My Youth is Wrong, as I Expected

The sun hung lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. The once relentless heat of summer had mellowed into something almost bearable. I could already feel that subtle shift in the air that whispered of the coming school year.

I glanced over at Evil God, sitting across from me. Her posture was as poised as ever, chin resting lightly on her hand, eyes lazily drifting to the window. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was plotting world domination from the comfort of my dining room.

"Summer's almost over," I muttered, mostly to fill the silence.

She shifted her gaze toward me, her golden eyes as intense as ever. "It is."

I waited, but nothing followed.

I sighed. "You know, most people would say something like 'I had fun' or 'I'm sad it's ending'. But no, not you."

Evil God tilted her head slightly. "We'll stay in contact regardless. I didn't think you'd be the type to care about something like this."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not. My happy time isn't tied to things like emotional bonds or human connection. It's more about being left alone and blissfully unconcerned with the world—like a true ascetic. Normies wouldn't understand."

"Your happiness lies in disengagement."

I nodded. "I've perfected the art of passive existence. It's a talent few appreciate."

"I'll take your word for it."

I narrowed my eyes at her. That was way too nonchalant. Was she actually agreeing with me, or just playing along to amuse herself? Knowing her, probably the latter.

"Still," she continued, "I will see you then."

"Unfortunately."

Her gaze flickered toward me, but she didn't press. Maybe she knew I wasn't being serious… or maybe she just didn't care enough to argue the point.

"Sorry, I sounded like an idiot."

The truth was, part of me would miss this strangely peaceful dynamic. As much as I'd never admit it out loud, having Evil God around this summer had been... oddly tolerable. She even helped me review for entrance exams, though I still haven't figured out whether that was out of kindness or sheer curiosity about the depths of my academic ineptitude.

"You didn't have to help me cram for those exams, by the way," I added, scratching the back of my neck.

"You needed it."

...fair enough.

"So, what about you?" I asked, changing the subject. "Where are you heading when school starts?"

Evil God straightened slightly. "ANHS."

I blinked. "Wait, really? Advanced Nurturing High School?"

She nodded once, calm as ever like she hadn't just dropped that casually into the conversation.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Well, good for you. That's... nice. Real nice."

ANHS. Advanced National High School. A school supposedly built to foster the future elites of society—funded by the government and hyped as Japan's next big educational experiment. The plan was to construct it on some secluded, sprawling campus to ensure maximum isolation and focus.

Too bad they ran out of investors and money halfway through.

Now, instead of a grand, distant institution, ANHS sat awkwardly close to Chiba. Practically in the same neighborhood as Sobu. For a school designed to breed geniuses, they sure didn't put much thought into location planning.

Still, this was probably the best-case scenario. If Evil God was going to ANHS that meant I wouldn't have to deal with her otherworldly antics at Sobu. Maybe I could actually have a normal, quiet high school life.

Or at least as normal as someone like me could get.

"ANHS isn't that far from Sobu, you know." She said.

"Yeah, I know." I grimaced. "But at least I won't have to wear their uniforms. Those things look like someone lost a bet with a crayon box."

She tilted her head. "I think they look refined."

"Refined? You'd fit right in, but I'd look like a failed circus act."

Evil God gave me a curious glance as if imagining me in one of their vibrant uniforms. I could almost see it too.

The sheer horror.

"Besides," I added, "ANHS is supposed to be one of those elite schools. Sobu's no slouch, but they're still on a whole other level. I'd probably combust the moment I walked through the big gates."

"You survived studying with me," she pointed out.

"Barely."

She leaned forward slightly, "How do you plan to avoid trouble this year in the new school?"

I smirked. "I've got my 108 Skills. I'll be fine."

"Skills?"

"Yup. The timeless Hikigaya 108 Skills of Avoidance, Passive Observation, and Tactical Withdrawal. I can teach you some time if you'd like."

"I'll consider it."

The calm, casual way she said it made me suspicious she was actually considering adding that to her already terrifying repertoire.

"...Actually, forget I said anything."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost in disappointment. "A shame."

I didn't know what was worse — the thought of Evil God mastering my techniques, or the fact that she could probably do it better than me after just hours of practice.

"Well," I muttered, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, "I guess it's for the best. You'll have ANHS to conquer, and I'll be at Sobu, quietly watching my youth rot from the sidelines."

"Still hung up on that?"

"It's a lifestyle choice at this point."

There was something oddly detached in my voice, a resigned calm that even surprised me.

"Youth, I mean. It's a fleeting thing, isn't it?" Evil God of all people said that to me.

"You're saying that like it's some kind of revelation."

She didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted for a moment, almost as if she were seeing something far beyond me. "It's strange, though. I'm glad I got to spend this time."

