My Popular-as-Hell Best Friend Is Annoying, So I Want to Get Him a Girlfriend and Shut Him Up - Chapter 92 & 93 & 94

Chapter 92: Sports Festival 16

T/N: WHY DID THIS BECOME KUROKO NO BASUKE!?

““OOOOOOHHH!!””

““KYAAAAHH!!””

Deep roars and high-pitched squeals erupt at once.

Can’t blame them—how many people here have seen a dunk live?

Even I’m trembling with excitement.

They’d better keep hyping it up like crazy.

“That was a wild pass. I had to scoop the ball up like crazy.”

Uryu, fresh off the dunk, jogs over to complain.

“Shut up. I haven’t touched a ball in forever—don’t whine. Praise me for dodging the defense.”

“Fair point. Nice cutback.”

Uryu thrusts his fist toward me.

I’d rather not play along, but I’m in a good mood.

I bump my fist against his—a fist bump.

“Three points left. We’re turning this around.”

“No question.”

““KYAAAAAHHH!!””

“Gah!”

Even after the dunk’s hype fades, a random cheer explodes.

What’s that?

Did the girls seriously scream over our fist bump?

Man, Aoyagi Uryu’s something else.

Refocusing, we shift to defense.

If they think my steal was a fluke, they won’t change their approach.

Let’s see what they do.

…Hm?

Marking their ball-handler, I notice his eyes darting side to side, like he’s on edge.

It’s making his dribbling sloppy.

I glance back.

Fired up by the dunk, our teammates are hounding Team C’s players.

Got it—he’s struggling to find a passing lane, too distracted to focus.

Alright, time to steal the ball.

“Huh!?”

I lunge forward the moment the ball-handler dribbles, snatching the ball.

Don’t underestimate me—my side-to-side agility’s on par with Uryu’s.

I grab the loose ball and start dribbling.

I’d love to blow past and shoot, but my dribbling speed’s not up to it.

The ball-handler catches up easily.

Giving up on a fast break, I’ll reset for a set offense.

My skills aren’t sharp enough to score while marked.

Forcing a layup would just get blocked.

Better to work with Uryu and build the play carefully.

…Wait, maybe I can pull this off?

Protecting the ball from the ball-handler closing in from the left, I drive forward with my right hand.

Nearing the basket, I jump into a layup stance, raising my right hand.

“Not happening!”

The ball-handler jumps to block. If I shoot now, his right hand’ll swat it, and we’ll lose the ball.

So I don’t aim for the basket.

I slam the ball against the backboard, bouncing it backward.

I didn’t confirm it with my eyes—dribbling left no room for that.

But I’m certain.

Uryu wouldn’t leave me hanging, not when I’m no sharpshooter.

He’s got to be backing me up.

If he’s not there, I’m decking him.

“—Nice board pass!”

Even as the shot’s momentum carries me forward, I look back.

Uryu’s leaping for the ball, which bounced high off the backboard.

He taps it lightly, and it glides into the rim.

A tap-in shot. Uryu, who owns the air, pulls it off effortlessly.

The crowd’s cheers—how many times now?

The game’s clearly swinging Team B’s way.

“No dunk, huh?”

“Idiot, I’m not doing something that tiring over and over.”

“Don’t mess around. Think about entertaining the crowd more.”

“Then mixing up shots would be more fun, right?”

“…Fair point.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

Right after we score, the ball-handler passes to a teammate who hasn’t fully retreated.

Uryu and I scramble back to our court, but it’s too late.

Their fast break scores, pushing the gap back to three.

Damn it.

They usually stick to their zone, so I didn’t expect a fast break.

We caught them off-guard with ours, and they hit back instantly.

Sneaky bastards.

“Yukiya, we got scored on ‘cause you started yapping.”

“Huh? You’re the one chatting me up mid-game.”

“None of my chats led to points.”

“Grr…”

This guy looked so beat in the first half, but now he’s got all this swagger.

Fine, I’ll make sure you’re dodging markers till you puke.

We pass to Hamaoka and start our offense.

About four minutes left—plenty of time to flip this in basketball.

