Mid-May, 2016.
I was jolted awake by my alarm clock, as usual.
Half-asleep, I trudged downstairs, where Mom was busy preparing breakfast.
“Good morning, Yuichi.”
“Morning.”
After taking my breakfast from her, I sat down and sliced through the yolk of my sunny-side-up egg.
“Yuichi, you should wake up a little earlier. You’re already a second-year high school student, so you need to get yourself together.”
“It’s not like I’m ever late.”
“Late! That’s not the point! Absolutely not allowed! It’s unacceptable!”
“…”
Ignoring her lecture, I quietly started eating my breakfast. As I ate, my gaze drifted to the TV, which was playing the morning news.
“Yesterday, actor George Anderson announced a $2 million donation to Cambodia.”
A famous Hollywood star filled the screen, smiling warmly as he held a microphone and addressed the camera.
“Whenever I see kids suffering from hunger and disease, unable to even drink clean water, I can’t help it. I just feel compelled to donate. If this money can help save lives, then I’d like to thank those people. Their smiles have saved my heart in return.”
“Such a noble man,” my mom sighed, sitting down and wiping her hands on her apron.
“He’s donated before, hasn’t he? Really, such a great guy.”
“He must be racking up a lot of points.”
“Yeah. He’ll surely get into Heaven.”
Watching her smile admiringly, I shrugged, trying to appear uninterested as I continued eating.
“Yuichi, you should try to follow his example a little.”
…Here we go again.
“Don’t think my wallet has $2 million to donate.”
“There you go with your excuses. So, what’s your human level at right now?”
“Like it’s any of your business, Mom.”
“It is my business! Come on, tell me.”
Sighing in frustration, I put down my chopsticks.
“Probably somewhere around three hundred.”
“Three hundred!? What do you think you’re doing with a number like that!”
“If I keep going at this rate, they say I’ll just barely make it into Heaven, so don’t worry.”
“Well, then what? Do you know that Naoki next door has fifteen hundred points?”
“Geez. Naoki’s aiming to be a bureaucrat in Heaven or something. Not my problem.”
“Yuichi!”
“Thanks for the meal.”
Without chewing much, I hurriedly finished my breakfast, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the front door.
“Hold on, Yuichi!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be a good boy today too.”
Ignoring her angry voice trailing behind me, I slipped on my shoes. This whole morning quarrel was just part of my usual routine. There was no point in dwelling on it.
“—You’ll never get to see your sister that way, you know!?”
“…!”
Just as my hand touched the doorknob, I froze. Anger welled up inside me, threatening to overflow.
I glared at Mom, but words wouldn’t come out. Instead, I turned and stormed out of the house.
Even as I walked toward the station, her words echoed in my mind.
Wasn’t the last time she mentioned that about two years ago? Back then, I was preparing for high school entrance exams, and she’d nagged me about studying every day.
Get into a good high school. Get into a good college. …Become a respectable adult. That’s how you’ll find happiness.
Even then, I’d hated studying, and that was the moment she hit me with those words. I’d exploded, and since then, she hadn’t brought it up again.
“Now, after all this time… How dare she bring up my sister?”
I muttered bitterly as I arrived at the station and waited on the platform for the train. Amid the bustling morning crowd, someone tapped my shoulder.
“Hey, good morning, Yuichi.”
She had chestnut-colored hair down to her waist, a short skirt, and slightly heavy makeup for a high schooler.
It was Shoko Akasaka, a classmate I always met around this time and place. She looked like your typical flashy high school gal, but she was actually a smart, serious student. I’d been in the same class with her since our first year.
“Yo, morning.”
“What’s with you? You look totally out of it.”
“It’s nothing. You’re in a good mood, though.”
“Did you notice? Actually—”
She grinned slyly, clearly savoring the suspense. I already had a good idea of what she wanted to say.
Whenever she wore that expression, it was always the same topic.
“Yesterday, I finally passed 2000 points in my dream assessment!”
“Congrats, I guess.”
“I finally hit C-Rank. It took eight long years… but I did it!”
“Really impressive,” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.
“Most people don’t even reach 1000 points. Just what kind of life are you leading?”
“Well, I’m just a really good girl, you know. I earn points little by little every day.”
“Sure, sure.”
Just then, the train arrived. We waited for the wave of passengers to spill out before squeezing into the car ourselves.
Even after more than a year of commuting, I hadn’t gotten used to the rush-hour crush. Pressed on all sides, I started my daily prayer for those thirty minutes to our school’s station to pass quickly.
“By the way, don’t you think you’re seriously screwed?”
Out of nowhere, Shoko brought it up.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard your human level isn’t even 400.”
“It’s actually dropping below 300.”
“No way! Did it go down again? What kind of terrible things have you been doing?”
“Nothing, alright?”
“Then you must just be pretty useless to society. That’s how it works; you lose points if you’re no help to others. So at 300… that’s like F-Rank. You’re looking at homelessness in the afterlife.”
“Maybe, but that sounds pretty free and easy.”
“You’ll be in trouble here in the real world too! At least get to 800 points, or you’ll struggle with job hunting.”
“Everyone just inflates their scores anyway.”
She looked at me like I was an impossible kid.
Just then, we heard a voice nearby.
“No, no, that’s quite alright.”
I glanced over and saw a pregnant woman holding a hand strap, waving off someone’s offer.
In front of her, a young woman was half-standing from her seat, gesturing to her.
“…Tch.”
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. I’d seen this scene far too many times.
“Please, don’t be shy. Take my seat.”
