Inou-Battle wa Nichijou-kei no Naka de - Volume 6 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

“When all is said and done, what people desire above all else is to have others identify with their feelings. Don’t you think, Jurai?”

I can’t remember when exactly it was that Sagami had asked me that. I can’t remember, but judging by the fact that he’d called me “Jurai,” I can narrow it down to having happened at some point while I was in the eighth grade. That was the only period in which he’d ever called me by my first name.

The eighth grade: the era when he had called me Jurai in an overfamiliar gesture of friendliness, and I had called him Sagamin, a similarly affectionate nickname. Almost like we were friends. Almost like we were best friends.

“When you express an opinion, deep down, what you really want is for someone to say ‘That’s right!’ in response. People want affirmation. When they get that—when they find somebody who sympathizes with them—it helps them convince themselves that their existence is righteous. It grants a feeling that they’re not all alone in a way that nothing else can. Deep down, everyone feels a need for approval, and having someone offer you that validation, confirming they feel the same way, is the most vital means by which we can fulfill that need.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I agreed. “I like to recommend books to Hatoko all the time, right? Sorta proselytizing the joys of media, y’know? I’ve basically always known that she’s just not into the same sort of stuff that I am, but I still can’t stop myself from wanting to help her appreciate the things I like. I suppose you could say I want her to identify with my feelings about them.”

Sagami certainly did have a point. Seeking out concord from others is an incredibly natural thing for people to do. Everyone wants someone to understand them, to accept them, and to empathize with them. Sometimes it feels a lot nicer to hear someone say “You’re really doing your best” than it does to be told “Do your best!” Sometimes, when you complain to someone or ask them for advice, what you really want is for them to say “I get you” or “That’s rough, man,” rather than have them try to foist some sort of condescending solution for your problems on you. The sympathy just feels nicer.

“Let me think of a good example...” Sagami continued. “All right—take talking about a manga or anime, for instance. Whenever people disagree about a piece of media, they tend to start sorting themselves out into fans and haters and make it into a pointlessly huge thing. Don’t you think that could have something to do with the identification I’m talking about?”

Sagami was what most people would call a geek. He loved the world of 2D to death, and he called the heroines from anime and games his waifus. That, I’d assumed, was probably why whenever we talked, it was pretty much inevitable the conversation would drift toward geek culture eventually, no matter what topic we’d started on.

“Why do you think people fight, Jurai?” Sagami asked, his tone sounding just a little bit more profound than it should’ve, considering we were theoretically still talking about geek media fan wars.

“Well, nobody likes hearing somebody bad-mouth something they’re into, right? It makes you want to fight back,” I replied. “And when everyone’s getting all hyped up about something you think is awful, it’s just sort of obnoxious...”

“Yes, exactly! You’ve hit the nail on the head, Jurai! But when you really think about it, isn’t that strange?” said Sagami. “Consider, if you will, the fact that by and large, people aren’t that stupid. Surely anyone can understand the basic premise that everyone has things they like and things they dislike? Just like how everyone has unique preferences when it comes to food, everyone has unique preferences when it comes to media. It’s so simple—everyone knows it. Even grade schoolers can understand it...but then, why do fights break out anyway? Why do the haters go so far to nitpick the shows they despise to oblivion? Why do the diehard fans refuse to accept so much as a single piece of criticism?”

I paused to think about it, and Sagami continued. “The answer, I believe, is that they do it because, deep down, what people really want is to identify with each other.”

Identify with: a phrase that quite literally refers to defining your identity through someone else’s example.

“Having someone deny your personal sensibilities to your face is upsetting, plain and simple,” said Sagami. “It’s annoying. It’s irritating. It’s painful. It’s revolting. It’s frustrating. Hearing a work of media you like get bashed or hearing one you hate get praised... It’s so utterly and completely upsetting, it’s too much for us to take.”

People seek out those whose feelings they can identify with—seek out validation. And yet, at the same time, it’s impossible to completely and unconditionally identify with anyone. At the end of the day, you are you, and they are them. We all know this. In our minds, at least, we’re aware of it. So then why? Why do we try to understand so persistently, wish to be understood so fervently, and seek mutual understanding so desperately?

“It’s strange, isn’t it? We go to all that trouble when really, truly understanding each other is impossible for us humans,” said Sagami with a smile—a bright, cheerful, dashing smile, without the slightest hint of gloom. “I love anime and manga, myself, but relatively speaking, my desire to be identified with is actually relatively minor. I’m never particularly put off when people insult a series I’m into, and when people go on about one I hate, I just think, ‘Well, it takes all types,’ and that’s the end of it. After all, when everything’s said and done, I’m just me.”

I was struck by how unhesitant Sagami had been about all this—how clear it was that he held those beliefs so deeply. At the very least, that was how he seemed to me, anyway, which was why the words “You’re pretty tough, huh?” sprung out from my mouth so naturally.

“Tough? Not even close. I’m weak,” Sagami said without missing a beat. “Yes, weak. As weak as they come. A feeble little coward. That’s why I’m scared to confront people. I’m scared of understanding people, and I’m scared of being understood. The thought of seeing from someone else’s perspective creeps me out, and I definitely don’t want anyone else seeing into the ugly, twisted depths of my heart. No, I prefer to be myself—a reader. I don’t want to be hurt, and I don’t want to be traumatized, so I just keep running away at top speed. I see what I want to see, and I avert my gaze from what I don’t. A miserable little loser who fancies himself an onlooker—that’s who I am.”

That was what this all came down to, in the end. That was probably the key to understanding everything that happened. A single character in this story, Sagami Shizumu, was both the origin and the cause of it all. I can’t tell the story of the darkest time in my past without mentioning the part he played in it. Because I didn’t understand Sagami Shizumu—because I tried to understand him—my past received a stain that would never fade.

But, no—I shouldn’t go acting like I was some sort of victim, and I shouldn’t act like he did something wrong to me. After all, when all was said and done, I wasn’t even involved. It had all begun while I was blissfully unaware, and by the time I’d realized what was happening, it was already over.

I want to put this out on the table in advance: I’m not the protagonist of this story. This is a romcom that I doubt anybody asked for and that nobody deserves, starring a girl who couldn’t become a heroine and a boy who didn’t even try to become a hero.

And, with that out of the way, I think it’s time for us to get started.

Now—let us begin the end of the beginning.