A slow, knowing smirk spread across Kuroha Akira's face. The pieces clicked into place with an almost audible snap.
"So, Class Monitor," he began, his tone laced with the satisfaction of solving a puzzle, "this whole performance... was to recruit me for the Literary Club."
"Full marks for deduction!" she chirped, clapping her hands softly. "That's exactly right. All the current members are third-years. With graduation looming, they've already begun their 'ghosting' phase—attendance is a memory. If we don't secure new members soon, the Student Council will issue a formal warning, and then... poof. Club dissolution."
So, the Class Monitor's portfolio included 'Club President' as well. The Literary Club... or as it's more mundanely known, the Literature Club.
In Kuroha Akira's extensive otaku database, this particular club was often relegated to pure background decor—a quiet, forgotten room. It was the club Hachiman Hikigaya famously mistook for the Service Club, and tthe infamous meeting place where everything looked peaceful right up until the moment it absolutely wasn't—the same kind of room that taught the internet to fear smiling literature girls.
Its defining trait was a profound lack of presence… right until it suddenly had too much.
"Let me guess," Kuroha Akira leaned back against the now-warm vending machine. "That's why you're at school during summer break, Class Monitor? Fulfilling your presidential duties?"
What exactly did the Literary Club do, anyway? Read books? Write pretentious reviews? Feed the metaphorical bookworms?
In reality, the club's decline was a simple case of societal evolution. In an age where novels lived on smartphones and information was a Google search away, even in publishing-hub Japan, the traditional 'let's sit quietly with physical books' club was a dinosaur headed for extinction.
Heck, Kuroha Akira himself, pre-transmigration, hadn't penned anything longer than his own signature in nearly a decade. And even that had become a struggle after his name subtly changed in this world.
"Kuroha-kun," Asato Hitomi tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. "Are you that curious about why I'm at school in the summer?"
Answering a question with a question—a classic deflection tactic. So, there was another reason behind her summer campus appearances. But since she was clearly baiting him, he decided to play it straight.
"A little, I suppose. Seeing a classmate in full uniform during break feels... anomalously diligent." He jerked a thumb towards the distant soccer field, where the shouts and laughter of the soccer club echoed. "Take those guys. They're here every day grinding under the sun, but even they have the sense to ditch the uniform for practice gear."
The idea that one must wear a uniform to school during vacation was the hallmark of a truly rigid, rule-bound student. And while Asato Hitomi's grades were top-tier, their conversation had proven she was anything but rigid. If anything, she was dangerously flexible.
"But Kuroha-kun," she pointed out, her gaze sweeping over him. "You're also in uniform."
A look of profound distress crossed Kuroha Akira's face. "Let's be clear: this is not a fashion choice. This is a lack of options." The heat was oppressive, and he longed for shorts and a t-shirt, but his wardrobe consisted precisely of two sets of uniforms and the school-issued gym clothes. Most of summer break, he'd lived in the gym wear, but today—laundry day—coincided with the summer's peak heat. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
"Hmm..." She pondered this, a finger to her lips. "I wore mine specifically to leave a good first impression. But it seems I overthought it. Kuroha-kun seems plenty interested even without the formalities."
"Hold on. So you were targeting me from the start?" The romantic 'fated encounter' fantasy evaporated completely. This was a premeditated social operation. She'd even strategized her outfit for optimal target acquisition.
Which led to the million-yen question:
"Why me?"
Before today, their social vectors were polar opposites. Kuroha Akira was the gloomy, bottom-tier weirdo. Asato Hitomi was the radiant, top-of-the-class president. Their worlds weren't just separate; they were in different solar systems. What possible interest could she have in him? Why recruit him of all people?
"Class Monitor, you're popular. If you put out a general call in class, half the 'going-home club' members would probably sign up just to be near you."
"I'm not looking for ghost members to fill a roster," she stated, her voice firming for the first time. "And I don't want people joining out of pity or superficial classmate obligation. I prefer to keep club dynamics separate from classroom politics."
"Ah..."
It was the 'dumplings and friends' principle. Have your social circle in class, and a separate, distinct circle in your club. The two shouldn't mix. My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected truly was the bible for navigating these waters.
"So, I, the guy you've never spoken to, am the perfect candidate..."
Asato Hitomi smiled and raised a single, decisive finger. "Of course, the most critical point is that Kuroha-kun... you're a fellow book-lover, aren't you? You've been coming to the school library every day this summer."
"You saw me."
Now that he thought about it, she'd never asked why he was at school. She already knew. While his true purpose was linguistic boot camp, to any observer, a student haunting the library during summer break could only be a hardcore bibliophile.
"Not just saw," she corrected, a sly note entering her voice.
"Hmm?"
"Kuroha-kun, take a guess. Why is the school library even open during summer break?"
"...Ha."
The final piece slammed home. This also explained her presence.
Kuroha Akira could simply read and leave. But someone had to open the doors, manage the checkout desk, and—most importantly—lock up at the end of the day. He recalled the head librarian was a quiet, cool beauty from the class next door. Likely a fellow Literary Club member who'd enlisted the ever-reliable Class Monitor for summer duty.
Or perhaps... Asato Hitomi had volunteered for the job, knowing Kuroha Akira was a daily fixture. A long-term reconnaissance mission to see if his bookworm act was genuine.
The realization dawned on him, bringing with it a strange, warm embarrassment. Asato Hitomi had been observing him all summer. She'd confirmed he wasn't a poseur, and then, on the final day of vacation, made her move.
In a very real sense, he'd spent his entire summer with the Class Monitor. He just hadn't been aware of it.
"Also," she added, as if delivering a coup de grâce, "Kobayakawa-sensei specifically told me, 'As Class Monitor, you should look after the solitary Kuroha-kun. Try to help him make, oh, a hundred friends or so.'"
Kobayakawa-sensei... your kindness is overwhelming, but I'm not Komi-san, and I have no need for a hundred friends.
"So!" Asato Hitomi concluded, clasping her hands together with finality. "If I befriend Kuroha-kun first, and then extend a club invitation, it accomplishes two objectives: helping you build social connections and saving the Literary Club. Isn't that a brilliant, two-birds-one-stone strategy?"
"I haven't agreed to join yet."
"Even though we're small," she began, her voice dropping into a confidential, enticing register, "our club members are all top-tier, beautiful girls, you know? The cream of the school."
"Oh? Comparable to you, Class Monitor?"
"Hmm... I'd say we each have our own charms. But it's worth noting," she leaned in slightly, "I'm not the most endowed in the club. You understand my meaning, right? Not talking about age."
"..."
Bigger than the Class Monitor's already impressive specs? That's... that's illegal development!
"And our club advisor just happens to be our homeroom teacher, Kobayakawa-sensei. You're familiar with her. She's always been so concerned about you. If she saw you join, she'd be overjoyed. She might even give you a celebratory hug... Moto-sensei is a very... mature woman, after all."
"..."
What is this? A bonus route?
"And most importantly," she delivered the final blow, her eyes sparkling with devilish insight, "the Literary Club currently has zero male members. Kuroha-kun, doesn't the idea of being the sole boy surrounded by beautiful, literary-minded girls hold a certain... appeal?"
"..."
A personal, intellectual harem scenario. Laid out with terrifying clarity.
Kuroha Akira stared at the beaming Class Monitor. A single, critical question burned in his mind, drowning out even the cicadas' roar.
Class Monitor... just what kind of club are you running? This doesn't sound like a Literature Club. This sounds like a carefully curated establishment from the red-light district! Is this club even LEGITIMATE?!