Chapter Title: Yui Strikes!
People have noticed that this is a pretty Disco Elysium-inspired project. You would be right; I'm a huge fan, so much so that I got it tattooed on my skin permanently. But yeah, a lot of Hachiman's internal dialogue in this was inspired by the internal dialogue style of Disco Elysium; those guys are incredible at writing. If you haven't played it, go check it out. (through only total legal means, of course, and not fitgirl repack).
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YUI STRIKES!
Why did Mark Fisher kill himself?
I mean, I knew why he did; he was plagued by depression for his whole adult life. Maybe I should be asking, ' What pushed him over the edge?'. His death had been a massive blow to the international left; the ideas he presented in 'Capitalist Realism,' although controversial, were still significant. Maybe it was the constant backlash from the book piled on with personal stuff. No one but Fisher would ever really know. Fisher was big to me, his ideas even more. The tagline for his main idea, Capitalist Realism, pioneered by Jameson and Žižek, was "It is easier to imagine an end to the world than an end to capitalism." It felt more prescient than ever. The world feels so stagnant and stuck in its inefficient, boring way that it is more likely that humanity will die out before somebody changes this system. I didn't fully agree with Fisher; he might have been a greater defeatist than I was. I still at least thought there was a possibility of victory, of change. Fisher seemed tapped out by the end of his life; he couldn't fight anymore. I could respect that. I wasn't in a position to judge someone else for their suicidal ideation.
My walking slowed as I finally reached the service club door; school was its usual dull affair. I wouldn't lie though; I had kind of been worrying about going to the club in the afternoon. This whole situation was pretty uncomfortable for everyone involved, and I thought of just going home at some point. Then I remembered Hiratsuka-sensei's threat, and I shivered. That lady can seriously be scary when she wants to. I slid the door open; it was better to get this over quickly.
Yukinoshita was sitting in the same spot as yesterday, intently focusing on her book. I decided to sit down and stare in the opposite direction. I had no problem ignoring her.
"Hello."
Shit, that gave me a scare. I guess she's not going for the cold shoulder tactic.
"I didn't expect to see you back here. Are you a sadomasochist, perhaps?"
I wish she had stayed with the cold shoulder. "No, obviously not."
"A stalker then?"
"Why are you assuming I'm here because I have some sort of infatuation with you?"
"You don't?"
"No! Of course not! You may be pretty, but your overconfidence is sort of sickening. Do you even have any friends?"
"Well, first, we must start with what the definition of a true friend is-"
"Okay, enough; that answer told me all I needed to know." Seriously, that was middle school me levels of sad. "You seem like somebody people would orbit towards; why don't you have any?"
Yukinoshita looked downwards, what could be a twinge of pain quickly passing over her face. "You wouldn't understand. Since I've always been so pretty-
Oh boy, here we go.
All guys wanted to do was get close to me for their own ulterior motives. The attention that I got from all the boys eventually led to resentment and jealousy from the girls around me." Yukinoshita wistfully spoke, facing the windows. "In grade school, my shoes were hidden over 60 times for no reason other than I was pretty." She turned, finally facing me.
"Sounds like a rough time." I empathized with her; I really did. Being pretty wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it was true that lots of pretty women had to put up with getting fawned over and then ostracized when they didn't show appreciation back. People aren't obligated to suck up to you after you compliment them. It was true that a lot of guys looked at girls as more objects of romantic and sexual conquest than as people.
"It can't be helped," Yukinoshita said, flipping her hair. "People are weak, cowardly, and jealous. When they see someone better than them, it's only natural for them to want to tear that person down. Unfortunately, the better and more successful you are, the more people will come to hate you. Don't you think that's wrong? That's why I want to change the world and the people in it."
I was starting to see Yukinoshita's core issue. Her assumption that people only didn't like her because of her beauty and success is fundamentally wrong. If I was being honest, her personality is borderline intolerable. A combination of overconfidence and ice-cold honesty aren't exactly the ideal building blocks of a personality. She also fails to acknowledge how her social status affects people's view of her. Everyone knows who the Yukinoshita family is and what their status can afford them in society. So a haughty, ice-princess like Yukinoshita talking down to everyone about 'morals' and 'weakness' probably didn't bode well for most. "No, I don't think it's particularly wrong. I think you're just completely misunderstanding the situation."
