The Kendo Club's Clubroom.
Over two hundred students sat directly on the floor, listening intently as the teacher at the front gave her instructions.
Moments like this, where the entire team gathered together, were rare.
The next full assembly wouldn't happen until the "Team Formation Ceremony" just before the actual sports festival.
The priority now was to decide on the team leader and various group heads.
These key roles, as indicated on the chart displayed in front, were mostly reserved for second- and third-year students.
First-years typically joined the performance troupe and helped out with various tasks.
"…And that's it. If you're interested in applying for any of the leadership positions, come to me and sign up. You can discuss freely now—think seriously about it. After all, this is a once-a-year celebration."
After giving a brief overview, Hiratsuka Shizuka grabbed Yukinoshita Yukino by the wrist and started walking toward the desk.
Halfway there, she stopped and turned around.
"One more thing," she added. "While the team leader and music coordinator are usually third-years."
"I personally believe anyone with the ability to lead and make this year's sports festival more fun—first-years or second-years—should feel free to go with it."
To emphasize her point, she pounded her slightly trembling chest and said proudly, "Just like how the school keeps entrusting big events like this to a young teacher like me instead of some seasoned veteran—rules aren't everything, you know?"
With those bold words, she finally dragged off the daydreaming Yukinoshita.
You'd expect a flurry of discussion to break out right after, but strangely enough, everyone remained oddly quiet.
Say what you will about the Japanese, but their ability to "read the room" is unmatched, regardless of age or gender.
From Hiratsuka's speech, everyone caught two key messages:
The team leader should be someone capable.
First-years are allowed to run for the position.
And quietly, everyone sitting in the Kendo Club's room added a third thought:
Isn't there the most capable student—not just among first-years, but in the whole school—currently on the Red Team?
Like a contagious yawn, the thought spread from the third-years up front to the rest of the room.
One by one, students started turning their heads toward a certain someone in the back who just happened to be yawning.
And then—they all yawned too.
"Pfft—!"
"Hahaha!"
Shouko was the first to burst out laughing, followed closely by Sakura, whose laughter was completely unrestrained.
The rest of the "yawners" joined in, and the previously tense atmosphere melted into laughter and warmth.
"Hojou-buchou! You should be the team leader!" called out a voice from the third-years.
Though his face wasn't visible, Hojou Kyousuke recognized the voice—it was Tamaki Aonobu, the Kendo Club's vice-captain.
'…Did Kisaki bribe this guy?'
Even under the weight of so many gazes, Kyousuke looked as drowsy as ever—sitting cross-legged with his chin resting on one hand propped up on his knee.
"That's right! If it's Hojou-kun, he'll make this the most fun sports festival ever!"
'Whoa, what's with that glowing smile?'
'Don't tell me you're just nominating me to dump all the work on me so you can slack off? That's the least youthful thing I've ever seen! Your parents would cry if they came to watch!'
"I was a group leader under the commander last year, so I know all the procedures. I'll support Hojou-kun every step of the way."
'Why don't you just say you want to be the leader yourself? I'll be the first to clap. I'm sure under your leadership, I could enjoy the chillest festival ever.'
"How about I do the gate design? I've already started sketching since last year—I'll definitely come up with something everyone loves!"
The "gate" was like the team's base.
Before it was your team's turn to perform, everyone would hang out behind it, waiting for the announcement: "Next up—the Red Team!"
Then you'd all burst out from behind the gate like warriors heading to battle.
It was the team's face—literally—so it mattered.
"If no one else wants to be in charge of the curtain, I'll give it a shot. We could use elements from Hojou-kun's two manga series as the theme."
Now that sounded fun.
A huge white curtain designed by the curtain leader, painted painstakingly by everyone together.
During the festival, it would be hung in front of the school building.
And when we say "huge," we mean first floor to fourth floor huge.
Three teams meant three massive curtains, enough to cover the whole building.
Some just wrote something bold like "Unstoppable Force," while others went all-out with art resembling woodblock prints.
"Sounds good to me! That could be really cool."
Wait a second… isn't the curtain supposed to match the performance theme?
Are you all seriously planning to wear Saitama's skin-tight suit and do morning calisthenics?
'If you really want to paint a curtain, I can ask my publisher to sponsor it—throw some ad money your way or something…'
————————————————————————
Kyousuke remained a passive observer.
