“Yikes.”
“I’m in the same class as Takasu-kun.”
“He’s as tough as they come.”
“It’s a little scary.”
“Someone talk to him.”
“No way, take it from me—that’s impossible. You go.”
“Hey, don’t push me.”
And so it went, on and on.
No matter what they say, Rjuuji thought, I am the way I am. I won’t be bothered by it.
Ryuuji accepted the surrounding stares of his new classmates with indifference. Still seated at his desk, he turned his back slightly, causing people to avert their eyes. He quietly licked his parched lips. His jittering leg was an unconscious fidget. From the side, he looked like a predator, impatiently awaiting feeble prey. But that was just appearances.
“As always, it looks like a bunch of guys here totally have the wrong idea about you,” Kitsamura said. “Well, that’ll be fixed before long. I’m with you, and there’s quite a few people from the original class A mixed in here, too.”
“Yeah. It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” Ryuuji replied with a thin smile.
The muttering from his classmates still hadn’t let up. “I’m telling you,” someone said. “He’s in a good mood. Look at him—definitely licking his lips in cruel anticipation, stalking the prey in front of him.”
In actuality, he felt like shooting out of his seat like a rocket, while grinning from ear to ear. And naturally, that feeling wasn’t just from being in the same class as Kitamura. Something like that only warranted a smile and a, “We’re together again, Kitamura.”
The thing that made him so happy he wanted to jump for joy was—
“Hey, Kitamura-kun! We’re in the same class this year!”
Because of her.
“Hm?” Kitamura said. “Huh, so you’re in class C, too, Kushieda!”
“What, you only just noticed? You’re so cold! It’s a brand-new year; you could at least check the registry.”
“Sorry, sorry. What a coincidence, though! I guess the meetings of student club presidents will be easier than ever.”
“Ha ha, that’s right! Oh, you were…Takasu-kun, right?” she asked, as she turned to Ryuuji. “I wonder if you remember me? We’ve had a few near misses, what with both of us hanging around Kitamura-kun.”
Ryuuji said nothing.
“Uhhh? It’s okay to call you Takasu-kun, right?” she said.
“…Ah, ye…kay.” He fumbled for his words but was too taken aback by the sudden spectacle of a goddess assailing him. Her smile dazzled him, bursting out like the sun. It was as warm as the stolen light that once shined through his southern window, a warmth that suffused his vision all at once with radiant beams. The overflowing particles of light clung to him until Ryuuji could no longer keep his eyes open.
“Kushieda Minori, right?” he said.
Ah, if only, if only, if only! The sound of his own brusque voice made Ryuuji want to shout out loud. Why could he only answer like that, why couldn’t he have said something more suave—
“Oh, hey! You remembered my whole name! Awesome—that sure makes me happy! Uhm, uh-oh, I think someone’s trying to get my attention over there. Well then, Kitamura-kun. After school, we’re having this year’s first meeting for new second-years. Make sure you don’t forget! See you later, too, Takasu-kun!”
Just about at his limits, Ryuuji tried raising a hand in courtesy…at her turned back. He was too late. She probably didn’t even see.
But.
She said she was happy… She said she’d see me later…
Kushieda Minori had said that to him.
She said she was happy… She said she’d see me later…
Kushieda Minori, who he had prayed would be in his class, had said that.
She said she was happy… She said she’d see me later…
About me. About me!
She said she was happy!
“Takasu?”
“…Yeah?”
Suddenly Kitamura drew incredibly close, until Ryuuji bent away from him in his chair. “What are you grinning at?”
“Uh, n-nothing.”
“I see.” Kitamura pushed up his glasses with his center finger, and Ryuuji couldn’t avoid feeling a certain admiration for Kitamura. The guy was probably the only person in the world who could detect one of Ryuuji’s grins.
That wasn’t the only thing Ryuuji admired him for, though.
“Kitamura,” he said. “You’re, like…really good at…talking to girls.” (He meant Kushieda, of course.)
“Huh? What makes you say that?” Peering over his lenses, Kitamura’s eyes showed no trace of humility—only genuine surprise. Somehow, he was completely unaware of his talent. Confronted with such a thick-skulled guy, Ryuuji held back his answer.
Kitamura’s casual conversation with Kushieda Minori just a moment past had been more than successful—and it wasn’t just that conversation, either. Ever since they were first-years, Kitamura was able to have pleasant conversations with Kushieda Minori, who was in the same softball club. Meanwhile, Ryuuji toiled endlessly, pitifully hard to earn leftover smiles and passing greetings. In soccer terms, he was the sweeper—though he’d never had a chance to play offense.
The reason Ryuuji started to think Kushieda Minori was cute, the reason that he liked her and wanted to become closer to her in the first place, was because he was constantly right there, getting to see how fun her conversations with Kitamura were.
It wasn’t just that, though. It was because of her bright, ever-changing expressions. Her flexible body and exaggerated gestures. Her easygoing smile. Her unclouded voice.
Even though everyone else was afraid of him, from the start, she had been cheerfully broadminded and never deviated in that attitude toward Ryuuji.
He liked everything about Kushieda Minori. To him, all the elements that composed her seemed radiant, as though she were made from fragments of the sun. She was wholesome and straightforward—in his mind, she was nothing less than the perfect girl.
But even so.
“Don’t be stupid. No way am I good at talking to girls. I bet you don’t even know what all the girls call me, do you?”
Unconsciously, Ryuuji released a deep sigh. Despite how jealous he became while watching Kitamura’s conversations—so jealous that he thought his eyes might bleed—his friend continued, unaware.
“I’m terrible with girls,” he said. “I doubt I’ll ever pull off dating one.” That was his remark.
“I…don’t think…that’s the case,” Ryuuji said. Looking up at such a dazzling gentleman, he again decided to swallow any other words he had. No matter how many times he said it, this guy definitely wouldn’t understand. And that made Ryuuji feel miserable.
It was true that the girls called Kitamura “Maruo-kun.” This was because he looked exactly like a certain character from a famous manga, an obnoxiously serious honor student. His intense glasses, straight-laced personality, outstanding grades, and frivolous fashion sense all put him distinctly apart from the norm. He was such a spitting image of Maruo that whenever he said the word “precisely”—the character’s trademark phrase—the class would practically go into an uproar. On top of that, last year he’d also been the class president, and more recently had become the vice president of the student council. On top of that, he was also serving as the unofficial new president of the softball club. It was only fitting that he’d wind up as the subject of a joking comparison.
Still, he wasn’t bad looking. No, in fact, if you looked closely, he was surprisingly handsome. Plus, he didn’t have any two-faced qualities to his personality. He had a great sense of humor, and really, there just wasn’t anything to dislike about him. And because of that, even though the girls targeted him for teasing, it wasn’t mean-spirited.
Ah, that’s right. Ryuuji understood. Whatever Kitamura might say, the girls did like him. It wasn’t just Kushieda Minori. He could talk naturally to any girl. The girls would act like they were close and say, “Awww, I’m with Maruo again this year!” In response, he would make a light remark like, “What, you’re unhappy about that?”
When you act like that, how can you say that you’re bad with girls? You’re not even hated like I am. Just as he was thinking this, he heard a voice say, “Y-yikes…”
There it was again.