Chapter 74: In the room.
Yuuki moved up and down, his body rigid with concentration. His form was almost perfect, muscles taut and trembling under the strain. Each push-up felt like a battle, not just against the weight of his body but against something far heavier. He gritted his teeth, exhaling ragged breaths in a room devoid of sunlight. The curtains blocked out the light, casting the space in a shadowed gloom, isolating him in his solitary endeavor. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his breath and the occasional creak of the floorboards.
A dry chuckle escaped him, his thoughts spiraling into a familiar refrain. *What do you call a hard worker? A fool!* His voice echoed faintly in the room as he muttered, "Hahaha," letting the bitter humor wash over him as he collapsed onto the cold floor. The wood beneath him was unforgiving, pressing into his skin like the weight of his own expectations.
"Oh~ working so hard just to lose…," he mused, a smile curving on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. The kind of smile that never made it to the soul, just a hollow expression worn out of habit, like a mask that had been affixed too long. The kind of smile that barely held the pieces together, even as everything inside crumbled.
The curtained window stared back at him, like a pair of eyes observing, judging, as if it had been watching him since the moment he stepped into this place. It stood like a sentinel, mute yet ever-present, a reminder of the world outside that he had shut himself away from. The weight of that gaze, even imagined, bore down on him, squeezing the air from his lungs.
"A hardworking person is nothing but a fool. A human can only succeed if the talent is there. No matter what, talent needs to be there. To survive hell, you must have talent…," his voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes darkening, "…and luck at the same time. A talentless person is nothing but a worm, destined to be crushed. And that's me. Amidst the many lions, I am just a worm waiting to be squashed."
He lay there, motionless, staring up at the ceiling, his body still on the floor, his thoughts echoing in the emptiness. The world felt distant, like it was slipping through his fingers, and all he could do was watch, powerless to hold on.
### •••••••
I stared at the scene before me, something unexpected, so much so that if I were a cartoon character, my eyes would have fallen to the floor. That's how surprised I was. Renji, my brother, glanced at me, then at the guy on the floor, positioned face-down, palms flat on the ground, shoulder-width apart. His arms were straight, supporting his weight, while his legs extended straight back with his feet together. His posture was perfect, his concentration intense, the wooden floor surely hard under his toes as he braced himself to push up.
"So…you guys didn't have any problems?" I asked, looking between my brother and Ren, who was engrossed in his push-ups.
"Nope. He already knew I was your brother," Renji replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Even though he's never seen you in his entire life? Did you introduce yourself?"
"Meh! Why would I? I just said 'yo!' and he didn't reply, just came at me with his fists clenched. I thought he wanted to give me a fist bump."
"Sometimes I feel like you're adopted."
"Well, at least they chose me, not like someone who just spawned into the world because of a failure of a plastic," Renji retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
I felt my blood boil, but I kept my face calm, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "So, you admit you're adopted?"
"And you admit you're an accident?"
Now he's done it. Without thinking, I charged at him, aiming a punch, but he was already behind me before I could blink. His reflexes were infuriatingly sharp. He grabbed my hands and pinned me down effortlessly, his stupid grin never faltering.
"You know I'm good at martial arts, right? That's why Ren-kun is here, to ask for *my* help."
"I think it would be better if both of you stopped fighting. But if you really want to fight, kindly take it outside because this is my home. Am I clear?" Ren's voice cut through the tension, firm yet strangely calm, like a teacher reprimanding unruly students.
We both froze at Ren's words, looking at him as he glared at us with a childlike seriousness that made us both gulp. His eyes, usually soft and unassuming, held a coldness that neither of us had expected. Renji smirked, releasing me.
"You're already done with 10 push-ups?" Renji asked, his voice casual but with a hint of something else, maybe surprise or respect.
"Yes, I am. Now what?" Ren replied, his tone even, though there was a sharp edge to his words.
Renji pulled out a pair of 500 yen coins, tossing them to Ren. "Take this money and go buy yourself something, but do it while running. And bring back some stuff for me too."
Ren nodded, taking the coins without a word, and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my brother.
"So, did he not ask you what you were doing at our home?" I asked, sitting up, brushing off the remnants of our little scuffle.
"No, he didn't," Renji replied, flopping onto the sofa like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Much to my surprise."
"So, what do you think his reasoning might be? Not asking you what you're doing here? You're the guy who broke his love life, didn't ya?"
"Look who's talking." Renji smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're the one who set everything in motion. Which shop they'd go to, where they'd sit, talk, what Yuuta would order, what Ren would order. You shocked me with how detailed and accurate you were in your planning. Honestly, it scared me how you analyzed Yuuta completely from just one conversation with her. And that conversation wasn't even about anything important."
