“Alright, two students from this class will participate in volunteer work.”
At the start of homeroom, the teacher announced this right off the bat.
“I’ll do it!”
“Me too, I’d love to!”
“I’ve already got plenty of points, so I’m good.”
“I guess I’ll do it… my rank might be dropping soon.”
Everyone in the class started chatting, with several students volunteering right away. And yet, the teacher hadn’t even mentioned what kind of volunteer work it was.
It didn’t seem to matter what kind of volunteer work they’d be doing. They didn’t care who it would help.
All the students were interested in was how many points they’d get, and if the effort was worth it.
When I glanced sideways, I saw Shoko raising her hand too. Looks like she’s still not satisfied with her rank.
“Hey, you should raise your hand too, Yuichi.”
Shoko nudged me.
“I’m not doing any volunteer work.”
“You’re such an idiot. You don’t actually have to do it. Just by raising your hand and acting like you want to ‘help others,’ you might earn some points.”
“…God really has some blind spots, doesn’t He?”
“And you’re brave, talking bad about God. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Basically, it means what’s in your heart doesn’t even matter, right?”
I’d figured that out long ago.
If helping someone purely out of kindness is the definition of goodness, then pretending to want to help, despite having no desire to, is definitely hypocrisy.
But God gives points for even this hypocrisy, without regard to what’s in your heart. Fairly, to everyone.
— Hypocrisy is virtue.
This conclusion was drawn eight years ago. At least, that’s what God decided.
“You know, constantly going out of your way to help people like I do can be a real hassle. That’s why it’s a waste not to score some points in these situations.”
“…”
“You sure? F rank, you know. F rank. You’re gonna end up in hell!”
With Shoko basically coaxing me, I had no choice but to reluctantly raise my right hand. In total, 18 people volunteered. In cases like this, the selection would be made by rock-paper-scissors or a lottery.
Well, my odds are one in nine. And with an eight-in-nine chance to at least get a point, it might not be such a bad bet.
“…”
I got chosen. Unbelievable.
“Yuichi, you’re so lucky!”
“Shut up. What happened to ‘just raise your hand,’ huh? You tricked me.”
“Could you not? Even as a joke, don’t say stuff like that. If God thinks I did something bad, what am I supposed to do?”
“Shut it. There’s no way you earned those 2,000 points by doing good deeds. I’ll appeal directly at the next dream assessment.”
“What’s your problem? This is your chance to climb out of F rank! And it’s just cleaning the pool. Easy.”
Yep, the volunteer task was to clean the school pool in preparation for summer. Out of my class, it ended up being Shoko and me.
Other classes were supposed to send a few students too, but there’d probably only be around ten of us total.
Who knows how long it’ll take to clean a 25-meter pool.
“Damn it… if it comes to that…”
“Don’t even think about canceling. There’s no excuse for that kind of bad act.”
“A couple of points, who cares?”
“Do you even know how hard it is to earn those few points? Do you know how many years it took me to save up 2,000 points…!”
“Fine, fine. I’ll do it. Happy?”
The pool cleaning is tomorrow. If we don’t finish it by then, there’s a backup day set for the day after.
There’s no way I’m letting this drag on for two days. I’ll get it over with tomorrow.
Classes for the day went by without a hitch.
The sixth period of the day was Ethics. I stifled a yawn as I took notes, barely paying attention.
“—Alright, this is as far as the midterm exam will cover. Make sure you study up.”
The ethics teacher finished writing on the board and glanced at his watch.
“Looks like we have some extra time. Maybe we’ll chat a bit.”
This teacher was popular for his laid-back vibe, and the class burst into light laughter.
“Hmm… oh, right, speaking of that. You guys probably already know, but ethics class has become a lot harder to teach these days. The textbooks might even need a complete overhaul.”
I’d heard about that too. Ethics classes, or rather, anything related to religion, have apparently become a complicated issue these days.
“It’s understandable, though. There were all these religions with all kinds of gods, and then suddenly a real god shows up. Ever since that happened eight years ago, religion’s been a mess, and it’s not looking like it’ll calm down anytime soon.”
“Wait, so does that mean it’s going to affect exams?”
“Could be. If it turns out that the god who shows up in dreams is the only one, then it means every belief in all those other religions was wrong, right? People have been arguing whether we should even be teaching students incorrect information.”
