Club activities didn't take place every day—most clubs met only about three times a week.
Except for the athletic clubs that had morning practice and the Game Club, which gathered daily to passionately play games, things were relatively relaxed.
Now that Kyousuke had gathered another group of devoted followers, the rooftop had been cleaned up again.
He could finally enjoy his peaceful lunchtime naps and bento under the sun.
His instruction to the kendo club members was progressing steadily.
Traditional swordsmanship—koryuu kenjutsu—actually included many techniques not suited for modern kendo tournaments.
Historically, legendary swordsmen preferred spears on the battlefield.
The idea was to keep your opponent at a distance—far enough that you could pierce their chest before you could even see their face clearly.
How merciful.
Of course, that wasn't because samurai swords were useless against armor, but because slashing at armor risked damaging your own blade—or worse, injuring yourself from the recoil.
As a result, many techniques in classical swordsmanship were designed to exploit weak spots in armor.
Take, for example, the well-known kesa-giri, a diagonal slash aimed at the shoulder.
It's a classic move—even those who've never studied swordsmanship know it.
But because it targets the shoulder, it's not a scoring hit in modern kendo.
Master it too well, and you might even get warned for being "too dangerous."
That's why kendo only awards points for strikes to the torso and sides of the head.
Thankfully, Kyousuke's style—Hokushin Ittou-ryuu—was a traditional school that significantly contributed to the development of modern kendo.
Striking the hands, for example, was still a valid and effective scoring method. And so, the infamous nickname "The Handless Demon" was about to be revived and glorified.
In the near future, a team that relentlessly targeted opponents' hands might very well dominate the kendo arena.
While Kyousuke was constantly surrounded by the kendo club, Sakura and Shouko were roaming the school, searching for an "interesting" club to join.
Sports clubs were immediately out.
The a cappella club sounded fun—until Sakura realized singing without music was a bit too bold, even for her.
Of course, with background music, she'd sing with such overwhelming confidence that everyone listening would be stunned into thinking she was the original artist.
Shouko, on the other hand, was quite drawn to the cheerleading and majorette clubs.
She'd always dreamed of cheering for Kyousuke-kun during his matches.
Unfortunately, the kendo club had no tradition of having cheer squads, so she had to let that dream go.
Eventually, the two of them stumbled upon a club called the "Banzai Alliance."
Their whole thing was showing up at school festivals, competitions—whatever the event—and bringing the hype.
Loud voices, exaggerated moves, full energy.
They were all about boosting morale and hyping up the crowd.
Sakura, always one for fun, immediately bumped the club to the top of her list.
Shouko also approved.
Sakura imagined herself yelling out cool move names for Kyousuke every time he swung his sword, while Shouko was just happy she could finally be there with Kyousuke-kun during matches.
Now, it's worth mentioning what happened during the final club meeting on Friday: the kendo club got ambushed by the baseball team.
Not over the practice space—no self-respecting baseball player would set foot on such a clean, dust-free area.
What they were after was Hojou Kyousuke.
It all started when a freshman visited the kendo club for a trial session.
They were so blown away by Kyousuke's godlike presence that he want him joined the baseball team instead.
Spitting with passion, the freshman thumped his chest and declared to the baseball captain, "If Hojou Kyousuke joins, he'll hit home runs like a villain from an anime—every ball gone into the horizon! Total 'To Be Continued' material!"
"Captain Tsuchiya, anyone who sees him in action would know his potential."
"I swear, if he just stands there holding a bat, his glare alone could scare the pitcher into forfeiting!"
Moved by this worship, the baseball captain, Ryouta Tsuchiya, gave it serious thought.
After all, athletic performance mostly boiled down to natural talent.
Skills could be trained later.
With raw ability like Hojou's, he could probably excel at anything.
Under the guise of "just visiting," the baseball club started observing Hojou Kyousuke in shifts.
"This guy's talents are wasted on kendo! Baseball's where he belongs! Koshien is calling!" shouted the vice-captain, who had just pretended to be a freshman and was nearly exposed by someone who knew him.
"Yeah! Kendo's outdated—baseball is the true sport of men!"
"What a waste! A total waste!"
"We can't let him continue down the wrong path!"
With that, Captain Tsuchiya made a decision.
Kyousuke's swing, his sense of timing—Tsuchiya was sure he didn't even need training or rules.
