Chapter 2

Even with the shocking start, Takasu Ryuuji's high school life as a

newly minted second-year student was going well.

There were several reasons for this.

For example, despite his most pessimistic expectations, the rumor that

Takasu was a delinquent quickly evaporated. Along with Kitamura, he was

lucky to have quite a few people from last year's class with him once again.

But more than anything, the simple fact that he had been terrorized by the

Palmtop Tiger on opening day sealed the deal: He was just a normal kid.

(On that point and that point alone, he wanted to thank Aisaka Taiga.)

On top of all that, he also wasn't inconveniently pushed to join the

student committee, and the seat he got by drawing straws was a window

seat three rows from the front. It was in a location where he could pretty

much lay back and relax. He also knew their homeroom teacher

(Koigakubo Yuri, single with a capital "S," twenty-nine years old) from

when she had been the assistant homeroom teacher the year before.

Although she was getting on in years, and still single, she wasn't unhappy

at all.

And then…

"…And then, the part near the rim of the bucket was solid, right? Like,

the parts around the—what's it called? The parts around the circumference

were solid. But then the entire center was still liquid, and if you tilted it, the

jiggly parts around the circumference would go like this…"

"Ow!"

"Ah, Takasu-kun! Sorry!"

But the most important reason things were going well was this one:

The existence of his new classmate, Kushieda Minori. She was the sun

that cast a beautiful, rose-colored tint over his life, his sunlight that shined

without fail. That radiance would never harm him, but only warm his heart

—even if, for example, it poked him in the eye.

"A-are you okay?! Sorry, I didn't know you were behind me! Ohh…I

totally touched the squishy part, didn't I?"

"…Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

"I'm really sorry! …Uh, what was I talking about? Oh yeah! Like I was

saying before, the part around the rim of the bucket that firmed up, right,

was like this…"

"Ow!"

"Yikes! I think I got you even deeper that time. Sorry!"

Despite that incident, which he magnanimously waved away, Ryuuji

was happy. As Minori bowed her head down in apology, an indescribable

floral fragrance wafted from her hair. Regardless of what had happened, as

she apologized, her eyes were currently looking at him, and only him.

Getting poked in the eye twice was nothing compared to that happiness.

It didn't even matter whether she was talking to him or not. It would

have been enough if she were just talking to someone near his seat. He

could listen to Minori's voice forever, sweet enough you could practically

smell it, and when she swung her arm around to describe the circumference

of that bucket, her fingertip even touched him—touched his eyeball, to be

exact, but still: She had touched him!

But why were they talking about a bucket just now? His face must have

looked puzzled, because she explained: "I, like, made pudding…in a

bucket."

"Don't hurt anybody else," Minori said, admonishing her own finger as

she grabbed it with her other hand. Then she gave Ryuuji a very thorough

explanation. No, wait—what she actually said was, "Takasu-kun, do you

like pudding?"

They were having a conversation. Ryuuji's heart suddenly skipped a

beat. He couldn't respond with anything sensible. He was well and truly

flummoxed. Even mustering the full strength of his will, all he could say

was, "Yeah…"

She probably thought he was a boring guy. She probably didn't want to

talk to him anymore. But Minori was already leaving Ryuuji behind,

unaware of the inner turmoil that never reached his face. Minori's charming

cheeks took on a rosy color as she continued. "Bucket. Pudding. A woman's

greatest weakness."

"But I just couldn't get it right! Getting it to firm up is hard. Still,

because it's so big, the gooey parts and jiggly bits live in perfect harmony…

Oh, I know—Takasu-kun, do you want to judge it for yourself? As an

apology for poking you in the eye."

"Wha? J-judge it…?"

She couldn't mean she wanted him to try a taste of her homemade

pudding, could she? Did she really mean that she wanted him to try it?

Ryuuji's gaze intensified as he looked at Minori's adorable, smiling face.

Minori nodded. "Yeah! I'll bring it over right now, so you can take a

look at it."

If this kind of happiness waited on the other side, what a lucky day, to

be poked in the eye! However, as Minori cheerfully made her way to her

own seat, and Ryuuji's eyes bored into her back, he felt a sudden urge to

flee.

