The newspaper club then made their way to the Robotics Club to conduct an interview. Inside, the faint hum of machinery filled the air, mixed with the sharp scent of solder and metal. Half-assembled robots sat neatly on the workbenches, their wires exposed like veins, while tools clinked softly as club members tinkered.
"You're one of the newest members, right? Tell me, how has the club been doing so far?" Kanae asked, raising her pen above her notebook.
The boy straightened in his chair, brushing dust from his hands. "The Robotics Club has been fortunate to receive great minds—individuals with creativity and imagination. We have the trophies to prove it." He gestured toward a glass case in the corner where rows of golden plaques gleamed.
"Since the club was founded, we've made it to the finals eighteen times and won eleven. Our rivals are persistent, and their robots are splendid, so winning hasn't been easy for us recently. Of course, the team is working on a new robot as we speak. It'll be ready in time for the next competition, and we'll take back our title," he said with confidence, his voice carrying across the quiet workshop.
"I see. The Robotics Club is quite amazing," Kanae replied, scribbling quickly before looking up with a small smile. "Would it be alright if we came back again for another interview? We'll also be at the competition cheering you on."
"Say cheese!" Airi chimed, lifting her camera. The shutter clicked, capturing the boy's nervous grin under the workshop lights.
"Sure thing! Thanks for the support," he said brightly, flashing a wave toward Kanae before turning back to his project.
Airi lowered her camera with a satisfied smile, and Yuri exhaled softly. Looks like the Robotics Club is in the clear. She didn't cast her wrath upon them, the two girls thought with quiet relief.
The next club they visited was the baseball team. The sharp crack of a bat echoed across the field as players jogged drills in the dust. A faint tang of sweat and chalk powder lingered in the air.
"We don't have time for any stupid interviews. We're preparing for the tournament, so if you'll excuse me," said the captain. His words were clipped, his back already turned as he strode away without a second glance.
Kanae froze, her grip tightening on her notepad. "Did that bastard just call our club stupid?!" she snapped, her voice cutting across the field. Her footsteps struck the ground hard and fast as she stormed off, fury radiating from each step.
After the baseball team, they approached the track team. The afternoon sun bore down mercilessly, making the track shimmer in the heat. Athletes sprinted past with heavy breaths, their sneakers thudding against the red lanes, sweat dripping from their temples.
"I'm sorry, ladies," the track coach said, eyes fixed on his stopwatch as it beeped sharply. "We've reached the most vital part of our training, and the athletes need to focus. The track meet is right around the corner. You can observe from over there, but I can't allow an interview right now."
"That's okay. We'll come back later. Thank you for your time, sir," said Yuri, bowing politely before tucking her pen behind her ear.
"Yes, thank you," added Kanae, forcing a thin smile. Her shoulders were tense, but she managed to hold back her irritation.
Their next destination was the Karate Club. As they neared the dojo, the sharp clap of fists striking pads rang out, followed by deep, unified shouts of focus. The wooden floor creaked under the stomping of bare feet, and the smell of sweat drifted into the hallway.
"I'm sorry, but now isn't a good time," said a flushed member at the doorway, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. His gi clung damply to his shoulders. "You'll have to come back another day. Things are quite heated in here."
"Okay, we'll come by tomorrow then, take care," Airi nodded, slipping her camera strap back over her shoulder.
Kanae exhaled sharply through her nose. "Damn, why are all the clubs turning down our interviews?" she muttered, her tone edged with irritation. Her footsteps quickened, heels clicking against the floor.
Rie flinched at the sudden burst of anger and instinctively slowed her pace, clutching her notepad closer to her chest. That was our third rejection, she thought, her pulse skipping uneasily.
"They probably already experienced it from a certain someone last year," Yuri remarked with a sly smirk, her voice just loud enough to tease.
Kanae whipped her head toward her. "Okay, then how many clubs are left?" she demanded.
"Rie, which club should we visit next?" Yuri asked, ignoring Kanae's glare.
Rie's fingers tightened on her notebook. "Um… the last club left is the basketball team," she replied nervously, her words barely above a whisper.
Wait… isn't Katsuragi on the basketball team? Now I'm definitely going to be a nervous wreck, Rie thought, her grip tightening on her notepad until the edges bent slightly. Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze to hide the faint flush spreading across her face.
"Alright, this one should be good. Let's go," Kanae declared, her voice sharp with renewed determination as she strode ahead, the click of her shoes echoing against the hallway floor.
When they arrived at the basketball gym, Airi slowed to a stop at the entrance. A line of delicate flowers bordered the building, their petals swaying gently with the breeze. She lingered there, the cool air brushing across her skin, the faint scent of grass and earth drifting around her.
"These flowers are so beautiful… and the breeze feels so nice," Airi whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. The cool air brushed across her cheeks, carrying the fresh scent of grass—and the faint tang of sweat from the nearby gym.
"Okay, everyone, we're here," Kanae announced, pushing the gym doors open with both hands. The hinges creaked faintly under the force.
At once, a wave of noise spilled out. Sneakers squeaked across the polished wood, basketballs thudded in steady rhythm, and Nanaho barked instructions over the echoing court. Every few seconds came the sharp smack of palms meeting—teammates clapping encouragement as plays unfolded.