Just hand him a bat and say, "Hit the ball. As far as you can." That's all it would take to become champions.
Thanks to anime and the inexplicable love from countries with a samurai history, kendo had gained global recognition.
But every Japanese person knew that kendo couldn't compete with baseball domestically.
Sure, kendo was a mandatory PE subject in middle school, but when it came to popularity, job prospects, or fan engagement, it couldn't hold a candle to baseball—or even soccer.
Heck, even judo and karate were more popular.
According to national surveys, baseball had close to 80% support. Kendo? A measly 2%.
Of course, if we were still living in the era of sword-wielding samurai, those numbers would be reversed.
To demonstrate their sincerity, the baseball club copied the kendo club's approach when recruiting Kyousuke—but improved upon it.
They cleaned off their body, walked respectfully into the kendo dojo, and...
Before the kendo members could even ask what they were doing there, the entire baseball team dropped into a perfect dogeza.
"Hojou-san, please join the baseball club!!"
Though the dojo was always filled with strange battle cries (ki-ai), this was on another level.
The shout was so intense, it left the kendo members stunned—and Kyousuke, who had been quietly spacing out on the sidelines, felt his chest tighten.
He could feel it.
His peaceful, quiet school life was getting derailed.
'This isn't a sports anime! This is a romantic comedy, dammit! You idiots, stop creating extra plotlines!'
Unable to see Sakura and Shouko after school lately, Kyousuke had started reflecting on his life.
Like just now—while the others thought their captain was silently meditating to hone his spirit, he was actually just daydreaming about the girls.
What club had they joined now?
Hopefully not one too demanding.
Hopefully not one with too many girls—that would make it awkward for him to tag along later.
He knew his own charm all too well.
Then again, it shouldn't be a club with too many boys either.
Best-case scenario? A club with zero boys. Just him and Sakura and Shouko.
Wait a second... wasn't that basically the club he created?
The Club for Creating a Happy Life.
Thanks to Yukari's hard work, the club finally passed the approval process.
The only downside? The clubroom wasn't in the cozy "Ruyi Dorm," but rather just a regular classroom in the special wing of the school building.
Damn it.
If it weren't for the kendo club drama, he could've already started planning some delightful club activities.
First on the list? Voice acting games.
Everyone would lean out the windows, pick random things like trees, birds, or utility poles as their "roles," and start voicing them with all the flair of a dramatic stage play.
For example:
"Oh mighty tree, why can't your branches just grow into a bird's nest on their own?"
Sakura would definitely say something like that—she'd never pick the tree or the pole.
Stable, stationary lives weren't her style. She belonged up in the sky, flying free.
"Because I like watching you hop around on me," Shouko would reply.
But her delicate frame wouldn't be able to handle Sakura, so the tree would have to be Kyousuke.
"Then I'll become a woodpecker and live inside you."
"Careful not to break your beak."
"Utility pole, say something!"
"Utility poles don't have life, so they can't talk," Shouko would reply, completely seriously.
————————————————————————
While Hojou Kyousuke played out the imaginary club activities in his head, negotiations had already begun between the kendo club and the baseball club.
"Hey, Tsuchiya! You looking for a fight or what!?"
Tamaki Aonobu, the kendo club's vice-captain, stepped forward.
The two were not only classmates but also middle school buddies.
"Tamaki, how about you join the baseball team too?" Tsuchiya Ryouta said with a grin, trying to rope him in.
"With a little training, you could be a regular! Then we could all charge for Koshien together. This is our last chance, man!"
"You bastard. If you know it's our last chance this year, then stop stirring up trouble!" Tamaki shot back, not softening one bit.
Even if they were friends, barging into someone else's clubroom and trying to poach their captain was pure provocation—and completely unforgivable.
His face was bright red, practically steaming.
Whether it was from intense training or boiling rage was anyone's guess.
Behind him, the rest of the kendo club had gathered, looking ready to throw down.
The baseball club, meanwhile, remained kneeling calmly—just as planned.
They knew that charging in armed with baseball bats would make them the obvious villains.
They were already on thin moral ice for barging into another club's room. Show up swinging and they'd end up at the police box for sure.
So they chose to show sincerity.
No resistance.
If it came to blows, they'd take a few hits—maybe even play the sympathy card and guilt Hojou into joining.