Once he received the pudding, what expression was he supposed to

make as he ate it? And wouldn't it be weird for a guy like him to be

slurping up pudding when it wasn't even lunch time? And before he even

considered all of that, was it the type of thing he was supposed to eat

straight away, or was he supposed to thank her for it and put in his bag?

"I-I don't… I don't know…"

He stroked his cheek nervously, but for the time being, he cleaned the

notebooks off his desk, just in case he got his heart set on eating it right

there.

Both nervous and excited, Ryuuji skillfully averted his gaze as Minori

came back. She was so bright he couldn't look at her. Minori tilted her head

and stopped right in front of Ryuuji with a brilliant smile on her face. Then

she said, "Here, Takasu-kun. Here you go."

Her voice was so gentle, he could hear a heart emoji follow his name.

Ryuuji nervously lifted his face and, with both hands, reverently received

the pudding.

"O-oh. How nice…"

It was thinner than he thought it would be—lighter, too…

"…That you took these pictures…"

"But it's kind of gross, right?"

When she said, judge it for yourself, she had meant to judge the pictures

—not the flavor. And on top of that, the thing in the photo looked

downright disgusting. His brain felt like a crashed web browser. A huge

bucket lay squarely planted on a vinyl rug, and inside it was a dead squid,

pale yellow in color… No, worse—it was filled with something that looked

like slime. He felt like he was letting Minori down, but no matter how he

looked at it, it just didn't look like pudding. In the second photo, the partliquid, part-solid slime had dribbled onto the vinyl.

"It tasted weird, too," she said, as he looked at the third picture. "Maybe

I didn't wash the bucket well enough?"

In the picture Ryuuji now had in hand, Minori was sitting down with

one knee bent, eating the slime with a massive spoon. I'll take just this one,

Ryuuji thought for a fleeting moment, but then she spoke again, interrupting

the thought.

"Thanks for looking at them! I've got to show them to Taiga, too. Huh?

Where did she go? Wasn't she just over there a second ago?"

Minori quickly collected her photos. Then she darted away from Ryuuji

to search for her companion, the Palmtop Tiger Aisaka Taiga, who had

vanished unnoticed. And with that, the time had run out on his dream.

Taiga, too, huh?

Ryuuji involuntarily let out a sigh as he watched the apple of his eye

disappear into the hallway in search of her friend.

It was an unexpected blessing that Minori was in the same class. Every

day, be it during class or whenever, he got to see Minori. He could see her

smile without having to peek from into some class he wasn't part of. To

return to soccer terms, sometimes even being a steady sweeper paid off. If

this wasn't happiness, what was?

Still, if he wanted to get even closer to Minori, there was one huge

problem he had to overcome. That problem was that more often than not,

she hung out with Aisaka Taiga.

Other than the incident during opening ceremonies, Ryuuji had tried to

avoid getting involved with Aisaka, who somehow seemed to be an actual

thug. Avoiding her, however, inevitably created a new problem: He couldn't

approach Minori. (Granted, there were plenty of other reasons why he

couldn't start up a conversation with her.)

He was about as interesting to Aisaka as the husk of a dead bug. As

long as Ryuuji kept his distance, they didn't really make any contact, and it

seemed unlikely that any real harm would come his way. Ryuuji's current

goal was to do his best to avoid getting involved with the Palmtop Tiger and

get close to Minori alone. If he could just accumulate more lucky moments

like the bucket incident and turn them to his advantage, it might not be

completely impossible.

All things considered, Ryuuji's bittersweet days were going pretty well.

…At least until school ended that day.

***

"Uh…"

When Ryuuji opened the door, he stood stock-still, at a loss for words.

There were two chairs—no wait, three—flying through the air.

As they smashed onto the floor, he saw a single shadow in the middle of

all the racket. It flitted across the edge of his vision, kicking at the chairs.

What on earth is going on? As Ryuuji narrowed his eyes into a dreadful

glare, he was so bewildered by the truth that his breath stopped. He'd been

asked to do some odd jobs after finishing the day's chores, so it was long

after the end of school—no one should have been in the classroom. But

he'd seen her.

He was certain he saw a uniformed girl jump headfirst behind a locker

to hide, at the very moment she caught sight of Ryuuji. He definitely saw

her, right at that moment, and he had certainly heard the loud noise she

made when she kicked at the chairs. On top of that, he could still see her.

