Chapter 42: It was the new semester, so I provisionally joined the club, and my childhood friend came along too.

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Translator: Soafp

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Summer break passed in the blink of an eye.

It was over before I knew it.

My master once told me that when time seems to fly by, it means you’re living a fulfilling life. I think that's true. I've never had a summer break feel this short before. But I made a lot of memories. Working part-time, hanging out, going to the fireworks festival—I was busy and happy every day.

Except for one thing—

That blonde pig kept showing up wherever I went, and to be honest, it was pretty annoying.

Well, I completely ignored her, so I guess there wasn't any real damage… except when she got me labeled as a “lost child” at the festival I went to with Amane-chan. You're the lost one, pig. You're always wandering aimlessly.

Anyway, summer break is over.

The second term begins.

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“Kazu-kun. You should join a club.”

After school on the first day of the second term—

President Suzuka Kocho said this to me while I was reading in the underground archive as usual. Despite the lingering heat, she came all the way down here, even though there’s no air conditioning. Amane-chan had gone home early for a recording session, so it was just the two of us.

“It's such a waste to let your talent go unused. Don't you have any interest? Sports, arts, anything at all?”

I thought about it a little before answering.

“Nothing in particular… but I think I wouldn't mind trying something.”

“Great. So you're open to the idea?”

“Yes.”

Now that I've cut ties with that pig, I'm free to do whatever I want. I've already tried working part-time—maybe joining a club is the next step.

“Then how about a trial run with the art club? I've been friends with the club president since middle school, so I can make the introductions easier. Do you like drawing?”

“I do. When I was in elementary school, I drew a portrait of my mom, and the teacher praised me for it.”

He was a good teacher. Even though I was often treated like something dangerous because I was the pig's “companion,” that teacher treated me like a normal student. He complimented my drawing, called it well done. Then the next day, he suddenly took a leave of absence. “Paternity leave,” they said. Even though he was a man. Later, I heard he'd been transferred to a school far away. Either the pig's family pulled some strings, or the principal “read the room” and acted on his own.

But regardless of the past—

“Then it's settled. You'll start your trial tomorrow.”

Seeing the president so happy—like it was her own success—makes me want to do my best.

Let's give club activities a real try.

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The next day after school.

With the Championship around the corner, the school was buzzing. Athletic clubs were deep into their training, and cultural clubs were in the final stretch of preparing their projects.

The art club I was joining on a trial basis was no exception.

Over twenty members had gathered, each facing their canvas with intense focus.

The one who kindly offered to guide me—the clueless new (temporary) member—was a second-year girl.

“I’m Mashiro Watagi. Nice to meet you, Suzuki-kun!”

My first impression was: She's like a marshmallow.

Soft and round, fair-skinned, with hair like spun sugar that gently swayed whenever she nodded. She had a gentle, calming aura—she looked like she'd be very soft to touch.

“For today, could you just watch next to me? I'm just finishing up a piece.”

“Got it.”

I placed a chair beside her and watched her brush strokes intently. She was painting a watercolor of Kumoharashi Beach, which was nearby. With vivid colors and bold brushwork, the local scenic spot was beautifully captured on the canvas.

“That's amazing, senpai.”

“Huh? What is?”

“I don't know much about art, but… it kind of hits me. Like, bam.”

“Ahaha, bam?”

“Bam.”

I didn't know the technical terms, but the image just burned itself into my brain.

“Sorry, I'm bad at putting things into words.”

“No, I'm happy. I think I really like your way of seeing things, Suzuki-kun.”

“You can just call me Kazu.”

“Okay. Then you can call me Mashiro.”

She gave me a soft smile.

It was hard to believe that someone this cute and gentle could paint something so bold.

Art might actually be kind of fun…

“But, you know… this isn't my painting.”

“Really?”

Was she a ghost painter? Like a ghostwriter, but for art?

“Isn't that kind of meaningless for a club activity?”

“Yeah, I know… but it’s for my childhood friend.”

Mashiro-senpai's bright face clouded over.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

Childhood friend.

Not exactly a word that brings good memories to me, either—

At that moment, the rear door of the art room burst open with a loud bang. The shoulders of the other members flinched slightly. The one who appeared was a stocky male student with short red hair. He looked around the room with a sharp gaze, and everyone quickly looked away.

“Ah… Kou-chan…”

Mashiro-senpai murmured as the redhead marched over to her.

“Hey, Mashiro. Is my painting done yet?”

