Special Chapter: The Price of Laziness.
There's something about silence that can pull you in—something comforting. Laying here, staring at the ceiling with no plans, no worries, and no need to exert myself feels... perfect. The world can rush by, everyone can scramble around trying to make something of themselves, but me? I'm content. I don't need to run or chase after anything. I've always thought it was better this way.
When I was younger, people would tell me I was wasting my talents. I used to hear it so often that it became a part of the background noise, like the hum of a fridge or the rustling of leaves.
"Namakemono, you're smart!"
"Namakemono, you're athletic!"
" Namakemono, why aren't you working harder?"
They wanted me to be something I had no desire to be—a model student, a standout athlete, or whatever else they could imagine. The thing is, I never wanted that. I never wanted to be like them, and that's where people get it wrong. Everyone assumes that just because you can do something, you should do it. But I never wanted to live like that.
I didn't envy the guys who were always grinding away. They weren't like me, and I didn't want to be like them. I was content with what I had. I was happy with a simple, quiet life, laying down and doing nothing more than what was necessary to get by. Why stress over the unnecessary?
Then, of course, there's him.
Tarazune Akeshi.
That guy is different.
Unlike everyone else, his hard work isn't just something he does—it's who he is. It's woven into his every breath, his every action, like some intrinsic part of his DNA. People look at him and see someone they aspire to be; they see the pinnacle of effort and dedication. I see it too, but I don't aspire to it.
I respect it, yes—how could you not? But aspire to be like him?
No, thank you. That life isn't for me.
Laziness was always my shield. The less you try, the less people expect from you. It's simple logic, really.
But beneath that, laziness became my way to make friends. Not the hardworking kind who would push me to be better—but the kind who were also content with less, who didn't push me at all. I wasn't trying to stand out or be impressive. I wasn't looking for accolades or recognition. I was just looking for people who wouldn't mind if I stayed in the background. Maybe they'd like me for who I was, not for what I could be.
And it worked. Kind of. But every now and then, someone like Akeshi comes along. Someone who challenges your carefully crafted world of comfortable mediocrity.
It was one of those typical lazy afternoons when I heard a knock at the door. I knew it wasn't my parents. They were never home—working or whatever it was they were always busy with. I didn't mind their absence; it gave me space to think, to be lazy without interruption.
I sighed, pushing myself off the couch, my limbs feeling heavier than usual. I didn't want to answer the door. Whoever it was could go away, but the knocking was persistent, each knock cutting through the silence like a chisel.
When I opened the door, I wasn't surprised to see Akeshi standing there, his usual calm expression betraying none of his intentions. He looked as perfect as ever—bright leaf green eyes that seemed as beautiful as sunrise, perfect posture, and that quiet air of confidence that surrounded him like a shield. Akeshi wasn't the type to sit around idly like me. He always had a goal, always had something to work toward.
"Yo, Namak," Akeshi greeted me with that easygoing smile of his, the kind that made you think he wasn't a threat at all. I should've known better.
"Hey," I mumbled, stepping aside to let him in. He didn't need an invitation, really. Akeshi wasn't the type to stand on ceremony.
The house was quiet, as always, with just the faint ticking of a clock in the background. Akeshi made himself at home, settling into the couch as if he owned the place. I followed him, not really sure what this visit was about but suspecting it wasn't good news for me.
"So, what's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual, like I wasn't already feeling on edge. Akeshi had that effect on people—he could put you at ease or make you uncomfortable all at once.
He shrugged, a small grin playing on his lips. "Just thought I'd drop by. It's been a while since we talked, you know? Figured we could catch up."
I raised an eyebrow. "Catch up? Really?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
Something felt off.
Akeshi wasn't the type to waste time. If he was here, it was for a reason, but he wasn't showing his hand yet. We talked for a while—small talk mostly. He asked how I was, how school was going, whether I'd been doing anything interesting. It was all harmless enough, and gradually, I found myself relaxing.
That was Akeshi's trick. He'd lull you into a false sense of security, make you think he was just a regular guy, just someone who was genuinely interested in your life. But Akeshi always had an angle.
Just when I thought the conversation was winding down, he shifted in his seat, his eyes gleaming with that unmistakable look he got when he was about to drop a bombshell.
"You know," Akeshi started, his tone still casual, "I've been thinking about that football match coming up. The one with chidori."
My stomach dropped. I knew where this was going, and I didn't like it.
"I know that you're not planning on playing," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine. "Which, you know, makes sense. You're not exactly the sporty type, right?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah, not really my thing."
He leaned forward slightly, a predatory glint in his eyes. "That's a shame, though. I mean, with your natural talent, you could easily make a difference on the field. It's almost like... you're wasting it."
There it was. The familiar refrain. I could feel my defenses rising, but before I could say anything, he hit me with something unexpected.
"Do you remember that time in middle school? When you, uh, accidentally spilled that drink all over yourself in front of everyone?"
I froze. That incident was burned into my memory—one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I thought no one remembered it anymore. It was something I tried to forget, but clearly, Akeshi hadn't.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Yeah, I remember that. Funny how no one else talks about it, right? Would be a real shame if someone brought it up again. You know, during the match, maybe."
I stared at him, my mouth going dry. "You wouldn't."
He shrugged, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. "I don't want to, honestly. But it's such a funny story, don't you think? I mean, Yuuki got a good sense of humor, right? I'm sure he wouldn't mind if people had a laugh about it."
I clenched my fists, the realization sinking in. He wasn't asking me to join the match—he was forcing me. I couldn't let that story resurface. I couldn't let people see me as the fool again. But Akeshi had me cornered, and we both knew it.
He leaned back, crossing his arms, satisfied that he'd won. "So, what do you say, Namak? You gonna help us out or not?"
There was no way out. I couldn't say no, not without risking everything. So, with gritted teeth, I nodded.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll play."
Akeshi's grin widened. "Knew you'd come around. You're a good guy, Namak. See you on the field."
As he stood to leave, I watched him go, my mind racing with a mixture of anger and reluctant admiration. Akeshi was relentless, a master manipulator when he wanted to be. He knew exactly how to play people, how to get what he wanted without ever raising his voice or losing that calm, collected exterior.
I respected him for that, even if I hated him a little in that moment.
And as I lay back down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling again, I realized something. No matter how hard I tried to stay lazy, to avoid the hustle of life, there would always be people like Akeshi—people who would push me, prod me, and force me into action.
Maybe that's why I respected him. Because no matter how much I wanted to avoid it, Akeshi never let me settle. He was always there, reminding me that sometimes, even the lazy have to get up and fight.
I always thought being lazy was the easiest way out. No pressure, no effort, no one expecting anything from you. It was like drifting in a calm sea while everyone else was fighting against the waves. I told myself it was fine, that I didn't need to run after anything. But then Akeshi... Akeshi came along and messed everything up.
Now, as I lie here, staring at the ceiling, it feels heavier than ever. I thought I could hide from life, dodge all the work, the responsibilities, the noise. But Akeshi showed me something I didn't want to see—that even when you stay still, life keeps moving. It drags you with it, whether you like it or not. And me? I just watched it happen.
I didn't fight back because I never wanted to fight at all. I thought avoiding it would make it go away, but now I see… it just leaves you behind. And maybe that's the saddest part—realizing too late that while everyone else kept moving forward, I stayed stuck. Not because I couldn't try, but because I was too scared to. Too scared to fail, too scared to be more than what I am.
I always thought laziness was a shield. Turns out, it's just a prison. And now, I'm trapped in it, watching the world move on without me.