The Worst Day in the Life of Makoto Neagi

Section Two

"This is not my lucky day," Makoto Naegi muttered through a sigh as he headed for the nearest convenience store.
Makoto was a perfectly average high-school student attending a perfectly average high school⁠—something he was painfully aware of, and something he was often reminded of by his friends and family. While, on some level, he was somewhat dispirited by it, he also knew good and well that there was nothing he could do to change it. The very fact that he felt that way about his average self pretty much cemented his averageness.
That day, however, was different.
That day, Makoto was most certainly not normal. He was a far cry from average in one specific way.
To put it simply, that day, he was incredibly unlucky⁠—which he began to realize after school had let out.

For the first time in a long time, the skies were clear, and Makoto was in an unusually good mood. Feeling as though something good was on the horizon, he decided he would take a different route home than usual, go for a walk.
It can be nice to take a detour every once in a while, he thought⁠—just ever so slightly different from usual. And that tiny change in routine was the start of all his misfortune.
After a short while, Makoto passed by a large park. There, he just happened to run into one of his friends⁠—a classmate. That friend was with a group of his own friends⁠—mostly people Makoto had never met before⁠—and they were getting ready to play a round of rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to go buy snacks for everyone. Makoto's friend invited him to join in. He could tell the invitation was made on a whim from the look on his friend's face and the way he was acting.
Normally, Makoto would have rejected the offer and gone on his merry way, but he decided to participate, figuring if he was doing things differently that day, he might as well go all out.
Oddly enough, he was almost certain he wouldn't lose⁠—not only were there nearly ten people playing, the weather was incredible too. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
The game was decided in a single round.
Makoto lost. He played scissors, and everyone else played rock.
The look of utter surprise on all their faces was all he needed to know the game wasn't rigged.
"Man," his friend said, amazed, "that's actually pretty damn impressive. Talk about bad luck."
"Having impressively bad luck doesn't make me feel any better," Makoto said, slumping his shoulders.
"Don't feel so bad," his friend said, patting him on the shoulder and handing him a small wad of cash. "I'll take a cola and some fried chicken!"
"Got it," Makoto said with a bitter smile. "Guess that's all the cheering up I'll get from you, huh?" He pulled out a sheet of paper, hurriedly scribbled down everyone's orders, took their money⁠—all the while cursing his misfortune.

