I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

After finishing her gym tour, Fuma Yukika returned to her 30,000-yen-a-month studio apartment with a tired body and came to a certain realization.
“Kim Yu-seong… his body is without a doubt the legendary Extreme Yang Constitution.”
She stripped off one of her only two school uniforms, hung it on a hanger, and changed into a green tracksuit that was easier to move in. Then she carefully pulled out an old book she had hidden under the tatami mat of her apartment—the Fuma Ninja Arts Manual.

The Fuma Ninja Arts Manual was a secret book passed down through the ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) heads of the Fuma Clan. It was a treasured volume detailing the most efficient ways to destroy the human body, along with various ninjutsu, weapon techniques, pharmacology, and more.
And in it, there was a description that seemed to match Kim Yu-seong’s constitution.
‘Extreme Yang Constitution’

According to the book, it referred to someone born with one hundred times the yang energy of an average person.
Yang energy represented masculinity, and individuals born with Extreme Yang Constitution had always possessed great power and stood out.
Hercules, the iconic hero of Greece, was said to have had this trait. Oda Nobunaga, one of the Three Great Heroes of the Sengoku period, had it as well. And even Sakamoto Ryoma, known as the “Dragon of the Restoration,” was supposedly a Extreme Yang Constitution.

Of course, this could all be her imagination.
But having crossed swords with him directly, she knew—it wasn’t the kind of strength one could obtain simply by working out hard.
It was the reason why she, who had wet herself in front of her club members out of primal fear, had been secretly tailing Kim Yu-seong and observing him for the past few days.

“…I should report this to Grandfather first.”
His constitution might somehow aid in the revival of the Fuma Clan.
She pulled out a pen from her pencil case and began writing a letter to her grandfather in elegant script on a blank sheet of paper.

Along with a request to send her some spare rice, if possible.
***
The next day.

When I got to school, I saw Tojo Karen’s face in the classroom.
I wondered if I had entered the wrong class, so I leaned out into the hallway to double-check—but sure enough, it was still Class 2-B.
I glanced sideways at her, seated by the window, then sat down at my desk.
Kishimoto wasn’t here yet—her seat next to mine was still empty.

So I turned to Satoru, who sat in front of me, and asked:
“What’s Tojo doing in our class?”
“Ah~ that? She’s been pestering Sakamoto to meet up over the weekend. Says she wants to treat him to a meal as an apology.”

“That’s a date.”
“Exactly.”
Satoru shrugged and then, covering his mouth with one hand, whispered:

“But hey, did you hear the rumor? They say Tojo’s the daughter of some crazy big-shot.”
“Big-shot?”
Satoru nodded solemnly and said in a serious tone:

“Prepare yourself—you’re not gonna believe it.”
“Just say it, I won’t be surprised.”
“Tojo Karen is the daughter of the boss of the infamous Toseikai!”

“…Toseikai? You mean the yakuza?”
“Bingo. A huge syndicate that runs the entire Kanto region.”
“Wow, that’s… surprising.”

I didn’t know where he picked up that kind of info, but rumors among students were usually ridiculous.
Like the false story about me fighting off a biker gang 50-to-1.
The truth was, I had just told off the guy who seemed like the gang leader during my early morning workout because they were being too loud.

Maybe a passerby witnessed it, or one of the gang members deliberately spread the rumor—who knows.
“You really don’t seem surprised.”
“Even if she really is the daughter of a yakuza boss, it’s not like she’s done anything to us.”

“…That’s true.”
“So there’s no problem.”
Hearing my answer, Satoru suddenly went quiet, then looked at me seriously and said:

“I’m seriously tempted to start calling you ‘aniki’ right now.”
“We’re in the same grade. Don’t call me that—it’s creepy.”
“Knew you’d say that.”

Satoru chuckled and turned back around.
Once our conversation ended, I leaned on my desk with one arm and drifted into thought.
‘Come to think of it, this is a romantic comedy, isn’t it.’

I thought it was just a dumb rumor, but maybe Tojo really is the daughter of a yakuza boss.
Well, it’s not like I’m the one getting involved—it's the protagonist.
***

After that, Tojo Karen kept visiting Sakamoto Ryuji during every break period.
She was clearly smitten.
The guy himself, being a dense romantic comedy protagonist, couldn’t understand why a girl he’d only just met was coming on to him like this—but from the outside, it was nothing short of public affection.

