The library door was pushed open rather casually, and the noisy voices of the newcomers immediately came from outside.
They were students from Class D.
More precisely, they were the dangerously failing students led by Hirata Yosuke, including Yamauchi Haruki, Kanji Ike, Ken Sudō, and others.
"If you don't want to come, you can leave." Ken Sudō tossed out the words, his expression thoroughly annoyed.
Yamauchi Haruki sighed gloomily, his face full of complicated emotions. "If only not wanting to come was enough to get out of it..."
"Hey, hey, hey, what's gotten into you guys? You're both acting so weird." Kanji Ike was utterly shocked. "Come to think of it, have you always been like this?!"
He suddenly turned to Sudō. "Ken, weren't you supposed to be the kind of guy who thought studying was a pain and just wanted to play basketball?!"
Then he turned to Yamauchi. "Haruki, weren't you supposed to think studying was pointless because a genius like you didn't need to study?!"
"What's gotten into you two?!"
He couldn't understand it.
Hadn't they all agreed to slack off and have fun together? Hadn't they promised to be useless slackers together?
So why had these two started trying to improve themselves instead?!
Faced with Ike's questions, Ken Sudō fell silent, while Yamauchi Haruki quietly glanced at Hirata.
"Ike, be quiet," Hirata Yosuke said expressionlessly, in a tone that brooked no refusal.
His icy words sent a chill crawling up the back of Ike's neck, and Ike's mouth snapped shut.
Once Ike quieted down, Hirata put on his usual gentle expression again. He looked around, picked an empty table at random, and led the students behind him over to take their seats.
"Okay, everyone. If there's anything you don't understand, you can ask me," he said softly.
The sound of pages turning soon filled the room. Though he was clearly reluctant, Ike obediently sat down.
Unlike the others, who had come to the library prepared, he hadn't brought anything with him.
"Ken, lend me a book." He dragged his chair over beside Sudō's and grabbed a book from some unknown subject.
He wasn't actually planning to study. It just felt weird to do nothing while everyone else around him was reading.
"..."
Sudō didn't reply, so Ike took that as permission. He opened the book, held it in front of his face as a cover, and hunched closer to Sudō once more.
"Hey, Ken, we're friends, right?" Keeping his voice low and sneaking glances at Hirata, Ike whispered, "If you still think of me as a friend, tell me already. Are you being haunted by some weird, evil thing?"
Friends.
Ken Sudō quietly turned the word over in his mind.
That was right. Kanji was his friend.
The only friend he'd made at this high school, after being ostracized for a time in middle school.
"..." Sudō let out a quiet sigh. "I'm not being haunted by anything weird, and there's nothing wrong with my head."
"How should I put it? I guess I've just started to understand myself a little better."
How ridiculous.
His life—and the basketball he'd always been so proud of.
He'd thought basketball was the only thing he could accept about himself, the only thing he could be proud of.
But the harder he tried, the more clearly he realized just how absolute the line was between ordinary people and those who were practically superhuman.
...Actually, he shouldn't have given up so soon. No matter what, if he didn't try it himself, if he didn't challenge those people and see with his own eyes what "real basketball" was like, he wouldn't have been satisfied.
The Generation of Miracles' game footage was terrifying—so terrifying that it made everyone question whether it was real, and whether what they'd been playing all these years could even be called basketball.
But it was only footage, after all.
If the upperclassmen in the Basketball Club were still working hard, and if they truly believed the team could do it,
then Ken Sudō thought he should be able to do it too.
After falling into a slump, he'd rallied his spirits again, intending to find the reason those people could pull off such superhuman plays through grueling training.
Then, one day, when he'd been putting in extra practice as usual, he unexpectedly heard the truth. The upperclassmen had forgotten he was there.
"You can do it! You're the future of basketball!"
"Pfft, hahahaha! Did you see the looks on those rookies' faces? They actually think they can beat those monsters."
"Honestly, if it weren't for the funding we get from the school to keep the club running, I wouldn't bother playing along with this make-believe game."
"We can just coast until graduation, then have the school recommend us for basketball coach jobs at some local school. What's the point of working so hard?"
"Come on, don't say that. If the freshmen didn't train so hard, how would we answer to the school? All we have to do is put on a show, shout a few slogans to get the rookies fired up, and set an impressive-sounding goal that's impossible to reach. Then the school gives us funding. What could be better?"
"Besides, they'll only work hard for a year. Once they go watch a game in person, their confidence will be shattered, and they'll end up just like us."
"Hoho, passion and youth! The struggle! Hahaha..."
The upperclassmen's voices gradually faded into the distance, but Sudō stayed hidden in the restroom, one hand braced against the wall, cold sweat running down his face.
His heart pounded. It was the height of summer, but he felt a bone-deep chill.
It was all just to placate the school?
A make-believe game?
Just to get funding?