Ten minutes later, Makoto stepped out of the convenience store and onto the sidewalk, an overstuffed plastic bag hanging from each hand.
"C-Crap... this is heavy."
Compared to other students his age, Makoto wasn't the best built or most athletic of high-school boys. Having to carry almost ten people's drinks and snacks from the store back to the park all by himself wasn't going to be easy.
Think about something pleasant, he told himself in an attempt to take his mind off the task at hand. The first thing that came to mind was that night's TV schedule. Someone he used to go to school with⁠—someone he knew very well, but who did not know him⁠—was supposedly making an appearance on a music program airing that evening. He had been looking forward to watching it for several days.
Man, I can't wait, he thought⁠—and in that very same moment, he heard the sound of something snapping and almost lost his balance.
"Whoa!" he cried, his feet instinctively pressing hard against the concrete in an attempt to avoid falling.
Once he had caught his balance, Makoto realized that his hands felt lighter⁠—that the sudden change in weight was what had caused him to stumble in the first place.
"Huh?" He looked down at his hands, finally understanding what had happened. The bottoms of both plastic bags had ripped, and everything inside was scattered all over the sidewalk. "No way..."
While it was logical enough that good weather didn't necessarily mean good things would happen, he couldn't help but feel like things were going excessively bad for him. Plastic grocery bags didn't just randomly break on people. Unless, say, the clerk accidentally sliced the whole stack with a box cutter when he was unpacking the bags. And yet, it had still happened.
Anyone who saw him in that moment would know exactly how far on Lady Luck's bad side Makoto was that day.
"Oh, come on," he muttered, desperately scrambling to collect the snacks, plastic bottles, and aluminum cans that had scattered every which way. "Why did this have to happen to me?"
If, by some dramatic twist of fate, a girl wandered onto the scene and offered him her assistance, he would have gladly put all the misfortune that led up to that moment behind him. But nobody else was using that particular sidewalk⁠—let alone any nice, helpful girls. The road along which the sidewalk was built was reasonably large, but he was currently in a residential area near a park a fair distance from the train station, so it was no real surprise there wasn't much foot traffic. However, Makoto couldn't help but think his bad luck was to blame.
A short while later, Makoto finished collecting the strewn goods. Some of the drinks had even rolled off the sidewalk and into the street, which had made his job that much harder, but he was finally done⁠—or so he thought.
Looking down at the array of items on the sidewalk, Makoto tilted his head.
"Is this... everything?"
Somehow, he felt like there was less there than what he had bought. Thinking he might have missed something, Makoto spun around, surveying the area.
There, he saw an old man with a long beard sitting on a bench just outside the convenience store.
I didn't realize there was anyone there, he thought.
The old man looked away from Makoto, dropping his gaze to his own feet, then crouched forward and picked up the can of coffee lying there. Right before Makoto's eyes, he pulled the tab, opening the can and, without hesitation, lifted it to his lips.
Hey, is that⁠—
No, it couldn't be, Makoto thought as he approached the old man.
"E-Excuse me," he said, timidly.
"Hmm?" grunted the old man as he took another gulp and looked up at Makoto.
"Um, I apologize if I'm wrong about this, but is that coffee, by any chance..." he probed.
"Hmm? So this was yours, son?" the man said, a look of surprise rising to his face. Then, he burst out laughing. "Haha, sorry about that!"
"Wait, so it really⁠—" Makoto said, dumbfounded.
Without even the slightest trace of shame on his face, the old man said, "Ah, how should I put this? It just, y'know, found its way to me, like it was always meant to be. I couldn't help myself."
"Y-Yes you could have!" Makoto shouted back, instinctively objecting to the man's absurd logic. But the man's bright smile told him he was fighting a fruitless battle, so he dropped his shoulders, forfeiting with a heavy sigh. "Whatever, it doesn't matter."
Apparently feeling at least somewhat bad about what he had done at the sight of Makoto's utter dejection, the old man said, a trace of worry in his voice, "Hey now, son. Was my drinking your coffee really that big of a shock?"
"It wasn't just that," Makoto muttered through a sigh. "This is just not my lucky day. For the past, like, half-hour, bad things have constantly been happening. Why me? Why now? Is it karma or something?"
In response, the old man did something Makoto was not expecting: he chuckled.
"Huh?" Makoto said, looking up in surprise.
"Karma's got nothing to do with it, son. Believing that good things will happen to you just because you're a good person is senseless."
"B-But⁠—"
"Fact of the matter is," he continued, not giving Makoto a chance to object, "I don't believe in karma for a damn second. If you're good you'll be rewarded, or if something bad happens, it's because you did something bad⁠—that's all a load of crap. That whole way of thinking is nothing more than vain hope, a futile attempt to control fate by assigning reason to it. But the reality of it is, if you're unlucky, you're unlucky whether you're a saint or a sinner, and the exact same goes for if you're lucky. I've been around the block more than once, so I know what I'm talking about."
Makoto sighed again, completely clueless as to why the old man was telling him this. But the man paid him no mind, continuing his lecture.
"In short, no one has any control over their fortune. As hard as we might try, as skilled as we might be, we can't fight fate. Nothing good can come of either leaning too hard on luck or resisting it. Whether our luck is good or bad, all we can do is accept it for what it is. That's the conclusion I've drawn after all these years," the old man said, nodding in approval of his own words.
"Um," Makoto said, finally finding enough courage to interject.
"What is it, son?" the old man said with an impish grin. "Don't agree?"
"No, it's not that I disagree..." he said, hesitating. "A-Are you, um, trying to convert me to your religion... or something?"
For a brief moment, the old man's mouth hung open, and then he burst out laughing. "I guess a child like you wouldn't be ready to hear that yet, would you?"
"I'm not a child anymore."
"Nope, you're still a child," the old man said, shaking his head. "Children act for themselves; adults act for others⁠—that's the difference between the two. Which one are you, son? A kid who acts for no one but himself, right? That's normal, though. Start worrying about others at your age, and you won't make it to see mine."
Having made his judgment, the old man stood up, handed the half-empty coffee can to Makoto, and said, "Well, you got a long road ahead of you. I'm sure you'll have your share of problems, son, but good luck."
"Um, thanks," Makoto said, perplexed. Then the old man trotted off, a satisfied grin on his face.
Makoto stood there, dumbfounded, watching the bearded man's back shrink into the distance, but with each passing moment, the whole situation felt more and more peculiar to him. Why in the world had he thanked the old man? And what was he supposed to do with a half-drunk can of coffee?
What it all came down to, he thought, was that the old man had deftly managed to blow him off.
However, something the man had said had struck a chord with Makoto: "Accept it for what it is," he had proclaimed, almost preachingly.
He had a point. There was no benefit in letting yourself get dragged around by an incomprehensible force of nature like luck, and getting angry or crying about it wouldn't change anything. In which case, just giving up and accepting it as part of life was probably the best option.
Leave the unpleasant memories for the past. Dragging them around like a ball-and-chain was just dumb.
That notion made Makoto feel just a little bit better about himself.
"Yep," he said, "that's what I'll do."
His optimism, which allowed him to so readily switch gears emotionally, was one of Makoto Naegi's positive traits.