"Oh? How so?" Yukinoshita glared over at me.
"You have a pretty off-putting personality, and your family is crazy rich and influential. Most people don't start resenting successful people like you and your family just because of your success. What do you expect people to think when a classy rich girl starts verbally abusing people and talking about how great they are from their moral high ground? Not exactly a recipe for success."
"Once again, why should I be taking advice from someone like you? A Fish-eyed creep like yourself doesn't have friends either."
"Seriously, enough with the eyes," I mumbled. "And I never claimed to have any friends; I prefer being alone."
"And yet you complain about issues that people can only solve collectively."
"And what? Would your ideological outlook help those problems? Your only real goal seems to be vaguely "fixing" people's problems, which only seem to be people who recognize this world's issues for how they are."
"Your apathetic criticism solves nothing. It's better to want to reshape the world and lead it toward a good future than to sit and endlessly critique. Your ideology is obsessed with constantly critiquing power and never obtaining it."
"It's better to critique power than to sit on it and do nothing. What's so different about you from every other ultra-liberal who wants to shape the world through some subjective moral judgment?"
Yukinoshita clicked her tongue lightly. "How arrogant of you to assume I'm like everyone else. Politicians have no conviction or drive, a problem that I certainly do not lack."
How ironic of her; the arrogance of such a statement is astounding. Even though she was seriously getting on my nerves with all this high-minded talk, there was still something slightly admirable about it. She was wrong, certainly, but she stuck to her morals and outlook even when faced with pushback.
"How do you even presume you'll live your life?" she snapped at me. "If you're so critical of capitalist and moralist systems, how do you expect to even hold a job down?"
"That's not something I'm particularly concerned with," I said, leaning down to pull a book out of my bag. It was 'The Spook Who Sat by the Door' this time around. It wasn't very popular, but it was quite engaging. It follows the story of an undercover African-American agent who infiltrated the highest ranks of US intelligence agencies to carry out a guerilla war. "I'm planning on killing myself when my little sister graduates junior high this year."
"Excuse me?" That seemed to catch her off balance for some reason.
"What?" I quizzically shot back.
"You intend to take your life at the end of this school year?"
"Yeah, why do you care?"
"If I let something so drastic occur under my watch, it would be a refutation of my ability to correct others." She mumbled to herself, placing her book face down. "Hiratsuka-sensei has tasked me with fixing you, I refuse to fail such a request."
I snorted. "You can't help me; you have no idea what's wrong with me. You barely even know me."
"Well, for one, you have an unpleasant attitude resulting from your apathetic ultra-left worldview. You're also unattractive, and your posture makes you offputting."
"Jeez, I get it. Am I really that ugly?" I grumbled. "But you're just listing problems that you think I have; those are just symptomatic of a greater 'issue.'"
"Hm." she huffed. "Either way, I won't let something like that pass under my nose. Clearly, all your whining and musing comes from somewhere." she snipped.
"Sure, knock yourself out, now do you mind? I'm trying to read here."
"So obnoxious…"
"Whatever you say," I mumble, my chin resting on my palm. Her conviction was sincerely admirable. Of course, she wasn't really concerned with my livelihood; she just couldn't stand to be proven wrong. At least there was one thing similar about us: accepting defeat wasn't my strong suit, clearly not hers either. We both had our beliefs and stuck by them; I could show some slight respect for that.
*KNOCK, KNOCK*
Suddenly, the club door rattled as someone rapidly knocked on the door.
"Come in," Yukinoshita said, looking up from her book.
"E-excuse me." a nervous voice rang out from the half-opened door before the speaker stepped in fully. "Hiratsuka-sensei sent me here…"
What's the deal with all these pretty girls suddenly popping up in my life? The new mysterious speaker was of average height. She had light pink hair with a bun wrapped around the left side of her head. She looked like a pretty stereotypical popular girl, if not a bit fidgety. My eyes dragged up to meet her as a moment of realization flashed over her face.