"But you know as well as I do," Ryouta continued carefully, choosing his words like stepping on eggshells, "Hojou has way more potential in baseball than kendo. This is the modern era, after all."
"That's not the point! High school students in Japan are supposed to learn kendo!" Tamaki snapped back.
The rest of the kendo club nodded in passionate agreement.
They all endured the same hardships—if they didn't love kendo, they'd have long since switched to soccer, baseball, or basketball.
Meanwhile, Kyousuke sat in the back, completely unfazed.
When people showed up trying to dump extra responsibilities on him, his irritation boiled just under his polite exterior.
He refused to give up on his fantastic club activities unfolding in his head.
He'd seen scenes like this too many times.
Back during vacation, top-tier private schools had flooded him with offers.
At first, he politely served tea before turning them down.
Eventually, he just stopped answering the door—they were interrupting his movie nights with beautiful girls, after all.
Maybe… it was time to sneak out. Let them argue all they want.
He often reflected on how much effort he put into hiding his talents.
He did his best to stay low-key.
But even a single glimmer of light shining through the cracks in his feathers would send these hot-blooded idiots swarming him.
Koshien? Professional baseball?
Honestly, he found art club or literature club way more attractive.
Joining a club wasn't supposed to be about self-improvement—it was supposed to be about starting a romantic high school life, painting it in rose-colored tones.
These guys just didn't get it.
On that point, at least, Onizuka and his crew had the right idea… or at least the right attitude.
Unfortunately, the only exit was behind the crowd.
Kyousuke wasn't exactly in a position to knock them all out and make a stealth escape.
The debate was getting louder and more immature by the second.
One side yelling about settling things with baseball, the other shouting that Hojou would never join a club full of nothing but sweaty guys.
Ah, yes—there were girls in the kendo club.
And a few of them were actually quite attractive.
They helped Kyousuke with his gear every day.
It wasn't easy to strap it on alone, after all.
'Still, Tamaki, you don't know me nearly well enough.'
'Don't go saying misleading things like that.'
Kyousuke leaned on one knee, striking a laid-back pose as he continued watching the show.
His thoughts drifted freely as usual, aimlessly bouncing from one topic to the next… and eventually, he got tired of it.
He stood up, deciding it was time for a shower and a change of clothes.
"Ah, don't mind me. Carry on. Think of this as a little break—you guys train hard, after all."
As the protagonist, the moment he stood up, everyone's eyes naturally turned to him.
Used to the attention, he just gave a lazy wave.
"Hojou!" Ryouta shouted. "If you join the baseball club, I'll hand over the captain's spot to you!"
A vice-captain who could take them to Koshien vs. a captain who couldn't—any idiot would know which was better.
"Idiot! I told you, Hojou's not going to roll around in the dirt with you guys!" Tamaki roared.
'Hey, man, where did you learn Japanese? You're starting to sound really weird.' Kyousuke muttered inwardly.
But then—like a lightning bolt—a genius idea struck him.
If his ideal high school life surrounded by beautiful girls was already wrecked, then why not just embrace the chaos?
He'd be captain of both clubs.
On Mondays, he'd tell the kendo club he was going to baseball.
Then secretly head to the "Create a Happy Life" club to watch dumb comedy shows online with Sakura and Shouko.
Tuesdays, he'd tell the baseball club he was heading to kendo… and go watch anime instead.
Just like that, life would be back on track!
He straightened his clothes, stepped between the two arguing vice-captains, and delivered a fiery speech.
The gist?
As a student of Soubu High, he had a duty to bring honor to the school and he'd gladly shoulder that burden.
The confrontation ended peacefully, and Kyousuke took the chance to dismiss everyone with a casual wave.
On Saturday, he got a call from Akamatsu Yuuki, his editor at the publishing house.
He told him the results were in—he'd made the final three for the Honya Taisho Book Awards.
Which meant… he'd won.
The award named first, second, and third places each year.
The exact ranking would be revealed during the ceremony next Sunday.
To celebrate, Sakura immediately suggested a barbecue party.
Eriri was the first to jump on board.
Even before Kyousuke could respond, she was already on the phone, instructing Mr. Spencer to handle the shopping.
Watching the busy Eriri, Kyousuke felt a twinge of guilt.
He had originally planned to visit an animation studio in Suginami this weekend to take care of some matters.
The headhunter he contacted had already provided a list of candidates.