...Then what had he been working so hard for?
Ken Sudō jolted awake.
As if waking from a nightmare, he sat bolt upright, drenched in cold sweat.
If—if the path of basketball didn't work out...
For the first time, he seriously considered a question he'd never thought about before.
Looking at the passing line Chabashira Sae had drawn, the glaring "0" on the blackboard, and the game footage on his Personal Terminal that he'd replayed countless times but still couldn't understand,
Ken Sudō began to panic.
Huh?
How had things suddenly turned out like this?
If I really get expelled, what am I supposed to do?
He was only a first-year. His wonderful high school life had barely begun, yet Ken Sudō inexplicably started to feel anxious.
He'd spent the first half of his life in the mud. If he had to spend the rest of it there too, and rely on that disgusting father of his—
He'd rather study.
"Study. Just study. It can't hurt." Sudō sighed and gently patted Kanji Ike on the shoulder.
It was a heartfelt warning to his friend.
Kanji Ike: "???"
Sudō had gone crazy.
No, no way. He couldn't give in yet.
Clenching his teeth, Ike picked up Sudō's book and tiptoed to his feet, intending to move over beside Yamauchi Haruki.
Haruki would understand me, if anyone would!
As long as you crammed at the last minute, studying was easy. You could pass without a problem!
He looked toward the spot where he remembered Yamauchi Haruki sitting, his eyes full of hope and expectation. Then Ike saw a pair of eyes.
"..." Hirata Yosuke was watching him.
"Eek—" Ike shuddered and quickly ducked his head.
But if hiding your head worked, the ostrich strategy would have spread all over the world long ago.
"Keep working on your problems." Hirata gently patted Yamauchi Haruki on the shoulder, then approached Ike with a friendly smile.
He bent down and spoke softly. "Ike, I think it's about time you studied too."
"Y-yes..."
"Huh..." A trace of surprise appeared in Asakusa Toru's eyes.
He'd been watching from the very beginning. He'd assumed the Class D deadbeats had come to the library to disturb everyone, but aside from Ike's initial outburst, they'd been surprisingly quiet.
The most impatient one, Ken Sudō, was studying of his own accord. The most unlikely to act human, Yamauchi Haruki, had been completely subdued by Hirata. Even the most boisterous one, Kanji Ike, hadn't escaped Hirata's clutches.
The hell, were you really Hirata Yosuke?
As Asakusa remembered him, Hirata was supposed to be the sort of good guy who smoothed everything over, wanted everyone to get along, and couldn't bear to lose a single classmate...
This was bad. He couldn't even call Hirata a low-spec Hayama now.
At this point, Horikita and Kushida were supposed to step up with a plan to help the deadbeats pass. But after he'd spilled all that through his diary, Horikita had ended up hanging out with Kushida, while Hirata had taken on the role of mom.
Unexpected.
Though... if he remembered correctly, Class D's homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae, was going to pull something during the midterm exams.
He wondered how much more resentment they'd hold toward Chabashira Sae once they found out they'd been studying hard in the wrong direction, for the wrong exam material.
Ka-ka-ka. Should he write in his diary to remind Little Sister-chan?
"(Poke)" Just as Asakusa Toru was thinking this, the girl behind him quietly reached out and poked him. Then she handed him a piece of white paper with something written on it.
On the paper, in neat handwriting, was a question.
[If you had the chance to leave a message directly for a writer you like, what would you say?]
Pen-and-paper conversations.
For students, they were a common way to chat, second only to whispering.
They happened most often during class with a strict, sharp-eared teacher, or in an extremely quiet place.
With a piece of paper and a pen, two desk mates could talk about anything, from one end of the country to the other, from their families to launching Genshin Impact.
In the quiet library, it wasn't as if they couldn't speak softly. But the kindhearted and lovely Shiina Hiyori had still chosen to communicate in writing, asking this question of her rare friend.
[If you had the chance to leave a message directly for a writer you like, what would you say?]
...What kind of question was that?
Asakusa Toru raised an eyebrow at the words on the paper in his hand.
As for leaving a message, didn't most writers have their own social media accounts nowadays? If you tagged them, they'd probably see it.
So the key part of the question was "directly."
Put another way, she was really asking, "If you had the chance to meet a writer you liked in person, what would you do?"
"..."
Normally, when someone encountered a question, most people would think about the answer first and only then consider anything else related to it.
But Asakusa Toru was different. He preferred to guess at the other person's motives first.
So...
Time to make a guess. The library's resident NPC had suddenly asked a question like this. What was her goal?
One: she'd just had a sudden whim and decided to ask a hypothetical question.
Two: she'd noticed him sitting around while everyone else studied, even though he was supposed to be helping them, and was bored enough to come bother him.
Three: she'd gotten the chance to ask a writer she liked a question directly and wanted to hear his opinion.
Four: she liked him.
Before you continue