"Youth is nothing but a bunch of crap..."
I wrote that sentence in my head while staring at my dull bedroom ceiling. If youth is really meant to be this beautiful thing, then why are there so many people crying over it? If it's truly a "golden age," then why do adults look back at it with such a disgusting, thirsty longing?
People who glorify youth are just lying to themselves and everyone around them. They take their failures, prejudices, and social blunders, then wrap them up in a pretty label called "experience." If they do something stupid, it's called "being young."
If they fail, it's a "valuable lesson."
It's honestly sickening. To put it simply: those who enjoy their youth are just experts at self-delusion.
If failure is the "spice" of youth, wouldn't that mean the person who fails the most is the one enjoying their youth the most? What a flawed logic.
Nakamura Household — 06:30 AM
The smell of warm rice and miso soup hit my nose—a boring but stable routine. In the dining room, my dad was already buried in his newspaper—your typical corporate slave whose soul had been completely sucked dry by the Tokyo commute.
My mom was busy packing lunch boxes, her hands moving with the efficiency of a machine. No dramatic conversations. We were a functional family that respected each other's space.
"Good morning, Big Brother!"
That high-pitched voice shattered my daydream. Kaede appeared, wearing her Meiwa High School uniform that still looked stiff and brand new. Yeah, this year my "sweet" (but slightly manipulative) little sister managed to get into the same school as me.
"Quiet, Kaede. It's too early," I grumbled while taking a bite of rice.
"Ugh, you're so grumpy! It's Kaede's first day as a high schooler! You should be proud to have a sister this cute and smart. I'm feeling pretty cool today, you know!" Kaede puffed out her small chest.
"Well, let's just hope you don't catch that disgusting 'youth' virus at school," I replied flatly.
"Sigh... you're still like this. Not that I'm trying to lecture you, but... if you're still acting this way at 17, won't people think you're weird? Oh well, don't worry! Kaede will keep an eye on you so you don't turn into some loner moss in the corner of the classroom. That was a pretty good 'encouraging sister' line, right?"
I just snorted. After finishing breakfast, I grabbed my bag and headed out. My parents sent us off with a mumbled "Take care"—a standard greeting with zero extra expectations. Good. Expectations are poison to a peaceful life.
Meiwa High School Gate — 07:45 AM
The moment I stepped onto the school grounds, a wave of noise hit me. Laughter, loud greetings, the sound of enthusiastic footsteps—it all felt like white noise that didn't sync with my brain's frequency.
Small cliques had already formed at the gate. Some were promising to be in the same class again, others were bragging about their summer hobbies. They looked so "alive." A total contrast to me, walking with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, looking like a pathetic sloth. I was a black smudge on a canvas that was way too bright.
I went up to the second floor. Class 2-B.
The second I opened the door, I knew I had walked straight into a nest of social predators.
In the middle of the room, surrounded by her followers, sat Shirayuki Madoka. Her ash-grey hair shimmered in the window light, her makeup was flawless, and she looked at people like she was checking out discounted items at a supermarket. She was the absolute "Queen." Even the way she laughed had a tone of authority.
"Right? That cafe was so boring!" Madoka's voice rang out, leading the conversation.
And then, right at the center of the class's gravity, there was Akabane Kazuya. The guy makes me want to puke just by looking at his profile.
He had that sickening "main character" aura and a handsome face to match. He smiled at everyone, listened to everyone, and was loved by everyone. He was my polar opposite in every way—a blinding, fake sun.
"Haha, Madoka, don't be so hard on them. Everyone's got different tastes," Kazuya said in a voice so smooth it could melt ice. Absolutely disgusting.
And among them was a girl with a ponytail who seemed way too hyper. Minamikata Miwa. She kept nodding at everything Madoka said, laughing at every single one of Kazuya's jokes, clearly trying her hardest not to ruin the "vibe." She's the classic "normie" who lives off other people's validation—a herbivore just trying to survive in a circle of carnivores.
"Yeah, yeah! I totally agree!" Minami exclaimed, giving a small round of applause.
I walked past them, trying my best to act like oxygen—invisible. I took my seat in the back corner by the window, the strategic spot for professional loners.
From here, I could watch the drama of the world unfold. They laugh, they bond, they build "friendships." But in reality, it's all just a fragile structure that would crumble the moment someone started being honest.
I sighed, rested my chin on my hand, and stared out the window.
"Youth is a lie," I whispered again. "And I'm the only one in this room who isn't lying."
The first period had just started, but the atmosphere in the classroom already felt suffocating, filled with oxygen wasted on useless small talk. The teacher walked in, giving some standard speech about "the future" and "self-potential," while I was more interested in watching an ant crawl along the window frame. At least that ant was honest; it worked out of instinct, not because it wanted to look cool to its colony.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed over my dull desk.
"Oh, it's Nakamura-kun, right? Good morning."
That voice. Too clear, too friendly, and way too... Kazuya. I slowly looked up, giving him my standard "sloth stare." In front of me stood the class hero, wearing a smile that looked like it was mass-produced in a kindness factory.
"Ah... yeah," I replied shortly, hoping he'd lose interest immediately and start treating me like classroom property, like a chalkboard eraser or a broken wall clock.
"We're in the same class again this year. I'm looking forward to working with you," he added, reaching out his hand.
Behind him, I could feel Shirayuki Madoka's sharp glare, as if she was thinking, 'Why is Kazuya talking to that weirdo?' Meanwhile, Minami just watched with a worried, awkward expression, like she was afraid I'd explode or do something to ruin their peaceful "vibe."
"I don't think I have the ability to help you with anything, Akabane-kun," I replied flatly, ignoring his hand. I turned my gaze back to the window.
A brief silence followed. For normal people, this would be a deadly awkward moment. For me? This was my comfort zone. If you don't build expectations, you don't have to bother tearing them down.
Kazuya just gave a small laugh—a polite one, of course—and headed back to his circle of light.
Lunch break is a battlefield for those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. The cafeteria is a red zone, and the school rooftop has been overused by cheesy dramas way too many times.
So, this is where I ended up.