I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

Lately, I’d been feeling a sharp prickling on the back of my head.
To be more specific, it started after I went around Ichijo Academy’s sports clubs doing what amounted to a dojo-crushing spree under the name of “trial admissions” to test my strength.

And I already knew the main cause of it.
About five meters away, Fuma Yukika, captain of the Kendo Club, was hiding behind a building, secretly watching me.
Like she was on a stakeout or something—she even had a red bean bun in her mouth.

“What the heck is she doing.”
“What’s up?”
“No, it’s nothing.”

I said that and opened the lid of the lunchbox I’d packed at home.
“Wow! Gimbap!”
“How do you know what gimbap is, Rika?”

“Mm? It showed up in a Korean drama my mom always watches. When I asked her, she said it was like Korea’s version of norimaki.”
Well… she’s not wrong.
They’re similar in taste and ingredients.

I looked at Kishimoto, who was staring at the gimbap in wonder, and asked:
“Want one?”
“Sure! Let’s trade—I’ll give you my tamagoyaki!”

She held out a rolled omelette with her chopsticks.
I took it and held out my lunchbox, and she helped herself.
Kishimoto immediately popped a gimbap roll into her mouth and clutched her cheek with one hand as she exclaimed:

“Mmm, it’s so good~!”
Watching her eat so happily, I took a bite of the rolled egg—and instantly my face stiffened.
“Rika… your family’s the sweet type, huh.”
“Huh? Why? Isn’t tamagoyaki supposed to be sweet?”

Struggling with the sweetness—which, as a Korean, I found unforgivable—I barely managed to swallow before I replied:
“My family’s the salty type.”
Seeing me rush to wash it down with water, Kishimoto raised her voice like she couldn’t believe what she just heard.

“Ehh?! No way!”
“It’s true.”
Most foods in this world have sugar in them, but if there’s one dish where it absolutely shouldn’t be—it’s rolled egg.

Depending on the restaurant, even chawanmushi gets treated like a dessert, which I can tolerate. But rolled egg, as a side dish for rice? No way.
“Korean people really have unique tastes…”
She muttered that like it was some great realization, which low-key pissed me off.

Lately, I’d been eating lunch alone with Kishimoto more and more.
There were several reasons. First, when I ate in the classroom, the other students got uncomfortable. Second, she was basically the only one I could eat with.
Even Satoru, who I got along with, was a full-on social butterfly and usually ate with his own group.

I was about halfway through my lunch when—
Beep beep!
“Decency! Maintain decency!”

The Student Council President suddenly appeared out of nowhere, a whistle in her mouth as she shouted.
She immediately pointed the tip of her black fan at me and cried out:
“Improper co-ed behavior at school—heaven might forgive it, but I, the Student Council President, will not!”

“Kim Yu-seong, I’m disappointed in you.”
“From my perspective, I don’t see any grounds for leniency here.”
The student council trio had surrounded us as we ate, spouting nonsense.

What is this? Some hidden camera prank?
While I was chewing my gimbap and thinking that—
Kishimoto, apparently just now recognizing who they were, pointed her chopsticks at them and shouted:

“Aah! It’s the Academy’s famous Dark Student Council!”
Dark Student Council? Then is there a Light Student Council too?
As I was mentally grappling with the sheer absurdity of that naming sense—

Thrown off by Kishimoto’s innocent smile, the President flusteredly covered her face with her fan and asked:
“W-What’s that supposed to mean?! Dark Student Council?!”
“Well, you’re always wearing black and moving around in a pack. Everyone calls you that.”

At her words, I casually glanced over—and realized she was right.
The gakuran that male students wear is black by default, but the President and Minami wore specially made black sailor uniforms.
They said it was to “display the authority of the Student Council,” but to the average student, it probably just looked like cosplay.

It’s the kind of thing you see all the time in manga…
“W-Wha-Wha-What?! How rude!”
Flushed red from being insulted about her fashion sense so unexpectedly, the President stumbled backward.

