My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected? / My Youth Romance Story Is Wrong, As I Expected?

That's right, that's what I wanted to say. A beast strong enough didn't need to travel in a pack. Haven't you heard the saying, "A lone wolf at the ends of the earth"?

Cats were cute, and wolves were cool, so loners were both cute and cool.

As I walked, I thought about this utterly pointless nonsense until I reached the landing of the stairwell leading to the roof. Unused desks and chairs had been piled there haphazardly, making the passage so narrow that only one person could pass through at a time.

The door leading to the roof usually had a small lock holding it securely shut.

Today, however, that lock was open, dangling from the door and swaying back and forth.

It was probably those assorted weirdos from class again, going up to the roof to flirt. Idiots and smoke really did love going high up—might as well lock them up there. So I dragged over three desks and two chairs to block the entrance. Yep, same old me: once I decided to do something, I did it. Such initiative. What a man. Ahh, come hug me!

But then I noticed that the other side of the door was strangely quiet.

Something was off. As far as I knew, those Normie boys and girls feared silence as much as beasts feared fire. They considered silence boring. Unwilling to face the reality that they themselves were boring, they desperately kept talking, making noise, laughing and giggling—but when they talked to me, they used silence to tell me, "You're boring." What was that silence supposed to mean...? No, no, don't misunderstand. I actually preferred silence and quiet.

The roof was so quiet that it didn't seem like those people were up there. Maybe there wasn't anyone on the roof at all.

The thought that no one was there immediately perked me up as a loner. It definitely wasn't a case of being a dragon at home and a worm outside. I just didn't want to trouble other people.

I moved aside the desks and chairs I had just piled up and prepared to open the door to the roof.

Excitement welled up inside me. This peculiar thrill was something you could only experience when you were alone. Like the first time you walked into a soba shop at a train station, or deliberately went all the way to a bookstore in Yotsukaido City, far from Chiba City, to buy an adult book.

When I opened the door, the blue sky and distant horizon immediately came into view.

In that instant, the rooftop became my own private secret base.

Rich people always wanted private jets and private beaches. A loner like me, with an endless supply of private time, could be called a winner in life. In other words, being a loner was a symbol of status.

To come across a rainless day during the rainy season, the sky was truly clear, as though telling me that one day, I would surely escape this closed-off world. If I had to compare it to an old movie, it was probably The Rock. I hadn't seen it, but judging from the title, that had to be the feeling. (Note 2: The Japanese title of the film literally translates to "The Hunt for Red October.")

Watching the clouds drift into the distance was like focusing on my own future. So if I wanted to choose a place to entrust my dreams to a Workplace Observation Form, this rooftop could not have been more suitable.

After the school's regular exams ended, we would immediately begin workplace visits. On the form, I wrote at length about the career I wanted, what kind of workplace observation I hoped to attend, and why. For someone who had already planned out his future, there was nothing to hesitate over. In less than two minutes, I had completed the form.

At that moment, a wind began to blow from somewhere. That fateful wind seemed determined to sweep away the lazy after-school atmosphere, lifting the sheet of paper bearing my dreams and turning it into a paper airplane flying toward the future.

That description sounded poetic, but the paper was without question the form I had just filled out. Hey! Wind, quit messing with me!

As if mocking me, the form first skimmed along the ground in the wind, then, just as I was about to catch it, soared high into the sky.

...Whatever. I'd just get another form and fill it out again. My motto was, "If you can't have it, give up." I wasn't going to be shaken by something this trivial. If anything, my motto should add one more line: "A journey of a thousand miles—turn back while you still can."

I shrugged and was about to turn around when—

"Is this yours?"

—I suddenly heard someone's voice.

It was a slightly husky voice, tinged with laziness. I looked around for whoever had spoken, but there wasn't a soul in sight. There usually wasn't anyone around me, but that wasn't what I meant. Other than myself, there really was no one else on the rooftop.

"Where are you looking?"

A listless voice drifted down from overhead, seemingly mocking me, and only then did I realize. So this was what it meant to look down on someone. There was a raised section on the rooftop; climb the ladder to its top, and you could reach the area where the water tank stood.