"Woah! Wh-what's Hikki doing here?!"
"Um, I'm a member of this club." Who? Was she referring to me? Was I Hikki? Who is this chick?
Yukinoshita cut through the awkward moment by dragging another chair to the table in the center of the room. "Your Yui Yuigahama, of class 2-F, right? Please, have a seat."
Yuigahama, her name, apparently. Perked up suddenly like a puppy having a treat waved in front of it. "You know my name?" she asked, sitting down on the chair Yukinoshita had pulled up.
"You probably memorized the name of every person in this school," I smirked out at Yukinoshita.
"Don't be ridiculous. I had no idea who you were."
"Tsk, I see."
"Don't feel too bad. I must have instinctively avoided you due to your predatory fishy eyes and perverted stares."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No, just making a factual statement."
"Right, because I'm sure your constant attitude and icy looks really make everyone want to approach you." We glared at each other from opposite sides of the table.
"This club…" Yuigahama mumbled out, bangs shielding her eyes. Uh-oh, had we taken it a bit too overboard? "Seems really fun!" she yelled out, pumping her fist in the air.
"…..."
Yukinoshita and I both looked at her with an almost pitiful expression. Had she not just seen what happened? What about two socially inept teenagers bickering at each other seem's even remotely fun?
"And Hikki, you're like totally talking more than you do in class." she grinned at me.
"Huh?" I quirked my eyebrow at her. Class? What could she possibly know about how I act in class?
"Oh- uh- not that I'm like stalking you or something like that!" she said frantically, waving her arms, a slow blush creeping up her face. "You're just like totally different than you usually are in class. You know you're usually kind of creepy, and it weirds me out, heh-heh." She nervously chuckled, playing with her hair.
Wait, were she and I in the same class? I never really paid attention to any of my other peers. The only other kid I could sort of recognize was that silver-haired, tomboyish girl who was always carrying around a tennis racket. And hey! Who was this girl to be passing random judgments on me? I didn't even know her! "Tch, bitch."
"Huh! What did you call me!" she suddenly shot up from your chair. "I'll have you know I'm still a vir-" she stopped suddenly, smacking her hands over her face, a tomato-red blush covering her face completely. This girl was seriously going to pass out from the amount of blood constantly rushing to her face. "Never mind that!" she finally shouted.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of." Yukinoshita declared calmly. "We're still quite young after all, being a vir-"
"Ahhhh! What are you saying!" Yuigahama hysterically yelped out. "It's totally embarrassing for girls our age to admit something like that."
"How pointless," Yukinoshita mumbled out. "Such a baseless way to measure your self-worth and development."
I had to agree with her. It was kind of sad, honestly. Yuigahama seemed to be caught up in a pretty typical popular kid mindset. The idea that youth was the 'prime of our lives' and that we had to experience as much as we could and be as irresponsible as we wanted cause we wouldn't be able to when we became adults. It was a painfully materialistic and individualistic lifestyle born from an existence that allowed you not to concern yourself with working a job or supporting your family. "Basing one's personal worth on how much sex you've had seems pretty bitchy to me." I snarked out before turning to my book again. I was at the part where the main character started contacting local gangs to support the revolution.
"There you go again!" Yuigahama shouted, "Calling someone a bitch is totally not cool! You're seriously a creep, Hikki!"
"Me calling you a bitch has nothing to do with my personality. And stop calling me Hikki."
"Ugh, you're so creepy! Seriously!" Yuigahama said, stamping her foot against the ground.
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After that whole altercation had settled down, the three of us found ourselves in the Home Economics room.
"What? Cookies?" I questioned as I stared at the two girls who were affixing their aprons.
"Yes, It seems Yuigahama-san wishes to make some cookies for someone. But she isn't quite confident in her skills. This is her request."
Yuigahama twisted around uncomfortably, a look of embarrassment plastered on her face.
"You really could have just asked your friends for help," I said, looking towards her. This request was pretty asinine. I thought we would be dealing with some more large-scale problems.
