« L'hiver est un cœur gelé

Qui attend d'être dégelé par

L'amour chaud du printemps. »

I tried to compose a haiku...in my head, whilst riding my bicycle to school. I say tried because, if one were to be fastidious with the traditional rules of composing haiku, one could clearly see the 5-7-5 format being violated.

« L'hiver est un cœur gelé » Winter is a frozen heart

« Qui attend d'être dégelé par » Waiting to be thawed by

« L'amour chaud du printemps. » The warm love of spring.

I tried to compose a haiku...but why? I had been in profound introspection whilst cycling, and it came as a result of my musings. But looking at anything through rose-tinted glasses was quite unlike me. The verse, for lack of a better word, was too optimistic coming from a pessimistic loner like me.

If my personality were to be likened to a season, it should probably be autumn anyways. The falling leaves represent change. The trees brace themselves for winter; as such, they are void of even a dram of optimism. They are stoic and mature in accepting their fate - that which they can't do anything about. There was no way that a loner like me could ever make friends – I stood out in any group for exactly the wrong reasons. There was not much that I could do about that either.

I didn't require any superficial bonds of friendship anyways. I was not waiting for someone to thaw my heart with warmth either. I had learnt over the years that such lofty romantic hopes almost never get fulfilled and as such not only fail to satisfy but even disappoint. Even those who are nice to you are probably just as nice to anyone else, thus in their eyes you're not special. So why exactly did I compose a haiku in my head out of the blue?

Maybe…I was just a bit nervous and wanted to distract myself with something. It was the first day of my senior high school life after all- well…the first actual day at least. On the day when I was originally supposed to start my first year at Sōbu High School, I got involved in a car accident whilst trying to save a Dachshund. At that time I was pretty nervous about starting a new life at my new school too, but I sealed my fate when I chose to leave an hour early for the school entrance ceremony.

I reckon it had been around seven in the morning… A girl walking her dog near the school lost her grip on the leash just when a black limousine was coming down this exact same avenue. The next thing I knew, I had started hurtling towards them at full speed.

I could get quite foolhardy at times, but I couldn't have just stood there and done nothing at all either. In any case…as a result of that, I broke my leg and got hospitalised. My new bicycle was completely done for as well. I've got quite some bloody luck haven't I?

Frankly, I survived the accident relatively unscathed if one were to take only the physical damage into consideration. My injuries were not that severe. However, the incident also virtually guaranteed that I would be unable to make any new friends – but as I said, I didn't require any superficial bonds such as those in the first place.

A cool morning breeze interrupted my train of thought, and I continued on my bicycle to school with a more insouciant demeanour. The sun wasn't searing hot yet, the leaves of the trees rustled in the cool morning breeze and it was a fairly pleasant ride on the rest of the way to school. Until, of course, I reached the main entrance to the very school. The pleasant tranquillity from before was replaced by a scene of commotion and cacophony. My nervousness returned once more. At first glance, it seemed that everyone had made friends and formed their groups already. There was no place left for me, and I didn't want any place amongst them either. After all, I knew better than anyone else just how shallow all of these relationships were.


In any case, I made my way to class 1-J. I had not only managed to pass the extremely difficult entrance exam for Sōbu High School, but I had also managed to get into the International Baccalaureate class. Apart from the nine standard classes, there was one class that followed the IB curriculum. The academic standards of this class were reputedly higher than that of the other classes - 2 to 3 points higher on the bell curve, to be precise. The reason why I chose IB was because I had aspirations to study abroad in France – more specifically, I had my eyes set on the École Normale Supérieure, although the Sorbonne wasn't bad either.

I have missed France for as long as I can remember – I was born in Le Havre, and grew up in Pas-de-Calais and later Kent. I wanted to move to France and stay there permanently this time. I wanted to escape from Chiba, from Japan, and settle down in Paris - not too dissimilar to how Emil Cioran himself had settled down there by escaping Romania. However, my train of thought was interrupted by a pair of cerulean eyes staring so hard at me that it seemed that they had penetrated into the very depths of my soul.