"What are you talking about? You're not even—"

"I'm not like you. But I've been watching. I've learned a lot, more than I ever thought I would."

I had a sinking feeling she was referring to that. She wasn't one to experience things, but she certainly knew how to observe, catalog, and manipulate the people around her.

I'm included.

I let out a sigh, pushing my thoughts away before they took a more depressing turn.

"Right. Because watching people live is the same as actually living."

I didn't mean for the bitterness to creep into my voice, but it did. Even after everything, the scarring from years of school I still couldn't quite reconcile myself with the idea of 'youth.' The thought of how it was supposed to be some grand adventure when in reality, it was nothing more than a series of disappointments.

"I didn't say it was the same," she replied.

Her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the silence between us was oddly thick, almost suffocating. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. It was rare for Evil God to speak in a way I hadn't heard in a long time.

"Don't get any ideas," I muttered, breaking the silence. "I don't need your pity."

"I wasn't offering it,"

I stared at the ceiling again, letting the conversation die in the quiet space between us.

Youth. What was it, really? A series of hollow promises, built on the expectation that you'd somehow transform into the person you wanted to be? But when you got older, you realized it was just a never-ending cycle of fleeting moments, one after the other, never truly satisfying.

"You know," I began, my voice flat, "I think that's what gets people. The idea that this time, this year, it'll be different. That this school, this group of people, will make it all better. But it doesn't. It never does."

"I still wanted to learn its value."

I snorted. "Value? If you want value, try the experience of not getting caught up in it. Try sitting back and watching it all fall apart because that's what high school is. It's nothing but a collection of broken dreams and high expectations."

"Yet you're still here," she said, her words almost a challenge.

I stopped, unsure how to respond. She wasn't wrong. If high school was nothing but a place for dreams to shatter, then why was I still in the middle of it? Wasn't I just another fool waiting for something to happen, expecting the same fleeting sense of change that everyone else seemed to crave?

"Because it's a lifestyle choice," I said, almost to myself. "I'm not stupid enough to buy into it, but I'm stuck with it."

"Are you?" she asked.

I didn't want to answer her question. Because, deep down, I knew she was right. There was no real reason to stay in the game, no point to continue pretending I wasn't just like the rest of them.

But maybe... Maybe I was just trying to make peace with the fact that, at the end of it all, I didn't have to care about any of it. Not the dreams, not the expectations, and certainly not the people who'd inevitably disappear from my life the moment we graduated.

"As I see it, most people view youth as a time of potential, a time to grow, to experience things that will shape them for the rest of their lives. You seem to think of it as a waste." Evil God said.

I narrowed my eyes. "Because that's what it is. You think people who've had the privilege of 'youth' actually get something meaningful out of it? Most just end up stuck in the same cycle, never really moving forward."

"That's one way of seeing it," she said, her voice shifting slightly. "But you're assuming youth is meant to be 'used' in a particular way. You're treating it as if it's a resource, something you can waste or gain from."

I glared at her, "So what? You're saying it's not a waste? Just... a time?"

"In a sense, yes," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "Youth, like everything else, is simply a period of time. A period during which people either grow or don't. It's neither good nor bad, it just is. The important thing is how you interact with it."

"You sound like a scientist."

Evil God began to show her real nature. I don't think she spoke like this with anyone besides me.

"I'm simply being logical. Most people are trapped in the idea that their 'youth' will somehow define them. They believe it's a time when everything should come together when they're supposed to be discovering themselves. But that's not the point. The point is that they're not using it for what it truly is: a time to gather data, to observe, to learn how the world operates."

I frowned, not sure I liked where this conversation was heading. "You're saying youth is just practice?"

"Not practice. Observation. Learning. Those who are focused on becoming something in their youth often miss the opportunities for understanding. They become obsessed with how others perceive them, with their 'future potential."

I chewed her words. "So, you're saying youth isn't a 'wasted' time, but... it's not important either?"

"It's like the middle ground. But it is useful. It's a phase. The only difference is how you choose to see it. If you spend your youth thinking it's time to prove something, you'll try your best to achieve that, won't you?"

"So you're saying people shouldn't be concerned about their youth wasting away, but... simply observe it?"

"Precisely. It will pass regardless of what you do with it. Your concern should not be whether it's 'wasted,' but how you use the time to understand the world around you. Do you interact with it as a resource for growth, or as something you fear losing?"

I stared at her, unsure if I was even processing this properly. "You make it sound so wrong."

She tilted her head as if pondering something for a moment. "It's simple. People make it complicated by attaching emotions to it. But there's no real meaning to youth. It's just time."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe for you."

"It's not about me. It's about perspective. You see it one way, I see it another. The way you attach meaning to it. That's your choice."