"Y-yeah, but I don't really want them to know," Yuigahama said, fidgeting with her apron. "Acting all serious like this isn't something I really do with them."
"I see." It was an unfortunate reality for her. Popular cliques like the one she was probably in usually prohibited, directly or indirectly, genuine expression of all emotions. Being sad or concerned about something would 'totally drag the mood down.' as one of them would probably say.
"Besides, Hiratsuka-sensei said this club granted wishes and stuff, right?"
"No, we simply help people with their requests." Yukinoshita turned to her, "We don't just give fish to starving people; we teach them to fish so they don't need the assistance of others."
Another one of Yukinoshita's perverted ideals seems to have surfaced. Her basic premise wasn't particularly wrong. Everyone should operate independently to some extent. Those were the two keywords, 'to some extent.' Sometimes, the right thing to do was to give a fish to a starving person; sometimes, starvation precluded the person's ability to fish in the first place.
"Woah, that's kinda inspiring," Yuigahama murmured to herself.
"Come here. Your apron is on all wrong." Yukinoshita snapped, fiddling with Yuigahama's apron.
"Heh-heh, sorry." she let out shamefully.
"Okay, well, what am I supposed to do?" I wondered aloud.
"You just stay there and give your opinion on the cookies," Yukinoshita said.
Alright, there could be worse fates. At least I wouldn't have to help with making them.
"Right, let's get started. Yuigahama, please get a bowl from the cabinet over there."
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"How could one possibly mess up so consistently and frequently," Yukinoshita muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration.
The three of us were crowded around a plate of 'cookies' that Yuigahama had made. I put 'cookies' in quotes because the pile of ingredients I found myself looking at seemed more like elephant refuse or the bricks thrown during the Stonewall Riots.
"Seriously, jeez," I said, picking up one of the chunks and looking it over like I was at a dig site. "Shouldn't I be wearing a hazmat suit or something?" That seemed to be the line that broke Yuigahama's back as she yelled up at me with watery eyes.
"There's no poison in this!" She picked up one of the 'cookies' examining it closely. "I think?"
"Well, how do we fix this," Yukinoshita muttered.
"How about Yuigahama-san never touches a stove again," I suggested.
"That's how you're going to fix it!?" Yuigahama yelped out. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this cooking stuff. I don't have the… what do they call it? Talent?"
"How ridiculous." Yukinoshita snapped out with a frigid tone as she slowly prepared the cookie batter again. "Yuigahama-san, your instant shifting of blame onto this imaginary 'lack of talent' is an excuse of a coward. People who don't apply even the smallest amount of effort into something don't deserve to be envious of those who are successful at it. Unsuccessful people are unsuccessful simply because they can't invest the same amount of time as successful people."
Here she went again. Her assumption carried an unbelievable amount of ego and privilege. The successful were successful not because of their iron-clad will, as Yukinoshita apparently thought, but rather because they had resources that others lacked. Of course, every once in a while, there was a feel-good story like Serena Williams or Oprah, but even those stories themselves were riddled with half-truths and pure luck. When it came down to it, for the most part, your life was determined by the level of money and social capital your family possessed.
"B-but lately, everyone says they don't do that. Like it's not worth it." Yuigahama nervously murmured.
Yukinoshita dropped her whisk and pulled all her attention to Yuigahama. "Can you stop trying to act like someone you're not? It's getting very irritating. Isn't it humiliating to play pretend every day, shifting yourself around to please others? She snapped out before continuing her work.
Yuigahama fell completely silent and looked down, hair covering her face. Jesus, even I thought that was a little too harsh. She wasn't wrong, but there were better ways to deliver it.
"You're…" Yuigahama mumbled. Here we go. I can't tell if she's about to start yelling or crying, but either way, I didn't want to be around it.
"You're… So cool!" Yuigahama shouted out, holding her hand to her chest and looking up towards Yukinoshita.
"Huh?" Yukinoshita and I simultaneously muttered. What was this girl's deal? Yukinoshita had just torn her to shreds, and her response was to call her cool!?