« Who are you and what possibly could be your business here? »

The girl's voice was stiff and cold, and her matter-of-fact tone exuded a commanding aura. Heck, her entire body exuded a commanding aura. She had elegant features, long and flowing ebony tresses, neatly-tied red hair bands, and a uniform that was so immaculate that it put any other girl student's uniform to shame… even though they were supposedly the same uniform. To describe the girl, the one who had confronted me in front of my new homeroom, as gorgeous would still be an understatement. I was completely caught off guard and fortuitously froze in my place, struck by her beauty. I could keep staring at her for eternity, but she winced at my reaction and glared back at me.

« De-désolé…je suis- » ( So-sorry...I am- )

I started to stammer but quickly trailed off when I realised that I had inadvertently started to speak in French. Great, another faux pas! I tried again.

« I-I mean, I'm sorry. I am Hikigaya Hachiman and I am supposed to be in class 1-J. I actually got involved in a road accident on the day I was supposed to attend the entrance ceremony… »

« I see, so you're that boy who has been absent for so many days. I am the class representative of 1-J, Yukinoshita Yukino. I need to give you all the homework assignments which you have missed up till now, as part of my duty. However, you would do well to restrain your rotten eyes which are undoubtedly filled with lecherous intent. »

Her glare increased in intensity as she uttered her last sentence.

« I-I apologise again, I truly didn't mean to stare like that. »

My nervousness made me submissive. The increasing intensity of her glare didn't help either. I couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief at my reprieve when she walked away. That was one hell of an introduction. I picked the only empty seat left in the entire class of around 30 students. I dropped my bag at my place and collapsed into the chair. My seat was located on the side farthest from the windows.

I took a quick look around the classroom and found that most of the students were girls – approximately two-thirds of the entire class comprised of girls. Also, most of them seemed to come from quite affluent families. I wasn't calling my family poor – my dad was a well-established veteran interpreter working in the service of the Chiba Prefectural Government, and my mum was a Michelin-star head chef of an extremely high-end restaurant in Chiba. Both of their jobs paid really well, so that our family could afford to lead a moyenne bourgeois lifestyle. However, the students in my homeroom looked like they were the children of politicians, diplomats, businessmen or bankers – they were the haute bourgeoisie. [note 1]

They all found common-ground in the fact that they all came from extremely affluent families with high social standing, and presumably on that basis they formed their circles – that is to say, their relationships were solely based on superficiality. I wanted to have no part in any of that vanity. Even if I did try to make friends, I would most likely get shunned.

At first glance, almost everyone else in the class seemed to be perfect when in fact they were just putting on façades. Perfection is an ideal, with no basis in reality whatsoever. Every individual is imperfect in one way or the other – exempli gratia, in our class all the girls could be considered as attractive to varying degrees. Amongst them, the girl who had confronted me in the beginning, our class rep Yukinoshita Yukino, was without a doubt the most attractive one. Yet for all her beauty her extremely modest chest, being as flat as a wall, left a lot to be desired – although I myself didn't care much about such trivial things anyways. Besides, I was still waiting for her to « perform her duties » by giving me the homework assignments which I had missed up till now.

Having nothing else to do, I took out De l'inconvénient d'être né ( The Trouble With Being Born ) by Emil Cioran and started reading it. I had just read the opening few lines, and Cioran had already drawn me in.

«Trois heures du matin. Je perçois cette seconde, et puis cette autre, je fais le bilan de chaque minute.

Pourquoi tout cela? - Parce que je suis né.

C'est d'un type spécial de veilles que dérive la mise en cause de la naissance.»

( Three in the morning, I realize this second, then this one, then the next: I draw up the balance sheet for each minute.

And why all this? - Because I was born.

It is a special type of sleeplessness that produces the indictment of birth. ) [note 2]

His aphoristic style of writing combined with his fatalistic views and genuine hatred for life was what initially drew me to his works. Cioran was a man who saw humanity, existence, and the world for what they were. In this particular novel, he unmasked the absurdity of the human condition and propagated antinatalism. [note 3] I would be lying if I were to say that I didn't find his views unsettling at all – but then again, truth itself is seldom sweet. Life is bitter and unfair after all.