He didn't mind contributing—he was perfectly happy being a supporting member.
But leading everything? That was way too much work.
No time left to play around.
He imagined cutting wood for the gate, while Sakura and Shouko cut up colored boards beside him.
He'd be holding the frame in place, Sakura would yelp while trying to hammer nails (and inevitably smack her own hand), and Shouko would blow on the injury while Kyousuke cleaned up the mess.
Or working on the curtain, everyone barefoot in white socks, tracing long lines with black markers across the enormous canvas.
After three minutes of actual work, they'd try sketching on each other's shirts and end up goofing around.
Even the dreaded performance group wouldn't be so bad if Shouko and Sakura taught him the choreography step-by-step.
Whether he actually learned it or not didn't matter—what mattered was trying his best. That effort alone was the purest form of youth.
Then, during the relay, he'd stumble exhausted past the finish line—right into Sakura's arms.
For the 3,000-meter race? He'd collapse straight into Shouko's embrace.
Then the three of them would lie in the shade on the grass nearby, his head resting on Shouko's lap, while Sakura updated him on how the events were going.
At the afterparty—wait, don't tell me we might not win? No way.
With him on the team, victory was guaranteed. It will be a celebration. And as the champions, they'd earn the right to use the gym.
There they'd munch on tiny cakes, share a can of cola with Sakura, and reminisce with everyone about the sports festival.
Someone would inevitably sigh and say, "Honestly, the best part was the time we spent preparing," and Kyousuke would wholeheartedly agree.
Looking at the way the others were discussing things, it was clear: the team leader didn't really matter.
Last year's second-years had all served in leadership roles already.
So—
"In that case, how about I be the team leader?" came a bright, cheerful voice.
'Yep, that's fine. Doesn't matter who it is. I'll be the first to clap—'
Wait. That voice?
Kyousuke whipped his head around to see Yamauchi Sakura, hand raised high and beaming with enthusiasm.
He smacked his forehead with a loud slap.
"Yay, I support it!" Shouko clapped her hands excitedly.
Yukino Yukinoshita, who had been quietly lost in thought, looked up in surprise at Yamauchi Sakura.
Even her older sister had backed out of this troublesome responsibility, yet Sakura was volunteering for it?
Out of a sense of compassion, Yukino felt it was her duty to enlighten this naive girl.
"Yamauchi-san, do you even know what being a team leader actually involves?"
"Hmm, let's see~" Sakura glanced at Kyousuke beside her, then turned back and said,
"Something cool, like giving orders and having everyone efficiently carry out their tasks perfectly?"
Kisaki Tetta smacked his forehead and looked at his older brother.
In that moment, he was absolutely convinced—this woman had to be his brother's childhood friend.
'No, Sakura, you got one part wrong.'
'You don't even need to give orders.'
'All you have to do is smile and give a thumbs-up when your subordinates report back, and everything gets done smoothly.'
Kyousuke silently thought to himself.
The moment he heard Sakura speak, he'd already resolved to offer all his strength—and more if necessary—to serve under her command.
Come to think of it, the image of the three of them sitting in a conference room while Sakura confidently issued vague but grand commands…
Shouko scribbling everything down seriously in her notebook, and himself efficiently delegating the tasks…
The three of them huddled around a whiteboard, checking off to-do items with a red marker…
Watching the sports festival come together under their leadership, seeing classmates work hand-in-hand, strangers becoming comrades—it might just be the very definition of youth.
His earlier reluctance had been too narrow-minded.
Yukino smacked her forehead, her expression shifting to one of clarity.
She glanced at Hojou, expecting him to object.
After all, from the information she'd gathered, he'd been leading a mid-sized organization since the first year of middle school.
He should understand what this entails.
But now, seeing his complete willingness to serve at Sakura's feet, it became obvious.
Just as they'd talked about earlier, this man had absolutely no self-awareness.
He spoiled Yamauchi Sakura unconditionally.
Watching him basically throw himself at her feet like a loyal dog, Yukino let out a pained and exasperated sigh.
Seriously, it's people like this—people who misuse or fail to use their power properly—that throw society into chaos.
"Well, since we still have time, let me give you a quick explanation."
Her voice turned cold and serious.
"First, and most importantly, the team leader is responsible for making sure every task is completed before the day of the sports festival."
