After finishing my work in the kitchen, I pushed the serving wagon toward the dining hall.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, lunch is ready!”

The moment I stepped into the hall, the atmosphere among the chatting girls shifted.

The air of hungry beasts burst forth.

Before hunger, there’s no difference between boys and girls.

They rushed me all at once like zombies swarming fresh prey.

“W-wait! I’ll serve in order, so please calm down…”

I tried to settle them.

Still, that just means they were looking forward to the food I made right?

I really wanted to prepare something heartier, but afternoon practice remained.

Lunch needed to be easy to eat and quickly converted to energy.

So first rice balls, enough for everyone times two.

And the main item, pork miso soup to replenish salt lost through sweat.

The kitchen had industrial equipment unlike the one at home and I could use a large pot, so I did.

Using pro-grade tools got me carried away, feeling like a chef.

Working together with the managers, we distributed food to the members.

It reminded me a little of a soup kitchen scene.

“Hehehe Hayama-kun, how many refills per person?”

Grinning Iwabuchi pointed at the pot.

She made no attempt to hide her hunger.

That honesty is charming too.

“There’s plenty, so don’t worry about limits.”

“Much appreciated, make mine big!”

I poured soup into a disposable bowl-shaped styrofoam container and handed it over.

Like that, I served everyone one after another.

Once lunch began, I heard lots of praise for the soup.

Hopefully, this repaid even a little for interrupting morning practice.

Then, when lunch was nearly over.

As I went around collecting disposable chopsticks and containers, I noticed Iwabuchi and several others sitting discussing something.

“I’m collecting trash, so please put it in here.”

I spread a large garbage bag.

But they were too focused to notice.

“No, it’s mine.”

“No, it’s mine too.”

They seemed unwilling to concede.

What were they debating so intensely?

Probably something basketball related, so maybe I should collect other tables first, just as I thought that Iwabuchi noticed me.

“Ah, Hayama-kun perfect timing, hey senpai, shouldn’t we let him decide?”

She spoke to a third-year student beside her.

“Good idea. The person’s own will matters most.”

The third-year nodded.

I think she’s the captain.

“Um, what were you discussing?”

I asked and the captain answered.

“We were debating who should make Hayama-kun their bride.”

“Huh? M-me… a bride?”

“Yes. You’re attentive and cook well. If you were beside me, I could perform at my best! So will you support me as my bride?”

“Um…”

I had no idea how this conversation even began.

Were the rice balls and soup that good?

“Hey Hayama-kun, you’ll pick me right? Classmate loyalty and all.”

Iwabuchi and the others started pressing me.

I’m glad they value my help, but if we’re talking partners, then Iwabuchi is my only choice.

Still saying that here would feel like confessing.

“Um, I’ll support everyone equally!”

I ended up giving a neutral answer.

But I wasn’t lying.

Watching practice up close showed how hard they work.

I want to support them somehow.

“Well, naturally. After all, he’s ranked number one in the ‘Ranking of Who You’d Want as a Bride’. I didn’t expect him to belong to anyone so easily.”

The captain nodded satisfied.

Apparently, even upperclassmen know that title.

It was announced school-wide at the festival, so yeah… embarrassing.

“But if I could make Hayama-senpai my bride, I’d want support beyond cooking.”

A first-year student spoke.

Her sitting posture was brazen.

Others called her Sakura during practice, so that must be her name.

Maybe a promising newcomer.

“What kind of support?”

Iwabuchi asked.

“Massage for starters. Earlier, you taped that senior’s ankle quickly and she moved fine after. I thought your skill was insane.”

“Ah yeah, that was impressive… did you study first aid?”

“I once helped the soccer club. They lacked injury know-how, so I self-studied a bit to help.”

“Diligent. Excellent.”

The captain clapped.

“So Hayama-senpai must be good at massage, too. I want one unit for post-practice care.”

“Hey, don’t measure him in units, he’s not a robot.”

Iwabuchi poked Sakura’s cheek.

She’s more casual with clubmates than in class.

Seeing that side moved me strangely.

“Senpai, don’t you offer rental services?”

Sakura leaned forward.

“If it’s you, I’ll let you knead anywhere you like. You’re a guy, so you’d want it to be here right?” She said as she pointed toward her chest.

“Uh…”

“Don’t do that, Sakura. Hayama-kun’s uncomfortable.”

Iwabuchi bonked Sakura’s head.

“Sorry, she’s rude.”

“N-no it’s fine…”

My cheeks heated.

She wore a thin white T-shirt and when lifting her chest slightly the sports bra underneath faintly showed.

“But senpai, your face is red, so you’re not against it?”

“He’s embarrassed by your vulgarity.”

The captain jabbed too.

“Really? Well, if you ever want, just ask.”

“You changed goals completely.”

Iwabuchi sighed.

‘Seems this year’s team has a wild newcomer.’

“Ah, sorry you were collecting trash right.”

Iwabuchi finally noticed and everyone tossed their trash in.

Hmm, maybe among athletic types, conversation drifts crude regardless of gender.

Well, at least they appreciate me… probably.