The first day of the new semester marked the end of spring break. As one of the most prestigious middle schools in Tokyo, Azabu Middle School was buzzing with excitement. Freshmen filled the campus, eyes wide with curiosity and admiration as they took in every inch of their new environment.
During the opening ceremony, brimming with the spirit of new beginnings, the school chairman stood on stage, his receding hairline inching back further than before. Yet this didn't stop him from delivering a passionate speech, looking back on the school's past, boasting of its present, and dreaming of its future. Regrettably, most of the clapping students would forget the contents of his speech the moment they stepped outside. After all, no matter how glorious the school's history, it paled in comparison to the spectacle unfolding in the courtyard, where upperclassmen and club representatives—stylishly dressed and full of energy—vied for attention during the club fair.
Adolescent boys fidgeted and whispered among themselves, unable to resist stealing glances at the dazzling smiles and inviting slogans of the older girls. Their applause at the end of the chairman's speech grew particularly enthusiastic—so much so that the chairman gave an extra bow before stepping down, slightly embarrassed.
Azabu Middle School's club culture had flourished in recent decades. As rumors had foretold, several clubs had risen to levels that surpassed typical student standards. Led by individuals worthy of being called geniuses, these clubs had gained fame not only within the school but across the city and even the country.
As a result, the upperclassmen manning the booths for these popular clubs were often the calmest during the recruitment rush. Sitting behind their tables, they casually handed out blank application forms to the wave of eager freshmen.
These applications didn't guarantee admission. Each club conducted its own internal selection process.
In truth, for famous clubs in literature, art, or soccer, it was they who chose their members, not the other way around.
In the crowded courtyard, a girl shyly approached a senior from the badminton club.
"Excuse me, senpai... Could you tell me where the drama club's booth is? I couldn't find it."
The drama club was one of the school's most renowned, having produced several well-known actors. It was no surprise freshmen were interested. The badminton senpai, unbothered, turned to a teammate for help before replying with a smile:
"Go straight from here, take the right fork when you see it, and walk a bit further. You'll see it."
"Thank you very much, senpai!"
Watching her bow and run off, the badminton club member sighed.
"Such a cute girl... Tch. The drama club really has its appeal. But I can never get into theater. It just feels..."
"Cringe, right?"
His teammate interjected while scrolling through his phone.
"We're just normies. No artistic flair. Have you forgotten who runs the drama club? Sure, he's mostly a figurehead, but with Kitagawa's name attached to it, it's irresistible.
Though those freshmen don't know it yet—Kitagawa barely even comes to school, let alone the drama club. But with his skills, he could probably earn a lifetime of money in just two years."
"But didn't Kitagawa quit acting last month? Said he'd never take the stage again."
The boy pulled up a news article on his phone:
["Genius Actor Kitagawa Ryo Announces Permanent Retirement: Was His Two-Year Reign Just a Flash in the Pan?"]
The attached photo showed a boy standing center stage, flowers in hand, offering the camera a half-hearted smile.
"Maybe that girl signed up for the club just to meet him. Wouldn't be the first."
"At the end of the day, it's all about the person. If the drama club starts letting in a bunch of clueless newbies, they're bound to run into problems."
"Clubs are supposed to be about youthful passion, not chasing love."
Raising his badminton racket dramatically, the boy struck a heroic pose, ignoring the sarcasm in his friend's tone.
"Hey, our manager is going to scout for talent at the gym later. Wanna come?"
"Of course! I'm gonna show off in front of Miwako today. Let her see what our ace looks like!"
Just then, a dry voice cut in from their right:
"Can you repeat what you said about Kitagawa Ryo?"
It came without an ounce of formality. Annoyed, the badminton senpai turned and found himself face-to-face with a second-year girl.
He was about to snap at her bluntness—until he saw her.
Silky black hair flowed down to her waist, adorned with a simple ribbon and a single braid on the side. Her purple-red eyes left a lasting impression.
When the boys hesitated, the girl—Horikita Suzune—repeated herself coldly:
"What did you say about Kitagawa Ryo?"
"Ah, right..." The boy scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. He had been at the school for a year, yet he had never seen a girl this beautiful in his grade.
"She must be a transfer student," his friend whispered, noticing her brand-new uniform. A full year in school would always leave some wear and tear.
"Yes," Horikita replied with a small nod, growing impatient. She hadn't planned to waste time here, but the familiar name had caught her attention.
She valued every second of her time, strictly organizing her life with discipline and precision.
Recognizing they were the same grade, the boys dropped their senpai act and handed over a phone with the article.
"Kitagawa's been the drama club president since he enrolled, but he rarely came to school due to his acting gigs. The school was grooming him as an arts student, so they never expelled him. But since he quit acting last month, we assume he's coming back."
Horikita nodded and zoomed in on the photo, trying to read the blurred text on the stage banner. It was pixelated, but she caught words like "massive success" and "rave reviews."
"I remember that performance. It was at our school. The play was... something like 'Oedipus'?"
"It must have been Sophocles' tragedy, 'Oedipus Rex,'" Horikita offered.