"Just imagine—on the big day, all the other teams dash out from beautifully decorated gates, and our red team? We come out from some half-constructed mess that can't even be called a gate…"
"Hey, I do finish my work properly! Last year our gate even won the top prize," grumbled the girl who had just volunteered to lead the gate decoration team.
"First of all, that was just an example. Second, that was last year. Right now, I believe that you believe in your abilities."
"But calm down and think—can you make an ironclad promise to every single classmate that you'll do just as well this year?"
Yukino's voice, cold and sharp like a winter breeze through a tunnel, cut straight through the girl.
The volunteer flinched as if hit, recoiling slightly.
"Being a participant and being a decision-maker are entirely different roles. You may have found things easy last year because your leader did their job well—put you in a role suited to your strengths. But this year…"
Her words ended cleanly—no sarcastic flourish, just a blunt statement of fact.
Even so, the girl who had initially been so eager turned beet red and lowered her head, looking like she was about to burst into tears.
Yukinoshita stood there, exuding a chill as cold as her name.
As for the whispers around her—"Who even is she?" "Why is she so harsh?"—she filtered them out.
There was nothing wrong with what she had said.
"Then why don't you be the team leader, since you know so much? You think you can guarantee success?"
The voice came from somewhere in the crowd—a provocateur stirring the air.
People who "read the room" hated those who stirred the pot.
Then again, if it had been Kyousuke who said it, everyone probably would've applauded.
That's just how "reading the room" works—defer to the strong.
"Me?" Yukino hadn't expected the conversation to circle back to her.
Of course she wouldn't do it.
She had no reason to.
She didn't agree with how her sister handled things, but that didn't mean she needed to step in herself.
Still, when faced with baseless doubt from irrelevant bystanders, she always chose to respond with unwavering resolve.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
That was Yukinoshita Yukino's life motto.
She didn't bother to look for who said it—probably just some coward too scared to speak openly.
"I don't have a reason to be team leader. But if I were to take on the role, I can guarantee that I'd get everything done—even if I had to do it all by myself."
Her voice was firm, inspiring confidence.
At least, Kyousuke was already picturing her crouched alone, furiously sawing wood for the gate.
"She's just full of herself."
A different voice this time.
And now more people were chiming in, noise swelling like a rising tide, crashing down around the girl sitting so straight and unyielding.
At the center of it all, Kyousuke yawned, while Sakura simply smiled at the girl she had chosen.
Yukino lowered her head as if struck speechless but only those near her saw the slight curve of her lips.
Her cherry blossom-pink lips curled into a razor-sharp smirk.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with graceful fingers.
"Pathetic provocation… but fine. I accept." She raised her voice just enough for all to hear. "Yukinoshita Yukino will run for team leader."
Her words, cold and haughty, carried an undeniable authority.
Embarrassment?
She'd long since grown immune to such petty emotions.
After all, talented people were always doubted.
The foolish constantly measured genius with their own narrow yardsticks—as if the emperor used a golden hoe to till the fields.
She had her reason now. Her cause was just.
Though her voice wasn't loud, it was crystal clear, cutting through the noise like a blade.
The murmurs stopped.
Those who had tried to bring her down hadn't expected her to be more than just a talker.
But that was fine. They had more tricks.
"Heh, you think you can just be team leader? With Hojou and his friend around, there's no way it'll be you."
Once again, an anonymous voice from the crowd.
"Fujikawa Masataka, bring me the person behind you. And Tamaki—get the one to your left."
With his chin still resting on his hand, Hojou Kyousuke casually raised his right arm, lazily pointing forward with his index finger.
Seriously, what is it with these kids? They just can't speak up unless they've got someone backing them up?
Why can't they stand tall and speak for themselves like Yukinoshita does?
Well, maybe it's just like Yukinoshita said—they don't have a reason of their own. Fine then.
'Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll give them a chance.'
The voice that came from within the crowd of over two hundred was indistinguishable to most, except maybe the people standing nearby.
But for Kyousuke? If it weren't everyone's first time meeting him, he could've called the guy out by name.
Memorizing the entire school's student body? Child's play for him.
When Fujikawa Masataka heard his name, he froze for a second—then immediately shouted, "Yes, sir!"
The guy was on the baseball team, and he never imagined the "Hojou Kyousuke, Gateway to Koshien" would actually remember his name.
