Hey, I'm Sakamoto Ryuji, your totally average 17-year-old high schooler. Just hit the big 1-7, living that classic teen life.
Weekdays? It's a hamster wheel of school and home. Weekends? I'm either sweating it out with my childhood friend Maiya or battling my little sister in epic gaming marathons.
That's my vibe, the Ryuji Routine. But this week? Total chaos from day one.
Picture this: I crash into some random girl on my way to school. Then I forget the bento my sister packed. Oh, and I lose my wallet. I'm basically cursed by a rom-com god with a sick sense of humor.
"...I'm doomed," I mutter, dragging myself to Ichijo Academy, the fancy Tokyo high school where the academic bar is sky-high.
I was supposed to go to a chill local school, but my archaeologist parents pulled some strings to get me here. They're always off digging ancient relics, so they hooked me up with a guardian for high school.
I've got a little sister, two years younger. With our parents globe-trotting, it's usually just us two at home. Kid Ryuji hated it, but now? Freedom to party till midnight with no one nagging. Score.
I barely make it to Class 2-B without being late, sneaking in through the back door like a ninja.
First thing I see? A mountain of a man with a back wide enough to block the sun and biceps ready to burst his gakuran. It's Kim Yuseong, aka "Ichijo's Strongest Dude."
This guy's a legend. Rumors say he's an assassin fist heir, has a star-shaped birthmark, or—my favorite—a brainy yakuza darling of the Douseikai's third boss.
No clue what's true, but he's not that scary. He's polite when people talk to him and reads Jump during breaks. Maybe he's a secret softie?
Homeroom starts, and our sleepy teacher, Matsuda, strolls in, yawning like he napped in the staff room. He waves at the temporary class rep, a ponytail-wearing model student.
"Class rep, do the greeting," he mumbles.
She shoots up like a rocket. "Yes! Everyone, stand! Bow to the teacher!"
"Eh, good enough," Matsuda says, waving lazily before opening the attendance book.
"Aizawa Minami."
"Here~!"
"Akagi Shun."
"Present!"
Attendance goes by in hiragana order. My name, Sakamoto, hits mid-list. "Sakamoto Ryuji."
"Here."
Then comes Kim Yuseong, near the end because of his katakana surname. Matsuda, half-asleep, mumbles, "Kim... Ryusei?"
A deep, yakuza-movie voice cuts through. "Kim Yuseong."
The class freezes. You can feel the tension, like we're in a gangster flick. Even Matsuda jolts upright, voice shaking.
"A-ah, Kim Yuseong. Sorry, my bad," he stammers, trembling like a mouse before a lion.
"It's fine," Yuseong says calmly, nodding. Matsuda squeaks, "Thanks..." and barely finishes roll call.
I expect lessons to start, but Matsuda clears his throat like he's about to drop a royal decree.
"I know it's only the second day, but quiet down," he says.
The noisy classroom goes silent faster than a rom-com plot twist. Matsuda nods, satisfied.
"We've got a transfer student," he announces. "She's from far away, so be nice, alright?"
He calls to the hallway. "Hey! Come on in!"
I'm not hyped about some random transfer student, so I stare out the window, lost in cherry blossoms. Spring vibes, you know?
"Introduce yourself," Matsuda says.
A perky voice rings out. "I'm Kishimoto Rika! From Shizuoka! I love cats, sweets, and natto soup! Let's get along for the next year!"
"Alright, Kishimoto, your seat's... over there," Matsuda says, pointing vaguely.
I glance over, and my jaw drops. That face! "You! The girl I crashed into this morning!"
"Morning pervert!" she fires back.
"Who're you calling a pervert?!"
What kind of cosmic prank is this? The violent chick from the alley, who probably thinks I'm a creep, is our new transfer student?
Matsuda, clueless, chuckles. "You two know each other? Perfect." He waves her to her seat—right next to me.
Rika plops her bag down, glares, and huffs, turning away. She's still mad about that accidental panty flash from our collision.
I'm racking my brain for an apology when she pulls something from her bag. "This yours, right?"
My wallet. The one I lost. I check—cash, cards, all there.
I open my mouth to thank her, but she won't even look at me. So much for that.
By the time Matsuda's class ends, I haven't said a single word to her.
First period ends, and classmates swarm Rika, eager to grill the new girl. My apology chance? Gone.
I shuffle to the hallway, staring at the courtyard like a defeated soldier. Maiya follows me out.
"Ryuji, did you do something to the transfer student?" she asks, all concerned.
I sigh, spinning a half-truth. "Nah, we bumped into each other on the way to school. Some... physical contact. That's why she called me a pervert."
Maiya frowns, glancing at Rika's silhouette. "Okay, but if you messed up, apologize first. Got it?"
"Yes, Mom," I tease, dodging her lecture mode. She puts her hands on her hips, so I bolt back to class.
By fourth period, Rika's still icing me out. My patience is thinning, but I've got some pride, you know?
As she packs her books, probably off to lunch with some girls, I grab her wrist. "Hey, what's this about?" she snaps.
"I need to talk. Privately. Can you come with me?"
Our loud exchange draws every eye in the room. Embarrassing? Yup. But I push through. "It's about this morning."
Her icy expression softens a bit. "...Fine. Make it quick."
No need to stay with everyone staring. I pull her toward the back door, ignoring the looks.
I lock eyes with Kim Yuseong, slouched in his chair, hands in pockets, looking like a delinquent manga star. I flinch but shake it off.
The hallways are chaos, kids sprinting to the cafeteria. We go the opposite way, up the emergency stairs to the quiet courtyard.
I stop, bow at a perfect 90 degrees, and shout, "I'm sorry! It wasn't on purpose!"
One second. Two. Three. Silence stretches forever.
Then, a giggle. "Pfft."
Rika, covering her mouth with her cardigan sleeve, grins like a mischievous cat. "You're kinda innocent, huh?"
That's when I realize: she's been faking her anger this whole time.