Kishimoto Rika
At the beginning of a new semester, club activities are usually scarce.
Unless you're on a sports team aiming for nationals, most clubs don't operate on such a tight schedule.
Although I'm part of the student council, as a mere secretary, I couldn't be of much help with the President's ongoing project concerning our Russian sister school, so I headed home early.
The time was 4 p.m.
Located in Minato Ward, a relatively central part of Tokyo with a population of over ten million, Ichijo Academy was just a few stops away from a bustling downtown area, so the subway station in front of the school was always crowded.
And since I live in Setagaya Ward, located on the outskirts, it takes about thirty minutes by subway.
When I first enrolled, I often got lost trying to navigate the complex, tangled subway lines, but now it's 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.'
With more time to kill than I'd expected, I looked around for a place to rest for a moment and spotted a vending machine.
I was just getting thirsty, so I was about to head over to get something to drink when someone suddenly tugged on my collar from behind.
"Um..."
The moment I turned around to see what was going on, I froze like a statue.
And for good reason—
"You're Kim from our class, right? Can I ask you something?"
The person who had approached me with a troubled expression was Kishimoto Rika, the transfer student who had just joined Class 2-B today.
***
'My name is Kishimoto Rika! I came up from Shizuoka!'
I should have recognized the foreshadowing when I heard her self-introduction this morning.
The fact that a girl who had lived in Shizuoka her whole life and was new to Tokyo couldn't possibly be familiar with its infamous subway system.
Even locals find Tokyo's subway lines confusing.
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 do you know my name?"
My mind was a chaotic mess, but I managed to maintain my composure and ask.
At that, Kishimoto Rika tilted her head with a "Huh?" and pointed at my chest.
"It's on your name tag."
Ah.
Realizing it was a stupid question, I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment.
Regardless, Kishimoto Rika remained her usual unfazed self.
"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 said this, 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's a place famous for being an affluent neighborhood, even in Tokyo, where land prices are notoriously high.
It was only two stops away from Chitose-Funabashi Station, where our shop is located.
"That's near my place. You can just take the same train as me."
"Really? Yes! I'm so glad I asked you, Kim!"
Kishimoto Rika celebrated with a cute little "Hooray!" gesture.
It was the kind of thing that might have been cringey if someone else did it, but coming from a pretty, blonde girl like Kishimoto, it was quite a sight.
We'd ended up talking, but it was still the first time we'd met.
With nothing much to talk about, the atmosphere quickly grew awkward. To break the silence, I tapped the vending machine and spoke.
"Want something to drink? My treat."
Kishimoto replied, "Oh? Really?" without refusing.
*Clunk!*
I inserted the money and pressed a glowing red button, and two drinks dropped into the dispenser.
I chose a cider, and Kishimoto picked a cola.
As soon as she got the can of cola, she popped the top and, with a refreshingly bold move, put one hand on her hip and chugged 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.
"Do they not let you drink cola at home?"
"Huh? No, no, it's not that. I was avoiding it for self-care reasons."
"Self-care?"
"Yep. Believe it or not, I used to be a reader model for a fashion magazine back in my hometown."
Saying so, Kishimoto Rika proudly made a V-sign under her chin and showed me the photo album on her phone.
Sure enough, there was someone who looked just like her, striking model poses in various outfits.
I glanced back and forth between the girl in the photos and the girl standing next to me.
Her features and hair were definitely the same, but something was different.
The girl in the photos had a sort of artificial beauty, I guess.
"The power of makeup?"
"Hey! It is not!"
As if I'd hit a nerve, Kishimoto Rika playfully punched my chest in a cute fit of anger.
But because of my rock-hard chest muscles, her hand was the one that ended up hurting, and she grimaced.
I apologized and handed her phone back, then crushed my empty cider can with one hand.
Even though I did it myself, it was as neat as if it had been stomped on by a combat boot.
Seeing this, Kishimoto Rika exclaimed in surprise, "Is your hand a crushing machine?!" and handed me her empty cola can, asking me to do it again.
I did as she asked, perfectly crushing the cola can before tossing it 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, the conversation flowed much better than I expected.
Was it because of her uniquely bright personality?
Or maybe it was her generous reactions, laughing at everything 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 exited did she and I board the train bound for Setagaya.
***
After several transfers, Kishimoto Rika and I parted ways at Chitose-Funabashi Station.
She, who had to go two more stops, waved from inside the train and said, "Kim! See you tomorrow!"
...Does this mean we're meeting up tomorrow too?
With her tendency to be a bit of a chatterbox, she chirped away like a baby bird next to me the entire train ride. Thanks to that, in less than thirty minutes, I was thoroughly interrogated and had all my personal information extracted.
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 exhausted I was, I couldn't rest easy unless I checked in at the gym every day.
Yesterday was chest and biceps, so today was leg day.
The thought of my muscles being torn to shreds already put me in a good mood as I climbed the stairs.
I opened the gym door and went inside, where a crowd of people who were suspiciously serious about their muscles were once again working their bodies to the limit, dripping with sweat.
They were me, and I was them.
Watching these macho guys work out so hard was motivating in itself.
'The best club of all is a fitness club, after all.'
I closed the door with a happy heart and headed for the locker room.
***
Kishimoto Rika was a seventeen-year-old girl.
The daughter of a manga artist father and a first-generation cosplayer mother, she was half-British.
She originally lived in Shizuoka, but around February, her dad moved his studio to Tokyo, forcing the entire family to relocate.
Her mother, an embarrassing bundle of energy who was still into cosplay despite being nearly forty, was thrilled that she could now go to Comiket more often, but for Rika, who had been forced to leave her hometown friends behind, it was not a welcome change.
And so, on her first day at the new school, despite a few things happening, 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 in the back who gave off a completely different vibe, but contrary to his appearance, he seemed to be a model student, participating well in class.
'Kimu Yu-seong?'
When she asked the other kids during break time, it turned out he was a Zainichi Korean.
There were some nasty rumors going around about him—that he'd fought and won against a biker gang 50-to-1 in his first year, or that the yakuza had come all the way to school to 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 in the world who like Shonen Jump.
She wanted to talk to him, but the rest of the class seemed to be against it, so she had no choice but to give up.
Then, after school, 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.
It was Kim Yu-seong, the high schooler who looked nothing like a high schooler, standing on the platform just like she was.
Kishimoto Rika saw this as a golden opportunity.
She could naturally strike up a conversation with the guy she'd been personally interested in at school.
While asking about the subway lines, as a bonus.
Before approaching Kim Yu-seong, she cleared her throat—*ahem, ahem*—and grabbed the collar of his uniform as he walked toward the vending machine.
"Um..."
At that, Kim Yu-seong turned around with an intense gaze and spoke.
"What is it?"
The moment their eyes met, Kishimoto Rika realized.
This guy looked just like the hero of a shonen manga—her ideal type.