My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected

Zaimokuza excitedly leaned forward and shouted. "So why on earth did you come up with those names?"

"Meteorite Annihilation..." everyone murmured. "Why do even you guys accept that name?!"

"This is nothing special, just a pop fly caught by the catcher."

"Let me explain. When I was a child, I didn't have many friends, so I invented a brand-new sport called 'Solo Baseball.' I pitched, I batted, and I was the catcher. To play for a long time, I put a lot of effort into researching, and finally discovered that extremely high pop flies gave me the most prolonged enjoyment."

"Other rules include: a caught fly ball is an out, a dropped ball that bounces once before being caught is a single, and if it's hit too far, it's a home run. The drawback of this game is that if you invest emotion into either offense or defense, it becomes a one-sided slaughter. Therefore, it must be played with selfless detachment, like a game of solo rock-paper-scissors. All you good children, please do not imitate this. Go play baseball with your friends instead."

"However, that was the symbol of my loneliness, and also my strongest weapon."

"A hammer that descends from the void, delivering judgment to those who sing of youth."

"Th-that, what is that?"

Miura stared blankly at the dazzling sky.

Hayama was the same, but he suddenly realized something.

"Yumiko! Get back!"

He yelled at Miura, who was frozen in place.

So you did notice... but it's already too late.

The tennis ball in the air gradually lost momentum. It was then pulled by gravity, and when the two forces reached equilibrium, the ball suddenly stopped.

Then, that balance broke, potential energy turned into kinetic energy, and the ball began to freefall. The moment the ball hit the ground, it would unleash its energy all at once.

Bang! The tennis ball ended its long aerial journey, kicking up a cloud of dust as it landed.

Then, the ball bounced into the air again.

Miura tried to return the shot, blindly chasing the ball in the dust. The tennis ball bounced to the back of the court and wobbled towards the net.

--Ah, this is bad! Miura's going to crash into the net!

"Watch out!"

Hayama dropped his racket and rushed towards the net.

Will he make it? Will he make it?

The figures of the two disappeared into the dust.

A brief silence fell over the scene.

Gulp... Someone swallowed, and I might have been the one.

The dust finally cleared, and the figures of the two reappeared.

Hayama's back had hit the net, and he was tightly holding Miura, protecting her. Miura, her face flushed, shrunk back and clutched Hayama's collar.

At that moment, everyone cheered loudly, their applause like thunder.

Miura, nestled in Hayama's arms, blushed even harder as he gently stroked her head.

The entire crowd surged forward, surrounding the two of them.

"Ha-ya-ma, so cool! Ha-ya-ma, so cool!"

The bell signaling the end of lunch break rang out like background music. Based on how things were developing, those two were probably going to kiss and then the credits would roll.

Everyone felt a strange sense of accomplishment and emptiness, as if they had just watched a grand play, or perhaps a spectacular rom-com.

Cheering, the crowd tossed them into the air and carried them away towards the school building.

FIN.

What the hell?

× × ×

Only we were left on the tennis court.

"So, did we win the match, or lose the game?"

Yukino said with a hint of boredom, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Don't talk nonsense. There was no way I could compare to them from the start."

"The protagonists always belong to those who sing of youth."

"Yeah, that's true. If it weren't for the shut-in, things wouldn't have turned out this way. It's quite pathetic to win yet be ignored."

"Hey, Yuihama, you'd better watch what you say. Honest thoughts can sometimes be more hurtful than malicious ones."

I glared at Yuihama, but she showed no sign of guilt.

Well, she's not wrong, so there's no need for guilt.

Hayama and his group, they weren't even invested in this match from the beginning. Even if they had suffered a crushing defeat, they would have simply written it off as a fond memory in the pages of their youth, cherishing it forever. That's what was truly terrifying.

What the hell! May youth explode!

"I can't stand it, what's so great about Hayama? If my upbringing were different, I could have become like him too!"

"That wouldn't be you anymore... However, I do think you'd be better off starting over from scratch."

Yukino subtly told me to die, looking at me with cold eyes.

"B-but, um… should I be glad he's a shut-in? That… isn't so bad…"

Yuihama stammered, her words muffled. I couldn't understand a thing. Speak up, will you? Are you like me when I get approached by a clerk at a clothing store?

However, Yukino seemed to hear her perfectly. She smiled and nodded gently.

"Yes, it's truly unfortunate that some people are saved by your twisted ways."

She shifted her gaze to Totsuka, who was walking slowly with a scraped leg, and Zaimokuza, who was tailing him like a stalker.

"Hachiman, good job, you're truly my partner. But, we'll have to settle things eventually…" I ignored Zaimokuza, who was inexplicably talking to himself while staring into the distance, and turned to Totsuka.

"Are you alright with your injury?"

"Um…"

At that moment, I noticed I was surrounded only by men. Perhaps it was because Zaimokuza had appeared, but Yukino and Yuihama had already vanished without a sound.