“So, is religion going to disappear soon?”
“Can’t say for sure. But religion’s about a way of thinking, so whether it’s factual doesn’t seem as important. I feel like people are overthinking it if they’re trying to change textbooks and curricula just because of this.”
The class chuckled again.
Even now, there are plenty of religions that insist the woman who appears in dreams isn’t a true god.
This area is a sensitive one. Since I was never religious, it doesn’t really concern me.
“God showed up for the first time eight years ago… So, you all were still under ten? Being that young, maybe it was easier to just accept God as real? I was over 20 when it happened, so I was totally thrown off. When that beautiful woman popped up in my dreams saying, ‘Hi there, I’m God,’ I thought I was just really, really lonely.”
The class erupted in laughter. Even the girls giggled, saying, “Oh, stop it.”
“Still, that god’s actually really pretty.”
“Ooh, so you like older women, huh?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant!”
As soon as that male student was teased, the boys in class went wild.
“Oh, that’s a major deduction right there, man.”
“What?!”
“You’re done for, buddy.”
“Can’t say ‘that one’ about God, dude.”
“No, that’s not how I meant it!”
The teased boy tried to defend himself, stumbling over his words, while everyone else egged him on, filling the room with laughter.
“Maybe you should try asking her out on a date? I’ll find out what kind of guys she likes for you.”
“No thanks. Besides, she doesn’t answer any of our questions.”
“True enough.”
“People have asked her all kinds of stuff, but apparently she never answers.”
The teacher chimed in with a curious tone.
“Things like the afterlife or what heaven is like—they say not much has been revealed. Maybe she’s forbidden to share it, but from our side, it’s pretty frustrating.”
“Right? Just a little hint would be nice.”
“—Maybe she just doesn’t have any confidence?”
When I muttered this, the entire class fell silent, everyone turning to me with puzzled expressions.
“What do you mean by ‘no confidence,’ Hirano?”
The teacher, looking stunned, asked as if to clarify.
“Maybe she’s not confident that her assessments are truly accurate? It could all be a sham. Heaven’s rewards, the criteria for right and wrong—maybe she just made it all up. So she can’t talk about it.”
Everyone fell silent again, not out of agreement, but out of an apparent fear of seeming to agree with me. They all avoided eye contact.
Naturally, this conversation would be overheard by the great God. No one dared to agree with me, fearing retribution.
“Hirano… well, even our society doesn’t have absolute standards. We just set the rules, and that’s that.”
“Rules that everyone agrees on, everyone follows. Everyone consents to them and supports them. But human levels—who decided on those? Those are just rules she made up. How can anyone be sure they’re right? She won’t even talk about it. …Can you really accept that?”
“Hirano, calling God ‘her’ isn’t great. Anyway… look at the time. That’s it for today. Class president, please.”
The teacher quickly wrapped things up, and the class president called out. As the classroom filled with noise, Shoko looked at me with a shrug.
“You really hate the human level system, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I hate it. And I don’t trust God either.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Well, you go ahead and keep kissing up to God.”
“Like I need you to tell me. I’ll live comfortably in heaven, and you’ll be stuck at the bottom. Just remember that when you start regretting it.”
After that, Shoko seemed to decide it was pointless talking to me and stopped altogether.
“…”
At this rate, I won’t have a good life in heaven.
I didn’t need Shoko to tell me that. I’ve heard it countless times.
Even this morning, my mom said something similar. Even at dream assessments, God would directly lecture me.
“Tch.”
All anyone ever talks about is the afterlife.
On my way home, waiting for the train, I was lost in thought.
Eight years ago, I was eight. So, I’ve spent roughly half my life in the era of human levels and half without them.
But the years since I developed self-awareness and started thinking for myself have clearly been more affected by the former.
I barely remember what society was like before human levels existed.
So, I can’t say for sure that the world was better back then. And, as many people argue, it probably wasn’t.
But I just don’t like the current era. I don’t think it’s normal. Something feels wrong. If someone asked me what specifically, I wouldn’t be able to answer.
—Whenever I try explaining, people usually just laugh.
‘You just don’t want to bother raising your human level, right?’
‘You’re not doing anything to help others, so stop acting all high and mighty.’
