The King of Tokyo Freeloaders [60]

Having witnessed the entire process of the wager unfold, Anri Hitomi teased Aizono Moe with a playful smile.

“Looks like our little Moe-chan’s finally entered her ‘blossoming popularity’ phase~ Both of them are fighting so hard to win you over.”

“Uu… T-Tou… Tou-chan…”

Moe, utterly overwhelmed with embarrassment, leaned her forehead against Anri’s shoulder and shyly smacked her other shoulder, like a flustered housewife swatting her teasing husband.

It was just one of those close interactions between girls who were good friends—nothing deeper than that.

But more than being flustered about her own “popularity,” Moe was worried about the tension between Kuroba Akira and Shirai Shiori. Her expression turned troubled.

“Tou-chan… is it really okay to not stop them?”

Anri stroked Moe’s head with a maternal smile.

“It’ll be fine. Just leave it to Kuroba-kun.”

She trusted him. She knew he wasn’t the type to make such bold declarations lightly. Just like when he’d proposed that “deal” to her—he wasn’t impulsive, he followed through.

Kuroba Akira had something that anyone could claim to have, but very few people actually practiced: follow-through.

“But… they really made that kind of bet…”

Sure, if neither side managed to get published, the challenge would just fade away. But if one of them did win… it’d be hard to walk it back.

Moe understood Shiori well. If she won, she definitely wouldn’t give Akira any room to save face. Making a boy run laps in the nude… just imagining it was mortifying.

So in her heart, Moe was actually hoping Akira would win. He seemed kind enough that if it came to it, he wouldn’t make Shiori do something humiliating.

“Maybe after this, they’ll end up becoming close friends. You know what they say—‘no true friendship without a good fight,’ right?”

“Do you really think it’ll go that smoothly…?”

“Don’t worry. Even today, Kuroba-kun managed to bond with some of the boys in class pretty fast.”

Though admittedly, that bonding was more… physical than emotional.

After the wager was made, Akira knew that sticking around would only make the atmosphere more awkward. He stood up and said his goodbyes.

“Well then, I’ll head out for today, class rep.”

“You’re not staying a bit longer?”

“Nah… I just made that ridiculous bet, so I need to go prep. I figure Shirai-san doesn’t want me distracting her while she’s trying to write, either.”

“…Hmph.”

Shiori let out a dismissive snort. Whether Akira stayed or left, she had no intention of wasting another second on him. Her mind had already moved on to brainstorming possible light novel plots.

I have to win. I’ll drive him out of here myself. This club doesn’t need men.

Plus, just thinking about how he might keep teasing Moe… or bantering with Anri… just irritated her even more. The room felt less aggravating with him gone.

If he didn’t leave, she would.

“See? Shirai-san clearly isn’t thrilled to have me around. Let’s wait until the results are in. Once I’ve proven myself, I’ll come and go from the Literature Club freely—without anyone raising an eyebrow.”

“……”

He said it like he’d already won. Shiori ground her teeth in frustration.

She knew he was just trying to mess with her mood. So she dropped back into silent mode.

If I can’t hear him, he doesn’t exist.

Akira waved to Anri and Moe on his way out. And just before stepping through the doorway, he turned with a smug grin and fired off one last parting shot:

“Looking forward to your masterpiece, Shirai-san. And if I may give a humble suggestion—when writing a light novel, it’s best to go back and revisit the stuff you wrote during your chūnibyō phase.”

Even at the door, he couldn’t resist one last jab. His mind games were at max output.

“Y-You… go die!!”

Shirai Shiori yanked off one of her indoor slippers and hurled it at his head. She couldn’t throw a book—those were sacred.

Akira, already stepping into the hallway, casually caught the flying shoe with one hand.

Then, with a theatrical smirk, he brought it to his nose and gave it a sniff.

“Oh my… what a fragrance. It really does smell like… literature.”

“………!!!”

Shirai Shiori was on the verge of exploding.

Satisfied that he’d sufficiently disrupted her mental state, Akira tossed the slipper back into the clubroom and made his escape.

“See you tomorrow, then! Bye-bye~”

Yup. Teasing girls was way more fun than being teased.

Incidentally—no, the shoe didn’t smell like “books.”

It had that vaguely sour scent unique to trapped heat and synthetic fabric—an inevitable result of wearing opaque tights in hot weather. Her feet had probably been sweating all day.

Good thing she was a bookworm who mostly sat reading. If she’d been in an athletic club… well, he didn’t want to imagine it. The socks might’ve been able to drip.

And those same sports girls always complained about how sweaty the boys made the club building smell… Talk about the pot calling the kettle gross.

After leaving the club building, Akira headed back to his classroom to grab his bag.

The moment he stepped in, he spotted Sumiya Ryouta chatting with Fujiyoshi Michio—sitting right on Akira’s desk. When he noticed Akira walk in, Ryouta raised a hand in greeting.

“Yo! Aki! You’re back!”

“…Uh. Sumiya?”

Aki?
We’re on a nickname basis now? When did that happen?

“Just call me Ryouta. Friends call each other by name, right?”

“……”

When did we become friends?

This guy was even more aggressively familiar than the class rep… and she’d fed him.

Not to mention, this was the same guy Akira had punched not long ago. That kind of friendliness was honestly kind of terrifying.

Akira walked over, suspicious, and asked:

“Weren’t you going out with your friends?”

“Yeah, they wanted to go bowling today. Not really my thing, so I gave it a pass… You coming back from the Literature Club?”

“Yeah.”

“Man…”

Ryouta let out a long, wistful sigh. Akira could guess what he was thinking—after all, Ryouta had wanted to join the Literature Club for a while now, and yet here Akira was, getting in first.

“So? How was it?”

“How was what?”

“The Literature Club, duh. What else?”

“Just… normal club stuff.”

“Damn it! Don’t play dumb! The Literature Club might be tiny, but the three girls in it—including Hitomi—are like, top-tier beauties in our whole year! You’re the only guy in there—you’re totally living the dream, right?! Surrounded by babes every day?!”

“You make it sound like a hostess club…”

Akira rolled his eyes and sank into his seat.

“So what were you two talking about?”

“You, of course. I came back to grab my bag and saw Michio here, so I figured I’d ask him about you. You really had aphasia before?”

“Sort of…”

And just like that, Akira realized Ryouta called Fujiyoshi by his first name too—despite the fact they barely knew each other before.

This guy’s a walking social nuke. No wonder he’s got so many friends.

Michio rubbed the back of his head shyly and added,

“Yeah, we were talking about you, Kuroba-kun. But I only really spoke to you for the first time today, so I don’t know much yet… Actually, I ended up hearing more from Ryouta about what happened at lunch.”

Akira was stunned.

You seriously told people? After I decked you? Aren’t you embarrassed??

From a certain perspective… maybe Sumiya Ryouta really was a big deal.

At the very least—he had a hell of a thick skin.

—

T/N: oooh best bro potential?

This is a fan translation of 东京软饭王 by 夜幕下的鬼 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!