My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As Expected

Page 664

"Oh, so that's where it is. I went there before when I had chickenpox."

She walked past me from behind, looking at the bus timetable. A faint, sweet fragrance wafted past my nose.

"I'm a little surprised you became a nurse..."

"When Manatsu was hospitalized, she was always very grateful to the nurses, so I also want to do a job that can help others."

While I viewed Shiohara's death as a "real thing," a gaping hole, what did Utsunomiya gain from her death? To connect the interrupted stories. The complete opposite of me, who only knew how to cry and whine.

She swung the handbag, which she was holding with her fingers, like a pendulum.

"I'm sorry about that time. She told you not to see her anymore, and you were hurt, weren't you?"

"It doesn't matter."

I reached up and rubbed my nose.

"After that, she also told me not to come anymore. Manatsu was extremely thin at the time, always looked very uncomfortable, and started taking her anger out on my mother."

"Well...maybe. But the Shiohara I remember was very gentle, always with a smile on his face."

"Me too. She's such a good girl."

It's truly pitiful that she foresaw her own death in high school, an age when everyone is immature and speaks in roundabout ways like Hachiman and Yukino.

A large truck drove past us, and the stench of its exhaust made me hold my breath.

Utsunomiya looked at me.

"By the way, 'Guo Qing' has ended."

"what?"

The unexpected words that came out of her mouth startled me. "How did you know?"

"I've been watching it. It was Manatsu who lent it to me at first."

"That's my book."

"But she won't let me see the love letters you write. You always include them with yours."

"Uh, that wasn't a love letter."

I put my hands in my coat pockets. Utsunomiya smiled slightly.

"In the end, they chose Yukino as the winner. I'm a Yui fan."

"Oh... for Yui fans, the ending is quite regrettable..."

"When I saw the part where Hachiman went to Yui's house to make fruit tarts, my feeling was, 'Ah...' They created a romantic atmosphere too quickly, and there are still about 400 pages left."

"To be honest, I'm quite nervous too. I confessed successfully with only a few chapters left, so please don't let there be a major reversal later."

The bus came from the direction of the station. There were plenty of empty seats, so we sat side by side in the last row.

She took a pure white handkerchief from her handbag and covered her nose. Her thin-strapped watch slipped down her elbow.

I tightened my tie again.

"Would you like to find a place to sit down after we arrive? I haven't discussed 'Guo Qing' with anyone in a long time, and I'd like to talk to you more about it."

"Yes, that's possible."

She glanced at her phone.

"Let's talk about my time at Guoqing Fes."

"You went to participate?"

"Generally, people would go. You can see Takuya Eguchi, Saori Hayami, and Naoya Touyama. Wataru Watari is also there."

She pouted her rosy lips and said:

"I don't dare to go to those kinds of events alone."

"You must have been to the bamboo grove at Naryu-ji Temple, right?"

"You've been there? That's where Keibu wanted to confess to Ebina, right? It's a bit difficult for me to go all the way to Kyoto."

"Generally, people would go. It's a sacred place."

"I'm starting to get confused about the general definitions."

I'm just an ordinary person. I'm not special. No one envies me, and I can't influence anyone else.

But I am not marginalized. All the readers of "Guoqing" are my potential friends.

Following a work is very similar to following a story.

My story is also a small one.

We are moving towards the "real thing".

It's strange for me to say this since I couldn't save you, but please save me when I get there—just like Yukino asked Hachiman for help at Disneyland, I prayed to her.

"You're too green. I think you should start by running in Chiba's holy land."

I said this while scrolling through my phone.

The bus, which had stopped at the red light, swayed and drove forward again. I wanted to write to her again. This time, it would be a letter about a new story.

The station came into view. I knew I would naturally head towards that bookstore again.

Even though I don't know what kind of story will begin from there, I'm determined not to let myself be excluded again, nor to let it be interrupted again.

Finish

Note 1 refers to the "Higher Education Graduation Level Assessment Test".

Short Story Collection 4: Allstars. As expected, too many people, too many opinions.

Author: Wang Quesun

"I'm going to die in 99 days! I'm being kicked out of the Knights, but I'm living a slow-paced life while unleashing my ultimate skill in the labyrinth, defeating the villainous saintess and the demon king."

"Enough! Get out of this country!"

When I was slaying a very powerful dragon, someone suddenly started spewing insults at me—

"Wherever you go, a terrible calamity will surely follow! Damn Death, don't bring even more troublesome monsters to my country!"

"Oh, is that so...?"

I was so surprised I couldn't help but chuckle—I'd heard that when humans are directly confronted with surprising sadness, they can actually laugh out loud. It seems even I, who's never been defeated, am no exception.