That person was leaning against the water tank, looking down at me.

She played with a cheap lighter in her hand, then, after our eyes met, slipped it into her uniform pocket.

The girl's hair was black with a bluish tint and nearly as long as she was tall. She wore no ribbon at her chest, her collar hanging open; the excess fabric at the hem of her shirt was tied in a loose knot; her long legs looked nimble. Her eyes seemed to be casually gazing into the distance, utterly lifeless, while the beauty mark beneath the corner of her eye added to her air of weariness.

"Is this yours?"

She asked again, her tone unchanged. I didn't know what grade she was in, so I nodded instead of answering. If she was an upperclassman, I would have to speak politely—but if I got it wrong, wouldn't that be embarrassing? That was why, no matter when or where, staying silent was safest.

"...Wait there."

She sighed and slid down with one hand on the ladder.

Then—

Another gust of wind blew. That fateful wind seemed about to lift the heavy curtain of night hanging low. A piece of cloth bearing sweet dreams fluttered in the divine wind like an undying flame.

That description sounded poetic. Anyway, I saw her panties. Heh, nice work!

Halfway down, she let go and landed on the ground with a thud. Before returning my form, she gave it a brief glance.

"...Are you an idiot?"

Then she roughly handed me the form—really, she practically threw it at me. Once I caught it, she turned and disappeared in the direction of the school building.

Before I could say "Thank you," "Why did you call me an idiot?" or "Sorry for seeing your panties," I was left there alone.

All I could do was hold the returned form in one hand and scratch my head with the other.

Just then, the rooftop loudspeaker rang with the bell marking the end of lunch break.

So I turned and headed back toward the rooftop door.

"Black lace, huh..."

Someday, that murmur—neither quite a sigh nor quite a lustful breath—would probably ride the summer wind scented with the sea and spread throughout the world.

Komachi Hikigaya

Komachi Hikigaya

March 3

Very flexible, cooking, taking care of Brother.

Saving money, teasing Brother.

Holiday Activities

Taking care of cats, keeping Brother, who stayed home all day, company.

Saki Kawasaki

saki kawasaki

October 26

Karate.

Making knitted dolls.

Holiday Activities

Working part-time, keeping her younger siblings company.

Workplace Observation Form

Sobu High School　Class 2-F

Hachiman

1. Desired Occupation:

House husband

2. Workplace I Wish to Observe:

My own home

3. Please explain your reasons:

The ancients said: "To work is to lose."

Labor is an act of taking risks in pursuit of rewards. In conclusion, the greatest purpose of labor is to obtain the greatest reward with the least risk.

The reason young girls—little girls, in other words—dream of things like, "I want to be a bride someday," was not because it was cute, but because of a biological instinct.

Therefore, I believed that the choice to "stay at home without working" was appropriate—indeed, one could say it was absolutely correct. Thus, for this workplace observation, I wished to observe the workplace of a house husband: my own home.

Thus, Yuihama Yui Decided to Start Studying

One corner of the faculty office had been set aside as a reception area, furnished with black leather sofas and a glass table, separated from the rest of the room. Through the window in the reception area, the school library could be seen.

A refreshing early-summer breeze blew in through the open window, sending a sheet of paper fluttering into the air.

Entranced by the melancholy scene, I followed the paper with my eyes, wondering where the wind would carry it. Then, like a falling tear, it drifted weakly and lightly down to the floor.

At that moment, a shoe heel came down with a thud, pinning the paper firmly in place with tremendous force.

They were a pair of long, beautiful legs. Even wrapped in fitted slacks, their length and loveliness were unmistakable. To look good in pants, one needed an exceptionally perfect figure. With a skirt, one could still add sex appeal by showing off bare legs or wearing stockings; but with slacks, which concealed those charms, it was easy to look frumpy and utterly devoid of allure. Even with a slim figure, without a pair of toned yet softly rounded legs, slacks could not display their proper value and might even look ugly.