Inside, Hayato was dribbling quickly across the court, weaving past invisible defenders. The ball bounced in sharp, steady rhythm, echoing off the gym walls. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he planted a foot and called out.
"That's right! You guys, cut into space. Set a screen on the left to free up Tetsuo—Takahiro!" shouted Nanaho, cupping her hands around her mouth to project.
"Right!" Takahiro shouted, springing into position. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he planted himself firmly to set the screen.
Tetsuo moved with fluid precision, slipping into the corner just as Yukio received the ball and drove hard toward the basket.
At the last moment, Yukio rose into the air, twisting mid-jump before flicking the ball to the corner.
Without hesitation, Tetsuo caught it and released his shot in one smooth motion. The ball arced cleanly—then swished through the net, the sound crisp and satisfying in the echoing gym.
"Good work sticking with the play, everyone. And nice shot, Tetsuo. A perfect shot as usual. The opposing team will definitely be overwhelmed by this guy," Hayato said, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
"I'm honestly glad we have someone who can shoot three-pointers on our team," Takahiro thought, his eyes tracking Tetsuo as he wiped sweat from his brow. "He's going to make things a whole lot easier for us."
"Tetsuo, having you on the team will truly make a difference. I can't thank you enough for joining us," Yukio said, clapping a hand firmly on Tetsuo's shoulder.
"No, if anything, I should be the one thanking you," Tetsuo replied, his voice quiet but steady.
"I can't help but feel excited for this season! I love how everything is coming together," Nanaho said with a wide grin, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. "Let's run that same play one more time."
"Alright, get back into formation and run it again," Yukio instructed. Players adjusted their positions, sneakers squeaking as they moved. Nods and murmurs of agreement spread through the team as everyone shifted into place with purpose.
In the corner of the gym, Noboru and Shino passed the ball back and forth. The bounce of the ball sounded duller here, muffled compared to the thudding rhythm of the main scrimmage. The air was warmer and heavier, tinged with sweat and the faint scent of varnished wood.
Damn, why am I stuck passing the ball to this amateur? Noboru thought, rolling his eyes as he lobbed the ball lazily. I should be out there with everyone else on the court. This is so boring.
Damn you, Fukazawa. I know you did this on purpose because of what happened the other day. I will never forgive you for putting someone with my talent in the corner to play catch with this no-good ama—
The ball suddenly slammed into his face, cutting off his thoughts.
"OUCH!! What the hell is your problem?!" Noboru yelled, clutching his nose as a sharp sting shot through it.
"I'm so sorry!" Shino cried, bowing deeply, her forehead nearly touching the floor. She could feel Noboru's glare burning into her.
"It's called a chest pass for a reason! Why did you throw it at my face?! Why you—!" Noboru yelped, rubbing his nose, cheeks flushed with irritation.
"Cut that out, Takemoto! That's enough," Nanaho said sharply, stepping forward. Her voice carried across the quieter corner of the gym, firm and authoritative. "We both know you were spacing out, so quit blaming him. That's what you get for not paying attention."
"I was not spacing out! And what do you mean, 'I deserve it'?! I'm tired of passing the ball to this loser! A pro player like me shouldn't even be stuck here doing this!" Noboru snapped, throwing his hands in exasperation.
"We've been over this for a week now," Nanaho replied, crossing her arms and tapping a foot against the floor. "You need the basic fundamentals to function on the court. And for the record, you won't just be passing all day—you'll also be dribbling and running drills."
"Oh no, I won't be dribbling that damn ball again! I've been doing that for almost a week now!" Noboru shouted, flinging his hands in frustration.
"Well, you're passing now, which means you're making progress," Nanaho said, her tone calm but firm. She folded her arms, shifting her weight slightly, the faint squeak of her sneakers on the polished floor audible in the corner of the gym. "Passing in a game is vital. I need you to pass well to prevent steals and turnovers. So, if you don't shut up and do what you're told, I'll bench you the entire season."
"Fine… I won't complain anymore," Noboru muttered, looking away, his jaw tight.
"See? That's a good start," Nanaho said with a light smile, the hint of amusement softening her otherwise authoritative presence.
"Good afternoon, everyone. It's quite lively in here," Kanae announced, stepping into the gym with the others. The echo of bouncing basketballs and squeaking sneakers filled the space around them.
Nanaho turned sharply, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spotted Kanae. "Yamaoka… What brings you here? Wait—don't tell me. You're here to write something about us in your article, aren't you?" Her voice carried easily over the background noise, firm but curious.
"Well, yes. Would it be okay if I borrowed some of your players for a quick interview? I know you're busy preparing for the tournament, but I'd like to have a word with them," Kanae said, raising her notebook slightly, pen poised.
"Sure, go right ahead. I was about to let them have a five-minute break anyway," Nanaho replied, a small, approving smile tugging at her lips.
"Okay, girls, go ahead and interview whoever you want. I'll be speaking with the captain," Kanae said, her voice composed as she gestured for Airi, Yuri, and Rie to step forward. The girls moved carefully across the polished floor, sneakers squeaking lightly with each step.