The Music Club’s activity room was a sorry sight—many instruments looked as though they hadn’t been touched in ages.
As soon as Yuusegawa Aoi finished saying, “Using that face of yours to trick little girls,” a vivid memory crashed into Suzuki Yuu’s mind—he’d joined this club in the first place precisely because he’d been tricked by her.
He could still remember the scene on recruitment day. At the Music Club’s recruitment spot, Yuusegawa Aoi was wearing a light beige dress, her face carefully made up, holding a Violin and playing the theme song from an anime.
It could be said that, in that moment, quite a few people were drawn in by her.
Thinking back on it now, the sun was setting, and a dignified, gentle-looking girl stood at the center of crisscrossing light and shadow, smiling as she played a familiar melody with practiced ease. Her face was full of love and enjoyment for the music. The hem of her light beige skirt swayed gently in the breeze, and every so often, a few cherry blossom petals would drift down from the branches, brushing against the edge of her skirt. How could such a scene not attract people?
Plus, with the name Music Club, how could anyone not think this was a proper club?
So naturally, a huge group signed up back then.
But now, only a handful of people remained—so few that those expensive instruments rarely saw use.
And the main reason for all this, of course, was Yuusegawa Aoi.
This girl had absolutely none of the bearing of a President. When new members arrived, she simply shoved incomprehensible music theory books into their hands and then busied herself with games, offering no guidance or demonstrations.
Joining such a club was a nightmare for newcomers, especially after they saw Yuusegawa Aoi’s true personality. Even those who had come for her looks were dumbfounded and soon chose to quit.
Of course, the atmosphere at Aoyama Sacred Academy played a role too. Here, students with a solid foundation mostly went to the Wind Instrument Club or Light Music Club. The ones who joined the Music Club were mostly beginners.
Still, this club had once basked in glory, having won the National Gold Award. But now, only Aoi remained to hold it up; the second-years had either gone abroad or quit.
And the first-years? They’d basically all fled…
Except for Suzuki Yuu, since this place let him leave early, allowing him to fulfill the school’s requirements and still have time for his part-time job.
At this point, if he was going to join the Student Council, there was no reason to stay here any longer.
But… Yuusegawa-senpai’s words now made Suzuki Yuu’s expression turn a bit sour.
“Isn’t it a little too blunt for you to say that?”
“Is being blunt a bad thing? It’s better than pretending during recruitment—do you really think those people came for the Violin in my hands?”
She sat back on the sofa, picked up the controller she’d dropped earlier, and spoke to Suzuki Yuu in a teasing tone:
“Including you, Suzuki-kun, I bet you also had your own reasons for joining, didn’t you?”
“Uh…” Suzuki Yuu didn’t deny it. He really had been drawn in by Yuusegawa Aoi’s performance that day.
But that only accounted for fifty percent—he was also attracted by the recruitment Poster promising “early leave.”
“But I didn’t expect the Music Club to have nothing to do with music…”
“What do you mean, nothing to do with music! I play rhythm games all the time, okay!”
“President Yuusegawa, please sign my Application for Withdrawal.”
This time, Yuusegawa Aoi didn’t try to be clever. She put on a pleading expression and tugged at his sleeve:
“Aw, Suzuki-kun, I’m begging you! You’re the backbone of our club!”
Seriously, with so few people, how could I not be the backbone?
Suzuki Yuu rolled his eyes and replied helplessly:
“Sorry, for certain reasons, I have to go to the Student Council.”
The moment he finished, he saw the girl’s pupils contract sharply, her eyes full of disbelief…
“Junior, don’t tell me you’ve been lured away by that fox Jinguu Tenon?”
Do all you rich girls talk to each other in such crude terms?
Suzuki Yuu grumbled inwardly, then replied:
“Something like that…”
After all, he really did have to sign that lease agreement.
But as soon as he said this, Yuusegawa Aoi stood up, and from her small body erupted a sudden burst of strength, pinning him to the sofa.
