The issue of Rika's dark history was settled with my promise to keep it secret, but an awkward air still lingered in the room. Rika, mortified by having her past exposed, was unusually quiet.
How could I help her snap back to her usual lively self? As I pondered in the uneasy atmosphere, I found a solution. If she was embarrassed because I knew her dark history, I could level the playing field by sharing one of my own.
"Hey… don't feel too bad. Everyone goes through a chuunibyou phase. I was pretty bad in middle school too."
"…Really?"
Rika, face buried in a teddy bear, took the bait. I nodded and showed her a photo on my phone from my third year of middle school. It was Kim Yuseong (age 15), obsessed with urban fantasy manga, sporting long bangs and a rebellious glare. Taken before I transmigrated, it captured Yuseong's attempt at looking cool.
"What? This is you? No way!" Rika leaned in, eyes wide, alternating between the photo and my current self, looking like a kid who just learned Santa wasn't real. "You were so small and cute in middle school! How'd you end up so buff?"
She's focusing on the wrong thing.
Grumbling inwardly at her unexpected reaction, I defended myself earnestly. "I felt too scrawny and unmanly back then, so I started working out during spring break before high school. It coincided with my growth spurt, and my height shot up."
When I first transmigrated, I was 167 cm. Training with Coach Nakayama triggered explosive growth—by my first year of high school, I hit 180 cm, and now I'm 186 cm. The craziest part? I'm still growing.
Rika looked at the photo wistfully. "If I'd transferred two years earlier, I could've seen this version of you. What a shame."
"So the current me's no good?"
"No, no, you're fine now too! It's just… your face back then doesn't match how you act now!" Flailing her hands, Rika's flustered excuse was so weak she buried her red face, groaning, "Ughhh."
The tension finally eased, so I smiled casually. "Everyone has an embarrassing phase. You don't have to feel so bad about it."
"Ugh… if I could erase one photo from my life, it'd be that one," Rika muttered, biting into a Pocky stick she'd brought from downstairs.
She seemed much more relaxed now. Sharing dark histories mutually did ease the mind—knowing each other's secrets balanced things out.
With the atmosphere back to normal, I bowed slightly to Rika. "Thanks for inviting me over today. I got to meet Kishimoto-sensei and get his autograph. This'll be a memory I'll never forget."
Rika scratched the back of her head, embarrassed. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I just asked Papa. If this repays even a bit of the help you gave me since my first day, I'd invite you over anytime."
The idea of meeting Kishimoto-sensei again was thrilling for a fan like me. "Won't I be a bother if I come too often?"
"Nah, it's fine. When I was in middle school, friends came over once a month for pajama parties!"
Frequent visits from same-sex friends versus a guy friend felt different, but I didn't point it out, respecting her innocence. "Then I'll take you up on it next time."
"Hehe, come back anytime."
The conversation paused, but unlike the earlier awkward silence, this one felt comfortable. With no topics coming to mind, I considered reading one of the manga stacked on her shelves and stood up.
As I scanned the bookshelf, Rika, now lounging on her bed munching snacks, asked, "By the way, what got you into manga?"
I answered while browsing titles. "I was alone a lot as a kid. My parents worked, so no one was home to play with. I naturally gravitated toward manga."
Picking a promising book and sitting back down, I turned the question to her. "What about you, Rika? What got you into manga?"
She glanced up from a funny video on her phone. "Me? Well… my dad's a mangaka, so it just happened. When Mom was out and Dad watched me, he'd always show me manga. Early education, I guess?"
Opening the manga's first page, I teased, "You don't call them 'Papa' and 'Mama' now, huh?"
Rika's face reddened. "I don't always call them that!"
"Whoa, calm down. No one said it's wrong."
Chatting and reading manga Rika recommended, two hours flew by.
---
Since I'd already gotten the autographs I came for, and overstaying as a guest would be rude, I closed the book and stood at a good stopping point.
Rika, reading manga too, tilted her head. "Leaving?"
"Yeah. I've been here a while. I'll eat dinner at home."
Pointing to the wall clock, I noted it was already four hours since I arrived at noon. Rika muttered, "Time went by fast."
"I'll walk you out," she said, getting off the bed.
As I grabbed my bag, a thought hit me. "Didn't you say you're going on a family trip abroad starting tomorrow? Where to?"
Rika flashed a V-sign proudly. "Hawaii."
"Have fun. Don't forget sunscreen."
"Hehe, sometimes you sound like a dad."
I felt more like an older brother with a slight age gap, but I didn't correct her.
After saying goodbye to Kishimoto-sensei in the study and Maria-san watching a drama in the living room, I put on my shoes at the entrance. Rika grinned like a cat. "Guess we won't see each other for a week. Don't cry missing me, Ryu-chan."
I gave her a skeptical look before mimicking a phone with my hand. "Call me if anything comes up. I'll try to help."
"Gonna swim to Hawaii?"
"…I'll fly like a normal person. Might have to dip into my savings, though."
Rika giggled and nodded. "Alright, see you at school, Ryu-chan."
"Yeah."
Opening the front door, I said, "See you at school."
---
Kishimoto Rika watched Kim Yuseong's retreating figure, clutching her racing heart.
"Call me if anything comes up. I'll try to help."
That was unfair, she thought. Just when she thought the day was over, he said something like that.
Her initial attraction to Yuseong was his shonen manga protagonist vibe, but it wasn't love at first sight. She'd planned to just be friends. Yet, laughing and walking beside him, her gaze naturally followed his back.
Gruff on the outside but quietly caring underneath—that gap charmed her. Big as a bear but never scary—that reliability warmed her.
Over her 17 years, through elementary, middle, and high school, countless people had confessed to Rika. But she rejected them all, repelled by the leering looks aimed at her well-developed figure.
Yuseong, though, always met her eyes when they talked. Sure, his gaze occasionally dipped, but he'd quickly look away, embarrassed—a total romantic klutz. With him, she wasn't afraid. She even felt a little happy he noticed her.
I like you.
She mouthed the words silently, watching him disappear. She'd practiced them alone countless times, but they never came out in front of him.
At least she had time until graduation.
One day, I'll say it.
With that resolve, she ruffled the neck of Taro, who was nuzzling her feet.