There was a full-length mirror set up on the classroom wall and her back

and head were reflected there, facing away.

The little klutz had curled up into an incredibly tiny, compact ball—

cowering. Completely unaware of the mirror, she was stretching her neck

out and peeking stealthily out at Ryuuji.

Ryuuji swallowed and decided to pretend he hadn't noticed—for that

tiny, suspicious klutz's identity was none other than…the Palmtop Tiger.

The reflection of her back in the mirror gave him more than enough

information to know for sure. Part of it was that long hair and the white

profile of her face, but most of all it was because, out of everyone he knew,

Aisaka was the only one who could make herself that tiny. But why her, out

of all people? he wondered.

I saw nothing. I know nothing. I noticed nothing.

Taking that mantra to heart, Ryuuji proceeded into the room. He really

didn't want to go into the classroom, where the Palmtop Tiger lurked for

reasons unknown, but he had left his bag on his desk, and he couldn't just

go home without it.

The classroom was silent in the twilight, as though he had crossed the

threshold into some spider's trap, a web spun by Aisaka. The moment he set

foot in the room, it felt like his soul was being ripped from his body.

Cautiously, gingerly, Ryuuji did his best to feign a casual air as he moved

his feet. In order to avoid provoking Aisaka, he tried to play oblivious, but

then…

"AAHHH!"

Ridiculously, a faint cry of urgent despair echoed throughout the

classroom.

Something came rolling out that completely undid all of Ryuuji's

efforts. Aisaka Taiga, until then curled up, lost her balance. She flopped out

from behind the locker with a forward somersault and, in a stroke of bad

luck, landed right in front of Ryuuji.

"…"

"…"

Aisaka looked up. Ryuuji looked down. Neither of them had the luxury

of ignoring each other anymore. Their gazes crossed, and they remained

silent. They stayed like that for several seconds.

"A-are you okay?"

At long last, Ryuuji finally managed to choke out some words. Then, he

extended a tentative hand out towards Aisaka, while she slowly got up. In

response, she gave him a nearly inaudible reply.

"No thanks," she said, or "I don't know"—or something along those

lines. From between the strands of her disheveled hair, Aisaka's steely eyes

effortlessly cleaved straight through Ryuuji.

Instinctively, he took a large step back. Noticing the opening, Aisaka

shakily came to a standing position. Head still hidden, she dusted off her

skirt and took long strides to distance herself from Ryuuji. She put her back

to the window and narrowed her eyes, but didn't make any moves to leave

the classroom. Isn't she embarrassed? A normal person would have been,

but it seemed those kinds of thoughts weren't of any concern to the Palmtop

Tiger.

If Aisaka was going to stay, then naturally, Ryuuji would have to leave

first.

"M-my bag," he muttered purposefully, before darting towards it.

Aisaka Taiga still stood by the window, watching him wordlessly. He

didn't know what sort of expression was on her face, because he couldn't

even bear to look at her. He just tried his best to dampen the sound of his

footsteps and make himself invisible as he crossed the classroom. He could

feel goosebumps prickling across his cheek, where he sensed her glare, but

he couldn't show her a reaction. He couldn't provoke her. If he could get

through this without anything happening…

The bag wasn't at his desk—instead, it was where he'd left it on top of

Kitamura's, where they had been talking earlier. If he could just get that

bag, he could withdraw from the classroom. Controlling his impatience, he

stretched out his arm. Just twenty centimeters away, ten centimeters away…

"Ah!" she said, jumping up.

He must have done something wrong. He must have done something

wrong, to make Aisaka Taiga yell out at him. Ryuuji looked over his

shoulder in dread and stared at the small doll standing by the window. "Whwhat…?"

"J-just what…d-do you think you're doing?" she asked.

Spontaneously, an eye-catching scene began to unfold right there on the

spot. The Palmtop Tiger was reeling.

"I just came to get my bag," he said. "But…A-Aisaka? What's wrong?

You're acting pretty weird."

Her puckered mouth opened and closed, and she shuffled her feet, as

though performing some odd dance. As she brought a wavering finger up to

her cheek, she started to jitter and shake. "Uhhhh, you mean, that's your

bag? But that's not your chair. Wh-wh-wh-why, h-h-h-h-how?" she

stammered, as she admonished Ryuuji.

