Chapter 5: Kishimoto Rika
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 5: Kishimoto Rika
Club activities are rare at the very beginning of the semester.
Unless you're on a sports team aiming for nationals, most clubs don't operate on such a tight schedule.
I'm part of the student council, but as a mere secretary, I couldn't be of much help with the president's ongoing proposal for a sister school in Russia, so I headed home early.
The time was 4 p.m.
Ichijo Academy was built in Minato Ward, a relatively central part of Tokyo, a city with a population of over ten million. The subway station in front of the school was always crowded, as a bustling downtown area was just a few stops away.
The neighborhood I lived in was in Setagaya Ward, on the outskirts of the city, about a thirty-minute subway ride away.
When I first enrolled, I got pretty lost trying to navigate the complicated, tangled subway lines, but now it was second nature.
It was rush hour, so I dodged the tide of people flooding out and approached the ticket gates.
Beep!
After tapping my Suica card on the IC reader, I stood on the platform and checked the time on the electronic display.
'Ten minutes until the next train, huh.'
Since I had more time than I thought, I looked around for a place to rest for a bit and spotted a vending machine.
I was thirsty anyway, so I was about to head over to grab a drink when someone suddenly tugged on my collar from behind.
"Um…"
The moment I turned to see what was going on, I froze like a stone.
And for good reason—
"You're Kim-kun from my class, right? Can I ask you something?"
The person speaking to me with a troubled expression was none other than Kishimoto Rika, the transfer student who had just joined Class 2-B today.
*
'My name is Kishimoto Rika! I came here from Shizuoka!'
I should have recognized the foreshadowing when I heard her self-introduction this morning.
The fact that a girl from Shizuoka, coming to Tokyo for the first time in her life, would be unfamiliar with its hellish subway.
Even locals find Tokyo's subway system difficult.
Naturally, faced with a route map as tangled as tree roots, it was only a matter of course for an outsider to ask for help.
The problem was that she asked me.
"How did you know my name?"
My mind was a chaotic mess, but I managed to maintain my composure and ask.
Kishimoto Rika tilted her head with a "Huh?" and pointed at my chest.
"It's written on your name tag."
Ah.
Realizing what a stupid question that was, I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment.
Regardless, Kishimoto Rika remained unfazed.
"Anyway, can I ask you something?"
"…What is it?"
"I'm trying to get home, but the subway lines are so complicated I don't know the way."
As she spoke, she showed me her pink smartphone, which displayed her home address and the station she needed to get off at.
Seijo, in Setagaya Ward.
It was a neighborhood famous for being wealthy, even in Tokyo where land prices are notoriously high.
It was only two stops away from Chitose-Funabashi Station, where my family's shop is.
"That's near my place, so you can just take the same train as me."
"Really? Awesome! I'm so glad I asked you, Kim-kun!"
Kishimoto Rika rejoiced with a cute 'Hooray!' gesture.
It was the kind of thing that might have been cringey if someone else did it, but coming from a beautiful blonde girl like Kishimoto, it looked quite picturesque.
We'd ended up talking, but it was still the first time we'd ever met.
With nothing to talk about, the atmosphere quickly grew awkward. To break the silence, I gestured to the vending machine and spoke.
"Want something to drink? I'll buy you one."
Kishimoto replied, "Oh? Really?" and didn't refuse.
Clunk!
I put in the money and pressed a glowing red button, and two drinks dropped into the slot below.
I chose a cider, and Kishimoto chose a cola.
As soon as she got the can of cola, she popped the top and, with a refreshingly bold air, placed a hand on her hip and gulped it down.
"Ahh! Now that's carbonation!"
Her intense reaction, as if she'd never had a cola in her life, naturally piqued my curiosity.
I stood beside her, sipping my cider, and asked.
"I guess you're not allowed to drink cola at home?"
"Huh? No, no, it's not that. I just avoided it on purpose for self-management."
"Self-management?"
"Yeah. You might not be able to tell, but I was a reader model for a fashion magazine back in my hometown."
Saying that, Kishimoto Rika proudly made a V-sign under her chin and showed me the photo gallery on her phone.
Sure enough, there was someone who looked just like her, wearing various outfits and striking model poses.
I glanced back and forth between the girl in the photos and the girl in front of me.
Her features and hair were definitely the same, but something was different.
The girl in the photos had a sort of artificial beauty to her, I guess.