"You totally weren't being superficial at all! It was sort of awesome that you could even say something like that!" she half-gushed, a small blush blooming on her face.
"B-but what I said was quite rude as it's typically understood. Are you not upset?" Yukinoshita half-whispered, setting her whisk down and collecting herself.
"Yeah, I mean, your words sounded totally mean, but you were right, and you sounded like you were really being yourself! All I've ever done is just follow and act like all the popular people around me." She murmured. "Sorry! I'll do it right this time!" She suddenly shouted, looking back up at Yukinoshita with an ironclad gaze.
"Just show her how to do it." I softly suggested to Yukinoshita, standing up.
"Hmph." she sighed for a moment. "I'll give you a demonstration. Do exactly as I do."
"Okay!" Yuigahama happily shouted.
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I looked at the two piles of cookies before me with a grimace.
"They're like totally different from each other," Yuigahama whined.
I concurred. On the left were Yukinoshita's cookies, cooked perfectly, each with its own cat design. On the right were Yuigahama's cookies, which, to their credit, looked better than her last attempt, but still resembled lumps of coal.
"How could I possibly make you understand more clearly?" Yukinoshita lay face down on the counter, talking completely exasperatedly.
"What's up with you guys getting so obsessed with how the cookie tastes?" I asked, looking down at them, nibbling on a cookie.
"Huh?" Yuigahama wondered.
"What are you talking about?" Yukinoshita pointedly asked.
"Get out of here for ten minutes, and I'll give you two the best cookies you've ever tasted." I declared haughtily—my turn.
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Ten minutes had come and gone, and the two girls slowly nibbled on the cookies. Yuigahama held her hand to her mouth, stifling a cough.
"These are your world-famous cookies?" Yukinoshita asked, unimpressed.
"They kinda suck!" Yuigahma spit out.
"Really? Sorry, I'll toss 'em." I muttered dejectedly, picking up the tray and heading for the trash.
"Wait!" Yuigahama yelped, "You don't have to throw them out! They're not, like, terrible." She said unconvincingly as she gulped down the rest of the cookie.
"These are the cookies you made, actually," I said, holding up the plate.
"Huh?" "So you were just slacking off in here?" the two said simultaneously
"Listen up, this is a story of a friends-friend."
"Apparently, I was–I mean, the guy in the story." I corrected quickly. "Was always getting followed around by this girl telling him about everything all the time. He thought she was into him, so he asked her who she liked one day." "Oh! It starts with an H, heh-heh," she muttered nervously. "Is it me!" this guy apparently said. "What? No." the girl looked up at him with completely dead eyes. "What are you talking about? You're seriously creeping me out."
"Hold on." Yukinoshita suddenly interrupted. "So this was just something that happened to you?"
"That's seriously sad," Yuigahama murmured, twirling her hair.
"A friend of a friend!" I shouted. "That's beside the point."
"What is the point then?" Yukinoshita questioned.
"Listen," I said, putting the plate down. "Guys are actually pretty stupid. Most of them usually get the wrong idea when a girl even talks to them. It doesn't really matter how good the cookies are. The idea of a girl liking you enough to go through the trouble of making them is more than enough. They don't have to taste good."
"So they don't taste good…?" Yuigahama angrily blushed. "Shut up!" she yelled, throwing her apron at me.
"As long as he knows that you seriously tried your best, it would sway him," I said, pulling the apron off my face.
"Hmm, is that so." Yukinoshita wondered to herself.
"Would it sway you, Hikki?" Yuigahama looked up at me.
"Oh yeah, big time." I wasn't lying to sell this or anything. If any woman, hell, if anybody, went through the effort of baking cookies for me, I would totally crush on them for a bit. "And stop calling me Hikki." I pointed at her.
Yuigahama gave herself a strange smile, looking down to clutch her necklace.
"So? What will you do, Yuighama-san?" Yukinoshita questioned.
"Yeah, I'm going to try it my way." she grinned. "Thanks, Yukinoshita-san."
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"Do you think we handled that correctly?" Yukinoshita wondered.