"…I didn't mean anything by it," he said. "A teacher just called me

while I was talking to Kitamura…and I just left it here… Argh!"

Aisaka, standing totally flummoxed several meters away from him,

closed the gap in moments. Where does she hide all that athleticism in such

a tiny body?

"Urk…! Urgh…ugh!" She pulled at the bag Ryuuji clutched to his

chest, trying to rip it away. She wrenched at it with incredible strength.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa?! A-Aisaka?!"

"G-give! It! Back! Hand it over!"

From up close, he could see her cheeks turn a red that rivaled the sunset.

Her cute face distorted into a bloodcurdling, demonic mask.

"Give it back, give it, I'm telling you!"

"Uggh!" He wouldn't let go. Out of pure, stubborn machismo, Ryuuji

planted his feet solidly on the ground. Besides, if he were to release his grip

now, Aisaka's tiny body would go flying.

To think he put all that effort into reading the situation for nothing.

"Hnnnngh!" She twisted her hips, dug her nails into the bag, and

squeezed her eyes shut as her face went red, until a blood vessel popped out

on her temple. She was determined to win their contest of strength.

Little by little, Ryuuji's fingers were slipping. Even his braced legs were

slowly edging forward. Simply put, he'd probably lose. He couldn't bear it

any longer.

"W-watch o…! Caref—stooop…!" he said.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnngh! Ah? Aaah!"

I can't do it anymore! he thought, but in that moment, Aisaka suddenly

threw her head back. He saw a distant look in her eyes as her little hands

flung wide open, and she let go… SHE LET GO?!

"ARGH!"

"ACHOO!"

CRASH!

The scream was Ryuuji. The sneeze, Aisaka. The crash was also Ryuuji.

Scream, sneeze, the back of his head.

When Aisaka's sneeze loosened her grip, Ryuuji had naturally flown

backwards. He stumbled, bag still grasped in both hands, and slammed his

head into the teacher's desk.

"Ow, oww… Th-that hurt! Wh-why…y-you…that really freakin' hurt!

Were you trying to kill me or something?!" He was half crying as he

protested.

"Ugh." Even after sending Ryuuji flying with her peculiar sneeze,

Aisaka seemed oblivious of her surroundings. She sniffled, wobbled over to

a desk, and hunched down.

"A-Aisaka? Hey, what's wrong?"

She curled up into a ball, her long hair draping all the way to the floor.

She made a low moan but didn't answer. Was she feeling sick? He rubbed

the back of his head and rushed over. He peeked at her face, which had just

been bright red, but was now rapidly losing color. Her quivering lips were

white as paper. Her forehead had strangely broken out into a sweat.

"Whoa… You're white as a sheet. Are you anemic? Here, grab my

hand."

She had the same symptoms as Yasuko when she had collapsed, once.

This time, he didn't hesitate to offer his hand.

"Tsk!" Aisaka vigorously brushed his hand away with her ice-cold

fingers. She was still wobbling heavily, but—steadying herself with a

nearby desk—she stood up.

"A-Aisaka! Are you okay?" he said.

Of course, she didn't answer. She started walking, knocking into desks

along the way, as her velvety hair fluttered. He watched her diminutive back

as she ran off. Because she had been sitting, the seat of her pleated skirt was

folded up, and though it revealed a risqué amount of her delicate legs, she

made her escape too fast for him to tell her.

"Wait up! Shouldn't you at least go to the nurse's office to rest?"

Even though he might have been meddling, Ryuuji couldn't just leave

her, so he started to follow.

"Get away from me, you moron!" She shrieked, her desperate voice

hitting him like a physical blow. He put on the brakes. If she could yell like

that, she was probably fine…

"M-man, what a mess…"

The sound of Aisaka's running feet faded down the hallway until he

stood alone in the classroom, still reeling in the aftermath of being called a

moron.

Abandoned, Ryuuji just stood there, muttering weakly to himself.

The back of his head was still pounding, and Aisaka's nails had left ten

lacerations in the side of the bag—the one they had failed to reach any sort

of civil compromise on. The once neat rows of desks were unbearably

jostled.

It was a mess.

The desks and Aisaka were both messed up. What a troublesome girl.

