"More upperclassmen want to invite me for coffee?"
"Well then, I shall take my leave."
Koenji smoothed his bangs and said this in a lazy tone, then elegantly turned to leave the classroom.
Before stepping over the threshold, he suddenly paused, his gaze meaningfully sweeping over Kushida, finally settling on Akira.
"My 'favor' is not merely as simple as exchanging contact information."
"Look forward to it! Shimizu-kun, hahahahaha!"
Before his words faded, Koenji's figure had vanished from the classroom, leaving behind a room filled with stunned silence.
Koenji had always been flamboyant in his actions, and his deliberately raised voice and hearty, almost villainous laughter naturally fell into the ears of the surrounding students.
"What is that guy rambling about?"
"What 'favor'? It's all nonsense."
"But that guy is surprisingly popular with upperclassmen! Maybe he'll introduce us to girlfriends!"
Akira hadn't expected Koenji, with his narcissistic personality, to be so well-liked by upperclassmen from other classes.
However, both giving up his seat and reporting the interviewers were merely spontaneous actions on his part. He hadn't expected them to be interpreted by Koenji as some special consideration.
According to Koenji, it was a beautiful misunderstanding.
'Being "repaid" by a man... no matter how you look at it, it's not something to be happy about.'
The gymnasium was bustling with people—about a hundred students gathered in small groups throughout the venue.
Judging by their uniforms, most were first-year students who had not yet joined a club.
Akira found a long table with promotional materials at the entrance.
He walked over and pulled out a booklet from the neatly arranged pile.
Flipping through the pages, various club introductions caught his eye:
Judo Club - Three consecutive years in the top eight at the National Tournament
Baseball Club - Top four in last year's Koshien preliminaries
Archery Club - Boasts an active junior national team player
Each page had photos of club activities, and the upperclassmen in professional gear were all adorned with sparkling medals on their chests.
'The level of these clubs... it's already at the pre-national team standard, isn't it?'
His original plan of joining a club and earning class points through performance was completely shattered after seeing these athletes' profiles.
Judo's groundwork demonstrations, baseball's batting stances, archery's perfect shooting forms—every photo showcased professional standards.
'It's unlikely that I, a complete amateur, could keep up with this level of training...'
Upperclassmen began to take turns introducing their clubs on stage, and basically every club would say something like "beginners welcome."
However, Akira felt that these upperclassmen were probably aiming for funding. Generally, the more members there were, the more funding they should receive.
New students without relevant experience, even if they joined a club, would likely only be used for errands.
"Hey! You, over there!" A loud shout came from the stage. "Want to come up and try some boxing?"
Akira finally snapped out of it, realizing that a muscular upperclassman on stage was waving at him.
'By the way, there's a boxing club in a Japanese high school? Aren't they afraid of students getting injured and missing classes?'
The new students below all turned their gazes to him, making him instantly the center of attention.
"Me...?" Akira pointed to himself, and after receiving an affirmative reply, he nodded. "Alright, but I've never done boxing before."
"Hahahaha! Everyone has a first time!" The upperclassman's hearty laughter echoed through the gymnasium.
At the upperclassman's enthusiastic invitation, Akira slowly ascended the stage.
The upperclassman casually tossed him a pair of red boxing gloves, their leather surface showing signs of use.
"Just try throwing a punch like this?" The upperclassman took a defensive stance, his strong arms crossed over his chest, but he showed no intention of wearing protective gear.
Akira, clumsily tying the glove straps, asked, "Is this really okay? If you're not wearing protective gear..."
"Relax, relax!" The upperclassman waved his hand dismissively. "Consider it a special service for new students to experience! Come on! Don't hold back!"
Akira took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly becoming focused.
He slightly lowered his shoulders, stepped forward half a pace with his left foot, and his right fist shot out like an arrow from a bow—
"Bang!"
Akira's straight punch landed on the upperclassman's crossed and blocked arms, and this well-built upperclassman was actually staggered back several steps by this heavy blow.
"Cough...!" The upperclassman grunted, and a deep red fist print appeared on his tanned arm at a visible rate.
He stared with disbelief, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "This power... what the hell... are this year's new students monsters?"
Before his words faded, his right arm, which he had used to block, suddenly began to tremble uncontrollably.
Like muscle memory, it performed an instinctive reaction of a professional boxer in pain—quickly retracting the arm to his waist.
This subtle professional movement immediately caused an uproar among the few knowledgeable students in the audience, though most of the students below were still jeering.
Laughter and catcalls rose and fell from below, with a few students whistling and shouting, "How much did you get paid for this performance, senpai?"
"You're really going all out for recruitment!"
"Didn't the other guy say he'd never even practiced boxing?"
The upperclassman scratched his head, revealing a somewhat awkward, hearty smile. "Hahaha, was I seen through?"
But when he turned to Akira, his gaze was exceptionally serious. "However, kohai, the weight of your punch cannot be faked."
The upperclassman flexed his still-numb arm. "You exercise regularly, don't you?"
Akira was about to answer when the upperclassman enthusiastically slung his arm over his shoulder. "Why don't you consider joining the boxing club? You can use all the imported fitness equipment."
"Oh! I forgot to ask—new student, which class are you in? What's your name? You haven't joined any other clubs yet, have you?"
"Shimizu Akira from first-year Class D. I haven't joined a club yet."
"Ah... a new student from Class D... I'll give you... 5,000 points... no, I'll give you 10,000 points as a subsidy every month!"
"I get a subsidy? But isn't it too late to start practicing boxing now?"
"Not at all, not at all. The essence of martial arts is a contest of physical fitness. Your foundation is incredibly solid—even without technique, you can unleash heavy punches that bring opponents to their knees."
"Trust me!" The upperclassman suddenly leaned in, his voice extremely low. "New students don't understand the ways of this school yet." He paused meaningfully. "This is a school that believes in might makes right..."
Akira was taken aback.
He distinctly remembered that the Student Council President had emphatically declared "meritocracy" at the entrance ceremony.