What high schooler isn't on the brink of losing it? They're just holding it together.
Cumbersome, messy interpersonal relationships; specialized knowledge that may or may not ever be useful; bone-grinding physical education; and a daily life locked into a rigid point-to-point routine, all preplanned to the minute—never mind the fact that this prison sentence called "high school" takes at least three full years to serve before you can see daylight.
But just when you think you've escaped the jail named high school, university—the place teachers hype up with exaggerated promises that make your heart race—comes along and lands a solid, no-nonsense right hook square in your face.
"We've all been scammed. They say you run off to university to chase your youth, but the moment you successfully escape, that's already the end of youth."
Narumi Tōru pushed up a pair of glasses that didn't exist and began solemnly arguing his point.
"Of course, high school isn't exactly great either. People say being introverted or extroverted isn't good or bad, but the moment you throw in group projects and presentations, it turns into mandatory, passive socialization. And that's when introversion becomes a flaw. In the end, school is just a miniature version of society—on the surface it promotes 'diverse personalities,' but really it's just empty platitudes, drawing a big shiny pie that never actually gets eaten. A kind of 'correctness' that never touches the ground—"
"So you've gone completely feral, huh? Fine. Then I'll take you where you belong."
Hiratsuka Shizuka didn't waste words. With a dismissive click of her tongue, she grabbed the tie at the front of the curly-haired boy's chest and pulled him closer, shrinking the distance between their faces.
"Tomorrow. Afternoon. After school. Wait for me in the office. Got it?"
"Sensei, isn't this a little inappropriate? I mean, I know I'm deliciously handsome with a bright future ahead of me, but that kind of thing costs extra—"
"You little punk! I mean I'm sending you to get disciplined by people your own age!"
The vein on Hiratsuka's forehead throbbed into existence, then vanished. Narumi had no doubt that one more word from him would earn him a direct hit from her clenched fist, so he wisely stopped hopping back and forth across her tolerance line.
People often say that being alone in a room with a beautiful female teacher inevitably leads to wild thoughts—but Narumi Tōru personally disagreed with that saying.
For example, when dealing with Hiratsuka Shizuka, what occupied his mind was actually where he should go for his next part-time job.
"Besides, constantly fantasizing about intimate moments with the opposite sex can probably lead to delusions."
Narumi Tōru was, compared to his peers, a perfectly ordinary high school student.
Above-average grades, above-average physical ability, no close friends but also not hated enough to become a target. All in all, he was just an unremarkable second-year student who would disappear completely if you dropped him into a crowd.
If there was anything worth praising about his appearance, it would be the fluffy, naturally curly black hair he inherited from his mother, his lake-blue eyes, and facial features that, upon closer inspection, had a surprisingly solid foundation.
As for his actions, that showed up in the fact that he never missed his part-time jobs—during school terms or winter and summer breaks alike.
Mondays and Tuesdays, he worked at a bookstore. Thursdays through Saturdays, he picked up miscellaneous work at a live performance hall.
A part-time warrior does not dream of beautiful girls—let alone fall in love with one. (Absolutely certain.)
It couldn't be helped. He hadn't been born into the protagonist-standard family of "both parents busy, car and house included." After his parents' divorce, all that was left was a mess. Unwilling to live with either side, he chose to earn his own living expenses through part-time work—though, to be fair, the rent for his student apartment was still paid by his parents.
Even though he was trying to cover daily expenses on his own, as a student with very average ability, his weekly working hours were already capped. That also meant his income was firmly locked within a narrow range.
And because of that, when it came to transportation, he always chose the cheapest option: the train—even if it meant squeezing into peak-hour crowds morning and evening without exception.
After Hiratsuka let him go, Narumi arrived at the train platform and fought his way into an already packed carriage.
Once he secured a tiny corner where he could stand, he let out a breath and hugged his backpack to his chest, lifting his head to look around.
What caught his eye was a poster advertisement on the train window that had been hanging there for nearly two years.
The girl on the poster, smiling brightly, was named Sakurajima Mai. A former child star, she was a nationally recognized actress. Even Narumi—who didn't particularly care about the entertainment industry—had memorized her face. Her level of public recognition was obvious.
Celebrities' trivial daily affairs were always magnified and scrutinized, but if you could earn absurd amounts of money every day as an entertainer, then being talked about, criticized, or flamed online didn't really matter.
Occasionally, Narumi Tōru's thoughts would drift. If he had lived a different life, what would he be like now? If a talent scout had tried to recruit him a few years ago, could he have ended up on an entirely different path?
"Even if my hourly wage were only one-third of hers, I'd still be willing to be an actress…"
Even if his acting sucked, his singing sucked, his dancing sucked, and the audience mocked him until he broke down—wiping away tears with stacks of cash would still be pretty great.
"…?"
A middle-aged salaryman nearby overheard the boy's rather alarming muttering and recoiled in shock, nearly knocking loose the hairpiece he used to conceal his receding hairline.
"A boy becoming an actress… I guess that's not impossible?"
The grueling ride on the overcrowded train finally came to an end, and Narumi arrived in Shimokitazawa.
Following a familiar route, he found the live house tucked underground along the street. The manager here, Ijichi Seika, had hired him readily a month ago—the reason she gave being, "My little sister is about your age. It's only right I look after you."
At first glance, it sounded like a full-on sister-complex declaration.
But well…
As Narumi took care of the front desk, skillfully delivering drinks to customers, he kept an eye on the conversation between the Ijichi sisters not far away.
"Seika-nee~! We're here to practice again!"
The younger sister, Ijichi Nijika, had the same dazzling blonde hair as her sister, but the side ponytail tied to one side made her look far more energetic.
"Give it a rest. We've got a proper performance coming up soon. You don't even have a guitarist anymore—why don't you go find something serious to do first?"
Compared to her lively, cheerful sister, Ijichi Seika's response was cold, almost impatient, making her seem a little too distant.
"Eh? Come on—"
Ignoring her sister's near-pouting complaint, Seika walked straight over to the curly-haired boy, who had just gotten a brief moment to breathe.
"Good work, Narumi. There'll be more customers tonight, and I happen to have something to take care of, so I'll need to leave early. You'll probably be pretty busy… but I'll raise your hourly wage."
Seika casually glanced at her sister, who looked somewhat dejected.
"And let them use the rehearsal room for half an hour. I'm counting on you."
Case closed: a textbook tsundere sister-con who says one thing but does another.
"Understood, boss. Loud and clear, boss."
"Cut it out. Just call me by my name."
"Got it. Safe travels, Ijichi-boss."
"You little—hmph."
Now officially categorized as an extra-extra-extra-tsundere, Manager Ijichi shot Narumi an annoyed glare before leaving. Meanwhile, Nijika sent Narumi a wink he fully understood, then happily headed to the rehearsal room to meet up with another companion who had been waiting there for quite some time.