"The power of makeup?"
"Hey! No, it's not!"
As if I'd hit a nerve, she got adorably angry and punched my chest.
But because of my rock-hard chest muscles, it seemed to only hurt her hand, and she winced.
I apologized and handed her phone back, then crushed my empty cider can with one hand.
Even though I did it myself, it was crushed as cleanly as if it had been stomped on by a combat boot.
Seeing that, Kishimoto Rika exclaimed in surprise, "Is your hand a compactor or something?!" and handed me her finished cola can, asking me to do it again.
As she asked, I perfectly crushed the cola can as well and tossed them both into the trash can next to the vending machine.
…She looked so much like a popular kid that I thought it would be awkward, but once we started talking, conversation flowed much more easily than I expected.
Was it because of her uniquely bright personality?
Or maybe it was her generous reactions, laughing at whatever I said.
About five minutes after we started making small talk, the train finally pulled into the station.
The steel doors opened and people poured out. Only after everyone had gotten off could she and I board the train bound for Setagaya.
*
After several transfers, Kishimoto Rika and I parted ways at Chitose-Funabashi Station.
She still had two more stops to go. Waving from inside the train, she said, "Kim-kun! See you tomorrow!"
…Does this mean we're meeting up tomorrow too?
She had a tendency to be a chatterbox, chirping like a baby bird next to me the entire train ride. Thanks to her, in less than thirty minutes, I was thoroughly interrogated and had all my personal information stripped away.
What do your parents do, where do you live, what's your favorite food, what kind of exercise do you do to get so big, and so on.
I think that was the most I'd talked all day.
After leaving the station, I dragged my tired body not home, but to the gym near my house.
No matter how tired I was, I couldn't feel at ease until I'd checked in at the gym for the day.
Yesterday was chest and biceps, so today was leg day.
Just thinking about my muscles getting torn to shreds already put me in a good mood as I climbed the stairs.
I opened the gym door and went inside to find people who were suspiciously serious about their muscles, sweating bullets as they pushed their bodies to the limit, just like any other day.
They were me, and I was them.
Watching those machos working out so hard was motivating in itself.
'As expected, the best club of all is a fitness club.'
In high spirits, I closed the door and headed for the locker room.
*
Kishimoto Rika was a girl turning seventeen this year.
She was half-British, born to a manga artist father and a first-generation cosplayer mother.
She had originally lived in Shizuoka, but around February, her dad moved his studio to Tokyo, forcing the entire family to move with him.
Her mother, a bundle of mischief who still cosplayed as a hobby despite being nearly forty, was thrilled she could now go to Comiket more often, but for Rika, who was forced to leave her friends behind, it was hardly a welcome change.
And so, on her first day at the new school, a lot happened, but her first impression wasn't bad.
She'd heard that Tokyo kids could be territorial, but to her relief, her new classmates all seemed nice.
Of course, there was one boy sitting in the very back who gave off a completely different vibe, but contrary to his appearance, he seemed to be a model student, participating well in class.
'Kim Yoo-Sung?'
When she asked the other kids during break time, she learned he was a Zainichi Korean.
There were some nasty rumors going around about him—that he'd fought and won against a 50-man biker gang in his first year, or that the yakuza had come to the school to personally recruit him—but to her, he didn't seem like a bad person.
After all, as her father always said, there are no bad people among those who love Shonen Jump.
She wanted to talk to him, but the rest of the class seemed to be warning her off, so she had no choice but to give up.
Then, after school ended, she headed down to the subway station to go home.
'What is this...'
She ran into a completely unexpected obstacle.
She'd heard Tokyo's subway was complicated, but she never imagined it would be this difficult.
Realizing she had no choice but to ask someone, she frantically looked around and spotted a familiar back.
The high school student with an appearance that didn't match his age, Kim Yoo-Sung, was standing on the platform, just like her.
Kishimoto Rika saw it as a golden opportunity.
She could strike up a natural conversation with the boy she'd been personally interested in at school.
And she could ask him about the subway lines as a bonus.
Before approaching Kim Yoo-Sung, she cleared her throat—ahem, ahem—and grabbed the collar of his uniform as he walked toward the vending machine.
"Um…"
Kim Yoo-Sung turned around with an intense gaze and spoke.
"What is it?"
The moment their eyes met, Kishimoto Rika realized.
This guy looked just like her ideal type: the protagonist of a shonen manga.