After leaving the student council room, Takashi stopped by the kendo club to inform everyone that the funding application had been approved.
He didn't forget to exaggerate his role in the process and the hardships he endured.
The story changed from him angering the lady of the house, Yozakura Hitomi, while flirting with girls to one where he bore the humiliation for the sake of the club.
Taku was so moved he almost knelt in gratitude, tears streaming down his face like a true man.
While Taku was discussing with his younger sister, the club manager, how to allocate the club's budget, Takashi suddenly said,
"Senpai, I probably won't be coming to kendo training for a while."
For the next few days, Takashi planned to focus his energy on baseball.
"Why?!"
Before Taku could even react, his sister Rina jumped up in alarm. "Kitahara-kun, are you planning to quit the kendo club?"
Quit the kendo club?
The other kendo members froze when they heard that. One by one, they stopped their practice swings, bamboo swords in hand, and gathered around him.
"Takashi, are you defecting?"
A first-year loudly questioned him.
Takashi retorted, "Defecting? That's way too extreme. You make it sound like I'm a rogue ninja or something."
"Have you forgotten the sweat we shed together? The promise we made to reach the peak of kendo together? Curse it all!"
A fired-up second-year shouted dramatically, full of hot-blooded passion and pure chuuni vibes.
Takashi was utterly embarrassed listening to this.
Everyone thinks the middle-school syndrome in anime is exaggerated, but honestly, those manga are practically realism.
In real life, they're really this chuuni!
"I'm just skipping practice. I'll still participate in competitions."
Taku initially wanted to yell at him for shirking training, but then remembered—he couldn't actually beat Takashi.
Japan is a country that cherishes traditional culture, and this reverence is especially evident in the strict senior-junior systems in schools, particularly in those high schools that have been around for a century or more.
But at the same time, Japan deeply worships strength.
This is clearly reflected in the public's obsession with the University of Tokyo.
Whether male or female, everyone fantasizes about having some close connection with Todai (Tokyo University).
Boys dream of passing the entrance exam someday, while Japanese girls constantly hope their future partner is a Todai student.
This is high on their list of ideal partner traits. In dramas like Date, this idea is romanticized, and many Japanese variety shows place exaggerated emphasis on guests or entertainers who graduated from Todai.
You could say that in the hearts of the public, Tokyo University is practically a myth.
The public's "Todai complex" is a natural consequence of this country's belief in "survival of the fittest."
Takashi may be a junior, but he's also undeniably strong.
At least at Aoba High School, no one performs better academically than he does.
And in the kendo club, no one is stronger.
Because of that, even though Taku wants to assert his seniority, given the reality of their capabilities, he doesn't feel qualified to lecture Takashi.
"Kitahara-kun, do you mind sharing your reason?"
Rina calmed down after hearing that Takashi wasn't quitting the club. She asked politely, in a composed manner.
"I plan to become the ace pitcher of the baseball team by Friday."
Takashi spoke as if he were casually mentioning what he had for lunch. The members of the kendo club exchanged glances, dumbfounded.
"Kitahara-kun, how's your baseball skill?"
"Never played before. I just started practicing pitching on Monday."
At this, the kendo members looked at each other again, their eyes silently communicating something—but no one laughed.
That's because the one who said it was Takashi, the top member of the kendo club. Had it been anyone else, they would've skipped formalities and burst into laughter.
"Is it because of Otani-kun?"
Rina, perceptive as ever, linked it to the fact that Otani Shota had taken medical leave and was hospitalized.
She immediately deduced the reason behind Takashi's sudden interest in baseball.
"That's right."
Takashi kept his head down, carefully sanding down a bamboo sword.
"Otani started practicing baseball since kindergarten. He sacrificed so much just to get into Aoba."
"I could sit in the stands and watch him give it his all… only to still lose."
"But because of some scumbag, his summer ended like this—"
Takashi finished maintaining the sword and held it up to the sunlight, observing it carefully. "I won't accept it!"
If Takashi were just an ordinary person, even if he didn't accept it, there'd be nothing he could do.
But he was a system user.
He had the power to change everything.
So why shouldn't he use it?
Takashi set the bamboo sword down and stood up. "No matter what fate originally had in store, this summer, the Koshien trophy must stay at Aoba."
Dappled sunlight spilled through the windows and fell across his face, making his figure seem even more upright and resolute.
At that moment, not only Rina was entranced.
Even the boys in the kendo club thought Takashi looked really cool.
…
Takashi attended his afternoon classes as usual.
There were only two, actually.
Japanese high schoolers finish school early—unlike back home where you're stuck until dark.
At 3:40 p.m., Takashi wiped the blackboard, greeted the other students on cleaning duty, grabbed his schoolbag, and turned to Narii, who was waiting atop a desk.
"Let's go."
Narii lightly hopped off the desk, flipped her chair onto the table, and followed him.
"No club activities today?"
"I won't be going anymore. I plan to focus on improving my pitching and batting first."
"Where are you going to practice?"
"I'm heading to a batting center."
"Want me to drop you off?"
"No need, remember I've got my bike?"
Takashi pulled his motorcycle keys out of his pocket and gave them a shake.
"Almost forgot."
The two chatted as they walked toward the school gate.
Just before they reached the entrance, Takashi's phone rang.
He looked down and saw the caller ID: Mrs. Sawamura. His brows furrowed slightly, but he calmly declined the call.
"Who was that?"
Narii looked at him curiously, obsidian eyes probing.
"Some married old lady."
Takashi met her gaze 'honestly' and casually handed over the phone.
"If you want to see, go ahead."
Narii placed her hand over his phone, eyes fixed intently on him.
In that moment, Takashi's heart leapt.
Come on, don't actually look… I was just being polite!
But Narii didn't take the phone. Instead, she stared at Takashi for a few long seconds and said,
"Takashi, I trust you, but I hope you know your boundaries."
"Don't do anything that would make me unhappy, okay?"
She lifted her hand, her freshly manicured fingers brushing lightly over his Adam's apple.
The touch of nail against skin made Takashi feel like a blade had grazed his throat.
"Otherwise, I can't guarantee what I'll do."
"Don't worry, babe~ You'll always be the one I love most."
"Good boy."
Narii, satisfied, withdrew her hand and climbed into the car already waiting beside them.
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