The heated argument between the Kendo Club's vice-captain and the Baseball Club's captain had turned into a brawl.
Moments ago, these two groups had been united in their desire to take down Kyousuke—now they were ready to fight each other. And once again, it was all because of him.
'Koshien, huh…'
Kyousuke paid no attention to the scuffle in front of him.
Instead, his mind wandered.
Even Tamaki Aonobu, who was so desperate to win a national title that he offered up the position of Kendo Club captain to Kyousuke.
He had to admit that losing in Koshien would bring more disgrace than honor—even if he led the team.
That's how serious Koshien was.
As Japan's most beloved sport, baseball held a near-religious significance.
Over 4,000 schools competed for a single trophy.
One loss, and you were out.
You had to be undefeated to become number one.
Just the thought of it was enough to stir the blood.
In the eyes of Japanese high school students, Koshien was sacred.
Even after entering the workforce, alumni would shed tears and slap themselves to make sure they weren't dreaming if they heard their no-name alma mater made it to Koshien.
If you had a strong pitcher, they could carry the team by themselves.
A hundred pitches, two hundred pitches—strikeout after strikeout.
If your teammates were useless, it didn't matter.
So long as the opposing team couldn't score, the game could be dragged into extra innings.
Welcome to baseball hell.
This kind of tragic, lone-hero narrative was exactly the kind of thing that moved people.
If Kyousuke wanted to lead the baseball team of Soubu High to Koshien, that's what he'd be facing.
Even if he struck out every batter, that would be 81 pitches over nine innings.
If their offense couldn't score, they'd be stuck in extra innings—fifteen innings meant 135 pitches.
Not even a robot could handle that. And that wasn't just one game—Koshien lasted over two months with a grueling schedule.
It wasn't just a test of skill or strength—it was a battle of willpower and stamina.
Sure, it was inspiring but it also sounded incredibly exhausting.
Even Kyousuke couldn't help but feel a little intimidated.
And the Kendo Club thought they trained hard? The Baseball Club was on another level.
Every morning, they ran laps around campus, then sprinted up shrine steps for fun—and despite all that, their results were… hard to talk about.
While Kyousuke was lost in thought, the two club leaders were already rolling on the ground, fists flying.
Thankfully, he waved the crowd off earlier, so there was no one left to egg them on.
"We'll talk about this tomorrow," Kyousuke said, nudging the two with his foot to break them up. "I've got my own club to deal with, you know."
"Gorou, Mitsuhashi—let's go."
He called to his three closest friends.
Fighting was fine for blowing off steam, but Kyousuke still needed to talk sense into Gorou before he fell into some depressive spiral.
If that idiot developed a mental illness, Hojou might have to make Kuroda offer up his sister as compensation.
Usually the kind to wear a goofy grin, Gorou now approached with nothing but bruises and silence on his face.
Mitsuhashi and Ryouma followed, equally expressionless.
It seemed they'd finally learned: even if your bro just got dumped, laughing too hard might still get you decked.
"Hojou! Which number do you want? No. 1? No. 7? How about 99?" Baseball Club Captain Tsuchiya Ryouta chased after him relentlessly.
He was promptly yanked back by Tamaki Aonobu.
"With that level of perception, you'll never get Hojou to wear a jersey in this life," Tamaki sighed.
They had been friends since middle school, and Tamaki couldn't stand watching Tsuchiya run headfirst down the wrong path.
"But it's Koshien!" Tsuchiya punched the wall with frustration.
His time was running out.
"You think Hojou cares about Koshien?" Tamaki snapped. "He's already bored of winning national titles.
The guy's got more honors than he knows what to do with. Do you even watch TV?"
"...But it's Koshien…" Tsuchiya repeated, punching Tamaki in the arm this time—weakly, this time—his voice filled with despair.
"I envy you," he muttered. "You get to win nationals just by lying down."
"Don't be stupid," Tamaki scoffed. "This isn't baseball. Our Kendo matches are best of five. It's not like Hojou can just solo everyone like in middle school."
"You're seriously planning to coast to victory?"
"What's wrong with that? If there's a shortcut, you take it. That's Hojou's life motto."
"Damn it! I want a shortcut too. Is this how my youth ends?!"
"Actually…" Tamaki hesitated. They were both in their final year. This was their last shot—at Kendo, baseball, everything.
"If you've got a plan, spill it already!" Tsuchiya's eyes lit up.
