"Yet another group of upperclasswomen invited me for coffee?"
"Well then, I shall take my leave."
Kōenji Rokusuke languidly brushed his bangs aside as he uttered these words, then turned with practiced elegance to exit the classroom.
Just before crossing the threshold, he paused, his gaze lingering meaningfully on Kushida Kikyō before finally settling on Shimizu Akira.
"My 'favor'... is not something as trivial as exchanging contact information."
"Do look forward to it, Shimizu-kun. Ahahahaha!"
Before anyone could react, Kōenji's tall figure vanished into the hallway, leaving behind only stunned silence.
Kōenji Rokusuke had always been flamboyant, and his theatrically raised voice—paired with that unnervingly cheerful laugh—naturally reached the ears of every nearby classmate.
"What the hell is that guy even saying?"
"What 'favor'? This is getting ridiculous."
"But... he's weirdly popular with the upperclasswomen, huh? Maybe he'll introduce me to a girlfriend!"
Shimizu Akira hadn't expected Kōenji, with his narcissistic personality, to be so well-liked by senpais from other classes.
Still, whether it was offering his seat or reporting misconduct, those had just been casual acts on his part. He never imagined they'd be misinterpreted as some kind of special consideration.
As Kōenji put it—a beautiful misunderstanding.
(Being "indebted" to another guy... Yeah, not exactly a happy thought.)
The gymnasium was packed, with roughly a hundred students scattered in small groups across the floor. Judging by their uniforms, most were first-years who hadn't joined clubs yet.
Near the entrance, Shimizu spotted a long table stacked with promotional pamphlets. He casually picked one up and flipped through it.
Inside were introductions to various clubs:
[Judo Club] – National Tournament Quarterfinalists for Three Consecutive Years
[Baseball Club] – Final Four in Last Year's Koshien Qualifiers
[Kyudo Club] – Features a Current National Youth Team Archer
Every page included photos of club activities, with upperclassmen in specialized gear proudly displaying gleaming medals.
(This level… They're practically training for the national team already.)
His original plan—to join a club, perform well, and earn school points—crumbled instantly upon seeing these profiles.
The judo groundwork demonstrations, baseball batting stances, and kyudo perfect releases… Every image screamed professional-tier skill.
(A complete amateur like me wouldn't last a day in this environment…)
Upperclassmen began taking turns on stage to promote their clubs, each spouting the usual "beginners welcome!" lines.
But Shimizu suspected their real goal was funding—after all, more members likely meant bigger budgets.
Newbies without experience would probably just end up as errand runners.
"Hey! You there!" A booming voice called from the stage. "Wanna try boxing?"
Shimizu snapped out of his thoughts to see a muscular senpai waving at him.
(Wait, Japanese high schools have boxing clubs? Aren't they worried about students getting injured and missing class?)
The stares of every nearby first-year locked onto him, instantly making him the center of attention.
"Me...?" He pointed at himself. After getting a confirming nod, he shrugged. "Sure, but I've never boxed before."
"Hahaha! Everyone starts somewhere!" The senpai's laugh echoed through the gym.
Under his enthusiastic urging, Shimizu stepped onto the platform.
The senpai tossed him a pair of worn red gloves, the leather visibly aged from use.
"Just throw a punch like this, okay?" The senpai crossed his arms in a guard stance—without any protective gear.
Shimizu fumbled with the glove straps. "Are you sure this is safe? Without padding—"
"Relax! Consider it a special trial for newbies!" The senpai waved him off. "Go on, don't hold back!"
Shimizu took a deep breath—and his eyes sharpened.
His shoulders dropped slightly as he stepped forward, his right fist snapping out like a released arrow—
BAM!
The straight punch slammed into the senpai's guard, sending the bulky upperclassman stumbling back several steps.
"Ghk—!" The senpai grunted, a dark red imprint already blooming on his tanned forearm.
His eyes widened in disbelief, sweat beading on his forehead. "What the hell… This power… Are you kidding me? This year's freshmen are monsters?!"
Before he could finish, his right arm began trembling uncontrollably—
A reflexive, professional boxer's response to pain: instantly retracting the arm to protect the torso.
This subtle but telling movement drew gasps from a few observant students, though most just laughed and jeered.
"How much did senpai get paid for this act?"
"Going all out for recruitment, huh?"
"That guy's never even trained before!"
The senpai scratched his head, forcing a grin. "Hahaha, busted!"
But when he turned back to Shimizu, his expression turned deadly serious.
"But rookie… This punch doesn't lie." He flexed his still-numb arm. "You train regularly?"
Before Shimizu could answer, the senpai slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Ever thought about joining boxing? We've got imported equipment you can use anytime."
"Oh, right—what's your name and class? You're not in a club yet, are you?"
*"Shimizu Akira, Class 1-D. No club yet."*
"Class D, huh… How about this—I'll give you… 5,000 points? No, screw it, 10,000 points monthly as a stipend!"
"You get paid for this? But starting boxing now… Isn't it too late?"
"Not at all! Combat sports are all about physicality. Your base is insane—even without technique, you've got knockout power."
The senpai leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Trust me." His tone turned grave. "Freshmen don't get it yet… But this school?"
A deliberate pause.
"It's a place where might makes right."
Shimizu froze.
He distinctly remembered the student council president's declaration at the opening ceremony:
"This is a meritocracy."