But as we enter the frontcourt, Team C’s defense shifts.

“No more freebies.”

One of Uryu’s markers switches to me.

They’ve figured I’m the spark behind our seven second-half points and want to lock me down.

I can’t hold back a grin this time.

“Idiot. That’s the worst move you could make.”

“What?”

Don’t they get how dangerous it is to drop Uryu’s markers from two to one?

Even with two, Uryu could shake them, but it drained him with cuts and moves.

No one, not even Uryu, can escape that grind.

Double-teaming restricts movement and lets them pull sneaky tricks like tugging clothes while one blocks vision.

That’s how they held Uryu to two points in the first half.

Take that away, and what happens? If they need a wake-up call, they’re about to get one.

“Hamaoka!”

Uryu bolts right along the three-point line, then cuts back, ditching his marker and closing in on Hamaoka for the ball.

With that momentum, he blows past the triangle’s top from the left, stopping short before the zone closes in and jumping.

Despite his body leaning sideways, the ball swirls around the rim’s edge and drops in.

“Haha.”

I can’t help but laugh.

They say you laugh when you see something terrifying—guess it’s true.

“Nice draw!”

“What’s that? I didn’t do anything.”

“Moron, I couldn’t move that freely if they weren’t marking you.”

“You’re the only one who can move that freely.”

With that, we exchange a high-five.

The girls’ cheers ring out again.

Alright, alright, I get it—Uryu’s cool when he high-fives.

Quiet down already.

Switching to defense, I see Team C’s faces twisted in frustration.

No wonder—their eight-point lead’s down to one in a flash.

Can’t blame them for feeling like it’s a funeral.

But they’re not ready to roll over.

The ball-handler fakes right, then tries to blow past me on the left.

I wasn’t planning to let him through easily, but a Team C player’s right beside me, blocking my move.

Damn, a screen.

Stay calm—no need to panic.

With Uryu in the paint, a straight-on break’s impossible.

Since they shifted right from their perspective, the final shot’ll come from the left.

Like before, let them think they’re free and cut it off.

As planned, Uryu takes the bait from the right-side attack, selling it perfectly.

Thinking it’s working, Team C uses quick passes to shift the ball to the opposite side.

“Got it!”

I manage to touch the ball.

I can’t catch it, but if I grab the loose ball, it’s ours, and we can start the offense to take the lead.

As I bend to pick it up, it happens.

“No way!”

The Team C player going for the ball closes in to secure it. We grab it almost simultaneously.

“RAAH!!”

As he twists to wrench it from me, a dull pain shoots through my nose.

“Gh!”

I let go of the ball, clutch my nose, and slump to the floor.

“Yukiya!?”

A collision born of the chaos. An accident from both of us going all-out.

The opponent’s elbow slammed into my nose, and now the blood won’t stop.

Chapter 93: Sports Festival 17

I tilt my chin up and press my nose with my right hand, but the blood keeps trickling out with no sign of stopping.

I didn’t have tissues or a towel handy, so my gym uniform’s stained with blood.

Worst-case scenario—Dad’s definitely gonna worry.

“S-Sorry! You okay!?”

The elbow guy—let’s call him Elbow-Tetsu—crouches beside me, looking concerned.

The gymnasium, buzzing just moments ago, falls quiet, making things awkwardly uncomfortable.

The pain’s subsiding, but the bleeding’s out of my control.

For him to ask if I’m okay after this?

Elbow-Tetsu’s got some nerve.

It’s obviously not okay.

Irritated, I throw a left jab at his face.

“Ow!”

“Hey, Hirose! What’re you doing!?”

The PE teacher, already heading our way, rushes over.

He probably thought I was retaliating for the elbow. The crowd stirs slightly.

“You didn’t have to hit me! It wasn’t on purpose!”

“Shut up. If apologies fixed everything, we wouldn’t need cops. All that matters is whether I’m satisfied. Be grateful I’m letting it slide with this.”

I spit the words at Elbow-Tetsu, ignore the nagging PE teacher, and head to the bench.

“Yukiya, you alright!?”