Her voice suddenly turned cold, so detached of emotions it made me shiver.

"I don't need to feel what others feel. I don't need to attach meaning to it. In the end, it's just a tool to be used. Whether you realize it or not, it's the same for everyone. How you use it, what you do with it, that's what matters."

Evil God paused, watching me carefully. "But... I will admit, there are many things I learned from it. I don't want to deny that."

"Even if I don't connect with it the way you do, I can still see the value in it. Spending time with you... it's taught me something. Not just about you, but about the whole idea of youth, and how it shapes people. It's just another piece of the puzzle."

The silence between us lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable. But then, almost imperceptibly, she returned to her usual attitude, settling back into place.

It wasn't like some mask Evil God put on to hide her true self. No, it was more like a side of her that had simply been lying dormant, waiting for the right moment to reemerge, like a part of her that was always there, just unidentified.

It wasn't the typical, predictable shift I'd expect from someone trying to protect themselves or their feelings. It wasn't calculated. It just was.

For a second, I almost wondered if I was overthinking it.

I exhaled slowly, almost relieved. The shift back to her familiar self felt like a strange weight lifting off my chest.

"Good," I muttered, leaning back against the chair. "Glad to know you haven't completely changed."

She didn't respond immediately, but I could see the slight twitch of her eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment that she had heard me. For a moment, it almost felt like there was an actual connection, something beyond just cold logic and calculation.

Even if Evil God was heading to ANHS, something told me this wouldn't be the last time our paths crossed.

After all, my misfortune wasn't that kind.

Evil God tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you'd reconsider if I told you bright colors improve social interaction. You might even make friends."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'll pass, this is your goal, not mine. I'm not trading my dignity for social experimentation."

"What would you do if I ordered you to go?"

I stared at the abyss. The abyss stared back.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

It was that time of year when cherry blossoms fluttered delicately to the ground as if trying to seduce students into believing high school was the start of something special. Fresh uniforms, clean shoes, and glittering hopes filled the air, so thick it could choke you if you weren't careful.

I was already immune to the poison.

But Komachi? Not so much.

I glanced at her in the back seat of my bike, her legs swinging lightly as she adjusted her bag. Her middle school uniform still looked annoyingly pristine. A proof that Komachi somehow floated through life without touching the grime the rest of us loners had to wade through.

"You excited for your first day back?" I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral.

Komachi grinned. "Of course! New year, new me. Maybe this year I'll finally get a cool upperclassman to notice me. What do you think, Onii-chan?"

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Careful. That's how every tragic shoujo manga starts."

She pouted. "You're just jealous because no one's going to notice you besides Onee-chan."

Please don't remind me of Evil God right now.

I pedaled harder, letting the sound of the wheels drown out my sister's taunts.

After dropping her off at the school gate, I watched as she waved cheerfully to a group of friends and disappeared into the crowd.

Ah, youth. So fleeting. So fragile.

I adjusted my bag and started toward Sobu High.

At least for me, the blissful ignorance of spring wouldn't last long.

First-years wandered the streets like they were walking into the prologue of some coming-of-age manga. They'd laugh too loudly, look around eagerly, and cling to the idea that high school would somehow rewrite their lives into something more meaningful.

I wasn't buying it.

I mean, if anything, high school was just middle school with fewer chairs because not everyone could get in. The idea that walking through those gates would suddenly transform someone into the protagonist of their own shounen story was as unrealistic as believing the train wouldn't be late during rush hour.

Still, I admired their energy. They'd break soon enough.

I was no exception.

The morning breeze brushed past me as I pedaled down the hill, my bike humming softly against the asphalt. I glanced at my phone. An hour early.

I wasn't exactly sure why I left so soon. Maybe I thought I could beat the crowd as if arriving first would somehow erase my background character status. Or maybe I was hoping to get this over with before the hallways turned into rivers of untamed youth.

I turned the corner, the downhill slope stretching out in front of me. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional sound of crows in the distance.

That was when I heard the bark.

It was faint, coming from further down the road. A small dog—brown-colored, if I had to guess from this distance—was darting into the street. Its leash trailed behind like an afterthought.

I squinted. Further down, a black luxury car approached.

The dog was oblivious, sniffing around as if the concept of self-preservation didn't apply to it. Where the hell was the owner?

"Sablé!"

A girl's voice pierced my morning calm, sharp with panic.

I clicked my tongue.

I squeezed the brakes.

The dog was smack dab in the middle of the road, tail wagging without a care.

The car wasn't slowing down.

I drove without thinking, pushing hard against the pedals, the gears clicking as the bike surged forward.

By the time the car's horn blared through the air, I had already scooped up the little furball, its heart thudding fast against my hand.

I glanced up just in time to see the grille of the car—

And then everything went black.