"What's all this?" I said, looking up from my book. I was reaching the climax of it; the revolution was primed to explode. Dan, the main character, amassed a following through a program of black nationalist and socialist thought and began charting the plan for urban warfare.
"Yuigahama-san's request from yesterday." Yukinoshita turned to me. "To improve yourself, you must challenge your limits. We let Yuigahama-san off the proverbial hook with your method."
"Your assumption that all dreams come true through hard work is another example of your lack of perception regarding your class." I stretched my back, turning to face Yukinoshita more. "If you wanted to pursue whatever you wanted, I'm sure your parents would be instantly supportive, as long as it was a 'respectable' of course. Not everyone lives like that. Not everyone has the money that lets them access most activities and hobbies. Pleasure is often granted by your access to money, or lack thereof. In most cases, the act of even trying to reach it is a beautiful thing."
"Such a childish viewpoint." Yukinoshita snipped. "That's just self-satisfaction. You're naive, creep."
I snorted. I wasn't about to push the subject; sometimes, the bourgeoise couldn't be swayed. It's how it went.
"Yahallo!" I pulled my eyes to a sudden yell coming from the club door. Yuigahama had suddenly appeared.
"Do you need something?" Yukinoshita questioned.
"What!" Yuigahama yelped out. "Am I not welcomed here?" Oh boy, talk about looking like a kicked puppy. "Yukinoshita-san do you hate me?" she half begged.
"I don't feel a particular way about you." Yukinoshita let out.
"That means like the same thing for girls!" Yuigahama yelled.
"So? What did you need?"
"Oh yeah! As thanks for the other day, I baked cookies." Yuigahama flipped her bookbag open and handed Yukinoshita a bright pink bag.
"I'm not really hungry…"
Wise move from Yukinoshita. Whatever was in that bag was definitely not edible.
"Yeah, but it's fun when you try, yknow!" Yuigahama absentmindedly chattered. "Ooh, maybe I'll try making boxed lunches for us next. Oh yeah, Yukinon, let's eat lunch in the club room from now on, okay? What's your number, too, before I forget?"
Yukinoshita seemed barely to be keeping up with Yuigahama. "No thanks, I'll eat alone. And 'Yukinon' is weird, so don't call me that."
I moved to stand up and head out. Well, at least they managed to find their own weird rhythm.
"Oh yeah, and like, I'm totally free after school, Yukinon–so I'll come to help the club! You know, to say thanks or whatever, ha-ha." Yuigahama smacked, gum in mouth.
"Yuighama-san, are you listening to me." Yukinoshita waved her hand in front of Yuigahama's face.
Their voices faded as I walked down the hallway. I wasn't going to lie; it was a cute scene. Maybe it was a bit voyeuristic of me, but I couldn't stop myself from enjoying it. They managed to work together, in a weird way.
"Hikki!" Yuigahama suddenly yelled, slowing her pace down behind me in the halls.
Suddenly, she tossed a bright blue bag at me. "Aigh…" I yelped. "Hey, what's the deal with the bag."
"It's just to say my thanks, yknow." Yuigahama awkwardly twisted her hands. "Because you helped me out during my request, too." She looked up at me quickly before readjusting her bag and running to leave.
I moved to the staircase, slowly unwrapping the cookies. They were a totally malformed heart shape, cooked for way too long. "Jeez, this looks sort of ominous," I murmured before biting in.
Yeah. That's about what I expected. I sat down near the front stairs of the school and absentmindedly munched on the cookies. They were pretty awful, but she did go through the trouble of making them, or rather probably giving me Yukinoshita's messed up cookies before she got the recipe right.
I put my earbuds in and resumed listening to a reading of some of Mishima's assorted stuff. He had his *many* problems, but he had some significant creative accomplishments. I finished off the cookies and bundled the decorative bag in my hand—the setting skyline reflecting into my gaze.
I stood up, and as always, images of annihilation met me. The great red dragon, furrowing in the sky. Fisher might be right, maybe it would eat us before we got our shit together.
I moved to the bike racks. I wonder if we still have stuff for curry?
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