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The glow of a TV screen flickered across a dimly lit room. Posters of anime girls lined the walls, half-covered by dirty laundry hanging off the corners. The floor? A battlefield of clothes, instant noodle cups, and anime DVDs scattered like fallen soldiers. In the center of the chaos, a teenage boy lay sprawled on his bed, a pillow pulled over his head.
His eyes were half open, bloodshot from too many late nights. A half-eaten bag of chips lay on his chest. His hair stuck out in every direction, like it had been in a fight with gravity—and lost.
On the screen, a sword-wielding hero delivered a dramatic final blow. The boy didn't react. Just stared.
Then—RING RING!
His phone buzzed, vibrating off the edge of his nightstand and landing with a thud on the floor.
He groaned, reached down without looking, and answered.
"…Hello?"
A familiar voice exploded through the speaker.
"Are you STILL at home?!"
He flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear. "Ugh... who is this?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Shinrai!"
He sighed. "Oh. You."
"You better get to school, or I'll come over there and drag you out myself."
Kurota Shinrai let out a long groan and flopped over on his stomach. "Can't you let me skip just one more day?"
"Nope. Oh, and I signed you up for a club."
He sat up like he'd been struck by lightning. "WHAT?! Why would you do that?!"
"Because," she said sweetly, "you need friends."
"I don't want friends."
But his voice grew quieter at the end. His gaze drifted to the ceiling. For a moment, the world around him faded—
Children's laughter echoed in his mind.
Three kids stood under a tree, pinky fingers linked.
"Let's be best friends forever!"
The memory shattered.
"Hellooo?" his sister's voice pulled him back. "Still breathing?"
"Y-Yeah," he mumbled.
"Good. Because if you don't go to school and join that club, I'll come over and burn every single one of your anime DVDs."
He sat frozen, eyes wide. "…You wouldn't."
"Try me."
He stared at his beloved anime shelf with horror.
"…Fine. I'll go. Just leave my babies alone…"
He could hear her smug smile through the phone. "Knew you'd see it my way. The club's called the Service Club. Bye!"
Click.
The call ended. Kurota dropped the phone and stared at the ceiling for a second longer before letting out a dramatic scream.
"WHYYYYYYY?!"
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✦✦✦
Ten minutes later, he was a whirlwind of panic—tripping over socks, stepping on DVDs, shoving on the nearest clean shirt he could find. He ran out the door, hair still sticking up like he'd been electrocuted.
He sprinted down the street, nearly slipping on the sidewalk. "I hate my life! I wanna die!" he wailed like a tragic anime protagonist.
---
✦✦✦
By the time he reached the school gates, he was wheezing and soaked in sweat. His phone buzzed again.
Text from Sis: You're in Class D.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and trudged down the hallway, stopping in front of a door marked Class D. He exhaled, then slid it open.
A teacher glanced up from her desk. "Ah, you must be the new student. Kurota Shinrai, correct?"
He nodded quietly.
All eyes in the classroom turned to him.
One girl whispered, "Look at his hair…"
"Yikes. He looks like he just rolled out of bed," another added.
He gave a stiff laugh, rubbing the back of his head.
The teacher checked the attendance sheet. "Alright, Kurota, take a seat."
He scanned the room. Near the back, one desk sat empty beside a girl with long black hair and piercing red eyes. She didn't look up, just calmly read her notes.
He walked over and sat down without a word.
---
✦✦✦
The bell rang.
Students rushed out in groups, chatting and laughing. Kurota stood up slowly. The black-haired girl stood too, silent, and walked out without glancing at him.
He wandered through the hallway until he stopped at the club bulletin board. A dozen clubs were listed in neat columns—Sports, Drama, Art...
His eyes stopped at one near the bottom:
Service Club – Room 3-F.
He smirked. "Only one name… no members. Perfect."
The thought of being alone in a club room—no talking, no teamwork, just naps and anime—filled him with joy.
He followed the signs to Room 3-F and opened the door.
"...You again?"
Sitting inside, the girl from class looked up from her book.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you follow me here?"
He raised his hands. "No! I swear. My sister signed me up for this."
She tilted her head. "Strange. I didn't see your name on the club board."
"I could say the same about you," he said.
She looked away.
"…You don't even know my name, do you?"
He scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh. No. Sorry."
She folded her arms. "Why should I tell you?"
"Well," he said, glancing around, "we're in the same class. Now we're in the same club. Sitting next to each other. It's gonna be super awkward if we don't talk…"
She sighed.
"…Yurei. Yurei Kisaragi. Don't forget it."
He nodded. "Kurota Shinrai. You already know that."
He took a seat and dropped his head onto the desk. Yurei returned to her book, and silence returned to the room.
---
✦✦✦
Ten minutes later, the door creaked open again.
A woman in her twenties stepped inside, wearing glasses and a friendly smile. "Yurei~ Oh, and you must be the new member."
Kurota looked up, still half-asleep. "Huh?"
She laughed softly, covering her mouth. "I'm Reika Kazehana. I teach here. Your sister told me her lazy little brother finally joined a club."
Kurota groaned. "She told you that too?"
Reika winked. "Just checking if it was true."
Before he could respond, the door opened again. Two boys peeked inside nervously.
"Is this the Service Club?" one asked.
Yurei nodded. "Yeah."
The other stepped forward and bowed. "Please… I need your help!"
Kurota blinked. "Huh?"
"My friend… he wants to ask out his crush. But he's too scared."
Reika chuckled. "And that, my dear new members, is exactly what the Service Club is for—helping others, even with love problems."
Kurota stared at the ceiling, silently screaming.
No anime… No naps… No peace…
Why is this my life?!
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