“Suzuki-kun, do you know how Jinguu is described among the second-years?”
“What…”
“They say she’s perfect in every way—except for her personality.”
“Isn’t that a compliment?”
“No, what it means is that her personality is so terrible it cancels out all her good points.”
“Is… is that so?”
Suzuki Yuu thought back to his conversations with Jinguu-senpai. Other than occasionally saying some shocking things, she didn’t seem particularly problematic.
Yuusegawa Aoi’s hand was still pressing down on his shoulder, but her tone grew less sharp, and more honestly anxious—she scratched the back of her head, as if worried she’d gone too far, and quickly added:
“I’m not trying to talk behind her back… It’s just, I’m afraid you don’t know her ways if you haven’t dealt with her before.”
Is Jinguu Tenon really that scary?
Suzuki Yuu looked at his President, remembering Shiinachisa’s reaction when she’d heard Jinguu’s name. He couldn’t help but start to wonder.
But either way, to avoid being locked in a basement for the rest of his life, he had to go.
“Yuusegawa-senpai, why don’t you just approve my application?” he said, his tone full of resignation.
“That way lies hell!”
“Sorry, I have my reasons. Besides, staying here after school every day is pointless—it’s just wasting time with you.”
Suzuki Yuu shook his head. He wasn’t about to explain further; it wasn’t something easily explained anyway.
Yuusegawa Aoi’s hand still pressed his shoulder, her knuckles turning pale from the force. Her clear eyes were filled with lingering panic.
“Is the Student Council really that great?” She didn’t let up, but now her tone was suddenly tinged with a stubborn competitiveness, as if she were arguing with Suzuki Yuu—or perhaps with herself. For a moment, she seemed to have fallen into a bad memory.
Suzuki Yuu was about to speak, but she abruptly let go, scooting half a step back and sitting down on the sofa’s edge, her fingertips unconsciously picking at a stain. Her once-pleading voice dropped, and she couldn’t meet his eyes, looking off to the side: “Do you really have to go?”
“Yeah.” Suzuki Yuu nodded, his voice full of resolve.
For two seconds, the activity room was silent, save for the curtain occasionally swaying in the breeze, wafting in the scent of old sheet music. Suddenly, Yuusegawa curled up on the sofa, grabbed the game controller from between the cushions, and pressed the buttons aimlessly—the screen flickered on and off, but she didn’t open a game. She just muttered quietly, “Fine, have it your way.”
She seemed completely calm now. After glancing at Suzuki Yuu and quickly looking away, she snatched the Application for Withdrawal from his hand and waved it between her fingers:
“But don’t think you can just walk away… This club barely has any members as it is. The Student Council checks attendance every month. If I lose any more people, I’ll be in trouble… And now that you’re joining the Student Council, you better help open some doors for us or something…”
With that, she crumpled the application into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.
Suzuki Yuu didn’t know why Yuusegawa-senpai seemed so suddenly dejected, but he still promised her:
“…I’ll do what I can to help you out.”
“That’s more like it.” Yuusegawa Aoi finally showed a satisfied smile. “You might be a flirt, but at least you’re not heartless.”
Suzuki Yuu turned and walked toward the door. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Yuusegawa Aoi’s voice came from behind, her tone back to its usual laziness:
“Oh, Suzuki-kun.”
“What is it?”
“If you ever can’t stand it in the Student Council, you’re always welcome back.” She paused. “Even though there’s not much music here, at least… it’s a little more free.”
Suzuki Yuu found this a bit odd, but nodded again, then left.
After just a few steps, he seemed to hear a hysterical voice coming from the activity room:
“Damn you, Jinguu, damn you, Jinguu, always stealing…”
The voice was faint, but Suzuki stopped anyway. He wanted to turn back and listen, but now, only the sound of a game could be heard.
“Did I hear wrong? That’s weird.”
He muttered to himself, then hurried away.