw of this game was that if I became emotionally invested in either offense or defense, it turned into a one-sided slaughter. Therefore, like solo rock-paper-scissors, it could only be played after attaining a state of selflessness. Good children, never imitate this. Go find some friends and play baseball instead.
And yet, that was the symbol of my loneliness, and my strongest weapon.
A hammer descending from the void to punish those who sang the praises of youth.
"W-What is that?"
Miura stared blankly at the dazzling sky.
Hayama was the same, but then he realized something.
"Yumiko! Get back!"
He shouted at Miura, who remained frozen in place.
So he noticed... But it was already too late.
The tennis ball in the air gradually lost momentum and was pulled by gravity. When the two forces reached equilibrium, the ball suddenly stopped.
Then that balance collapsed. Potential energy became kinetic energy, and the tennis ball turned into a free-falling object. The instant it hit the ground, all that energy would explode at once.
Bang! The tennis ball ended its long journey through the air, kicking up a cloud of dust as it struck the ground.
Then the ball bounced back into the air.
Miura tried to return it, blindly chasing the ball through the dust. The tennis ball bounced toward the back of the court, wobbling toward the fence.
Ah, crap! Miura's going to hit the fence!
"Crap!"
Hayama threw down his racket and rushed toward the fence.
Would he make it? Would he make it?
The two figures vanished into the dust cloud.
A brief silence fell over the scene.
Gulp... Someone swallowed. That sound might have come from me.
At last, the dust settled, and the two figures emerged.
Hayama's back was pressed against the fence as he held Miura tightly, protecting her. Miura's face was red as she curled up and clutched Hayama's collar.
At that moment, everyone erupted into cheers, their applause deafening.
Miura remained tucked in Hayama's arms while he gently stroked her head, making her blush even harder.
The entire audience surged forward and surrounded the two of them.
"Ha-ya-ma is so coooool! Ha-ya-ma is so coooool!"
The bell marking the end of lunch rang like background music. At this rate, those two would probably kiss before the credits rolled.
Like they had just finished watching a grand performance—an excellent youth rom-com, no less—everyone felt an inexplicable sense of accomplishment mixed with a strange emptiness.
Still cheering, everyone tossed the two of them into the air and headed toward the school building.
FIN.
What the hell was that?
× × ×
Only we remained on the tennis court.
"So, we won the ball game but lost the match?"
Yukino said with obvious boredom, and I couldn't help laughing.
"Don't talk nonsense. I was never in the same league as them."
The leading role always belonged to those who sang the praises of youth.
"Yes, that's true. If it weren't for a loner, things wouldn't have turned out this way. Winning and still being ignored is truly pathetic."
"Hey, Yuihama, you should watch what you say. Honest opinions can hurt more than malicious remarks sometimes."
I glared at Yuihama, but she showed no remorse.
Well, she wasn't wrong, so she had no need to feel guilty.
Hayama, Miura, and the others never cared about this match in the first place. Even if they had suffered a crushing defeat, they would have written it down as one beautiful page of their youth and treasured it for the rest of their lives. That was the truly frightening part.
What the hell! Youth can just go explode!
"Give me a break. What's so great about Hayama? If I'd grown up in a different environment, I could have turned out just like him!"
"Then you wouldn't be you... Though I do think it would be better if you started over from scratch."
Yukino subtly told me to go die, looking at me with those cold eyes.
"B-But, um... Maybe it's good that you're a loner? It's... not that bad..."
Yuihama stammered, practically swallowing her words, and I couldn't hear a thing. Speak louder. What, were you me getting approached by a clerk at a clothing store?
But Yukino seemed to have heard her perfectly. She smiled and nodded quietly.
"Yes, it is unfortunate that someone was saved by your twisted methods."
She shifted her gaze toward Totsuka, who was walking slowly with a scraped leg, and Zaimokuza, who was following behind him like a stalker.
"Hachiman, well done. As expected of my comrade. But someday, we must still determine who is superior..." I ignored Zaimokuza, who was muttering to himself while staring off into the distance for some reason, and turned to Totsuka.
"Is your injury okay?"
"Yeah..."
At that moment, I noticed that only men remained around me. Maybe because Zaimokuza had shown up, Yukino and Yuihama had quietly disappeared without anyone noticing.
Hayama got a perfect ending with a beautiful girl at his side, like James Bond. So why was I stuck like The A-Team, with nothing but men for company? That was unfair!
Was a rom-com nothing more than an urban legend?
"Hikigaya-kun... Um, thank you."
Totsuka stood before me and thanked me while looking straight into my eyes. Once he finished speaking, he shyly looked away. I really wanted to hug him and kiss him, but he was a boy...
