Chapter 5 – Kishimoto Rika
Originally, there are few side activities at the beginning of the semester.
But if you were an athletic club aiming for a national contest, you might not know, because usual side activities weren’t that intensive.
Although I was a member of the student council, as an ordinary secretary I was going home early because I couldn’t help much the president with the ongoing Russian sister school agenda.
It was currently 4 p.m.
Even in Tokyo, which has a population of more than 10 million, Ichijo Academy, built in Minato-gu, a relatively central area, was always crowded with people because it was just a few stop away from downtown.
And the village I was living in was in Setagaya district located on the outermost side, so it was taking about 30 minutes by subway.
When I first entered the school, I was quite busy transferring due to complicated subway lines, but then I was fine.
Because it was time to get off work, I got to the front gate to avoid the crowds that were flooding like low tide.
After scanning my Suica1Suica is a prepaid rechargeable contactless smart card, electronic money used as a fare card on train lines in Japan. on the IC reader, I stood in front of the platform and checked the time on the electronic display.
‘Ten minutes before the next train arrives.’
There was more time than I thought, so I looked around for a place to rest and found a vending machine.
I was thirsty, so I was going to pull something out and drink it, but suddenly someone pulled my collar from behind.
As soon as I looked back, wondering what was going on, I had no choice but to harden like a rock.
She’s not going to –
“You’re Kim-kun from the same class, right? Can I ask you something?”
The reason why I had a troubled look when she talked to me was because it was Kishimoto Rika, who transferred to class 2-B today.
‘My name is Kishimoto Rika! I come from Shizuoka!’
When I heard her introduction in the morning, I should have guessed this foreshadowing.
In fact, a girl who lived in Shizuoka and came to Tokyo for the first time in her life wouldn’t be familiar with Tokyo’s overcrowded subway.
The subway line in Tokyo was difficult even for locals.
It was natural for outsiders to ask for help from someone while looking at the route map tangled like tree roots.
It was a problem because it was me.
“How do you know my name?”
In my head, it was like a crucible of chaos, but I asked as calmly as possible.
Then Kishimoto Rika tilted her head and pointed at my chest.
“It’s written on the name tag.”
Realizing it was a stupid question, I rubbed my neck in shame.
Regardless, Kishimoto Rika’s face remained the same.
“Anyway, can I ask you something?”
“…What is it?”
“I’m going home, but the subway line is so complicated, and I don’t know the way.”
As she said so, the pink smartphone she showed me had her home address and station to get off to.
Seijo in the Setagaya district.
It is also famous for its rich village in Tokyo, which is known for its high land prices.
There was only two stops difference from Chitose Funabashi Station, where our store was located.
“This is near my house, so you can take the same train as me.”
“Really? Yay! I’m glad I asked you Kim-kun!”
Kishimoto Rika rejoiced with a cute “Hooray!” gesture.
It might have been cheesy if someone else had done it, but it became a picture because a beautiful blonde woman like Kishimoto did it.
Although today was the first time we met, we talked unexpectedly.
There was no topic to talk about, so the atmosphere was immediately awkward, and I knocked on the vending machine to break down this awkward atmosphere.
“Do you want to drink something? I’ll buy you one.”
And Kishimoto said, “Huh? Really?” but didn’t refuse.
When I put the money in and pressed the red-light button, two drinks fell down.
I choose cider, and Kishimoto choose coke.
As soon as she received the can, she immediately opened the lid, put her hand on one side of her waist and gulped down.
“Aah! It’s fizzy!”
I couldn’t help but be curious about this intense response, as if she never had coke in her life.
I stood aside, sipped my soda, and asked.
“You can’t drink coke at home, can you?”
“Huh? No, no, not really. I don’t eat it on purpose because of my self-regulation.”
“Yes. When I was in my hometown, I was a model for a fashion magazine.”
As she said so, Kishimoto Rika, who proudly made a V sign under her chin, showed her cell phone’s photo album.
Someone who looked just like her was posing as a model in a variety of clothes.
I took turns looking at the picture and at her.
Obviously, if you looked at the features and hair, it was the same person, but something was different.
I could feel her artificial beauty in the picture.
“Wow! It’s not!”