He glanced at his phone again, scrolling through whatever had his attention. "You surprise me. You were even able to figure out Yuuta's plan for the date just by looking at her phone from at least 15 feet away…or was it further?"
I forced a smile, my tone saccharine. "Tell me, how did you know my exact location?"
He didn't flinch, his eyes still on his phone as he replied, "My web is more extensive than you can imagine."
"Just say information network."
"Right, as I was saying. And Yuuta always holds her phone sideways, so the fact that you managed to see her entire to-do list despite all that distance is amazing in its own right. Also, it was bright and sunny that day."
I glared at him as he rambled on, his analysis annoyingly spot-on. "Stop that. It's annoying."
*CREAK!* The door opened, and Ren walked in, handing me an ice cream. "Here. Have one," he said, his voice softer than before, almost hesitant.
"Thanks." I accepted it, and so did Renji, who took his without hesitation.
"But I'm curious, Ren," Renji began, his voice light but probing, "why the sudden urge to train? Just curious."
Ren sighed, his expression calm but his eyes wide and his smile eerily sharp. "I hate the feeling of being challenged. So when I am challenged, I take it like a man and try to win. That's why."
For someone whose face is usually so composed, this new expression is rather unsettling. It was as if something dark had bubbled up from within, something fierce and unyielding, an echo of something buried deep.
•••••••
Namakemono sat cross-legged on his bed, watching recordings of various players. His eyes wore a bored expression, as if everything in the world was uninteresting to him. The screen flickered with images of intense matches, players sweating, straining, pushing themselves to the limit. And yet, his eyes barely registered any of it, as if it were all just background noise to his thoughts.
*Huff!* With a sigh, he lay down on his bed, his eyes, still filled with boredom, fixated on the ceiling. Beside him, a glass of water stood untouched, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the dim light of his room.
'They must be practicing now…,' he thought. He could imagine them all working hard, sweat dripping down their faces, determination in their eyes. But himself? He couldn't picture himself doing the same. The idea of exerting himself like that was almost laughable.
He was lazy. He didn't see the point in exerting himself unless absolutely necessary. His mornings often began with a half-hearted stretch, followed by a decision to stay in bed a little longer. Even when he eventually dragged himself out of bed, he moved with the sluggishness of someone who had no interest in hurrying through life.
Chores were done only when the mess became impossible to ignore, and even then, he'd find ways to do the bare minimum. Rather than cooking, he preferred ordering takeout, even if it meant eating cold leftovers from the night before. Tasks that others deemed urgent or important?
He'd get to them—eventually. Procrastination was his companion, and he wore it like a comfortable old sweater.
But as he lay there, he couldn't help but think about his classmates. They were probably out there, pushing themselves, striving for something greater, even if he couldn't quite understand why.
For a moment, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—a thought about what it would be like to feel that drive, that burning need to succeed. But just as quickly as it came, it faded away, leaving him with nothing but the cool comfort of his bed and the stillness of the room.
"Eh, they'll be fine without me," he murmured to himself, rolling over to face the wall. "I'll get up… later."
And with that, he closed his eyes, letting the world and all its expectations drift away, content in his decision to take life at his own pace, even if that meant moving slower than everyone else around him.
"Why do they try so hard? Pushing themselves to the brink… for what? Recognition? Success? Money? It's almost amusing, really, watching them scramble around like ants, each one convinced that their effort will lead to something monumental. But what if it doesn't? What if all that sweat, all those sleepless nights, amount to nothing more than a hollow victory? A moment of applause before the silence returns.
Is it worth it? Is it really worth sacrificing peace for some fleeting sense of accomplishment? Maybe they need it. Maybe they need to feel important, like they matter in the grand scheme of things. But me? I don't buy into that. I've seen people wear themselves down to nothing, chasing after things that, in the end, leave them empty.
Why rush? Why race through life as if there's some prize waiting at the finish line?
There isn't.
Life isn't a sprint; it's not even a marathon. It's a slow, winding journey. And I'm not interested in running. I'm content walking at my own pace, taking in the sights, enjoying the moments that others are too busy to see.
Let them have their stress, their anxiety, their endless striving. Let them burn out while I sit here, undisturbed, unbothered.
I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I don't need their approval or their validation. I'm not lazy because I can't do more; I'm lazy because I choose to be. I choose to live a life of simplicity, of contentment. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be the one who looks back and smiles, while they wonder where all the time went."