As he fussed with the desks until they were back in order, Ryuuji

desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened. The after-school

classroom that should have been deserted, Aisaka Taiga somersaulting out,

the bag that had nearly been stolen from him, the sneeze, the bump to the

back of his head, the anemic girl… It was impossible, there was no

understanding it. He didn't have a clue what to make of it.

"I'm no good with messed-up situations like these," Ryuuji solemnly

mumbled to himself and sighed.

Little did he know, but the meaning of the incident was to become all

too clear three hours later.

***

To: Kitamura Yuusaku-sama.

From: Aisaka Taiga.

"Th-this…is…"

It was seven at night. Yasuko had left early to accompany a customer to

her job, so Ryuuji was eating a simple dinner alone. Finally, he had come to

understand the meaning of the mysterious and now vaguely-remembered

incident that happened earlier that day after school.

When he had gone back to his four-and-a-half tatami room to finish his

homework, he opened his bag to take out his textbook and notebook—and

that was when he had found it.

A light pink envelope. Pieces of silver foil were incorporated into the

pulpy paper, shaped like cherry blossom petals. They seemed to flutter as

they scattered through the paper, creating a texture like that of washi paper.

To Kitamura Yuusaku-sama, it was addressed.

He flipped it over. From Aisaka Taiga, it said. To put this very politely, if

this letter causes you trouble, please just throw it away.

It was written in the faint blue ink of a nearly depleted pen.

No matter how he looked at it, this wasn't just a regular letter. It wasn't

the class newsletter, and it didn't seem like a money envelope for

repayment, either.

"This is…a love letter…!"

He was shocked. He had stumbled into something terrible.

Letting curiosity get the best of him was unthinkable, but his eyes

narrowed mercilessly as he looked at the envelope. Of course, he wasn't

angry—just extremely flustered.

Long story short, it seemed the Palmtop Tiger had gotten the wrong bag.

She had mistaken his bag for Kitamura's and snuck this thing inside. That

was why she had become so desperate and tried to steal it back.

"You put this in accidentally, didn't you?" he said aloud, trying to

practice what he might say to her, acting as though nothing was up. "I

didn't look inside, so I can't imagine what's in it. Ahhh well—here, you can

have it back…" He shook his head. "Nope. That won't work."

He instantly snapped back to reality. That definitely wouldn't work.

This was terrible. There was no way anyone would be fooled with a line

like that. But he couldn't think of anything better. The next day, he'd have

to hand the thing over to Aisaka quickly and casually with that line.

This is definitely a love letter, but I myself don't think it's a love letter.

So, don't go thinking that I know a secret about you, or anything

inconvenient like that, he'd say. Pretty far-fetched, but he'd try something

along those lines. There was no other way. That was the one and only way

to do it that wouldn't cause Aisaka embarrassment, and that wouldn't hurt

his own pride or cause him any distress.

Ryuuji forced himself to believe it and started to put that dangerous

thing back into his bag. That was when it happened.

"Eeeep…"

His heart constricted and jumped.

The envelope, held so carefully in the palm of his hand to keep from

getting it dirty or damaged, started to unseal itself right before his eyes.

Stop it, don't open! he shouted a silent prayer. But it seemed that part of the

already weak adhesive had bent itself out of shape and was peeling off.

He forgot everything but how to breathe. Soon, the envelope opened

completely, there in Ryuuji's hand.

Just like that, a letter-snooping miscreant was born.

"N-no… No, you've got it all wrong, I didn't see anything! That's right,

I'll reseal it! If I do that, she won't find out!"

"That's right!" Inko-chan gave him a shout of encouragement from the

living room, as Ryuuji ransacked his drawers looking for glue. He finally

found some and was all set to restore the envelope. He wouldn't leave any

evidence behind, but…

"…H-huh?"

In spite of himself, his busy hands stopped.

The envelope had nothing in it. With some hesitation, he opened the

envelope again, peeked inside, and held it to the light for confirmation.

There really was nothing in it. It was empty.

What a relief.

Feeling spent, Ryuuji involuntarily slumped across his desk. Don't just

scare someone like that—what a klutz.

Aisaka Taiga. You're the one who's a moron.

Hiding in a completely obvious place, somersaulting out into the open,

getting the wrong bag, sneezing and falling down while trying to steal it,

and—on top of all that—forgetting to put the letter into the envelope. Even

for a klutz, that was just too much.