Hayama, accompanied by beautiful girls, had a perfect ending like James Bond; why was I, like "The A-Team," left with only men for company? It's unfair!

Is the Rom-Com just an urban legend?

"Hikigaya-kun… um, thank you."

Totsuka stood before me, looked me in the eye, and thanked me. As soon as he finished speaking, he shyly looked away. I really wanted to hug him and kiss him, but he's a guy…

This kind of Rom-Com is definitely wrong, and Totsuka's gender is also questionable. Incidentally, Totsuka actually mistook who to thank.

"I didn't do anything, so if you want to thank someone, go thank…"

I looked around for the two of them and spotted a bouncing ponytail next to the Tennis Club building. So that's where they were.

I intended to thank them and walked over.

"Yukino… ah."

As it turned out, she was changing.

Her shirt was open, revealing glimpses of her yellow-green bra. While she was still wearing her tennis skirt, the contrast only accentuated her well-proportioned, slender figure.

"Y-y-y-you–"

What is it! I'm concentrating here, don't disturb me, okay? What if I forget? Wait, why is Yuihama here too?

She was also changing.

Yuihama seemed to be in the habit of buttoning from the bottom, so her chest was wide open, revealing a pink bra and cleavage. She held her skirt in one hand, intending to give it to Yukino, meaning she was undressed from the waist down. Below her matching pink panties were her slender thighs, her toes encased in dark blue socks.

"Die!"

Yuihama swung her racket forcefully at my face, making a "bang" sound… That's right, this is how a Rom-Com should be.

Well done, God of Rom-Coms. Cough!

Graduation Development Survey

Sobu High School 2nd Year, Class J

Yukino Yukino

Student Number 38 Male ○ Female

Please write your belief.

Absolute Justice.

What dream did you write in your yearbook?

Inherit my father's territory.

What efforts are you making now for the future?

Studying the Art of Human Control.

Teacher's Advice:

The teacher admires your straightforwardness, but have you considered other options?

Also, your Art of Human Control is poor.

Please continue to do your best.

Volume 1, Chapter 8: And Then Hachiman Hikigaya Began to Think

Youth.

Just two words, yet they can move people so deeply. They evoke sweet pain and nostalgia in adults who have stepped into society, fill young girls in their prime with endless longing, and inspire jealousy and hatred in someone like me.

My high school life was not the beautiful and colorful one described earlier, but a pale and bleak black and white world. I was in a traffic accident on the day I entered high school, and my days were destined to be miserable. My life after enrollment consisted of nothing more than commuting between home and school, and going to the library on holidays, completely unlike what a high school student should be. Rom-Coms were something I could never get involved in.

But I didn't feel a shred of regret; in fact, I was proud of it.

Because I was happy.

Lingering in the library, finishing epic fantasy novels; accidentally turning on the radio late at night, captivated by the host's conversation; finding heartwarming works in the sea of text-based electronic information… It was precisely because I lived such a life that I was able to discover and encounter these things.

Each discovery and encounter filled me with gratitude and emotion, even bringing me to tears. I never shed tears of sorrow.

I will never deny those youthful days of my first year of high school. I will strongly affirm them, and this thought will never change in the future.

However, I must also say that this does not mean I deny others, or the lives of all those who sing praises of their youth.

They are at the peak of their youth; even failure can be seen as a beautiful memory. Even if arguments and discord occur, they will eventually turn into temporary troubles.

Through their youthful filter, the entire world will become different.

Looking at it this way, perhaps my youth also had the color of a rom-com. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with my youth.

Then, will the place I am in now also have a day full of brilliance? My dead fish eyes too. To hold such an expectation means something is sprouting within my heart.

That's right, I learned one thing during my time at the Service Club.

The conclusion is...

I put down my pen as I wrote this.

After school, I was the only one left in the classroom. I stretched, letting out a "Mmm~~" sound.

I wasn't being bullied; I was writing the essay Hiratsuka-sensei wanted me to rewrite. I'm serious, I really wasn't being bullied.

The writing flowed smoothly until the middle paragraphs, but I had no inspiration for the conclusion, which is why I stayed so late. I'll finish the rest at the club room...

I quickly put the manuscript paper and stationery into my bag and left the empty classroom.

The corridor leading to the special building was deserted, with only the shouts of the sports clubs echoing.

Yukino should also be reading in the club room today. That way, I can concentrate on writing my essay without being disturbed by anyone.

After all, that club doesn't really do anything.

Although strange visitors occasionally show up, such situations are very rare. Most students, when troubled, confide in close friends or endure it silently.

That might be the correct approach for everyone, but some people just can't do it, like me, Yukino, Yuihama, or Zaimokuza.

Friendship, romance, dreams, and many other things are beautiful for many people. Perhaps even the appearance of struggling and hesitating looks dazzling.