As I Expected; My Teen Ballin' Rom-Com is Wrong.

Chapter 0

Author's Introduction:

So hello to my dear readers, thanks for wasting your time on this fic, I am a writer for the first time, but I have been in this fandom silently reading fics for over three years now, and it's amazing how much this fandom has grown. I love Oregairu, it's by far my favorite anime of all time.

Now, this story is about two of my favorite things: Oregairu and basketball. Of course I realize that not everyone may understand the basketball jargon and whatnot in this story, so I hope that I may guide you along the way. Besides, a relatable story is a story enjoyed; amirite?

Now that's enough of me, let's talk about this fic. It takes the liberty of trying to follow canon but not really being close to it, I mean, it's a fanfic for Pete's sake.

Read. Review; and hopefully, enjoy!

*Da-chan out*

Dammit. Dammit. I should've known better. I knew I shouldn't have fallen for it— for all of it— for her. I knew she was just being nice; I knew I was nothing special. But still, to act like that to me, she's unbelievably cruel for a nice girl isn't she? No, that's wrong. She's just like any nice girl you'd find around, she's not crueler than any of them. No. They're all the same; mindlessly destroying hopes and dreams. This is my fault. No, that's not it. This— this is society's fault.

Whoever's fault this was, there is one thing I know for certain.

I hate nice girls.

Hikigaya Hachiman, head buried in his arms, pretending to be asleep, was having an inner turmoil akin to that of a person with constipation. Well, he is constipated in a way, all the shame and regret hardening and solidifying in his ravaged heart.

Anything remotely resembling self-love, confidence, self-esteem, and enthusiasm is void and missing from his heart, and by extension, his eyes.

Simply put, he was fucked. He wasn't able to sleep at all, he skipped breakfast, and if this goes on, he might as well have skipped lunch.

Crap, I knew I should've stayed at home for tonight. Why did I even show up? Stupid! Creep! Dumbass! Hachiman!

"Hey, did you know Creepy-gaya confessed to Orimoto yesterday?"

"Ehhh? Must be hard for poor Orimoto eh? Having that creep do that?"

"Boy I sure am glad I didn't give him my mail."

"I am too, this is like, totes creepy y'know?"

Even as Hachiman was napalming himself with insults, the sodium levels in the classroom showed no signs of diluting. Tacitly put, it was hell. It was hell for a young boy with a broken heart and a wrecked soul.

He'd probably develop some crippling depression if he doesn't get out if this saline environment soon. So, bracing himself for whatever good it could do, he stood up, head hung low, and crawled to the infirmary.

Luckily the nurse was nowhere to be seen, so he took the liberty to lounge in the infirmary. If he was caught, he'd just pull an excuse of not feeling well. In all actuality, it was true. His emotional self probably has stage 4 brain cancer, pneumonia, and AIDS all at once. Not that he'd tell anyone that.

It'd be a pain if the adults meddled with this. Hard as it is, I put this upon myself. I need to grind myself through this.

He sat on the bed nearest the window. He sat facing the window, so that at least he could observe the "youth" that his schoolmates were enjoying outside. It just so happens that a certain class had PE outside, and by the looks of it, it was basketball. Outdoor that is.

Boing. Boing. Boing.

For some forsook reason, the obnoxious sound of the ball bouncing on polished concrete was intriguing him. It was enticing to his ears.

A pass, no wait, it was intercepted. Now the opposing team was running to score before the defense could catch up.

a few dribbles

a gather step

a layup

Bonk. Swish. Two points.

At this point Hachiman was completely immersed in the game. Of course he was no expert, but anyone who at least bothered to watch PE knew how basketball is played, even if they've never played, or horribly sucked at playing.

He loved it.

He loved how they put the ball on the floor, and then dribbled it.

He loved how fast they ran.

He loved how they passed to each other.

But most of all, he loved the way the ball went in the basket. The swish it made, the bonk it echoed if it was shot off the backboard; he loved that.

He fell in love; this time not with a pretentious crowd-pleaser, but with an honest sport. One that will hurt him, betray his dreams, tire him, and occupy him, but also one that will never lie to him.

If anything can be genuine in this pretentious world, it'd be this sport.

I love basketball.

He thought that. He meant it. He believed it.

At this point, all his hurt vanished, clearly overtaken by his newfound passion. All the insults he'd been throwing at himself were abruptly halted, because his mind was occupied with the sport.

Maybe it was escapism. Maybe it was cowardice. But screw that, because whatever it was.

I want it.

And so the loner whom the world has given up on has found a hope to cling to. Something he could chase. Something genuine, that he knew would never lie to him— something worth being hurt for.

And so, Hachiman begins his ballin' journey.

So, that's the prologue bois. Just edited this chapter a bit to clean it up :)