« J'aimerais être libre, éperdument libre. Libre comme un mort-né. »

( I long to be free, desperately free. Free as the stillborn are free. )

I had reached as far as that line, when suddenly the commotion in the class was replaced by silence. I looked up and saw a woman, presumably in her late 20s, enter the class and take her place near the chalkboard. She must be the homeroom teacher, I thought. She noticed me and called me up to her desk.

« You are Hikigaya Hachiman, I believe? »

« That is my name. »

« I am your homeroom and Japanese teacher, Hiratsuka Shizuka, and have heard of your situation from your parents. Visit me at the staffroom after all your classes are over, you may go back to your place now. If your leg starts to pain or anything, you can always visit the infirmary which is just down the corridor. »

« Understood. Thank you. »

Our conversation was terse and concise, but even in that short time anyone would have been able to observe that she had quite an attractive face. As I walked back to my seat, I wondered if she was still single. After homeroom we had the regular classes. At lunchbreak, I waited for everyone to leave for the cafeteria before I took out my bento. It being the first actual day of my senior high school life, my mother had painstakingly prepared a perfect bento for me. She only did that on specific days like today, and I wasn't going to let anyone mess up my appetite. As such, I took no chances and only took out my bento when I was alone in the class. Well, alone except for one.

That other student was no one other than our class rep Yukinoshita Yukino herself. Obviously, she had brought her own bento with her as well. Still, it struck me as strange. From my past experience, I had observed that even the ones who brought their own bento boxes would leave the classroom if their friends did the same. From my observations I could thus make my own inferences. I deduced that Yukinoshita Yukino likely had no friends. I tried to infer multiple possible explanations for this anomaly, then I started to eliminate the most implausible ones, one at a time. As Sherlock Holmes had said, « ...when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. » In the end, my deduction was that Yukinoshita Yukino was a loner. Quod erat demonstrandum. However, even amongst loners there are different types. Every individual is distinct.

« I would really appreciate it if you could shift your rotten, dead fish eyes to ogle at anything but me. »

The room had been quite tranquil until the cold and stiff voice of Yukinoshita Yukino pierced through it. It seemed as if I had been subconsciously staring at her in a creepy manner the whole time, as she shot a sideways glare at me from her place at the first row near the windows.

« Sorry, didn't mean to irk you. I was just wondering as to when you would give me my homework assignments. »

« I was going to pick them up from the teachers' staffroom after I had finished my food. I fear that you must come up with better excuses to cover up for your perverted pursuits driven purely by your carnal instincts. You might end up having to deal with a lawsuit against you on the basis of sexual harassment if you're not careful. »

Seriously, who the heck did this bitch think she was? I sighed heavily before I spoke again.

« It's not how you make it out to be, I am no pervert. I was just struck by how you appear to not have any friends. »

« If you're trying to offer me your friendship, I fear that you do so in vain. Judging by your external appearances alone, you undoubtedly are a pervert and as such your very presence makes me feel threatened. »

« …Don't judge a book by its cover, I guess. »

« Unfortunately that's easier said than done. Besides, it's always better to be safe than sorry. »

I sighed heavily again. Dealing with this girl was extremely troublesome. I would rather have my bento than engage in any more conversation with this bitch. However, I uttered one last sentence.

« In any case, I don't even have any wish to be friends with someone so inimical. »

« I hope so. »

What she said didn't even bother me any more at this point. I opened up my bento box, and the alluring aroma of the food perfused with the air in my nostrils. The presentation of the food itself was appetising – chestnut rice with its brilliant aroma, perfect cubes of tamagoyaki, slices of grilled salmon, an assortment of vegetables, tempura shrimps, chicken teriyaki as well as gyōza. The food tasted so delectable that I lost track of time. By the time I put the last morsels of the food into my mouth with my chopsticks, I noticed that I alone was left in the room. I revelled in the tranquil atmosphere and resumed reading De l'inconvénient d'être né.