“No, no, really, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought, though.”
“No, no, for the sake of your little one.”
“No, no, truly, I’m alright.”
They kept insisting, neither one backing down, until the next station arrived. It was the usual routine. In fact, I noticed the same scene playing out a little further down.
Shoko let out a tiny whistle.
“Busy morning, huh?”
“Do you do that kind of stuff, too?”
“Sometimes. I sit first just so I can offer my seat. But I quit quickly; it’s only worth a single point. Though maybe if it’s a pregnant woman, they might give a bonus.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Why don’t you try it, Mr. F-Rank?”
“—It’s all just hypocrisy.”
I spat the words out, and Shoko raised an eyebrow.
“Even if it’s hypocritical, isn’t it still good? Didn’t they settle that eight years ago? Sure, that lady might just want points, but giving up her seat to a pregnant woman is still a good deed. Better to do fake kindness than no kindness at all.”
“I hate that phrase.”
Ignoring her, I elbowed my way through the crowd toward the two women, who were still in their ridiculous standoff.
“Excuse me.”
Startled, both women turned to look at me.
“If you’re not going to sit, could I take the seat?”
They stared at me in surprise for a moment before smiling awkwardly and stepping aside.
“Go right ahead.”
“By all means, take a seat.”
Without a word of thanks, I plopped into the seat, relishing the relief from the crowded train.
Shoko watched, shaking her head in exasperation. Other passengers looked at me with similar expressions, but I made a point of ignoring them.
Hypocrisy.
That word had slipped out of my mouth before I knew it.
Shoko had argued that, even if the kindness was fake, it was still a good deed. “Better to do fake kindness than no kindness at all,” she’d said.
But was that really true? If that woman genuinely wanted to help the pregnant lady, she wouldn’t have given up her seat to me instead.
But she had, with a smile. And the pregnant woman hadn’t complained.
In the end, neither of them cared about each other. They only cared about doing the act itself—getting the points. It didn’t matter who they were giving the seat to.
If that isn’t hypocrisy, what is?
It’s all so absurd. Completely meaningless.
Meanwhile, Shoko glanced at me, her expression saying it all.
“—You probably lost more points just now.”
“Become a respectable adult.” I’d heard that from my parents my entire life.
I knew those words were passed down through generations, but they’d taken on a different meaning over the last eight years.
A “respectable person.” A “good person.”
These once-vague, abstract terms now had a clear definition.
It means someone with a high human level.
For as long as anyone could remember, people used various standards to evaluate each other—education, profession, title, accolades, contributions to society.
But now there’s a new standard: human level.
It’s the way God measures people.
No one can ignore it anymore.
Though no one has heard much about the afterlife, people say that Heaven and Hell are structured like society, with people living there after they die.
Human level points earned in life supposedly determine your post-death quality of life.
You get to be reborn, and your human level affects who you become in the next life.
That’s why everyone is desperate to earn points, constantly performing good deeds.
On the other hand, if you do bad things, your level drops, and no one knows what horrors await in Hell.
Good deeds and no bad deeds.
These principles have existed for centuries. They’ve always been a fundamental moral code.
But now, with a concrete point system, a promise of reward, society has transformed dramatically.
…I’m just so fed up with it all.
“Why are you so twisted, anyway?”
At the school lockers, Shoko gave me a playful shove with her bag.
“What’s twisted about getting a seat?”
“Even if you don’t mean it that way, it looked like you were a jerk stealing a seat from a pregnant lady. You’d lose points for that, no doubt.”
“I just can’t be part of this game of fake kindness.”
“There you go again. Hypocrisy, hypocrisy. Are you doing anything better than those hypocrites?”
I stopped in my tracks.
Her words hit me right where it hurt.
“…”
She continued.
“Just look around. Isn’t it clean everywhere? Why is that?”
“Because there’s no one around who would litter.”
“And if someone did drop trash, everyone would be eager to pick it up.”
“Just for their human level.”
“But thanks to that, the streets are always clean. People voluntarily clean up. Isn’t that a good thing? What’s your problem?”
“…”
“We live in a better world. People’s attitudes have changed.”
“…Hey.”
Struggling to counter her points, I barely managed to ask her a question.
“Do you actually feel grateful when someone is kind to you?”
“…Your way of thinking is so outdated, you know that?”
With that, she left for the classroom without answering.
“…”
This is what I can’t stand.
This way of thinking, like Shoko’s. This atmosphere. This new state of people’s hearts.
She’s right; the world has improved. Even I can see that.
People refrain from doing bad things and actively do good things.
Crime rates have dropped, wars have dwindled, bullying has almost disappeared, and people now make an effort to avoid hurting others.
Doing wrong in secret is no longer excusable.
God is watching us all. Constantly. And everyone fears that watchful eye.
It’s a good world. Really, it’s probably an amazing world now.
But at the same time…
Gratitude has disappeared from it.
Of course, people say “thank you” on the surface. But in their hearts?
“They helped me just to increase their human level.”
This mindset has become so ingrained that it can’t be ignored. It’s practically a norm now.
And so, people have lost the ability to truly feel gratitude.
When people see someone picking up trash on the street, they don’t admire them or feel thankful for keeping the town clean.
I can’t feel that way anymore. And I’m certain others feel the same.
Because a certain phrase has become too common.
When people say thank you, when they try to express their gratitude, there’s one phrase they use, as naturally as “thank you” or “I appreciate it.”
“Good job.”
Now, people express gratitude with that phrase.
