Jinsei Reset Button Chapter 1.2

Chapter 1: One Morning, After Opening My Eyes

Part 2

Class observation day.

It had never occurred to me that now I was a middle schooler, there would be this sort of event. To me, class observation day was something that one must go through with the attitude that it was no big deal. That was because, for my brother, it wasn’t something that he got worked up about either.

That’s why I, while nervously looking out of the corner of my eye at my classmates, tried to be unaffected by the anxiety settled tightly in my chest, and went on with class without losing my composure.

“Alright, who’s visiting from Hashidate’s side?”

“My mom. Who else is there?”

“Hah, that’s right. God, isn’t there anyone whose pretty older sister is coming along?”

“Don’t you have an older sister?”

At this, my classmate looked rather taken aback.

“I said a pretty older sister, didn’t I? My sister looks a monster.”

This older sister he spoke of had done volleyball in high school, and so had very impressive muscles, as well as huge breasts. With just that, she was object of jealously of many of her friends.

“Anyway, even in our second year of middle school we’ll have these class observation days, huh.”

“Geez.”

My school was slightly unusual. Its mission statement was “For active conversations with parents! For parents to be actively engaged in education!”, so there were many events where guardians could participate. Class observation day was one of these events.

“Hashidate, c’mere.”

A group huddled in the corner by the window called me over. As usual, I gave a reply and moved toward the window.

“Try drinking this, it’s really gross.”

For whatever reason he thrust out a bottle filled with some green stuff at me.

“Stop that, he’s not interested.”

“Nah, if he doesn’t take this challenge he’s not a man. If it were your brother he’d do it. I believe in him.”

“Let’s bet on how many sips he can take.”

“What does the winner get?”

“How ‘bout a date with your little sister.”

“Don’t screw around like that.”

A classmate near me butt in:

“If we take the gross drinks at the convenience store and mix them, they should be even more disgusting, yeah?”

Occasionally, the class would become excited like this over my confidence in eating unbelievable things.

“Alright, I want to see this, Hashidate Yuuto drinking this juice while keeping his cool!”

“I’m not drinking this. Why would I drink something if I knew it was disgusting?”

“Ah, you’re so spineless. Not such a man after all, I see.”

Saying that I was a coward was as cruel as telling me to drink that bottle. But there was no way I was backing down now after being told that.

“All right, I guess I’ll drink it.”

I grabbed the drink off the table, braced myself and raised it to my lips.

My first impression was that it was cold. “I can drink this,” I thought. I swallowed a mouthful, bringing it to the back of my throat. Once it reached there, I felt the most awful taste in mouth.

Surpassing being merely bitter or sour, it was the epitome of disgusting. I almost barfed.

“Yuuto! Yuuto!”

I was surrounded by the sound of clapping. While I listened to their applause, I took a second gulp, then a third, and held my breath.

“Yuuto! Yuuto!”

“Yuuto! Yuuto!”

A clapping rhythm spread throughout the classroom. Everyone was looking at me. I’ll show you the manliness of he who drinks the world’s number one most disgusting drink.

Ah, I’m stupid. Being made to perform like that wasn’t necessary. With a bottle of juice of all things.

But I would’ve hated being laughed at for being unable to drink it. I knew I was simply playing a fool to avoid being called a fool, but I couldn’t possibly back down at that point.

Besides, to stop drinking at this point would be to throw away all I had gone through.

I closed my eyes as it made its way down, down, down my throat.

By and by the bottle became empty. When it left my mouth, a rotten, foul stench was emitted from my stomach.

I took a breath of fresh air.

Unexpectedly, the atmosphere of the crowd was cold.

“Bo~ring.”

“I was thinking he might cry.”

“Alright, stop, show’s over.”

The bored voices of my classmates increased and overlapped. In the meantime, I chucked the bottle out the window.

Yes―as you can see, I wasn’t too popular with my class. Whenever my classmates called me over, it was only to amuse themselves with the resistant attitude I put up. Of course, I don’t mean every single one of my classmates. I knew there were those few who told the others to stop messing with me. However, for the most part, my classmates thought of me as someone who wouldn’t break even after being bullied, as long as they didn’t toy with me too much.

They didn’t toy with me too much.

Even after being bullied and laughed at, I didn’t get mad. I knew that getting mad would only make me lose. So I didn’t get mad, much less cry. That was what they expected. So I was simply laughed at.

But I had better things to do.