Even after pulling himself together, Ryuuji didn't have the heart to

continue the idiotic operation of regluing an empty envelope.

The next day, when he returned it to Aisaka, could he really pretend to

be indifferent? It might be fine, as long as he didn't burst out in laughter

over the ridiculous details of this story, but in the unlikely event that he did

do something like that, this might be the time he really did get eaten by the

Palmtop Tiger.

Nevertheless, he decided to finish regluing the envelope.

The strange night wore on—until two in the morning.

Ryuuji suddenly woke up. He opened his eyes wide in a daze.

He felt as though he'd been having a dream, but…the clock indicated it

was the dead of night. He scratched vigorously at his belly. He always slept

like a baby until morning—why had he woken up at such an odd time?

Ryuuji hadn't the faintest idea.

It may have been because he slept with just a t-shirt and his underwear,

but he felt a bit chilly. It was the middle of April, but apparently, he had

fallen asleep with the window open. Nothing lay beyond the window but

the wall of that upper-class condominium—so lately, his vigilance had

waned. There wasn't anything around worth stealing, but he reached out his

arm and closed the window anyway, making sure to properly lock it.

He got up from his bed, an old mail-order purchase. Still feeling

unsettled, he stifled a lethargic yawn. Maybe a bad dream was to blame, but

his heart was pounding. The atmosphere felt inexplicably strange, almost as

if he were being watched.

"I have a bad feeling…" he muttered. Wobbly, he stepped onto the

tatami mats and checked his phone to make sure nothing had happened to

Yasuko. But there was nothing there to speak of, not even a text from the

bar. He took a breath. I guess it was nothing.

Since he was already up, he headed barefoot to the restroom, and then

on toward the cold wooden floor of the kitchen.

But in that instant…

"Huhh?!"

He felt a tingle run down his neck. Reflexively, he turned around—and

completely slipped on a discarded newspaper, falling down butt-first.

BAM! Butt, meet floor. The impact ran from his waist to his head, all the

air momentarily knocked out of him.

"…!"

He couldn't even get out a scream.

With tremendous force, something careened down through the air, right

where Ryuuji's head had just been. After a powerful swing and miss, it

struck the floor with a foreboding clamor, just beside Ryuuji's body.

"Tsk…tsk…tsk."

An ominous human silhouette hovered in the pitch-black, two-bedroom

apartment. It took aim at Ryuuji, once again swinging that rod-shaped

object at him in a wide arc. He was under attack.

He didn't understand why, though. He wanted it to be a dream. Someone

help!

Still unable to make a sound, Ryuuji desperately rolled away for dear

life. He needed light, or the police, or the landlady. His mind went blank.

He couldn't think. Scared stiff, he could do nothing but run away, nothing

but crawl to the front entrance. But…

"HIYAHHHHH!"

Now he was done for. His assailant pointed the murder weapon at the

top of his head and then struck. Without even knowing what was

happening, in the spur of the moment, he reached out with both hands

and…

"Ah…? I-I did it…!"

Somehow, he stopped the blow precisely with his bare hands. Well, he

probably hadn't been precise about it, but through sheer luck, he had the

murder weapon firmly grasped between his palms.

"Ugh!"

The perpetrator pushed that weapon forcefully downwards. Ryuuji used

all his strength to try and force it back. As they waged their silent test of

strength, the figure wavered in the darkness. A small stature, an outline

engulfed in long hair—of course, he thought, somewhere in the back of his

mind. He had probably suspected who it was from the very beginning.

Gritting his teeth, toughing through it, Ryuuji came to a strange

understanding. Of course—of course—who else would do something this

messed up?

But at the very moment he figured out who the perpetrator was—Aah! I

can't do it anymore!—both of his shaking hands lost all sensation. The stiff

muscles in the back of his neck also strained to their limits.

"…Hah… Ahhh…"

HACHOO!

His opponent lost balance for an instant.

At the moment of that strange-sounding sneeze, the weight on him

suddenly, softly disappeared. His opponent succumbed to Ryuuji's strength,

and he pushed back, staggering wildly.

"Ah! Wah!" his opponent quietly exclaimed, then tottered, tripped, and

landed on the bed with a resounding thump. Ryuuji stood up and slammed

into the wall, rushing to turn on the light switch.

"AISAKAAAAA!"