Now Uryu’s calling out. Everyone’s so worried—just let me rest on the bench already.

“I’m not alright. My ultra-cool nose might be crooked.”

“Sounds like you’re fine then.”

Hey, listen to me properly.

Want a jab too?

“The pain’s not bad, but the nosebleed won’t stop. I’m sitting out.”

“Got it. You played five minutes, so I’ll cut the matcha tab to two days.”

No way. You’re still holding me to that in this state?

Normally, you’d wipe the whole week’s debt!

Fine, I’ll negotiate later.

First, I’ve got something to say to Uryu.

“Uryu—don’t you dare lose.”

About two minutes left, down by one.

It’ll probably restart with a jump ball from a held ball, basically like starting fresh.

I won’t forgive him if we catch up this far and lose.

Even if they defend like the first half, Uryu better break his limits for these two minutes.

“Obviously. You can nap on the bench.”

Uryu freezes for a split second, then flashes an infuriatingly bright grin with a quip.

Annoying as hell, but this guy’s the type to back up his words.

I can trust him with this.

“Here! Press this on it!”

Back at the bench, Misono Izumo’s inexplicably there.

The moment I arrive, she shoves a towel against my nose.

“Nomura-kun’s grabbing an ice pack, so use this for now. Don’t need to wash your hands?”

“I’ll do it after the game. Also, who’s Nomura?”

“…Seriously? Learn your teammates’ names—your classmates.”

Apparently, Nomura’s a Class B teammate who played in the first half.

He’s been cheering from the bench in the second but ran to the infirmary when he saw my state.

Nomura, you’re a good guy.

Another bench player subs in for me, and the game resumes. Uryu wins the jump ball, so Class B gets possession.

“Why’re you here?”

Keeping my eyes on the game, I ask Misono Izumo, sitting beside me.

“What, you got a problem with me?”

“Not like that. I’d say the same to anyone.”

“When a classmate’s bleeding and down, of course I’d worry. Especially since you’re reckless.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Akari and Miharu were worried too, but they’re in other classes, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Doesn’t matter who helps. I’m just grateful for whoever does.”

“…Right.”

Before entering the frontcourt, Uryu takes the ball, facing two markers.

Earlier, he’d pass to Hamaoka to avoid this, but now he speeds right, cuts back, and tries to split the two.

The triangle’s top is waiting, though.

Even for Uryu, it’s a reckless charge, and I hold my breath.

But he slows, steps back, and jumps for a long shot, nearly straddling the three-point line.

Team C, fixated on his dribble drives, can’t block.

No rebounders to help, and even for Uryu, a shot from that far isn’t high-percentage.

Yet the ball glides cleanly into the rim.

With a minute and a half left, we’ve finally taken the lead.

Uryu’s proving he’s Yourei High’s ace—no wonder he’s so popular.

“You know, why’d you play?”

The game pauses after the goal. Misono Izumo asks out of nowhere.

“You were dead-set on not playing, no matter who asked. So why?”

“No big deal. Uryu and I made a deal. That’s it.”

“Really? Just that?”

“What’re you getting at?”

“…Didn’t you want to share the win with your teammates?”

“Haha, what’s that? You’re joking, right?”

I laugh off Misono Izumo’s words.

“Team victory? Don’t care. I just wanted to win since I was involved. Don’t lump me in with that.”

“I see. That’s very you. Rational, or something.”

Misono Izumo processes my words without arguing.

I thought that was the end, but—

“…But you looked like you were having fun out there.”

Her unexpected words make my heart leap.

The pain in my nose vanishes from my mind.

“If you were just stoically chasing victory, you wouldn’t smile, right? Scoring with the team, locking down defense together—that’s what made it fun, isn’t it?”

For a moment, middle school memories flash back.

That cursed past pushes back against her words.

No.

That’s not it.

I was happy because my strategy worked perfectly.

I laughed because Uryu was just too good.

The team? Irrelevant.

They’re just props on my stage.

“Sure, I don’t expect you to admit it. I’ve seen your weirdness for almost a year.”