“U-um… I think I'll finish it by tomorrow…”

“Huh? I told you to finish it today. Geez, you're so damn slow, just like always.”

They seemed to know each other from way back, but his attitude was seriously rude.

He glanced sharply at me.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you sitting next to Mashiro?”

“Ah, h-he's, um, a trial member—”

“I wasn't asking you. Shut up.”

He looked down at me like he owned the place.

Was he picking a fight?

“I'm Kazu Suzuki, class 1-1. I joined as a trial member today, and Mashiro-senpai's been kindly showing me the ropes.”

“Oh yeah? Then quit today.”

He jabbed a tightly clenched fist at the tip of my nose. It wasn't a karate fist. The marks on his fingers showed he'd been wrapping his hands with bandages. A boxer—probably heavyweight class.

The sloppily worn uniform shirt shimmered with a gold badge. The badge system had long since been abolished, and yet he flaunted it like a trophy. In other words—he was that kind of person.

“Mashiro's busy, you piece of trash. She doesn't have time to waste on the likes of you.”

“S-Stop it, Kou-chan!”

“I told you to shut up!!”

Mashiro-senpai flinched violently at his outburst.

The other club members ignored the scene completely—better not poke the bear was the unspoken rule.

“Mashiro. Since when did you get to give me orders?”

“…I'm sorry…”

“You're slow, and crap at everything. Just keep your mouth shut and help me like you always do.”

Mashiro-senpai shrank back, dejected.

Judging from the way they spoke to each other, the two were likely childhood friends—though that didn’t seem to mean much in this case…

The red-haired guy leaned in close to my face.

“If you don't leave, I'll throw you out myself.”

“Aren't you a boxer, senpai? Why are you in the art club?”

I called out his sport, and he wasn't even surprised. He seemed to assume everyone knew who he was—arrogance oozed from him.

“I'm in both. ‘The genius of both martial and artistic prowess,’ Kouji Araki—that's me.”

Ah—so this is the guy.

I'd heard the rumors. A second-year student, a genius boxer with real Olympic potential. I'd also seen articles and news segments featuring his award-winning artwork.

I couldn't speak to his skill as an artist, but as a boxer, he was the real deal. His expression, his physique—everything about him screamed elite athlete. Yes, an athlete. A sportsman.

These days, they even call sports “martial arts,” apparently.

…Interesting.

“If you don't wanna get hurt, then get the hell out. Or do you want me to beat the crap outta you?”

He flashed a yellowed grin.

I could feel the aggression rolling off him—he was really picturing it: slamming a punch into my gut. He was serious. His intent to harm was clear in his eyes.

Well—if that's how he wants to play it…

Here's my move.

Crack.

“…?!”

The redhead flinched, his entire body seizing up.

His cocky smile froze, replaced by a flicker of fear.

He had been painting a mental picture—one where I was the punching bag. So I simply painted over it.

A revised image: his proud body blow landing with no effect… and then a devastating uppercut shattering his jaw.

I planted that vision in his head.

“…Wh-What the hell was that?!”

“You seem fine with hitting others, but not so prepared to be hit yourself, huh?”

The fact that he received the image means he's got some ability of his own. Impressive—for an Olympian.

But instead of trusting his instincts, he ignored them.

“Come outside! I'll beat you to a pulp!!”

How foolish.

His primal instincts had told him not to mess with me—and he chose to ignore them, all for the sake of some pathetic pride.

“Stop it already, Kou-chan! Please?”

Mashiro-senpai stepped in, shielding me with a near-teary face. It was probably inappropriate to think so at that moment, but I found her expression incredibly cute. It stirred a desire to protect her. She was different from Amane or Ayukawa—a type of girl I'd never met before.

And just then—

“Haroharooooon ♪ Kaaazuuuuu~~!!”

Along with that horrendous voice, in came the goddamn blonde pig.

Strutting in like she owned the place, her disgusting golden hair swaying behind her, was none other than her, accompanied by her bodyguard, Rei Hikami.

“I heard you joined the art club, Kazuuu~! So I came to check on you ♪ Oh my gosh, I'm such a devoted woman, aren't I? I'm like, dangerously caring~ ♥ Huh? Why are you looking away? Aww, I get it! You're embarrassed to see sweet lil' Rua after so long, huh? You're such a total virgin, it's HILARIOUS! LOLLLLL”

…Annoying. Infinitely annoying.

“And who the hell is that girl?! She's UGLY!!”

…You little…