Delighted, he moved without hesitation.
Not knowing what was going on, he got up, turned around, and grabbed the anonymous classmate by the shoulder.
"Hey! What the hell? Let go! What do you think you're doing?!"
The other boy shouted, clearly unwilling to comply.
He was ready to unleash his special move: "Stir the Atmosphere."
By blending into the crowd and disrupting the mood, he could twist everyone's energy to his own advantage.
He was a boy with choppy bangs that barely reached his forehead—someone who could blend into the background no matter where you dropped him.
Basically, he was trying to stir up trouble, just like before—using the crowd's energy to pressure Yukinoshita.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was Hojou Kyousuke.
If it weren't for someone strongly opposing the idea, the walls of the dojo would already be lined with illustrated guides of Kyousuke's sword techniques.
No one joined in to support the anonymous boy or help him confront the so-called "rude" classmate.
On the contrary, several burly students stood up and flanked him, pinning him between their muscular arms and escorting him through a path that had somehow opened up in the crowd, straight toward Hojou Kyousuke.
Sure, they couldn't throw a 150 km/h fastball, but taking down a coward who only dares speak from behind? Easy.
Same went for Tamaki Aonobu.
Even though kendo didn't carry the same weight in Japan as karate or judo, years of relentless training had forged hands that, once they grabbed hold of something, wouldn't let go.
"Hmm? Something seems off over there. I'll go check it out," said Hiratsuka Shizuka, from a corner near the storage room.
As a caring teacher, of course she had to intervene.
"Shizuka, it's fine, it's fine! Hojou-kun's got it under control."
Yukari quickly grabbed her friend's arm.
She had been watching that side of the room the whole time—or rather, she'd been watching Kyousuke the whole time.
Naturally, she'd seen his movements.
"Hojou-kun?"
That unusual name caught Hiratsuka Shizuka's attention.
She suddenly turned, sharp-eyed, and stared at her friend.
"Yukari, you're acting weird. And where exactly did you move to? When I went looking for you the night before last to grab a drink, the manager told me you'd moved."
"How could your best friend not know about something so important?"
At that point, Hiratsuka looked like she was about to cry.
She flung herself at Yukari and began interrogating her.
Yukino sighed and started thinking hard about how to talk her way out of this.
She knew that Kyousuke and her friend didn't get along.
If Shizuka found out she'd moved into the Ruyi Dormitory, it would just stir up more trouble.
Meanwhile, the two students Kyousuke had called out were now kneeling properly in front of him, heads bowed in complete silence.
If the timing were just a little different, they probably would've dropped into full dogeza on the spot.
"Lift your heads."
"I'm so sorry! We're really, really sorry! It won't happen again!" ×2
If there were ever a definition of "kowtowing like pounding garlic," this was it.
Kyousuke was stunned.
That's not how you dogeza! At least use your hands as a cushion for your head! And for god's sake, don't start chopping your fingers off!
Watching the chaotic scene unfold, Kyousuke was a bit dumbfounded.
Sakura could vouch for him—he just wanted to give these two a little courage.
He hoped they'd boldly step up and pursue their dreams, and give him a sports festival worth remembering.
How did he end up being the villain here?
"I'm asking you, how long are you going to keep playing these childish games?"
Ah, he got it now. Just like they tried with Yukinoshita earlier, they were trying to manipulate public opinion—casting him as the enemy of the people.
"Cut it out already, If you don't trust Yukinoshita's ability, then you take over as team leader. Let's put it to a school-wide vote."
"A s-school-wide vote?" stammered the dark-haired lackey—Moriyama Jirou, trembling as he spoke.
He couldn't even speak unless he was hiding behind someone else.
Now all he could imagine was standing alone at a podium, completely speechless, while the crowd jeered, "What the hell is this? You're wasting our time!" and "Know your limits, man!"
This wasn't an election—it was a public execution.
"N-no! I never wanted to be team leader! Please, spare me!"
Tears streamed down his face.
If this guy tried acting in a play, the director would chew him out in seconds.
Seeing him like that, Kyousuke felt, just for a moment, like he was the one bullying him.
But then he remembered—No.
He was the good guy here.
Weren't these the exact two who stirred up everyone to question Yukinoshita Yukino?
He was just giving them a more glamorous stage.
If anyone was the real bully, it was them.
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