Even Yaguchi, who had thought she was the only one who liked him, must have sensed danger—because she started stepping up her defense.
Naturally, the jealousy among the male students of Class 2-B shot through the roof.
“Argh! Why is it always Sakamoto! I want a busty childhood friend and a scary-faced sports beauty to like me too!”

“Why did the heavens create me… and also create Sakamoto Ryuji!”
“I mean, objectively speaking, you’re not even in the same league as him looks-wise.”
“Go check a mirror before you talk, seriously.”

“You guys aren’t ones to talk either!”
Haha, these idiots. Their stupid conversations were practically high art.
As I listened to the dumb trio’s banter with my arms crossed, I suddenly felt someone tug on my arm and turned my head.

“Ryu-chan, are you free during Golden Week?”
It was Kishimoto, seated next to me.
“I think so, but why ask all of a sudden?”

“My papa’s taking time off during Golden Week. Remember I said I’d introduce you to him?”
“…!”
At that unexpected bit of great news, I uncrossed my arms and shifted into full attention.

“When can I meet him?”
“Hmm~ We’re going on a family trip for the first time in a while, so it’ll probably have to be the first or second day.”
I was about to say anytime was fine, but then I remembered I had a meeting with the president on the 29th, the first day of Golden Week. So I asked carefully:

“Would the 30th work?”
“Sure! That should be fine. I’ll tell Papa in advance.”
Hearing Kishimoto’s reply, I clenched both fists tightly.

I’m definitely bringing my manga to get it signed.
There were still about ten days left until Golden Week started, but my heart was already racing.
Is this how the fox felt waiting for the Little Prince?

***
Lunch time.
Instead of bringing a packed lunch today, I decided to eat at the school cafeteria.

You simply picked your menu on a meal ticket vending machine, received the ticket, and handed it to one of the lunch ladies.
The student cafeteria offered a variety of meals ranging from 200 to 500 yen.
I ordered the 300-yen pork cutlet curry set and sat at an open seat.

Soon, Kishimoto joined me with a kitsune udon and a three-onigiri set.
Seeing that, I asked her casually:
“Rika, you eat more than you look like you would.”

Biting into a mentaiko-filled rice ball, Kishimoto tilted her head, cheeks still dotted with rice grains.
“Isn’t this normal? If I don’t eat a solid lunch, I just end up snacking more.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Now that I thought about it, over the past few weeks, I’d never seen her snacking between meals.
She only rarely drank sodas like cola or cider, so compared to the average high school girl, she probably had much healthier eating habits.
She finished one onigiri in a flash, then picked a grain of rice off her cheek and popped it into her mouth.

“And I don’t gain weight even if I eat a lot. It all goes to my chest.”
Hearing that, I instinctively let my gaze drop—only to realize it was a trap she’d set.
Kishimoto immediately hugged herself with both arms and feigned shock.

“Kya, pervert☆”
…This girl, once you get close to her, is secretly really annoying.
I let out a small sigh and resumed moving my spoon.

That’s when it happened.
“Hey, mind if I sit here?”
Despite picking a table off to the side on purpose, an uninvited guest arrived.

The redhead placed a mackerel set meal beside Kishimoto and sat down.
Recognizing her face, Kishimoto screeched:
“Ah, you’re from the other class—mmph!”

“Shhh, people will hear.”
Tojo Karen clamped her palm over Kishimoto’s mouth while glancing around cautiously, then quietly sat down at our table.
She then leaned in and asked in a low voice:

“I heard you’re good at giving relationship advice. Is that true?”
“Mmph mmmh!”
“Blink twice for yes, once for no.”

Blink—blink—
Only then did she release her hand from Kishimoto’s mouth. Swallowing nervously, Kishimoto opened her mouth and spoke:
“There’s someone I’ve started to like recently, and I wanted to ask your advice.”

Tojo Karen’s cheeks were tinged with a faint blush as she spoke.
It was, unmistakably, the face of a girl in love.