"…"

"You could at least use a tissue!"

He threw a tissue box at the Palmtop Tiger, Aisaka Taiga, who was

nonchalantly wiping her nose on the bedspread.

***

Her long, fluffy hair spilled down her back, and she wore a dress

covered in layers of lace and other fluffy materials. Considering her tiny

body, styles that added volume to her frame really suited her…

"H-hand over the wooden sword." Ryuuji found himself deeply

regretting that he hadn't managed to steal away Aisaka Taiga's weapon.

Since he'd turned on the light and given her the tissues, nothing about

the perilous situation had been settled at all. Both Aisaka's eyes glinted with

light. She circled the small room's edge, just like a tiger cornering its prey

in a cage. Naturally, Ryuuji kept his distance. Still in his underwear, he too

ran in circles around the room, trying to keep away from her.

But no matter how long they kept doing that, they wouldn't get

anywhere. That thought in mind, he said, "Hey, Aisaka… I know what you

want. You want me to give back that lo—that letter, right? The one you

accidentally put in my bag."

"…Tsk."

He'd summoned the courage to speak. But at that very moment, Aisaka

swallowed her breath and went still. From his perspective, her whole body

seemed to grow. She was a bomb about to go off. Her fuse had been lit.

"I-I'll give it back! So calm down! I didn't look inside!"

"…It's not enough to just give it back," she answered, voice so low that

it seemed to creep along the ground. "That's nowhere near good enough…

You shouldn't even know that the letter exists." She whisked the gigantic

wooden sword up, so that it danced elegantly above her head.

"DIE!"

"GAH!"

She aimed straight for the top of Ryuuji's head and brought the sword

down.

Just how fast is this girl?!

Aisaka leaped at Ryuuji's chest, crossing several meters in an instant. If

her sword hadn't hit the wall (the security deposit!), he really would have

been done for.

"Tsk!"

"You idiot!" On the verge of tears, he leaped back and let loose a

heartfelt shout. "Are you out of your mind?! What kind of nutcase would

try to kill her own classmate? You're messed up!"

"Shut up! Now that you know about the letter, I can't bear to live with

the shame! The only thing left for me to do—is die!" The sword's point

lunged for his Adam's apple.

"Yikes! Y-you say you'll die, so why are you trying to kill me?!"

Ryuuji avoided it with downright miraculous reflexes, but Aisaka's

power was immense. She used that power to cut straight into the sliding

door (the repair bill!), then followed through with another lunge. In those

wide-open eyes, there was no hesitation, just desperation and resolve.

"I'd rather kill you than kill myself! Sorry, but please die! And if you

can't manage that—erase all your memories!"

"How the heck am I supposed to do that?!"

"Trust me, it's not impossible! If I…" She glanced at the wooden sword

she brandished. "If I knock you over the head with this, even if you survive,

it should at least give you amnesia."

"No knocking, thanks!"

Just how stubborn was she?! If only he could get her to realize she was

talking nonsense. But words wouldn't get through to her. Common sense,

common courtesy, morality—stuff like that didn't matter to Aisaka.

Ugh, that's why I didn't want to get involved with her in the first place!

Contrary to Ryuuji's thoughts, which were turning grim, Aisaka's

destructive conduct was going splendidly. If Ryuuji kept on running, she'd

just corner him. She knocked the boxes off the top of the wardrobe, ripped a

hole in the sliding door, and kicked over a small table. While it fell, she

exclaimed: "Forget about the love letter!"

The Palmtop Tiger was self-destructing. He could have said he didn't

know it was a love letter (that had been an option), but now she'd

confirmed it herself, making things a real mess. No, that wasn't right—

things had been a mess since the very first moment he got involved with

Aisaka. And on top of that…

"You looked at it, right?!" she said. "You read it, didn't you?! And then

you thought I was an idiot, an id… an id… Uhh, uguh, uwuhhh…!"

"Ah?! Wait—a-are you crying?"

"No way!"

Between those horrible, groaning noises, she released a half-suppressed

sigh. She aimed her wide eyes at Ryuuji, their whites turned faintly red.

Tears welled up at their corners. Even though it was only a tiny bit, Aisaka

really was crying. He was the person that ought to cry! If he thought he

could afford to collapse right then and there, he would have, but at that

moment, it would mean his life.