But due to Japan's deep-rooted tradition of "lifetime employment," job-hopping often carried negative connotations—being seen as lacking perseverance, inadequate in ability, or disloyal.
While it wasn't a total taboo, it came pretty close.
As a result, the list wasn't exactly impressive mostly people from struggling small companies.
Employees from well-known corporations were still relying on seniority-based pay systems, aiming for generous retirement packages.
A small salary bump simply wasn't worth throwing away decades of tenure.
Things over there were a mess, which was why he'd decided to handle it personally instead of dumping everything on Kisaki.
But now, the Eriri who had once been so eager to start production seemed to have completely forgotten about it.
Kyousuke knew all too well—this idiot was only pretending it didn't matter because she'd heard from Sakura how busy he'd become with kendo and baseball club activities since the start of the school year.
"You're definitely going to win first place! I saw the list of entries they released earlier, and I hadn't even heard of any of those books!"
Sitting on the tatami floor of the washitsu, the girl's fair legs dangled freely, swaying back and forth.
Her mood was as radiant as her golden hair.
"While I do agree that the other entries aren't much competition for Kyousuke."
"Sawamura-san, isn't the reason you haven't heard of any of those books simply because… you don't read?" Kasumigaoka Utaha remarked with a raised brow, gracefully picking up a piece of grilled meat and popping it into her mouth.
"Hmph, of course I only read the first-place winners," Eriri replied with disdain.
"Oh my, I must've misunderstood then. In that case, I'll hand over the past ten years of winning titles to you. I've bought them all, after all."
'Choke, cough cough…'
"Indeed, drawing and literature are deeply connected. Without a solid literary foundation, it's impossible to create truly beautiful artwork. All you'd end up with are pieces that slowly wear people down."
Utaha struck again.
Eriri let out a strangled whimper and looked to the others in the courtyard for help.
Shouko smiled apologetically as if to say she couldn't intervene, but kindly offered a plate of grilled zucchini in silent support.
Sakura and Yukari were sitting on the other side of the grill beneath a cherry blossom tree, whispering to each other.
Occasionally, Sakura would let out a small gasp, glancing mischievously at Kyousuke—clearly digging for juicy gossip.
Naoka… Eriri didn't even bother looking at her.
Their relationship had warmed somewhat thanks to that cosplay incident, but Eriri knew better than to count on her.
That girl was probably laughing at her from the sidelines.
That left only one option...
"Eriri, how's your submission for this year coming along? Isn't the registration deadline tomorrow?"
Kyousuke approached with a large tray of meat, sitting down beside Utaha to form a triangle between the three of them.
There was no need to rush during a home BBQ.
Grill some food, sit down and chat, then cook more once you're done eating.
It was only 1 p.m.—the BBQ party at the Yurigi Dorm would continue well into the evening until the sun fully set.
He was referring to the Youth Art Award held by the Nihon Art Association in Tokyo.
Despite its plain-sounding name, it was one of the best stages for young artists to gain recognition.
As everyone knew, in the art world, fame equals talent—regardless of whether anyone actually understands your work.
The association's presidents had always been members of the Imperial family.
Although the Emperor himself had become more of a symbolic figure these days, that symbolic power lent an air of authority to an award that only cultured elites used to care about.
Typical Kyousuke a master of changing topics.
The golden-haired princess gave him a mental thumbs-up, impressed by his skillful topic change.
But… that contest…
She hesitated, glancing at Utaha.
"…Actually, I've been debating whether to participate."
"Huh?" ×2
Both Hojou Kyousuke and Kasumigaoka Utaha voiced their confusion in unison.
Unlike drawing manga or doujinshi, contest pieces required a greater artistic touch.
You had to find a theme, build around it, choose the right style—it was a meticulous process that made your head spin.
Eriri loved drawing, and getting a chance to proudly show off her talent to the world would be amazing—especially if it meant crushing that witch, Kasumigaoka.
She was always calling Eriri a third-rate artist who hadn't made it commercially, but wasn't she herself just a light novel author struggling to be accepted by the mainstream?
"Why?" Utaha was surprisingly the first to ask, disbelief thick in her voice.
"Huh?" Eriri blinked, confused by her unexpected reaction.
Normally this would be the perfect moment for a snide remark like, "Afraid of not making the cut?" But Utaha actually wanted her to enter?