That’s when I became certain:
Kishimoto, with her unshakable smile and natural pace, was the natural enemy of the proud and arrogant President.
“J-Just you wait! I’ll be back again!”

Unable to endure her embarrassment, the President fled back to the student council room with her two subordinates.
Having successfully defended us by striking the President’s weak point, Kishimoto tilted her head, puzzled.
“Ryu-chan, did I do something?”

As expected of the all-time top heroine in the original series, ranked #1 in popularity polls.
Her effortless airheadedness was honestly kind of scary.
***

Third week of April.
Golden Week was just around the corner, and it was a peaceful Monday morning.
BANG!

Suddenly, the classroom door slammed open, and a girl stormed in.
“Which one of you bastards is Sakamoto Ryuji?! Get your ass out here!”

Her red bobbed hair flew behind her.
She wore a red unisex gym jacket over her sailor uniform, with black spats peeking out under her skirt—a girl with a fierce expression.
Kishimoto, who had moved to sit next to me, looked toward the back row by the window, where the protagonist sat alone.

He stood up, frowning in confusion.
“That’s me. What’s going on?”
The red-haired girl stomped over, hands in her jacket pockets, glaring at Ryuji like a predator.

“You messed with our first-year kids, didn’t you? I just got back from visiting them in the hospital, and I heard everything.”
But the protagonist responded with his usual kind smile.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

The redhead reached out and yanked him by the collar without hesitation.
“Misunderstanding?! You beat someone up and now you’re pretending like you didn’t? What the hell?!”
“Wait! Let me explain!”

Yaguchi Maiya suddenly jumped between them, shouting.
Now that a triangle had formed between them, the classroom buzzed [N O V E L I G H T] like the opening to a teen drama.
It reeked of love comedy.

This was probably a canon event from the original story.
I’d assumed the plot had already gone off the rails because Rika didn’t link with the protagonist and instead became friends with me—but apparently, some events were still playing out as planned.
In movies, this is where butterfly effects usually come in, right? I honestly wasn’t sure.

I hadn’t read the original manga, after all.
Yaguchi Maiya looked clearly scared of the red-haired girl—who was probably from the Kendo Club—but she still spoke firmly in Ryuji’s defense.
“Judging from your uniform, you’re with the Kendo Club. But the ones who started it were those first-years. They tried to hit on me, and when that didn’t work, they tried to drag me into an alley. Ryuji just happened to be passing by and helped.”

“…What?”
The redhead’s eyes widened.
Apparently, she’d only heard one side of the story from the hospitalized boys and had come charging in to confront him.

As if doused in cold water, her heated temper cooled, and she hesitated before finally letting go of Ryuji’s collar.
“S… Sorry. I acted too rashly.”
When she apologized so honestly, Sakamoto Ryuji scratched his cheek awkwardly and gave a sheepish laugh.

“No worries. It happens. Anyone can get carried away sometimes. I’m just glad the misunderstanding is cleared up.”
Embarrassed, the girl nodded at him and said:
“I’ll make sure to straighten out the ones who lied to avoid getting scolded. I swear it on my name.”

“Uh… thanks?”
The protagonist tilted his head with a gentle smile, not really following the mood—and the red-haired girl blushed furiously.
Ah, another love comedy cliché.

“T-Then! I’m heading out! Later!”
She turned to hide her flushed face—but then locked eyes with me as I sat watching.
“Ah.”

She looked familiar.
Then I realized—she was the same girl who had handed me a shinai at the Kendo Club last week.
She must’ve recognized me too, because her eyes widened slightly. But then she turned and ran noisily out of the classroom.

Despite the stormy chaos of the morning, protagonist Sakamoto Ryuji murmured with a clueless expression:
“What a weird girl…”
Kishimoto, sitting next to me with her arms crossed, muttered:

“I get the feeling we’re going to be seeing her a lot.”
She’s weirdly sharp when it comes to stuff like this.