Shortly afterwards, I felt an urge to go the bathroom. Even as I got up from my desk and headed towards my classroom's door, I was in a deep state of rumination. Ruminating about what Cioran had written.

« Si l'attachement est un mal, il faut en chercher la cause dans le scandale de la naissance, car naître c'est s'attacher. Le détachement devrait donc s'appliquer à faire disparaître les traces de ce scandale, le plus grave et le plus intolérable de tous. »

( If attachment is an evil, we must look for its cause in the scandal of birth, for to be born is to be attached. Detachment then should apply itself to getting rid of the traces of this scandal, the most serious and intolerable of all. )

« Se lever, faire sa toilette et puis attendre quelque variété imprévue de cafard ou d'effroi. Je donnerais l'univers entier et tout Shakespeare pour un brin d'ataraxie. »

( To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression. I would give the whole universe and all of Shakespeare for a grain of ataraxy. )

According to Aristotle, it is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. As such, even though I did not necessarily accept all of Cioran's ideas, I would ponder over them nevertheless. Unfortunately, I was apparently so lost in my thoughts that I bumped into a girl who was carrying several binders with documents in them. The resulting collision caused us both to topple onto the floor, and sent the binders with the documents all over the place. Great, yet another faux pas!

To further complicate matters, I had fallen on top of the girl. Her clothes exuded a sweet redolence of cherry blossoms, but this wasn't the time to revel in how redolent she was. As I lifted myself from her bosom, I was nearly dazed by the attractiveness of her face - only Yukinoshita Yukino's face could have such an effect. She herself had closed her eyes momentarily, and on opening them again the cerulean eyes were at first startled until they stiffened and grew cold. At that moment, I became embarrassingly aware of our proximity. I sprung up in one fell swoop and retreated back to a reasonably safe distance. She got up on her feet as well, then tidied her uniform with her hands. Then, gesturing towards the documents and binders scattered across the floor, she spoke to me in her cold, stiff tone.

« These are your homework assignments, Hikigaya-kun. »

« Oh...and also, I didn't mean to collide with you like that. Sorry about that. »

« You'd better be. »

There was a slight element of nonchalance in her voice and she didn't even bother to glare at me, and I was glad for it. I helped her put all the documents back into the binders properly, after which I took them to my place. Then I quickly went to the bathroom to relieve myself, which had been my original purpose.

As I relieved myself, I once again began to ruminate on the meaning of life, the meaning of existence – questions which inherently brought me closer to questions on birth and death…


After all the classes were over, I picked up my bag and went over to the staffroom of Hiratsuka-sensei. Upon seeing me enter, she beckoned me over to her cubicle. I couldn't help but pick up a faint redolence of cigar smoke as I stood near her cubicle. She took me through some miscellaneous paperwork.

« So Hikigaya, did you make any friends yet? »

« None as of yet. »

« That's not good... »

A slight frown appeared on her face and her tone gave away her feelings of foreboding.

« It's alright in my opinion…I would prefer solitude to superficial relationships any day. »

She shook her head at that.

« That kind of thinking will definitely put you into trouble later on in life. Anyways, you may leave now. »

She wasn't completely wrong. Later on in life…I would be living in Paris, preferably as a househusband because that way I could also pursue a career as a writer from the comfort of a home. In order to become a househusband however, I would have to find someone suitable. In that pursuit, I would likely come across several women with whom my relationship might only be possible to a superficial level. « In any case, I would cross that bridge when I get to it… » I thought to myself. I bid my teacher farewell and went my way.


N.B.:

Note 1 – In French, moyenne means middle whilst haute means upper or high. So, moyenne bourgeoisie is the middle class whilst haute bourgeoisie is the upper middle class.

Note 2 – The English translations are taken from Richard Howard's translation of Emil Cioran's book which is titled in English as The Trouble With Being Born.

Note 3 – Antinatalism is the philosophical position that assigns a negative value to birth. It is the opposite of natalism, which promotes reproduction of human life.