People have said this to me before. I couldn’t argue back, and eventually, I stopped bringing it up.
To everyone else, I probably just seem like a lazy guy, a bum who criticizes others for doing what he won’t. And that’s not entirely wrong.
But I just can’t stand hypocrisy. I can’t accept it.
Not once have I thought highly of people like Shoko who brag about their human level.
“Human level… what a joke.”
With a sigh, I boarded the train.
The train was moderately crowded, all the seats taken. I slightly slumped as I grabbed a hand strap.
“—Oh, no need, really.”
A voice caught my attention. Looking over, I saw a girl trying to give her seat to an elderly woman with a cane.
“Please, go ahead and sit down.”
“Oh, no, it’s enough just for you to offer.”
…These people never get tired of it, do they?
Every day, they push their fake kindness on each other. Pathetic.
“She’s in our uniform…”
Shoko had stopped, but seat-giving was apparently still popular among our school’s students.
I walked over to the girl with an indifferent expression.
“Ma’am, you have a cane, right? Your legs aren’t strong. Don’t push yourself. Please sit down.”
“Hmm… well, if you insist…”
“Excuse me.”
I addressed the girl right next to them.
“If you’re not sitting, could you let me have the seat?”
“What?”
Both the girl and the old woman looked up at me, bewildered.
If they’re just going to play this game of pushing kindness onto each other, then what’s the harm in me taking the seat?
The girl seemed flustered by my unexpected request.
…Well, whatever. No need for her answer. I moved to sit down when—
“—N-no, please don’t!”
The girl stopped me.
“Huh?”
“I… I just thought this elderly lady was struggling to stand… so I wanted her to sit… and, well, you seem healthy, so… please let her have it.”
With that, the girl bowed. I couldn’t even comprehend her words, just stared in stunned silence.
“Uh, well… fine.”
“Oh, in that case, I’ll take you up on it.”
The elderly lady slowly sat down, with the girl supporting her as she lowered herself into the seat. The girl even smiled at her as she sat.
“Thank you, young lady.”
The elderly lady beamed. The girl smiled back at her.
“…”
And here I was, feeling incredibly awkward, and decided to quietly back away.
It felt like I’d just done something ridiculously embarrassing.
I never expected her to reject me.
Usually, when people politely refuse to take a seat, it just ends up empty for a couple of stations. The person offering usually knows this too.
So, most people find it a hassle and let someone else take the seat if someone shows up asking for it.
That’s how it usually goes. In fact, no one had refused me like this in years.
“…Um.”
The girl from earlier had come up to me.
I hadn’t noticed her before, but now I realized she had short black hair that partially covered her eyes. She seemed incredibly shy.
Someone like her pushing back like that was… puzzling.
“What?”
“Uh, sorry about earlier.”
The girl bowed, and I was confused until I realized she was referring to the seat incident.
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I didn’t really want to sit that much.”
“If you had some condition, though, I… may have been really rude…”
“Nope, totally healthy, don’t worry.”
I casually moved a bit to show that there was nothing wrong with me. She sighed in relief.
“Hey.”
I spoke to her on a whim.
“Do you… do this kind of thing often?”
“Huh, you mean giving up my seat?”
I nodded, and she paused, thinking.
“Sometimes… if there’s an elderly person, a pregnant woman, or someone who looks really tired.”
“How long have you been doing it?”
“Um… I don’t really remember, but it’s been a while.”
“…Is it…?”
—Is it for your human level?
I swallowed my words, shaking my head.
What good would that ridiculous question do? Stupid.
“No, never mind. Forget I asked.”
“…?”
The girl tilted her head in confusion, but just then, the train pulled into the station.
“Well, this is my stop.”
“Right. Take care.”
The girl exited, giving me a quick bow as she left. The doors closed, and the train started moving, her figure quickly disappearing from view.
“…”
Ever since people began fighting for chances to do good deeds, opportunities for those deeds have become scarce.
In that environment, offering up one’s seat on the train remains popular—there’s a daily opportunity, and it doesn’t require much effort.
But the point yield is so low that even someone like Shoko quit it right away.
And yet, that girl has kept doing it for so long. Maybe she’s really desperate for points, or perhaps she’s aiming to rack up points like Shoko.
“…Honestly, good for her.”