Yet the slacks before me were different. Those legs were so perfectly proportioned that calling them the golden ratio would not have been an exaggeration.

And it was not just her legs. Her slender waist traced a smooth curve upward to her full chest... Whoa, had I arrived at Mount Fuji?

From her feet to her chest, the curves of her body resembled a violin—and not just any violin, but one as perfect as a Stradivari, the finest of violins.

The problem was that the owner of that body had an utterly terrifying face, like a Kongōrikishi statue made jointly by Unkei and Kaikei. From an artistic, cultural, or historical perspective, it was all equally terrifying.

Hiratsuka-sensei, who taught Japanese, had a cigarette filter between her lips as she glared viciously at me, her expression plainly saying, "I'm holding myself back from blowing up."

"Hachiman, you know what I'm about to say, don't you?"

"W-Well..."

Unable to bear the gaze of her wide-open eyes, I gave a vague answer and looked away.

The next second, Hiratsuka-sensei began curling the fingers of her right hand, starting with her pinky. That alone made her knuckles crackle loudly.

"...Don't tell me you're going to answer, 'I don't know'?"

"You misunderstand! Of course I know! I was about to say, 'I know that'! I'll rewrite it properly, so please don't hit me!"

"Obviously you'll rewrite it. Honestly... I thought you might have changed a little."

"My principle is to stay true to my original intentions."

I flashed a "Hehe♪" smile. Then, somewhere around Hiratsuka-sensei's temple, I thought I heard something snap.

"Maybe I really do need to straighten you out with my fists... Whether it's a television or anything else, fists are the fastest solution."

"Th-That won't do. You can't compare me to such a precision machine. Besides, televisions have been getting thinner lately, so they can't withstand being hit too hard. It seems Sensei really is our age after all—"

"Impact First Punch!"

Thud! Sensei shouted impressively before striking, but when her fist drove into my abdomen, it made only a small thud.

"...Ugh!"

I desperately dragged my fading consciousness back and raised my head, only to see Hiratsuka-sensei smiling maliciously.

"If you don't want to eat my Annihilation Second Punch, stop running your mouth over there."

"N-No, I'm very sorry... Please spare me the Eradication Final Punch."

After I promptly apologized, Hiratsuka-sensei sat down in satisfaction, the chair letting out a creak. Perhaps because I had apologized right away, her smile looked especially refreshed at the moment. Though her usual words and behavior were rather hard to stomach, making it easy to forget that she was actually a great beauty.

"Super Soldiers really is a good anime. I'm glad you understood my reference right away, Hachiman."

Allow me to correct that. It seemed she was merely happy that someone understood the material she had referenced. That personality of hers really was still hard to stomach.

Recently, I had finally learned what Hiratsuka-sensei's hobby was. Simply put, she watched extremely hot-blooded anime and manga. Unfortunately, that bit of trivia was boring beyond belief, and some more of my brain capacity had been wasted.

"So, Hachiman, just to be safe, I'll ask again. What exactly were you trying to do by writing such a mess of an answer?"

"What do you mean, what was I trying to do...?"

By common sense, when someone asked you a question, you naturally had to answer them. But I had already written every answer I could give, without holding anything back, on that survey form. If Hiratsuka-sensei still couldn't understand after reading it... then I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

Hiratsuka-sensei seemed to see through my thoughts. Exhaling a stream of white smoke, she looked at me and said:

"Though I already knew you had a twisted personality, I thought you would have grown at least a little. It seems the Service Club hasn't had any effect on you after all."

"Yeah..."

I tried recalling that period of "Service Club" life Hiratsuka-sensei had mentioned. If I had to explain what that club did in one sentence, it listened to students' worries and helped them solve their problems. But, frankly, it was nothing more than an isolation ward that gathered together people who couldn't properly fit into campus life. I had been told to help other students in order to correct my twisted personality and dead-fish eyes, but I hadn't really done anything in particular, so I didn't feel much attachment to it. If I absolutely had to give an example... well, Totsuka was really cute. That was about it.

"Hachiman... Your eyes suddenly turned into dead-fish eyes again. And wipe that drool off."