Even with being laughed at, being made fun of, I never forgot about being perfect and tidy.

So, I laughed along.

“Hmph,” I snorted, as I stood up and left.

The first class in the afternoon, fifth period, was uneventful. During the next break period, I opened up the notebook I had thought to prepare for the sixth period class observation session.

“Hashidate, lend me your notebook,”

Said a classmate, and grabbed the notebook from my hands. I didn’t get what was so great about this notebook to a guy who couldn’t even make his own prep notes, but well, I thought, what’s the harm in letting him see it?

At that moment, I got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d better go to the restroom in case, I thought, and was about to get up from my seat when

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The classmate who had taken my notebook barred the way to the restroom.

What a bother, I thought, and was about to go over there and teach him some manners when break ended.

Then he tucked the notebook under his arm and said,

“Sorry, but I’ll be borrowing this.”

And went back to his seat.

About the same time that my math teacher entered the classroom, my parents, who’d been waiting in the hallway, came in from the back door of the room.

My mother had been looking forward to this school event. As far as my mother, who had seen what her other son could do, was concerned, school was a place that was loved and praised by children.

The teacher, who was much more sharply-dressed than usual, clapped his hands once, twice. “Everyone, face the front. Class is starting.”

―10 minutes later.

I was stricken with a pain from the very depths of hell.

My stomach hurt. It was clearly in much pain. There was no doubt about it.

It was extremely painful.

It was all because of that juice from lunch. That uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach from the break period hadn’t been just a fluke.

It felt like my intestines were moving to and fro. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, they seemed to suddenly face inward and contract into a whirlpool.

Your abs, use your abs. But putting power into it didn’t work, and flexing them was no good. Though hardly able to keep my balance, I was able to control the spasms of my innards.

Otherwise―it would come out!

I began to tiptoe out, my butt slowly lifting from the chair. Catch your breath. Think positive. Balance your strength. Concentrate, don’t lose your focus.

Ah, it’s no good.

No, I can’t do it, even if I tell myself to just brace myself and hold it out. Relax, relax.

“For the next problem…Hashidate-kun.”

Just why did you have to call my name with such horrible timing.

Ah, whatever. If I just answer what I have written on my notebook, it’ll be…wait, my notebook, he took my notebook!

Think, c’mon, think. You’ve done this problem before, just calm down and think, and you should be able to get it.

Think, thi…well, don’t overthink it! You’ll go under!

“What’s the matter, Hashidate? Please stand and come up to the board.”

I stood up, slowly, without holding in or releasing any strength.

I breathed in, deep, thin breaths. Slowly, slowly.

Everyone had noticed by then that something about me was not quite right. I could feel the curious whispers closing in on me. As I reached the blackboard I looked over my shoulder. At my parents. They looked at me curiously.

My eyes met with my mother’s. I knew that she knew that I was not myself, that she was perhaps a bit worried for my well-being.

“Do you not understand the material?”

“No, I understa…nm’h”

Safe. But please don’t make me talk.

I turned towards the black board, and raised my arm up, gripping the chalk. Slowly, now. Calm your mind and think.

I started to write out the equation. With each strike of chalk against chalkboard came a dry, grating sound. It was a somewhat comforting sound.

Yes, this was a good rhythm. I solved the equations one by one as—wait, what do I do here?

Even though I’d practiced this kind of problem, even though I’d done this problem once before, I just couldn’t remember how the rest of the equation was supposed to go. Here, I should be thinking about what to do next, but all I could think about was the feeling in my stomach. I tried to concentrate as the word “remember” whirled around inside my brain.

The chalk stopped.

Remember, remember, remember remember.

Remem..ah, that’s it!

As I moved to write the next part, I heard a noise from behind me―

Kablam!

I turned to look behind me on reflex. It’d just been someone dropping their textbook on the ground. I turned to face the board again.

It felt like something was twisting my stomach. My insides lurched, hurting like someone was wringing them out.

Ahh, I can’t do this!

There’s really no way I can do this!

I put up with it until the very end, with all of my strength..but I didn’t make it.

The strength in my lower abdomen gave out. The feeling that had been weighing down on me suddenly disappeared―it was truly a relief.

After several moments had passed, I felt a warm sensation spreading from my butt down my legs―and then a smell I knew all too well.

I couldn’t move. I’d done it.

I’d done it, and there was no going back.

Shrieks echoed throughout the room.