Wait… Could it be that she wanted Eriri to fail, just so she could mock her afterward?
"Sawamura-san—or rather, Kashiwagi Eiri—should probably stick to erotic art. If you're short on rent, you're always welcome to stay at my room."
"A struggling hentai artist watching two successful novelists live their happy lives might just give you some inspiration. After all, your specialty is the humiliation genre, right?"
"And if you want, Kyousuke and I can also—"
Just imagining it made Eriri's pale face turn beet red.
How evil. As expected of you, Kasumigaoka Utaha!
"I'll never let you win, Kasumigaoka Utaha!" she shouted loudly.
Utaha was stunned.
The rest of the courtyard merely glanced over before returning to what they were doing.
Only the ever-loyal Momotarou jumped down from Yukino's lap and trotted over to its favorite mistress.
"Eriri! I'm here to cheer you on!"
Watching the little pup hobble over, Kyousuke could almost hear its voice in his mind again.
"Oh my, did Kawakami-sensei just imagine something again? Could it be the concept for her competition entry?"
Utaha crossed her arms, her presence so overwhelming that Momotarou made a sharp detour and hid behind Kyousuke.
'There's no way I'd use that for a contest!'
Sure, if she did draw it, she was confident Utaha's jaw would hit the floor—but no way was she showing it to her.
Realizing she'd embarrassed herself again, Eriri didn't even bother to argue this time.
Instead, she looked at Kyousuke.
"It's just… the club has a lot going on. I've been kinda swamped," she mumbled.
"But didn't Aunt Sayuri say to put club activities on hold and focus on the competition?" Kyousuke asked, puzzled.
"How do you know that!?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
That comeback made Eriri blush furiously. It almost sounded like he actually cared about her.
But he spent every day goofing off with Sakura and the others…
"I-Idiot! Don't get full of yourself! Nobody asked you to butt in!"
'But didn't I jump in to help you in the first place?'
Suppressing a sigh, Kyousuke asked once more:
"So, what's the real reason?"
The real reason? What else could it be?
They had an anime to make together.
Even if the script wasn't ready, they could at least start with the character designs.
That much she could do on her own.
And whenever she held her pen, Eriri couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement—like she wanted to shout "Wahoo!"
Eriri knew just how much someone cared about the studio.
She'd overheard him countless times on the phone, discussing things with the company—renovations, hiring staff, legal registrations, the whole deal.
Precisely because of that, she felt she had to push herself harder too.
Skipping out on a promised commitment just to enter a competition felt… selfish.
Her lips pouted slightly as her gaze wandered around aimlessly.
'I can't say it. If I do, that idiot will get all smug again!'
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kasumigaoka deep in thought, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Is it because of the Tansan Studio stuff?" Kasumigaoka asked.
When it came to Eriri, that lovable idiot, the answer to any of her strange behavior usually boiled down to one name: Hojou Kyousuke.
Still, this was too disappointing—Eriri, slacking off for a reason like that? She was wasting her talent!
Unlike her own gloomy and socially-awkward self, Eriri was someone who, despite being a hopeless wreck in private, worked hard to shine in front of others like a true princess.
And on top of that, she had incredible artistic talent.
There was no denying it—Kasumigaoka had always admired Eriri's skills and dedication.
That's why she saw her as a worthy rival. …Well, at least in terms of talent.
She even secretly looked forward to one day beating her fair and square and savoring the sweet taste of victory.
"How did you know!?" Eriri's eyes went wide with shock.
'Don't tell me this wicked woman secretly wrote me into her novel again and is using some kind of dark magic to read my mind!'
Well, they did often joke in their verbal sparring that Eriri was a "painting witch" and Kasumigaoka would make up stories based on that.
So it wasn't impossible.
And putting aside the absolutely unforgivable fact that she used Eriri as character inspiration, there had been so many times when Eriri had nearly caved and wanted to turn those little stories into manga.
'But no way! That would be like admitting defeat!'
Love and rivalry—maybe that's what their relationship really was.
They'd tear each other down with words every time they met, and yet, deep down, they both respected one another.
"The studio…" Kyousuke muttered, realization dawning the second he heard the word.
'Of course. What an idiot. '
A mix of amusement and affection tugged at his expression.
That's just the kind of person Eriri was—and it was impossible not to like her for it.