“There’s nothing to admit. It’s just not true.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so stubborn. I know it’s rich coming from me, but—”

“Exactly. If you’ve got time to butt in, go make a move on Uryu.”

“Alright, the bleeding’s stopped, so I’m out.”

“Hey.”

I sigh at Misono Izumo, dodging the topic.

She’s usually so put-together, but when it comes to love, she’s a total coward, as bad as Kamishiro Haruka or Tsukikage Miharu.

“Wait, this towel’s yours?”

She’s about to leave, so I ask about something bugging me.

“Yeah. Didn’t have time to grab one from the infirmary. It’s unused, obviously.”

“Not worried about that. Let me pay you back—it’s soaked with blood.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got tons of towels.”

“No way. I don’t want to owe you. Let me settle it.”

“Really? Then… there’s one thing I’d like you to do.”

“What?”

Misono Izumo hesitates, then says it, a bit shyly.

“Finals are in two weeks, right? I want to hold a study group and need help getting people.”

“Got it. Invite Uryu, right?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“So, don’t invite him?”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

I press her, and her face reddens as her voice shrinks.

A study group to spend time with Uryu?

Solid plan.

It’s not worth a towel, but I’ll let it slide with my generous heart.

Beep beep beep!!

“Oh…”

While talking with Misono Izumo, the final whistle blows.

I check the score: 15-12. They scored once more before the end, making it a three-point gap.

As expected from Mr. Walk-the-Talk. I breathe a sigh of relief.

※

And so, the boys’ division of the sports festival ended with Class B’s victory.

Chapter 94: After the Closing Ceremony

With the awards and closing ceremony done, I feel a wave of exhaustion hit my body.

It’s all because, between the final and the ceremony, I was swarmed by guys from Class B and Class C.

Class B teammates were like, “Why didn’t you play sooner?” or “Do that underhand shot again!” or “We won the final because of you.”

Class C guys asked, “You’re really a basketball beginner?” or “Did you plan to break our zone?” or “Wanna join the basketball team now?”

The nonstop chatter was just annoying.

Answering only made their reactions more overblown and tedious.

I genuinely regretted playing.

What I did was basic—nothing special—but they’re making a huge deal out of it.

Uryu’s plays were way more impressive.

Well, Uryu was surrounded by girls, so maybe they latched onto me out of necessity.

Anyway, that’s it for today.

I just want to head home and plan for the weekend, but—

“Hirose-kun!”

As students trickle toward the changing rooms, Kirita Akari calls out to me.

Tsukikage Miharu’s beside her.

“Um, is your nose okay?”

They both look worried, but it’s about the tissue stuffed up my nose.

Come to think of it, Misono Izumo mentioned they were concerned.

“The bleeding’s stopped. No problem.”

“Good. It looked like a hard hit, so I was worried.”

“Accidents happen in close quarters. I just got unlucky.”

“…”

My words catch Kirita Akari and Tsukikage Miharu off guard, their eyes widening.

“What? Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s just… you don’t seem that mad, Yukiya-kun.”

“Yeah, you punched that guy, so we thought you’d be super pissed, Hirose-kun.”

“…I got it out of my system. No point staying mad forever.”

My quick response seems to satisfy them.

Crap, I didn’t expect them to focus on that.

“Anyway, Yukiya-kun, congrats on the championship.”

Tsukikage Miharu, moving past the accident, gives me her usual gentle smile and praise.

“It’s 99% Uryu’s doing. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing? I don’t think so. You were amazing in the final, right, Kirita-san?”

“Exactly! After you went in, Hirose-kun, the gap closed, and we saw so many cool plays!”

“Cool plays? That’s all Uryu’s work.”

“No way! Aoyagi-kun was awesome too, but, um, to me, well…”

Kirita Akari, talking excitedly, suddenly slows down.

She fidgets with her hair, avoiding my eyes.

What’s this, her usual nervous tic?

“To me, Hirose-kun was way coo—”

“Yukki, you idiot!!”

“Whoa!!”

Before Kirita Akari can finish, someone shakes me hard from behind.

I brush off the small hands on my shoulders and turn to see Kamishiro Haruka, visibly frustrated, and Natori Mayoi, looking stunned.

