5

The rest of the day passed in a blur of polite introductions and syllabus handouts. History, Japanese, and English all stacked one after the other like bricks in a wall. By the time the last bell rang, I could feel my brain turning into wallpaper paste.

“Freedom,” Daiki muttered as we stepped into the hallway.

“Temporary,” Aoi reminded him. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

We decided to check out a few clubs before heading home — partly because Aoi insisted, partly because the school required every student to at least consider joining one.

The first room we stopped at had a banner over the door reading Art Club. Inside, a girl in a paint-splattered apron stood by an easel.

“Welcome,” she said with a small bow. “The Art Club meets three times a week after school. We focus on painting, sketching, and occasionally sculpture. Materials are provided by the school, and there’s no minimum skill level required — just an interest in creating.”

We thanked her, stepped back into the hall, and moved to the next.

This one was Drama Club. The boy who greeted us had an energetic voice and posture so straight it looked rehearsed.

“Good afternoon! The Drama Club holds regular performances in the auditorium. We welcome actors, stagehands, set designers, and anyone interested in public speaking or creative expression. Practice is twice a week, with extra rehearsals before shows.”

Daiki made a quiet face at me, and I pretended not to notice.

Further down the hall, we peeked into the Photography Club. A senior with a camera hanging from his neck stepped forward.

“Our club meets every Wednesday and Friday. We do portrait, landscape, and event photography for the school. Members are encouraged to bring their own cameras, but the school has a few to lend out. We also hold seasonal exhibitions.”

Last, we found the Basketball Club. The representative was tall, broad-shouldered, and spoke like he was giving a press conference.

“Basketball Club practices four days a week. We participate in the prefectural tournament every year, so commitment is expected. New members are welcome, but please be prepared for intense training.”

When we stepped back into the hallway, Daiki stretched his arms behind his head.

“Basketball guy sounded like he was recruiting for the military.”

“Photography sounded nice,” Aoi said. “But I’d probably end up just taking pictures of cake.”

Satoshi adjusted his glasses. “The drama one was… enthusiastic.”

“Art seemed relaxed,” I said. “But I can’t even draw a straight line.”

“Basketball,” Daiki said, “is still on my maybe list.”

“Not surprised,” I said.

Satoshi gave a small nod. “I’ll still check the newspaper club before deciding.”

The hallway felt quieter now, most students either heading home or ducking into their chosen clubs. We decided to split up one at a time, but still stick close enough to regroup.

Satoshi was the first to peel off. The Newspaper Club room was tucked away in a corner of the third floor. Inside, the faint smell of ink and old paper hung in the air. Two upperclassmen greeted him with polite bows.

“I’d like to join,” Satoshi said simply.

They handed him a short form and a pen. No hesitation, no dramatic pause — he filled it out neatly and returned it. One of the seniors thanked him and mentioned they’d be meeting twice a week. Satoshi nodded, already looking like he belonged there.

“That was fast,” I said as he stepped back into the hall.

“No reason to wait,” he replied, adjusting his glasses.

Next was Aoi. She led us straight to the Cooking Club. The room smelled amazing — like miso soup and fresh bread. Students in aprons moved between counters, chatting quietly.

“I think I’m home,” Aoi said under her breath.

She didn’t even need convincing. A quick conversation with the club rep, a signature, and she was in. They welcomed her like they’d been waiting all year.

Then came Daiki.

We followed him down to the far wing of the building where the Gardening Club had a small classroom connected to an outdoor plot. Rows of potted flowers lined the windows, and sunlight spilled across the floor.

“This,” he said, hands in his pockets, “looks nice.”

“You?” Aoi blinked. “Gardening? Did you hit your head?”

“They seem relaxed,” Daiki said with a shrug. “Besides, someone has to make sure the plants don’t die.”

We all stared at him for a moment.

“Alright,” I said. “Plot twist.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

That left me.

The Soccer Club meeting spot was the field behind the gym. The grass was a little uneven, but the sight of people kicking balls back and forth made something click. It wasn’t even a decision, really. More like walking into a room you already knew.

One of the seniors handed me a sign-up sheet. “Welcome aboard.”

When I rejoined the others, Aoi smirked. “Typical.”

I laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think.”

We were still laughing as we stepped out through the school gates together, the late afternoon sun stretching our shadows across the pavement. The air smelled faintly of sweet bread from somewhere down the street.

“Cake shop?” Daiki asked.

“Cake shop,” Aoi confirmed.

To Be Continued.