Chapter 76: Struggles and Reflections.
Hashimoto Myushi sat in his cluttered room, the bright light of his desk lamp casting a soft glow over the scattered pages of mathematical equations. He leaned back in his chair, staring at a particularly challenging problem from the book he had received from someone he vaguely knew.
"The integral of e^x over the interval [0, ∞]..." he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing in concentration. "How does e^x behave as x approaches infinity?"
He began to work through the problemcarefully applying the techniques he had learned in an online class. After several minutes of calculation, he arrived at the solution:
∫ e^x dx = e^x ∣ from 0 to ∞
= lim as x approaches ∞ (e^x - e^0)
= lim as x approaches ∞ (e^x - 1)
= ∞ - 1
= ∞
Myushi nodded to himself, satisfied with his solution. He set the problem aside and reflected on the concept he had just been introduced to. A concert he was unaware of just a few days ago.
"Struggle," he spoke, his voice clear and contemplative. "It's funny how people often associate that word with failure or weakness. But in reality, struggle is where true strength is forged."
He picked up his pencil, tapping it against the edge of the study table, slightly scratching it. "Growing up, I was hailed as a genius. It was as if my path was set in stone, free of obstacles. But that's the thing about labels—they can become prisons. They don't see the effort, the late nights, the relentless pursuit of understanding. They don't see the struggle."
Myushi glanced at the clock, noting the late hour. "Chidori Academy was supposed to be my escape," he continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A place where I could finally be seen for who I am, beyond just being 'the genius.' But now, it's become another kind of struggle."
He thought about his friends from Chidori—Rentaro, Okabe, Mikage, Keitaro. Each of them had their own struggles, their own burdens to bear. He knew that all of them were struggling at the current moment, each trying their best to ensure they weren't looked down upon.
"Now that we've challenged each other," Myushi mused, "I need to struggle. Struggle to make sure I don't let my friends down. Struggle to understand that their problems are just as important as mine. That all of us are nothing but teens who still are unaware of life and what it could throw at us."
He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I used to think that struggle was something to be avoided, something that marked failure. But now, I see it differently. Struggle is a part of life. It's what shapes us, what makes us who we are."
•••••••
In a room dimly lit by a single light bulb, Amanai Keitaro sat at his table. He wore no shirt, his bare back pressed against the cold surface of the wooden chair, which kept him alert.
"You are lazy..." Keitaro muttered to himself, frustration evident in his voice. He set aside the polynomial equation, his pencil tapping against the edge of the desk. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.
Glancing at the equation again, he quickly sketched out the possible roots. "Okay, let's see. The possible rational roots are the factors of the constant term divided by the factors of the leading coefficient."
He found the roots one by one, methodically and with ease. "Possible roots are ± 1, ± 2, ± 3, ± 6," he calculated. Testing (x = 1), he saw it fit and factored out the polynomial: ((x - 1)(x^2 - 5x + 6)). Solving the quadratic, he derived (x = 2) and (x = 3).
"There," he mused, "the roots are (x = 1, x = 2,) and (x = 3). Easy enough."
"By definition, lazy means not having motivation or such. Lazy implies a lack of effort, a lack of ambition. But what they don't see is the dedication that goes into everything I do. They don't see the late nights spent refining my craft, the hours of research to understand a problem from every angle, the determination to get it right, not just get it done.
Lazy? No, I prefer deliberate. I'm deliberate in my actions, in my choices. I value quality over quantity, precision over speed. And maybe that makes some people uncomfortable because they don't understand it. They confuse busyness with productivity, movement with progress.
Unlike others, I prefer to be lazy. I finish my work. Fast. And then I just lay on the bench or places. Depends, to be honest.
I don't want to be praised for my hard work that doesn't even count. I only care for the result. No matter what. If the results require me to start showing off, then so be it!"
The pencil fell from his hand, and a small part of it broke off, just like a small wall inside him.
•••••••
I want to ask something. Please hear me out.
Fear, what a strange thing. It's that unsettling sensation, that knot in your stomach when you realize something isn't right. But why does it happen? Why do we feel fear? Is it just a survival instinct, or is there more to it?
Fear seems to be ingrained in us, doesn't it? It's like this primal response, a warning that something is dangerous, threatening, or uncertain. It's our brain's way of saying, "Hey, pay attention! There might be a problem here."
I am a normal teen who is taller than your average teen of my age, and due to my colored hair, many feel fear when they see me.
The expression, the sweat, it's suffocating. Just because of my looks, they think I am some sort of Yakuza or something like that. Someone with bad intentions.
"Hey, what's up Rentaro? Are you alright?"
I looked at my mom, her hair the same color as mine. She wore a smile on her face, the sweat on her forehead proof of how hard she was working.
We have a bakery shop. People come, people go. That's what happens here in this shop.
"Nothing."
I brushed it off. I don't want her to worry about me. I don't want her to be distracted from her work because of her son.
"Shoko-san!! Can you come here for a second?!"
A loud shout from the kitchen. Mom looked in the direction and let out a sigh, then looked at me with a stern expression.
"I know that it's because of the people you hang out with. The new friends you talked about last night. So if any of those new friends piss you off, make sure to mark their face. Got it?!"
I looked at her with a confused expression. She rolled up her sleeves and flexed, though there wasn't much to flex. After showing me a toothy grin, she walked into the kitchen.
I returned to my room and looked at the study table. The last time I moved a book was a few weeks ago, the night before an exam.
And here I am, sitting at the table I never thought I would.
•••••••
I always try my best to stay optimistic. Yet, I sometimes ask myself: Is this really okay?
I try my best in everything I do, no matter what it is. I still do my best, yet I can't meet my parents' expectations. I keep on failing them. I try my best.
But after trying so many times, I decided to give it up. Give it all up. I really don't care about it. Seriously though, why should I care about my parents' expectations? I'm not their doll to play with.
You couldn't do it, it's your fault, not mine. Try to understand that. I keep on trying. I am sitting in my room like many guys out there. I am wasting time dating like those guys.
Yes, dating is a waste of time unless it's with the intention of marriage. And from what I know about Mikage, he's just dating because he was asked out. I think he broke up with the girl a few days ago.
I know that everyone is doing their best to keep face in front of those geniuses. But do we really have to make such a big deal out of it?
I really feel like we are overexerting their abilities.
That's actually my honest thoughts about the students from Roward. It's not like they're some test subjects from a lab. It's not like that.
Yes, some of them are from rich backgrounds. But not all of them. Maybe some of them are gifted with genes, but that's just some of them. It's not like all of them are gifted.
And then there's the sports part. We will dominate them without a problem. They probably study all day. Defeating them won't be an issue.
••••••••
*Ping!*
All four guys looked at their phones. A notification popped up in their group chat on Line.
‹We will be meeting at the pinned location at 4:20 next week. Make sure to be there.›