“You moron! What’s that for!?”

“Ow!!”

I deliver a full-force chop to Kamishiro Haruka for her dangerous stunt.

What if I’d hit someone’s head from the shake?

“I’m just so frustrated!! We were so close to winning both the boys’ and girls’ titles!!”

Kamishiro Haruka rubs her head, venting.

Seems this Class C girl’s salty about the final’s outcome.

Leading comfortably in the first half, the second half’s comeback must’ve stung.

“You said you wouldn’t play! Then you go and shine like that, you dumb Yukki!”

“Don’t care. I only played for matcha. I don’t remember shining.”

“Yeah, right. One goal, two assists, and you broke their double-team.”

“Anyone could’ve done what I did. I just happened to be the one.”

“You serious? No one but you could sync with Ururun like that.”

“He synced with me. Don’t overhype it.”

“Ugh, Yukki’s so full of himself!”

“Not just Kamishiro, but you’re really downplaying yourself, huh?”

Natori Mayoi cuts in on Kamishiro Haruka’s angry rant.

“Sure, the plays themselves might be doable, but not just anyone can pull them off so confidently against experienced players.”

“Exactly! Mayo-nee’s got it right!”

“Stop with the Mayo-nee!”

“Ow! You hit where Yukki hit!”

“You wouldn’t get hit if you dropped that lame nickname!”

“It’s not lame! I said it’s my best work!”

Somehow, the two idiots’ focus shifts off me.

Perfect—time to slip away.

“Found you. Lately, you’re always surrounded by girls.”

Just as I try to escape, Uryu joins the circle.

Damn it, why now?

Couldn’t you wait till I’m alone?

If I miss my chance to leave, it’s your fault.

“What’s up, Ururun?”

“…I’m not Ururun… Some Class B guys want to throw an afterparty. All championship team members are expected to show.”

“What!? No one told me!”

“‘Cause I’m telling you now.”

No way, an afterparty?

That’ll make me late, and Dad’ll worry.

He’s probably already prepping dinner—I don’t owe them that much.

“You really don’t hide your feelings, huh?”

“He’s radiating ‘I don’t wanna go’ vibes.”

“Eh, why not? It’s a rare chance—go for it!”

Kamishiro Haruka backs Uryu up.

Rare chance?

I barely contributed to the win.

“Come on, just one day. If you did nothing, I wouldn’t push, but you actually played this time.”

Everyone’s eyes lock onto me.

Looks like this vibe’ll last until I say yes.

Damn it, what a cursed day.

“Matcha tab’s wiped clean.”

“Deal. We’re square.”

“And I don’t know where this party’s at, but you’re paying. I’m broke.”

“Fine, but up to 1,000 yen.”

This rich kid’s got the nerve to pinch pennies.

I’ll make sure to hit exactly 1,000 yen.

“Also, lend me your phone.”

“Huh? For what?”

“To call Dad.”

“You’re so dutiful.”

Uryu, who brought his bag to store the championship certificate, unlocks his phone and hands it over.

I step away from the group, dial home, and after three rings, it connects.

“Hello, Hirose residence.”

“Dad, it’s me.”

“Yuu-kun? A friend’s phone?”

“Classmate’s. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, uh, we had a sports festival today.”

“I see. Calling to say you’ll be late and don’t need dinner?”

Classic Dad—sees right through me.

“Sorry, you’re probably already cooking, right?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m way happier when you’re out with friends.”

“Save my portion. I’ll eat it tomorrow morning or lunch.”

“Hmm, that’d mean two meals for breakfast or lunch.”

“Just save it! I’ll eat it all!”

“Alright, alright. Be careful—it’s raining hard.”

“Yeah, thanks as always.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up.

At least Dad won’t worry now.

An afterparty, huh?

I’m so not in the mood.

“Hey, Hirose.”

“What?”

“I overheard, but if you’re broke, say so sooner. Here, for the voice recorder.”

“…”

“What’s with that stunned look?”

“…Don’t tell Uryu about this.”

“How greedy are you…?”