Tamaki stayed silent for a moment, calculating the timing.
The summer Koshien preliminaries and the national Kendo championship were practically back-to-back.
Most of Japan's major high school tournaments happened in July and August—those two months were sacred to every high schooler.
Baseball got all the media attention, sure, but Kendo had one advantage—its schedule wasn't nearly as packed.
The Kendo preliminaries in July could be handled by Gorou and the others—Hojou's hand-picked disciples.
Last year's powerhouse Higashi was no longer a threat, and the rest were just paper tigers.
The finals were from August 5 to 8.
Koshien started on the 10th.
Completely doable.
Assuming, of course, you ignored human limitations like stamina and stress.
…But this was Hojou Kyousuke.
Tamaki touched his bruised cheek, and through the pain, made a firm judgment.
Even if the basketball team got in on it—and maybe even the tennis team—Hojou would still be fine!
With that in mind, he looked into his friend's hopeful eyes and said:
"That's why you're a blockhead. The shortcut's been there the whole time—you just didn't see it."
"If you can get me to Koshien, I'll introduce you to my cousin!" Tsuchiya yelled, throwing down his trump card.
"Your cousin? You mean that ugly one?"
"Idiot, I'm talking about the girl you saw with me at the café last time."
"What!? I thought you said she was your girlfriend!"
"That was a lie. I knew you'd beg me for an intro, so I said that on purpose."
"You bastard!" Tamaki lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat.
If this moron had introduced them earlier, he wouldn't still be single!
"Cough—cough—It's not too late! I make it to Koshien, you get a girlfriend before graduation—we both win!" Tsuchiya choked out.
"Not good enough. You have to guarantee she'll say yes!"
"How about I become your girlfriend instead?" Tsuchiya rolled his eyes.
And just like that, they reached an agreement.
"You know, Hojou wasn't even going to join the Kendo Club at first," Tamaki whispered.
"WHAT!?" Tsuchiya gasped.
"Did you forget what Hojou said before? He made his own club. It's called the 'Pursuit of a Happy Life Club.' Their club activities?
Basically just doing fun things with the girls around him. Rumor is, he even wanted to set the clubroom inside his house."
'Gulp.'
Tsuchiya Ryouta was stunned.
He already knew Hojou wasn't normal, but this? This was next level.
To be honest… that actually sounded way more appealing than the far-off dream of Koshien.
"Hey, hey, snap out of it. Look at your face, then look at Hojou's. What trophies do you have, and what trophies does he have? Still wanna keep dreaming?" Tamaki said with a sigh.
"You've got a point, but still…" Ryouta clenched his fists, thankful he hadn't played his trump card yet.
Because, in addition to a beautiful cousin, he also had an even more beautiful younger cousin.
'Wait… wait!'
His eyes lit up.
If Hojou really was that into girls—ahem, that into cute girls—then his cousin would be the perfect bait.
Beautiful face, killer figure, and most importantly, she played music.
A girl in a band? Who could resist that?
He looked over at Tamaki.
Maybe that was the plan?
"So? How did you convince Hojou to join your club?" he asked urgently.
"It was Yamauchi-san," Tamaki replied coolly.
"Yamauchi?"
"Ugh. And you call yourself a friend? You don't even know the most basic, critical information. What can you do?" Tamaki groaned, disappointed in every cell of his body.
"Listen up. This might be the most important piece of advice you'll ever hear in your life."
He suddenly turned deadly serious.
"I'm listening!"
"No matter what happens—no matter what—never mess with the girls around Hojou. Normally, he's a chill guy. Very tolerant. But the moment you cross the line with one of his girls…"
"And then…?"
"The moment you even think to ask that, you've already taken one step closer to hell. Trying to dig deeper… is a death wish."
Tamaki's voice dropped low, like he was sharing a ghost story.
"You don't want to know."
He refused to elaborate further.
The tale—originally told by Kuroda Kaito—was about some poor fool who didn't know his place.
He didn't last long.
'Gulp.'
Tsuchiya swallowed hard.
"Yamauchi Sakura. She's Hojou's childhood friend. She was the one who told us he wasn't planning on joining any club.
That's when we all got together and literally begged him on our knees."
Tamaki glanced at his friend, whose eyes were now glimmering with renewed interest, and warned him:
"Even then, I'm pretty sure Yamauchi helped us out a lot behind the scenes. Otherwise, Hojou wouldn't have budged. You can't make him do anything."