Kishimoto Rika hit my chest with a cute anger.
She looked tearful because of my stony chest muscles, and only her hand was hurt.
I said I was sorry and gave her phone back, then crushed the soda can with one hand.
When I did it, it was as neat as if I stepped on it in a military shoe.
When Kishimoto Rika saw it, she was surprised, saying, “What kind of press is your hand?” and asked me to show it one more time, giving me the can of coke she drank up.
I completely crushed the can of coke as she asked and put it in the trash near the vending machine.
…I thought it would be awkward because she looked like a popular person, but when we talked, the conversation was much better than I thought.
Was it because of her unique bright personality?
It may be because she laughed no matter what I said.
About five minutes after we started chatting like that, the train finally arrived on the platform.
When the steel door opened, people poured out of it. We were able to get on the train to Setagaya only after all of them had left.
Kishimoto Rika and I, who transferred several times in the middle, parted ways at Chitose Funabashi Station.
She had two more stops than me, so she waved in the train and said, “Kim-kun! Take care of me tomorrow, too!”
…Were we meeting again tomorrow?
With a talkative temperament, she chatted like a baby bird all the way on the train. Because of this, I was questioned by her for less than half an hour about my personal information.
What do your parents do, where is your house, what is your favorite food, why are you so big?
I think I talked the most today.
After coming out of the station, I headed to the gym near my house, instead of my home.
No matter how tired I was, I felt relieved every day I had to stamp my attendance at the gym.
I did chest and biceps the day before, so it was my turn to do lower body exercises.
Thinking that my muscles were going to rip apart, I went upstairs feeling better.
When I opened the gym door and went inside, people were suspiciously serious about their muscles and were sweating and overworking their bodies to the limit.
They were like me, and I was like them.
This was because watching machos exercise hard motivated them.
‘As expected from a fitness club.’
I closed the door pleasantly and headed for the dressing room.
Kishimoto Rika, a 17-year-old girl.
Half English, born to a father who was a mangaka2A manga artist (or mangaka in Japanese) is a comic artist who writes and/or illustrates manga., and a mother who was a first-generation costume player3A costume player, also called a cosplayer, is someone who does cosplay..
Originally, I lived in Shizuoka, but in February, when my father moved his studio to Tokyo, the entire family was forced to move to Tokyo.
At the end of her 40s, my mother, who still had the hobby of cosplay4Cosplay, a portmanteau of “costume play”, is an activity and performance art in which participants called cosplayers wear costumes and fashion accessories to represent a specific character., liked it, saying that she could go to Comiket5Comic Market, more commonly known as Comiket or Comike, is a semiannual doujinshi convention in Tokyo, Japan. often now, but it was an unwelcome choice for her, who had to forcibly break up with her hometown friends.
And on the first day, a lot of things happened, but my first impression of the school wasn’t bad.
I heard that kids in Tokyo were residential, but unexpectedly, all our classmates seemed nice, so I was relieved.
There was a boy sitting in the back seat and throwing a strange atmosphere on his own, and unlike his appearance, he participated well in class as a model student.
When I asked other children during the break, he seemed to be from a Korean Japanese background.
When he was in first grade, he fought a gang on a 50:1 and won. There was a terrible rumor going around that Yakuza came to the school to scout him, but he didn’t look like a very bad person.
Father always says that someone can’t be a bad person if they like reading the shonen jump.
I wanted to talk to him too, but I had no choice but to give up because all the classmates were trying to stop me.
After school, I came down to the subway station to go back home.
‘What is this…’
I ran into an unexpected difficulty.
I had heard that the subway in Tokyo was complicated, but I didn’t know it would be this difficult.
I thought I had no choice but to ask someone about this, so while hurriedly looking around, I found a familiar back.
Kim Yoo-sung, an apparent high school student who does not look like one, stood in front of the platform just like me.
I thought it was a great opportunity.
I was able to talk to him naturally, who was personally interesting me in school.
As a bonus, I could ask him about the subway line.
I cleared my voice before speaking to Kim Yoo-sung and grabbed his collar as he walked toward the vending machine.
Then Kim Yoo-sung looked back with intense eyes and said,
“What’s going on?”
I realized the moment my eyes met his.
This man looked like my ideal manga character.