Dissler - Mistaken for a Nuisance — In Progress

 On the street corners, small clusters of dissing words fly again today.

But here, there was a man who talked back—even alone.

In this city, “dissing” by small groups occurs from time to time.

Sometimes it’s two men.

Sometimes women together.

Sometimes a trio of students.

They always pick someone walking alone and surround them with conversations laced with dissing words.

They don’t say it directly.

They laugh.

They chat.

They turn another person into a joke, as if it were a trendy game.

Mocking others is how they reassure themselves of where they stand.

Watching this, I made a decision.

— I would make the whole city understand that there are people who fight back.

From that day on, my routine began at the café inside Sakuramachi Bus Terminal.

Whenever their dissing started, I responded thoroughly—

in the form of “talking to myself.”

I never named them.

But the meaning always reached them.

At the same time, I also started hitting on girls.

“Would you like to have some tea?”

“Want to go to a live show sometime?”

Most attempts failed.

Rejection was far more common than success.

Still, I felt like I was fighting—

like I was alive in this city.

Then one day.

A security guard appeared outside the café.

He avoided my gaze, wandered around aimlessly, and eventually left.

—I had a bad feeling.

When I exited the café, that feeling proved right.

The guard followed me at a distance.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?”

He stopped me and explained the situation.

“We’ve received numerous complaints to the management company.

You’ve been repeatedly approaching girls and engaging with small groups.

If this continues, we will contact the police.”

Yeah. I figured.

The guard went on.

“Sakuramachi Bus Terminal is under our jurisdiction.

Please do this somewhere else.”

—How troublesome.

That was when I reached my conclusion.

They are nothing more than painfully boring people

who gather only to take the upper hand.

They see nothing beyond the surface,

repeating the same predictable dissing patterns over and over again.

Just ordinary people,

mistakenly convinced of their own superiority.

I already have a few people

with whom I can share conversations that truly satisfy me.

So there is nothing to gain from engaging with these ones.

Those who cannot see the essence of things

will only ever produce hollow laughter,

no matter how tightly they cluster together.

I made my decision.

—I will eliminate the disslers by putting them in brackets.

Amid the city’s noise,

new dissing voices rise again today.

Listening to them,

I quietly prepared myself for battle—alone.