This extraordinary sinful skill that can predict calamities, and this pure sense of justice that only wants to save people, have actually caused such a misunderstanding. I am so saddened that I can't help but laugh.

"Ah, I understand. Farewell, and may you all be happy—"

And so, I left the beloved country that raised me—

—Ninety-nine days remain until the night of destiny.

"What is this thing?"

After reading that article, my honest reaction can be summed up in just five words. I even forgot to use honorifics. What is this? All the doubts that had been swirling in my mind have been coalesced into a simple conclusion. Or perhaps this isn't a reaction, but rather a sigh expressed in words.

"Teacher? Um, may I ask what this is?"

She still didn't answer after a while, so I looked up from the stack of A4 papers covered in dung. Sitting across the table from me was my composed Japanese language teacher—Hiratsuka Shizuka.

"What do you mean by 'what is this'? Hachiman, you need to be clear when you ask questions."

"What are you showing me?"

I responded to her request and formally raised my specific questions.

"novel."

She gave a formal and clear answer.

"A novel... well, yes, let's just call it that for now."

I shifted my gaze back to the paper. I flipped through a few pages. The protagonist's serious yet bizarre journey, characterized by his constant disdain for others, was presented in summary form. The phrase "Heh" appeared so frequently. The protagonist's laughter was so limited in variety. And the tone of voice from both enemies and allies was incredibly affected. I was replaying it in my head like a theatrical performance. There was also a mix of classical and vernacular Chinese, which gave me a headache. And please don't use dashes as periods or commas. [Sin/Skill]What the heck is this again? In short, there are so many things to complain about. Overall—

"What is this thing?"

It's just these five words.

"Manuscripts that need to be published in the literary society's journal."

Hiratsuka-sensei finally gave a constructive answer.

"Please forgive this poor piece of writing. It's the work of first-year members who have been writing for less than a year."

"work."

Japanese is truly a language of broad-mindedness.

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"Compared to people of your generation, you've read a lot, haven't you? What do you think? Just share your thoughts on what you've read so far."

"oh."

I'm not a heartless person, and it's a little difficult to speak up when someone earnestly asks for my opinion. There's a saying, "Don't scold a child; everyone has to go through this." Since I already know the other person is a novice, giving them serious criticism might be seen as childish.

"It's viewable now."

I omitted the "not at all" at the beginning.

"In short, I can sense their determination to create good works."

Rather, one can only sense this will. In short, the will to make the book a bestseller. The will to cram in every possible element of popularity to boost sales. Judging from the shameless title crammed with various elements, this work is filled with the author's urgent desire. They probably wanted to make readers laugh at the title, but their intentions were too obvious, failing to achieve the desired effect and resulting in a failure.

"That's a rather ambiguous answer."

"No, I think it's watchable."

I will omit the words "not at all" again.

"oh."

Ms. Hiratsuka gave a brief "Oh," but that "Oh" didn't mean "I see," it meant "And then?" She wanted me to give a more detailed comment. Seriously? This person is so ungrateful today.

"Well, it's less about willpower and more about momentum. The author's passion is amazing. It's like, 'It has nothing to do with technique, this is just my rap,' so I've decided to vote for this contestant."

I'm out of things to say, so I'll let the judge from the rap battle show I happened to watch last night possess me and finish the sentence for me. Next, Mr. Zeebra will probably help shift the focus to Monster Room. (Note 2)

"I see. Anything else?"

But our Miss Jing is very persistent. There's no concept of length.

"What else?"

My reflexive question was also a euphemism for "that's all."

"This is so unlike you. Do you have other opinions? Feel free to share them appropriately."

"That's boring."

Since Ms. Hiratsuka had given permission, I respectfully complied and answered immediately after she finished speaking.

"It's boring, or rather, it's awful. I have absolutely no idea the plot will get any better later on; I could have given up after watching the beginning."

"I see."

After hearing my honest thoughts, Hiratsuka-sensei's reaction was very calm, as if she had expected it.

"Then let me ask where it's boring, just for reference."

My Chinese teacher always seems to want to know strange things. I put the stack of papers back on the table.

"Well, the boring part is that it's just too boring."

It's just boring. There's no other way to describe it besides boring.

It wasn't the kind of exaggerated content that made you doubt your eyesight, nor did it reveal a strong authorial style. Time simply slipped away during the reading process, a kind of nihilistic boredom.

I explained it carefully.

"I see. Impressive, Hachiman."

“Eh…?”

Hachiman Hikigaya rarely receives praise. My gut feeling tells me this is a trap. I've been tricked into saying something.

"Now that you know where the problem lies, you should be able to make this work more interesting."