There was definitely something wrong with this rom-com, and Totsuka's gender was a little off too. By the way, Totsuka had thanked the wrong person.
"I didn't do anything. If you want to thank someone, go thank..."
I looked around for those two, then spotted twin tails swaying lightly beside the Tennis Club's clubhouse. So they were over there.
I intended to thank them, so I headed that way.
"Yukino... Ah."
She was changing clothes.
Her shirt hung open, revealing a glimpse of yellow-green underwear. She still had her tennis skirt on below, but that contrast only emphasized her slender, well-proportioned figure.
"Y-Y-Y-Y-YOU—"
What was your problem?! I was concentrating on appreciating the view, so stop making noise, okay? What if I forgot it? Wait, why was Yuihama here too?
She was changing clothes as well.
Yuihama apparently had a habit of buttoning her shirt from the bottom up, so her chest was wide open, exposing pink underwear and cleavage. She held a skirt in one hand for Yukino, which meant she had nothing on below. Beneath pink panties matching her bra were her long legs, with dark blue knee-high socks covering her feet.
"Go die!"
Yuihama swung her racket into my face with all her strength, producing a bang... That was right. This was what a youth rom-com was supposed to be.
Well done, god of rom-coms. Cough!
Graduation Development Survey Sobu High School Year 2, Class J Yukino Yukino Seat Number 38 Male · ○Female Please write down your beliefs. Absolute Justice. What dream would you write in the graduation yearbook? Inherit my father's territory. What efforts are you making now for the future? Studying the Art of Human Control. Teacher's comments: Your teacher appreciates your honesty, but would you consider other options? Also, your Art of Human Control is terrible. Please keep working hard.
Then Hachiman Hikigaya Began to Think
Youth.
Just two little characters, yet they could stir people's hearts so deeply. They brought sweet pain and nostalgia to adults who had entered society, filled teenage girls with endless longing, and made people like me burn with jealousy and hatred.
My high school life was nothing like the beautiful, colorful thing mentioned earlier. It was a pale and gloomy black-and-white world. I got into a traffic accident on the day I entered high school, so these days were destined to be miserable. After enrollment, my life consisted of traveling between home and school, with weekends spent at the library. I was nothing like a modern high school student. There was no way anything like a rom-com could have anything to do with me.
But I didn't feel a single shred of regret. I was even proud of it.
Because I was happy.
Lingering in the library until I finished a long fantasy novel; turning on the radio late at night by chance and becoming absorbed in the host's conversation; finding heartwarming works in the electronic sea ruled by words... It was only because I lived that kind of life that I could discover and encounter such things.
Each discovery and encounter filled me with gratitude and emotion, sometimes even bringing me to tears. But I had never shed tears of sorrow.
I would never deny that youth known as my first year of high school. I would affirm it wholeheartedly, and nothing in the future could change that.
However, that did not mean I denied others, or the lives of everyone who sang the praises of youth.
They stood at the peak of youth. Even failure could become a beautiful memory to them; even quarrels and discord would eventually become temporary troubles.
Through the lens of their youth, the entire world became different.
Looking at it that way, perhaps my own youth had the colors of a rom-com too. Maybe there was nothing wrong with my youth after all.
Then would the place where I stood now someday shine as well? Even these dead fish eyes of mine. The fact that I could hold such expectations meant that something was beginning to grow inside me.
That's right. During my days in the Service Club, I learned one thing.
The conclusion was...
I put down my pen when I reached this point.
After school, I was the only one left in the classroom. I stretched and let out a long "Mmm~~."
I wasn't being bullied. I was writing the essay Hiratsuka-sensei had told me to rewrite. I was serious, okay? I really wasn't being bullied.
Everything had gone smoothly up through the middle, but I couldn't come up with a conclusion, which was why I had stayed this late. I'd write the rest in the clubroom...
I quickly packed the manuscript paper and stationery into my bag and left the empty classroom.
The hallway leading to the special building was deserted, with only the shouts of athletic clubs echoing continuously.
Yukino was probably reading in the clubroom today too. If so, I could focus on writing my essay without anyone disturbing me.
That club didn't really do anything anyway.
Strange people visited occasionally, but that was extremely rare. Most students would confide their troubles in close friends or keep them bottled up inside.
That might have been the correct method, and the one everyone should use, but some people simply couldn't do it—people like me, Yukino, Yuihama, or Zaimokuza.
Friendship, love, dreams, and countless other things were beautiful to many people. Maybe even the sight of them agonizing and hesitating looked dazzling.
Before you continue