After Izuru and Okita stepped out of the Student Council office, they walked side-by-side down the long school corridor...
"So, you can tell me now. What exactly do you need from me, Hikawa Okita-kun?"
Izuru spoke with a deadpan expression, though internally he was fighting the urge to howl with laughter; the corners of his mouth twitched as he suppressed the sheer amusement the name caused him.
"Um... President, you can just call me Hikawa..." Okita suggested, looking a bit bewildered by the formality.
"Nonsense. Using a person's full name is a mark of respect in certain great and powerful nations. Don't take it to heart. Besides, I find your full name carries a certain... authoritative weight. Consider it a tribute to your identity!"
Izuru patted the boy's shoulder with a strained smile, forcing a pivot in the conversation before his composure broke.
"Now, Hikawa Okita-kun, what is this favor you're so desperate for?"
"O-oh, right..." Despite sensing a cryptic subtext in Izuru's words—and instinctively feeling a wave of inexplicable mischief radiating from him—Okita quickly adopted a pleading look, remembering how much he needed help.
"The truth is... I want to beg the President... please, teach me how to play basketball!"
With that, it was as if Okita had opened a floodgate. He launched into a rambling explanation that lasted nearly half an hour. Izuru listened with a look of mounting confusion, only managing to piece together the narrative thread after a considerable amount of mental sorting.
This poor fellow started out as your stereotypical frail bookworm. Aside from decent grades, he possessed no other skills. However, everything changed the moment he laid eyes on his "true love."
The girl was his desk mate, a sweet-natured soul. From the very first moment, Okita had fallen head-over-heels.
But through some clandestine reconnaissance, Okita discovered that despite her gentle personality, she was a massive sports enthusiast. In fact, her athletic prowess put most boys to shame.
Because Okita lacked social grace, his clumsy attempts to gather intel on her were intercepted by another girl—a close friend of his crush—who promptly confronted him with biting words.
"You're like a toad dreaming of swan meat! Who would've thought that someone as plain and invisible as you would harbor such disgusting thoughts? You actually have the nerve to target our Prince?!"
Izuru wasn't entirely sure why a sweet high school girl was nicknamed "The Prince." Did she simply embody the shoujo manga ideal for the other female students?
But that wasn't the point. The point was that Okita, his heart mangled by those sharp words, underwent a dramatic transformation fueled by the power of love. The normally timid boy suddenly grew a backbone and made a reckless boast:
"Just you wait! In one month, I'm entering the school basketball competition. And after I win, I'm going to confess my feelings to her!"
Dreams are beautiful, but reality is a heartless mistress. As a lifelong nerd, Okita had barely touched a ball in his sixteen years of existence. His stamina was non-existent. How could this possibly go well?
Needless to say, reality had just delivered a resounding slap to his face.
Feeling helpless, Okita began searching for outside help. Essentially, he had spent the day wandering around practically screaming, "Coach, I want to play basketball!" or words to that effect.
Hearing this, Izuru asked in bewilderment, "If that's the case, shouldn't you be asking the basketball club? Why come to me?"
"That..." Okita's face contorted with embarrassment. "I did ask them. The upperclassmen in the club were actually very enthusiastic about teaching me. It's just... my talent is so abysmal that I haven't made any progress despite their efforts. Eventually, I felt too guilty to keep bothering those kind seniors..."
{So you feel guilty bothering them, but you feel perfectly fine bothering me?}
Izuru's expression darkened slightly. While he didn't mind the occasional random act of kindness, as a devout follower of the "avoid trouble" philosophy and an otaku who loathed commotion, he detested long-term commitments. Realizing he was merely the "backup option" only multiplied his annoyance!
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Okita hurried to explain: "Please don't misunderstand! I heard from the basketball club seniors that not only do you have incredible athletic ability—topping the physical exams every time—but you're also incredibly kind and a natural at teaching others. I thought the President might have a special way of teaching someone as sports-illiterate as me. That's why I'm begging you!"
This was common knowledge among the faculty and students. Izuru Kamukura, the Student Council President, wasn't just rank one in academics; he was a titan in sports. He was arguably more capable than professional athletes—a true polymath of both the pen and the sword.
However, Izuru didn't give an immediate "yes." He sank into thought.
Honestly, he really didn't want to help. He was the Student Council President, not a social worker. His desk was already buried in paperwork; why should he spend his precious free time helping someone for nothing? Life wasn't supposed to be that convenient.
{If only there was a professional who could handle this...}
An idea sparked in Izuru's mind. He remembered just seeing a "professional" who fit the bill.
Exactly—Yukino Yukinoshita of the "Service Club," which currently consisted of exactly one member. Rumor had it her club was founded specifically for this kind of altruistic labor!
If he could rope Yukino into helping, his burden would be significantly lightened. More importantly, he could simultaneously solve the problem currently facing the Service Club...
Thinking of this, a smirk played on Izuru's lips. He nodded. "Fine. Meet me at the basketball court after school. I'll see if I can bring a professional along to help sort out your mess."
"Really? Thank you so much, President!" Okita chirped, his face glowing with relief and joy.
"Don't mention it. Your name alone is the greatest favor you could have done me, Hikawa Okita-kun..." Izuru remarked with a tone thick with hidden meaning. He gave a dismissive wave and walked away without looking back. Since the school bell was about to ring and they were in different classes, they went their separate ways.
"The President is actually a really nice guy." Okita muttered to himself. "He's nothing like the other guys say—calling him a 'useless kept man who only has good grades'..."