"Yeah, that's the one! Man, that name's a mouthful..."
The boys, unfamiliar with theater, chuckled awkwardly.
"Thanks."
With her curiosity satisfied, Horikita left.
"Another girl lured in by the drama club," the boy groaned.
As they lamented the drama club's growing influence over beautiful girls, a group of three or four girls approached.
"Excuse me, is Kunimura Akira from the badminton club here?"
A second-year girl in a school uniform, wearing a student council armband, stepped forward.
"That's me. What can I do for you?"
"I'm a disciplinary officer from the student council. I'm here to review your club's recruitment procedures. As a registered club, you fall under our oversight."
"Understood. Please, go ahead."
These inspections were routine, aimed at preventing clubs from using underhanded tactics to recruit freshmen.
As the student council girl reviewed their flyers and posters, the boys turned their gaze toward the other council members fanning out across the fair.
"Hey, look, it's Vice President Ichinose!"
Spotting a flash of golden-pink hair, Kunimura whispered excitedly to his friend.
The two of them stared in awe at the school's popular vice president. Even from a distance, her warmth and approachability radiated. Just seeing her smile was enough to feel at ease.
"I heard she might be promoted to president next semester."
"Makes sense. She's smart, competent, and kind. Lots of people joined the council just because of her."
"She is nice, but sometimes she feels too official. You know that saying, 'The kindest girls are the scariest ones'? You think she's being nice to you, but really, she's that nice to everyone."
Their debate continued until the student council's inspection ended and they returned to calling out to potential recruits.
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"Every club, regardless of size, must set up a recruitment booth for new students, prepare promotional materials, and organize a reception team. Violating school rules is not allowed, and each club is subject to student council inspection."
"That's the rule, isn't it?"
Ichinose Honami smiled sweetly at the boy in front of her, a mischievous glint flashing in her ocean-blue eyes.
"So then, Ryo, where exactly is your drama club's recruitment booth?"
"We've already received quite a few complaints from new students saying they can't find it at all."
Kitagawa Ryo was lounging comfortably in a deck chair. He removed the book covering his face, rubbed his drowsy eyes, and mumbled, "Oh, it's you, Honami. For the sake of our sisters' friendship, how about letting me off the hook?"
"Aren't you the vice president of the student council?"
"Letting you off the hook isn't impossible," she said playfully. "If I recall correctly, you just sent Hotaru overseas for surgery and recovery, right? So for this year's fireworks festival..."
Ichinose casually took the book from his hands—Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None.
"Ahem. I've already arranged everything," Ryo coughed, springing upright at the mention of the fireworks.
"Then could you kindly show me the booth? I need to finish my inspection."
"Sure."
Without hesitation, Kitagawa Ryo led Ichinose Honami and another student council member to a corner at the very edge of the plaza.
It was a cramped and obscure spot compared to other clubs. Two desks had been pushed together with a standard school-issued triangle sign that read "Recruitment Booth."
Aside from that single sign, the desk was completely bare—no posters, no flyers, not even a club name. To a passing new student, it might look more like a pile of discarded student council materials than an actual booth.
No wonder the new students couldn't find the drama club.
"No promotional materials, no reception personnel. Point deduction," noted the student council member dutifully, jotting down comments in a notebook.
Ichinose also looked around with curiosity. Even after a full inspection, she couldn't find a single sign bearing the club's name.
Nearby, Horikita Suzune had noticed the student council's arrival and the mention of the "drama club," prompting her to silently approach.
A year ago, her older brother Horikita Manabu had mentioned the name "Kitagawa Ryo" with a rare tone of admiration she had never once received herself.
Through further investigation, she learned Kitagawa Ryo was a drama actor and had met her brother during a production of Sophocles' tragedy Oedipus Rex.
Back then, her brother had suggested she watch Kitagawa perform, but she had refused out of resentment—as if watching him would be admitting her own inferiority. That stubborn pride had held her back for two years.
Only after her brother transferred into the fully isolated Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School did she finally choose to transfer to Kitagawa's current school.
"Hold on, all our materials and reception have already been prepared," Ryo said cheerfully, stepping behind the desk.
Horikita's first impression of him wasn't bad. Even with her bias, she couldn't deny his looks and voice possessed an intoxicating charm.
From a drawer, he pulled out what looked like a pile of white fluff.
Noticing their stares, the fluff—actually a cat—elegantly raised a paw. Its eyes gleamed with a striking shade of firefly green.
"This is our reception... uh, reception cat."
"As for promotional material..."
Ryo pulled out a headband from under the desk and, under the cat's mildly annoyed gaze, tied it gently around its head.
[Welcome to the Drama Club!]
The headband read just that.
"Meow," said the cat lazily.
"This is our promotional material."
Ryo held up the cat proudly and snapped his fingers under the watchful eyes of Ichinose and Horikita.
"Together it reads—"
"Welcome to the Drama Club, meow."
Horikita Suzune couldn't help but twitch the corner of her mouth.
In that moment, all her years of assumptions, insecurities, and intimidation shattered.
This guy... didn't seem all that smart.
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