"So, what—you're saying I should ask Yamauchi for help too?"
"Exactly. But don't think it'll be easy. Yamauchi isn't about to let Hojou work himself to death."
"Dammit, then what am I supposed to do?! Just tell me the whole plan already!"
"Heh… That's why you're an idiot. Ever heard of the Service Club?"
"Service Club…?"
———————————————————————
At the school gates, under the shade of roadside trees, a pitch-black motorcycle crouched like a sleeping beast.
But when they got closer, it just looked… dopey, thanks to its round headlights.
"Thanks for waiting."
Kyousuke caught the keys Kisaki tossed him.
School was out—and apparently so was Kisaki, done with work.
"Let's go. I'm in the mood for some hot spring steamed bun from Gunma." He spun the keys around his finger and called out to the others.
"Ahh~~ After that fight, I'm starving. Guess I'll have to ride a little faster," Ryoma said with a grin.
Not that he minded.
He knew the real reason Hojou suggested this trip—it was to give Goro a bit of a breather.
Tch, lucky bastard.
It's been ages since he'd ridden with the boss. Kinda nostalgic.
Gorou, hope you get your heart broken a few more times.
Kisaki glanced down at her sharp suit, then shook her head with a smile she couldn't hide.
The low roar of the engines began.
Hojou led the pack, riding his Rocket 33, with the other four silently trailing behind.
They passed through Suginami and Nerima.
No one said a word, as if quietly listening to the city breathe.
But once they hit the Kan-Etsu Expressway, the world opened up.
The towering buildings gave way to rows of quiet homes.
The further they rode from Tokyo, the quieter the world became.
Aside from the roar of the wind and the occasional distorted bird call, there was… nothing.
Twilight approached.
The sun was too low to light the road, but the moon hadn't yet risen.
Their headlights barely cut through the dark.
Even after modding them with thousands of dollars, they still couldn't show what lay ahead.
Hojou stayed silent.
His throttle was barely twisted—any slower and he'd be under the speed limit.
He wasn't here to street race with Gorou.
That kind of combo—heartbreak and speed—was a straight road to the hospital or worse.
The venting had already been done back at kendo club.
This ride… had a different purpose.
Inside their full-face helmets, the wind was muffled into nothing.
Just the black-and-white blur of the asphalt through the visor.
The city vanished behind them.
They were heading into the mountains of western Gunma.
Every so often, birds darted across the darkening sky.
Cars passed them only rarely, and when they did, they quickly disappeared—as if they were from another world entirely.
The whole road, the whole night—felt like it belonged to just the five of them.
Hojou's breathing slowed.
His eyes stayed sharp on the road, but his body had relaxed.
Light and warmth slowly faded into the night.
Darkness. Cold.
The two blended into one word: loneliness.
It felt like the world had narrowed down to just yourself.
In that overwhelming darkness, you could clearly feel your own insignificance—and from that, loneliness gave way to fear.
You wanted to scream, to break the silence just to prove you were still alive.
But then—headlights behind you. Friends beside you.
You remembered: you weren't alone.
And that urge to scream… disappeared.
Instead, a lazy, peaceful stillness washed over you, so deep you didn't even want to speak.
That—that was exactly what Gorou was feeling right now.
His storm of emotions slowly calmed.
He wasn't even watching the road anymore, just staring ahead at the black silhouette in front of him.
It felt like—as long as he followed that figure—he could reach the end of the world without a worry.
No engine revving. No shouting. Just dead silence.
In that silence, every one of them faced their own thoughts.
As the mountains rose around them, they finally arrived—Gunma, the hidden gem of Japan.
After exiting the expressway, they pulled into a gas station.
Leaning against the wall, warm canned coffee in hand, they still said nothing.
Everyone seemed lost in the peace that had followed them from the ride.
Hojou tilted his head back, gazing at the brilliant night sky. The stars were so bright, it was unreal.
Only a hundred kilometers from Tokyo, and yet it felt like an entirely different world. Beautiful.
Grrrggglll~~
A loud stomach growl shattered the silence.
"…I'm hungry," Hojou said calmly.
But even though his tone was relaxed, Kisaki and the others flinched.
Because everyone knew—when the boss gets hungry… he gets dangerous.
"HOT SPRING STEAMED BUN! LET'S GO RAID A SHOP!!"
Shouting with glee, they all jumped back on their bikes and roared off—on a mission to liberate some sweet, steamy buns.