1. What's your current mental state?
The curly-haired boy thought for a moment, then changed his answer from "relying on the defense" to "optimistic, cheerful, positive, always ready to take on the next life challenge."
I'm about done with tired old jokes — don't drag them into the form.
2. Which school do you hope to attend in the future?
He then altered "Doesn't matter, I'll just work part-time" to the famous names Tōdai and Waseda.
Even if he probably won't be admitted, and even if he can't out-compete those overachievers, it's fine to set a small goal for now.
With that, the questionnaire was finished; after giving perfunctory answers, the boy deftly spun a ballpoint pen between his fingers.
After all, if he didn't, he wouldn't get by with the teachers.
Even supposedly open questions — even when the respondents are a bunch of teenagers who haven't yet learned to scheme — already have the questioner's bias built in.
Most labels stuck on teenagers are words like "aspiring" and "striving forward." And if you try to show traits that sharply diverge from the mainstream, trouble will come knocking.
Writing down your honest thoughts doesn't violate the "adults' rules," but if you go too far you'll be "invited for tea" — i.e., summoned by authorities. That's kind of an unspoken adult rule.
Given that the hassle of being "invited for tea" > the discomfort of writing something dishonest, the boy rubbed his naturally curly black hair and reached the following conclusion:
Just half-ass it.
In the teachers' office, the boy's tinkering with the questionnaire was noticed by someone approaching from behind.
"I can see you put some effort into faking it, Narumi."
The calm voice with a teasing edge belonged to the life-guidance teacher Hiratsuka Shizuka. After reading his answers, a knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth.
She sat upright on the office sofa and leafed through Narumi's form. Compared to her glossy black hair and striking, pretty features, it was the mature, feminine air she carried that made her most compelling—provided her tone wasn't quite so sardonic.
"Those lines of yours that sound inspirational and full of 'positive energy' — they're obviously not your real thoughts, are they?"
"Ahaha, who would say something like that, sensei—ahaha." (deadpan)
The black-curled boy in front of her let out a forced chuckle. He wanted to skate over it, but the perceptive teacher didn't let him off the hook.
"Remember the last questionnaire themed 'Bursting with Youth'? Don't ask why the person who wrote 'bursting youth is a waste of oxygen' got a special visit. You're filling out a different kind of form now."
"You're right, sensei, but 'avoid trouble' is a passive coping doctrine developed by youth under high-pressure schooling. We need to play the seriously obedient kid for parents and teachers, master the educational rules suited to East Asian 'babies,' and explore how to achieve class mobility and financial freedom on this continent—"
"Enough. If you don't have a better line, don't use memes."
"Private massage." (nonsense/quasi-meme)
Hiratsuka pinched her brow, as if tempted to light a cigarette to ease the headache, but considering the boy in front of her was still her student, she suppressed the urge.
Narumi Tōru is sixteen — a student.
Though he looks like an utterly ordinary high schooler, from Hiratsuka's teacherly vantage she could vaguely sense the tip of the iceberg that was his true personality.
At an age when many teenagers are eager to show themselves, this kid preferred to hide his character — and that alone made Hiratsuka take him seriously.
"Don't you think, Narumi, that enjoying youth at your age is something fleeting and wonderful?"
Hiratsuka forced patience into her voice and, out of professional duty, offered a gentle, caring smile.
"Are you saying that as someone who's been through it, sensei?"
"Of course. When I was your age, you were probably still in diapers."
"But aren't there people who, even during puberty, feel no resonance with those paeans to youth? Weren't there people like that in your generation, sensei?"
"That… generation—"
Hiratsuka suppressed a rising annoyance and forced a professional smile. It was unclear whether the kid had stepped on her figurative landmine intentionally or not.
"…I'm serious, Narumi. Haven't you ever thought of falling in love while you're young, chasing a dream or something?"
This time her tone wasn't so much teacherly as an exasperated older-sister fretting aloud.
Narumi blinked with an innocent look. He found this version of Hiratsuka kind of cute — at least she wasn't one of those teachers who only liked to bind students by their rules; she genuinely worried about his youthful troubles.
To be honest, though, praising youth was completely at odds with Narumi Tōru's operating style.
Make a single once-in-a-lifetime memory, have a dramatic love affair, stay up all night in summer talking with friends and promise to never forget each other after graduation—
He'd already heard these tired youth tropes so often in pop songs that he'd grown numb. Those sentimental lines weren't friendly to someone who had no friends, had never been in love, and had no particular skill.
Most people spend their teen years grinding through boring, tedious schooling; "youth" from start to finish favors only a portion of people.
And so what if youth flashes brilliant colors—are you supposed to be consoled when you're old and gray by reminiscing? In other words, no matter how gorgeous your youth, it can't change the fact you'll grow into some boring adult.
Some might rage at that and drown in anger toward all the "normies" enjoying their youth, screaming "Let the normies blow up."
By comparison, the boy's view was much milder.
Like love that inevitably ends in breakup, youth also slips away and never comes back.
"Doesn't matter. In the end, humans all end up in the crematorium."
That was the personal opinion of Narumi Tōru, who prided himself on being an unremarkable, ordinary person.
"…I'll say this without malice, but you're definitely messed up in the head, aren't you?"
Hiratsuka's expression finally broke — a genuine, exasperated outburst.