Club Crashing, Part 2

The first thing I notice when I enter the gym are the eyes. Different colors set in different faces, but all fixated on me. The sidelines of the court are almost overcrowded with observers, and it was obvious that they weren’t here to try out. One thing that surprised me about all the club tours was the number of groupies that swarmed each tryout, flocking to see their favored players in action. Poor Nobu had his own little following, but I have a feeling that changed after our match. I can actually recognize a few of them here in this crowd.

Wow, that’s him!

Kei Kamiya, eh?

I guess he is pretty handsome…

I heard he just beat the best swordsman over at the Kendo Club, is that legit?

Can’t wait to see him win again!

Time to see if the rumors are true.

Ah, they’re here for me. Almost a week of challenging different clubs got my name around surprisingly fast. The feeling isn’t unlike walking into a surprise party or an intervention. I’ll try to use telepathy before entering rooms from now on, just to keep an eye open for any surprises.

“This doesn’t happen to be where the Basketball Club practices, is it?” I ask the question knowing full well where I am and why I’m here.

“Wow, you actually came. Mr. Foreigner’s gonna be bummed he missed this.”

The basketball team’s captain, dressed in his team colors, approaches me with a ball tucked under his arm. The rest of the club continued their warm-ups and practices, but kept an eye on me as well. It might be a while until I get used to being the center of attention.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kei Kamiya. You were expecting me?”

“You kidding? We’ve been practicing like crazy after we heard about you. Ah, and you can call me Ryota.”

I scratch the back of my head, faking a nervous chuckle in response.

“Hope I live up to your expectations then. Honestly, I’ve never really played before so I’m excited to try it out.” My silver eyes narrow ever so slightly. “You are still doing tryouts, right?”

A smirk spread across Ryota’s face, as if he was happy to hear that I would be easy prey.

Heh, if I beat this guy while our best player’s gone, my reputation’s gonna grow real fast. What a chance.

His thoughts are even more transparent about it. Unfortunately for him, what I said wasn’t exactly true. Knowing I’d be trying out here, I spent a few hours a day practicing the basics. I wasn’t amazing on my own, but I could at least move properly while dribbling. My aim wasn’t the worst, either. This alone wouldn’t earn me a win, but knowing the enemy’s thoughts is going to let me get where the ball is headed before it arrives. Being underestimated adds to my charm, too! People love to root for the underdogs you know.

Before I know it, I’m on the court with a team entirely made up of newcomers and fellow tryouts. We’re dressed in our own athletic clothes, staring down the lineup of uniform-clad athletes. Strangely, my team wasn’t worried about losing to these experienced players in the slightest.

I can’t believe I get to be on the same team as him!

He’s totally gonna carry us.

If I’m on his team when he wins, I can tell everyone we’re friends.

Come on Kei, show us that talent!

Instead of the unease rookies might feel when facing trained opponents, my team was fixated on me. It didn’t end with my team either, the crowd on the sidelines were chattering excitedly. Just from tuning into their thoughts for a few moments, it seems that more than half of them are here to watch me.

You can do it!

I bet my lunch on you winning!

So exciting!

I didn’t know guys could look that hot in a tracksuit…

Okay, I’ll take my time getting used to being the center of attention. This feels pretty good. I can’t help it if it makes me smirk a little.

Cocky bastard. Try smiling after you lose!

It looks like one of my opponent’s got the wrong idea. It can’t be helped, okay? I’m new to the whole popularity thing.

The sound of the referee’s whistle snaps me out of my inner monologue. The game has started, and the squeaking of my sneakers against the floor echo my movements.What follows is one of the most exhausting games of my life.

Every movement I take is preemptive. Whoever has the ball thought about where to take it or who to pass it to, and I am always between them. I summon every ounce of speed and athleticism I have to push myself to be where I need to be. Soreness spreads throughout my legs, and the throbbing in my palms and wrists from my kendo duel makes itself heard each time I successfully snatch away the ball from an opponent.

I’m not nearly as athletic or talented enough to carry it from one end of the court to the other, but every time I perfectly block a pass or slip through a gap in the enemy formation, cheers erupt from the flock of onlookers. Instead of attempting the winning shots myself, I make sure the players with true talent and ability have the ball when they need it.

Near the end of this, I’m hunched over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. The club’s team hasn’t been able to score even once, but my exhaustion was starting to set in. Foolishly, I allow my fatigue to overcome focus bit by bit. That’s probably the reason I don’t hear my teammate thinking about passing to me. The thought I do hear, however, is as simple as they come:

WATCH OUT!!

I turn my head towards the source of it, only to see the ball. I don’t see anything but the ball, really, until it slams into my face and knocks me to the floor.

A blown whistle shrieks through the air and my senses tune back into my surroundings. The first thing I pick up via telepathy is feminine laughter. The sound is sweet and sets my rapidly beating heart at ease. Even the sadistic undertone has a certain charm to it. All of its appeal washes away when I realize why it sounds familiar.

So, Kaori, you were watching after all. Great, hope you enjoyed the show! I had no idea it was a comedy! Hope you got what you wanted out of stalking me!

The game stops, with both the team and some people from the crowd rushing over to check on me. I’m not going to bother lying to myself, it felt good having a small army of fans following me around, especially when a handful of them are cute girls that run to my side when I take a little fall. If only a certain cute girl wouldn’t follow me around so much…

The people crowding around me on the floor honestly made it harder to recover, with their flurry of questions and concerns. I must have heard the teammate who threw that ball say “I’m sorry” at least ten different ways. Obviously, his thoughts were less about concern for me and more about how much his reputation would be damaged. This is why I don’t feel bad about deceiving them all like this.

“You can get up right?” Ryota pushes his way through the circle of people, holding his hand out for me. I take it and let him help me to my feet. Of course, it wasn’t even that nasty of a fall. The side of my face was just a little red.

“Thanks. The fall wasn’t that bad, so don’t worry.”

Hah! I’m not worried. Just gonna end this before my team gets humiliated for real.

“Better to be safe than sorry, especially if you got hit in the head. Let’s call off the match for now.”

My crowd of overly-invested fans let out a collective groan in response, but I feel like I accomplished what I came to do. If the game had gone on long enough, I’m sure I could have kept Ryota’s score where it was, but I was so out of breath that my lungs could barely keep up.

“My top player is gonna be so sad he missed out on this, but good game,” said the red-headed team captain, extending his fist. I responded by tapping my knuckles against his. It was sort of an overly masculine farewell, but I’ll take it.

Yup, farewell! I’m throwing in the towel on all these sports! I’ve been focusing on the club and popularity aspects of my plan for success, but haven’t touched the most important part of it.

Preparing for the first midterm test. If my name could be at the top of the board when the results are posted, that would be a huge step forward. Of course, I won’t be studying for them. At least not how I’m supposed to. It's time to start picking my targets.