Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ My College Romantic Comedy Was Wrong, As I Expected ❯ My College SNAFU: 19 ( Chapter 19 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Empty

My name is Hikigaya Hachiman. I am a high school student at Soubu in Chiba City. I am in class 2F. I have 108 skills, because it is reference to Buddhism and I am so very clever. My best friend in middle school is a guy named Yoshiteru. We don’t talk much, even though he’s attending here, because he’s got Chuunibyo, and I got over mine. I confessed my feelings to a girl I liked in Middle school and she rejected me, then all her friends mocked me and I had to transfer to another class. My heart was broken and I don’t talk to other people anymore. My 108 skills include things like playing tennis alone, places to eat alone which are still sanitary, ways of avoiding attention, and mostly keeping to myself. My sister is worried about me because I am alone, but that’s how life is. I am ugly and nobody likes me and it is pointless to try to make friends because I saved a dog on my first day and broke my leg and by the time I got released from the hospital and could walk again, all the cliques were formed up. I was out. I couldn’t join a clique so I am alone.

My sensei is yelling at me. She told me to write an essay about fond high school memories, but I have no friends, nobody likes me, I am alone and I have no fond memories and never will. She got mad and punched me in the stomach and insists I go with her and join a club. The girl is the only person there and she hates me and says I’m ugly and she is scared for her virtue, and sensei said I am too craven to try anything so she don’t have to worry. Then the girl insulted me more and I tried to defend myself based on my good qualities, but I don’t really have much because I am ugly and ugly people lose in this society.

I am forced to stay or be flunked out of school. I stay and I am not happy. Then I realize I can read a light novel so I do that until an orange haired girl shows up and introduces herself. She’s one of the cliques I’m not part of. She wants help baking cookies. We go to the school’s home economics kitchens and she’s bad at baking. I use my 108 skills to claim they are fine because of male psychology being happy for a girl’s attention. The girl is happy, and the cold girl running the club glares at me like I’m scum.

I go home and Komachi is mad and she’s been crying because she is lonely and I was late and she thought I died on my bicycle and was working up to real panic. I calmed her down and we cooked dinner together and I went to bed and cried myself to sleep with despair and I’m not sure why but I feel so empty. Like there’s a huge part of my life missing. And I’ll never get it back.

Youth? You can keep it.

My days pass and I am unhappy and empty and nothing improves this state of affairs. I don’t even know what I’m missing, why the world is just a blur of grey nothing, a flavorless void. The people we help in the Service Club mean little to me. I don’t feel better or worse for helping them or not helping them. The angry girl, Yukinoshita, pushes me, first with certainty, later with uncertainty, and eventually with despair. I meet her sister on a shopping trip I am forced to attend to purchase a birthday present for the orange haired dog owner. She is the reason I broke my leg. This revelation is neither pleasing or welcome. The sister merely a polite face, every bit as empty as I am. I feel like there should be more life there but when I look at her all I get is a terrible sense of loss, like something is missing. Something as big as the world. Like her soul has been destroyed, and maybe mine too. If my soul is gone, how would I know? I stare after her when she leaves and realize I am crying. Yukinoshita gives me a tissue for my ugly face and contemplates, but say only.

“Most men smile at her. They don’t cry.”

“She is empty. I am empty. I don’t know what anything means anymore, but I feel even less now.”

Walking home from the mall is a few kilometers of contemplation. I look to the sky and this does not improve my sense of loss. I cross the street. The truck doesn’t even blare a horn as it strikes me.

The End