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Yahari Ore no Seishun Rabu Kome wa Machigatteiru - Volume 01

By´╝ÜWataru Watari

Hikigaya Hachiman

Grade 11, Class F

Youth is a lie. It is nothing but evil.

Those of you, who rejoice in youth, are perpetually deceiving yourselves and those around you. You perceive everything about the reality surrounding you in a positive light. Even if you make a life-threatening mistake, it would still be seen as proof of your youth- etched into a single page of your recollections.

I’ll give you an example. If such people are to dabble in criminal acts such as shoplifting or mass rioting, it would be called ‘youthful indiscretion’. If they fail an exam, they would claim that school is not only a place for studying. So long as they are in the face of ‘youth’, they’ll be showcasing a distortion of any commonly held beliefs or social norms.

Under their discretion, lies, secrets, crimes and even failure are nothing but the spice of one’s youth. And in their corrupt ways, they discover something peculiar about failure. They conclude that while their own failures are generally a part of relishing in youth, others’ failures should be shot down as just failures and nothing more.

If failure could be seen as proof of one's youth, wouldn’t it be strange not to consider those who fail to make friends as experiencing the height of their youth? Of course, they wouldn’t acknowledge it.

It amounts to nothing. The whole thing is nothing but a result of their opportunism. Therefore, it is a sham. Full of lies, deception, secrets and fraud that ought to be condemned.

They are evil.

That is to say, ironic as it is, those who do not glorify their youth are the truly righteous ones.

In conclusion, Riajuu[1], go blow yourselves up.





Chapter 1 - In any case, Hikigaya Hachiman is corrupt




My Japanese teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka, popped a vein as she read my essay aloud. As I listened, I realized that my writing skills were far from proficient. I thought I might seem smart if I strung some fancy words together, but it just came off like a cheap tactic some struggling writer would think of.



That said- is my amateurish essay the reason she called me? That couldn't be it. I knew that already. After Hiratsuka sensei had finished reading, she put a hand on her forehead and sighed deeply.



"Say, Hikigaya, what was the assignment that I handed out during class?"



"……well, it was an essay with the topic ‘Looking Back on High School Life’."



"Exactly. So then why did you write a threat letter[1]? Are you a terrorist? Or perhaps, an idiot?"



She let out another sigh and pulled a hand through her hair, vexed[2].



Now that I think about it, using the word mistress instead of 'female teacher' makes it sound more erotic[3]. Then, just as I was grinning to myself while thinking about those things, a bundle of paper struck my head.



"Pay attention!"



"Yes."



"Your eyes, they’re like the eyes of a rotting fish."



"Do they really seem that rich in omega-3? Makes me sound smart."



The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.



"Hikigaya. What is with this tasteless essay? I'd at least like to hear some sort of reason." Her eyes flashed, shooting daggers at me, with a scowl deadly enough to make a sound. Only a woman cursed by beauty was capable of an expression so alarmingly powerful that it would unwillingly draw you in and completely overwhelm you. That is to say, it was seriously scary.



"Uh-Well-I...did reflect on high school life, didn't I? Nowadays this is exceedingly what high school life is like, you know! My essay is pretty close to it!"

I kept fumbling my words. I get nervous just by talking to people, but talking to an older woman made me all the more nervous.



"Usually, such a question would require you to reflect on your own experiences, don't you think?"



"Then please preface the question by saying so. If you'd done that, I would have written the essay accordingly. Isn't it your fault for writing a misleading question, sensei?"



"Oh stop being so pedantic, kid."



"Kid……? Well certainly from the perspective of someone your age, I am a kid, I guess."



There was a gush of wind. It was a fist. A fist that was unleashed without any indication of movement. And if that weren't enough, it was an impressive fist that just grazed the side of my cheek.



"The next one won't miss." Her eyes were serious.



"I'm very sorry. I'll write it over." To show some semblance of remorse and regret, I'll have to choose my words wisely. But right now, of all things Hiratsuka sensei was, satisfied was not one of them. It seemed there was no other way but to kneel down and bow at her feet.

I attempted to brush the creases out of my pants, and as I neatened them, my right leg bent down and became affixed to the floor. A flawless and swift movement.

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