Another fic about our favorite problem teenagers being more or less adult. Many thanks to SouBU and his great but sadly unfinished Unmade, which served as inspiration for this story.

I do not own anything regarding やはり俺の青春ラブコメはまちがっている (Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Comedy wa Machigatteiru, My Teen Romantic Comedy is Wrong as I Expected/My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU). All rights belong to Wataru Watari and all associated parties.

All names, places and story elements are fictional. All similarities with real persons, brands etc. are pure coincidence.

UPD 27/01/25. Some factual errors corrected

1. Detective Hikigaya is Bored on Duty

It seems humanity is either inherently evil or ridiculously selfish. If given free rein, we'd all descend into a war of everyone against everyone. Thomas Hobbes, the English philosopher from over three hundred years ago, wrote about this. Ever since his Leviathan, people have been debating it. But the fact that this Englishman from our Edo period was right is proven by the existence of the Chiba Prefectural Police Department, the Chiba City Police Department, the Nishi-Chiba Police Station, and Detective Hachiman Hikigaya, who's currently pulling the night shift there.

Unfortunately, if people weren't so eager to do nasty things to each other without the watchful eye of the repressive state apparatus they created for self-control and self-soothing, we'd still be living in the Genshi period. Only fools romanticize the idyllic times of primitive life. I'm not sure anyone would actually enjoy living in an era without such vital necessities as electric heaters and coffee.

The night shift provides plenty of time for reflection — mostly about how humanity around me is completely and irrevocably rotten, and how nice it would be to have nothing to do with people. Alas, my childhood dream of living off my parents was crushed by the harsh realities of adult life. And my adolescent fantasy of becoming a househusband and foisting the responsibility of earning a living onto a rich wife, though surprisingly close to happening, also failed spectacularly. So, like most 28-year-old Japanese men, I have to work for a living.

A chain of stupid and unpleasant circumstances led me to the Chiba police force. It's not the worst job — I love my hometown, and I like knowing I can make the lives of its residents a little calmer and safer. But the job itself is boring and requires constant interaction with people. My famous 108 high school survival skills were all about avoiding people. My 108 detective skills, however, are about maximizing my strengths to succeed at work. I hate working, but I hate doing a bad job even more.

At night, the four-story Nishi-Chiba station is quiet and sparsely populated. My usual work shift is during the day — I'm a detective specializing in theft investigations. Mostly shoplifting. Also, in Chiba, as everywhere in Japan, poorly locked bicycles are frequently stolen. Robberies are rare in our area, as are burglaries and attempts to break into warehouses. But they do happen, and when they do, they come to me. Right now, I'm covering for a colleague who's in the hospital. Even the vaunted Japanese work ethic is powerless against peritonitis caused by a neglected case of appendicitis.

It's 5:14 AM. I'm drinking my third cup of weak, cheap coffee — diluted with creamer from a packet — of the night. There's a vending machine in the hall stocked with magical yellow cans of my beloved MAX Coffee, but I refuse to go down from the third floor until my shift ends unless absolutely necessary. The building is cold, and the heater in my office has been on since yesterday morning.

The night has been quiet. One report of theft — a Dahon Boardwalk D8 folding bike with a green frame. Not a cheap model and quite popular. Hard to find, but not impossible. And one report of assault — a drunken brawl near a bar. The victim is in Chiba Kaihin Hospital with a traumatic brain injury, and the very drunk suspect is sleeping it off in the holding cell on the first floor. It's work for the prosecutor's office — we just need to fill out the necessary paperwork.

I spent most of the night doing investigative work on my current cases. You can't even imagine how many stolen items are actually listed on Mercari, Rakuma, or Jimoty! I'll let you in on a secret: we don't know either. But a good number of criminals, especially beginners, think online platforms are the easiest and safest way to sell their loot.

I have five cases in progress. Two involve a series of thefts from grocery stores. In both cases, mid-range alcohol. In one case, the suspect is described as a young, short man in a sand-colored hoodie and faded jeans; in the other, there's not even that — just a few stolen bottles of whiskey from nearby stores. Both series of thefts are likely for personal consumption. It's unlikely we'll catch the criminals on purpose; we'll need better witness statements or, even better, a couple of clear security camera shots. If not, we'll have to rely on rumors collected by officers at the kobans.

Two more cases are about bikes. A black Maruishi Frackers and a very expensive Giant TCR Advanced with a red composite frame. The fifth is a blue Nintendo Switch Lite — stolen from a table in a shopping mall café. The victim was a high school student distracted by a girl he knew. If anyone had tried to steal my PS Vita back in the day... Anyway, there's video from the food court camera. The suspect is a woman in her twenties, unremarkable in appearance but very confident in her movements. There's a chance that unattended valuables like gadgets and handbags are her usual targets. It seems a professional thief has started operating in my area of responsibility, and I'll have to deal with that.

I spent several hours looking up and checking listings for used consoles and bikes. I came up with a decent list of matches that need to be verified. I have an unremarkable appearance and a meaningless gaze. "Like a dead fish," they used to say. People who don't know me well don't see me as a threat. And since there are very, very few people who know me well, there's a real chance I won't arouse suspicion during personal meetings with potential thieves.

I got up from the uncomfortable chair where I spend far too much of my precious life, rubbed my eyes, and started squeezing another cup of life-giving liquid out of our ancient coffee maker. Sweet coffee with lots of cream is the only thing that can reconcile me with reality this early in the morning.

The office phone rang. The sleepy voice of the duty sergeant greeted me.

"Hikigaya-san?"

"Hikigaya speaking."

"At 5:16, we received a report of a break-in at the front door of a private home. The housekeeper believes several valuable works of art have been stolen. Patrol officers should already be on the scene."

The sergeant gave me the address, and my heart sank. In my youth, I visited this neighborhood of prestigious mansions several times and made a very bad impression at one of them — a mistake I don't want to revisit.

"Understood. I'm on my way."

Getting ready didn't take long. I turned off the computer and heater, threw a light coat over my shoulders, and grabbed my briefcase with the necessary detective gear. The dark gray, battered Toyota Allion — the criminal investigation department's duty car — greeted me with the stale smell of old tobacco. Detective Ishikawa really needs to get that car cleaned after every cigarette he smokes in it.

Traffic in Chiba doesn't quite reach Tokyo levels, but the city is usually very congested. This early morning, however, the road ahead of my sedan was too empty for my liking. I spotted the house I needed right away — marked by the black and white Toyota Crown patrol car parked near the entrance. Officer Kobayashi was yawning near the door. We knew each other a bit — he'd taken my place when I was transferred to the detective squad.

I didn't even need to ask the young idiot for the victims' names. I already knew I was standing in front of the house of Nobuo Yukinoshita: a member of the House of Representatives from the Liberal Democratic Party, one of the largest builders in the prefecture, and — most importantly—my would-be father-in-law [1].

[1] As far as I know, Mr. Yukinoshita's first name hasn't been revealed in canon. I think Nobuo suits him.