Ugh, what a weird turn of events. He was the one being attacked, so

why did he feel like he was the one who had done something wrong?

Then, out of complete desperation, he feinted a run to the side and made

a risky grab for Aisaka's wrist. She was shocked for one brief moment. He

felt a little scared that her delicate wrist might break in his grasp.

"Let go!"

Whatever she said, he needed to play his trump card now. He inhaled,

preparing to shout with all his might. Sorry, neighbors. Landlady, please

forgive me.

"No way am I letting go!" he barked. "Now listen here! Aisaka, you

made a terrible mistake! That envelope was—"

"Let! Go! Of! Me!"

Aisaka's struggling wrist slipped from Ryuuji's hand. She tried aiming

at him from close range. Her bloodthirsty eyes glistened.

"It was empty!"

Ryuuji got his words out just in time. The wooden sword's swing

stopped at the very last moment, directly above his head, lightly brushing

several strands of his hair.

Several all-too-unpleasant seconds of silence went by. Finally, she

squeezed out a word. "Emp…ty…?" she said in that immature voice of

hers. He nodded his head fervently up and down.

"Th-that's right. It was empty. So, I haven't seen whatever was meant to

be inside and also, that's right—that's right! You were lucky you didn't give

that to Kitamura! You avoided making a fool out of yourself in front of

everybody."

Bleary eyes still wide open, Aisaka froze in place. Ryuuji took the

opportunity to crawl away. He grabbed his bag and rummaged through it

with shaking hands. In a mad rush, he pulled out the envelope.

"See! See, see!"

He pushed the envelope into her small hands as her eyes became

bloodshot. The wooden sword dropped to the floor with a thud, Aisaka's

body trembling violently. But she stood firm, righted herself, and raised the

newly returned envelope up to the light.

"…Oh…"

Her mouth puckered, half-open.

"O-oh…ooh…ohhh! Whaa!"

Messing up her tangled hair, Aisaka cut open the envelope's seal. As if

going mad, she shook it upside down to confirm it was empty, then looked

back at Ryuuji in blank amazement.

"…You klutz."

At his leaden proclamation, she sat down unsteadily right where she

was standing. Her eyes opened so wide they seemed like they might tear at

the corners. Before long, they developed a faint film. Her thin, open lips

quivered and shook, and she seemed to be trying to say something, but she

could only bob her chin.

"A-Aisaka?"

Her brain had crashed.

Before Ryuuji's eyes, her face suddenly turned pale white. Then, right

there in the living room of his shabby two-bedroom apartment, her petite

frame, padded by the oversized dress, toppled over.

"Hey! Aisaka! Are you okay?!"

At that surprising turn of events, Ryuuji rushed over and held her

unconscious, doll-like body—and that was when it happened.

GRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWWWWLLLL.

"…I-Is that your stomach…?"

***

The Takasu household always had frozen food.

They had never run out of garlic or ginger, and always had a stock of

onions. He also had leftover turnip stalk and leaves, and some bacon he had

been thinking of using for breakfast. Eggs, too.

Of course, it was rare that they would do something so foolish as run

out of seasonings. Naturally, they also had instant consommé (for when he

needed to cut corners), Ajinomoto seasoning, and chicken bone soup stock

available in the kitchen.

He got a heaping bowl of rice, seasoned it with sesame oil, and chopped

up the turnip stalks. He added egg and the rice was soon wrapped in a

golden sheen. He could leave the rest to the green onion's flavor and the

umami of the bacon. He added Ajinomoto to taste, pinches of salt and

pepper, a subtle amount of oyster sauce, and, as a finishing touch, scattered

chives on the stock.

Simply adding hot water and shards of onion, he garnished the chicken

bone soup in just under fifteen minutes. He finished washing the dishes in

the process.

Even though it was three in the morning on a weekday, Ryuuji's skills

didn't falter.

Guuuuurrrrgllle. And then, over the almost comical sound of her

stomach, he heard a faint, incoherent mumbling interposed. "G-garlic…"

He was hesitant to touch her, so he said, "…Aisaka. Aisaka Taiga, wake

up. Your wish for garlic is fulfilled, and it's infused with the aroma of

sesame oil, no less."

The petite body he had laid out on the bed jolted. "Fry… fry…"

"That's right. It's fried rice."

"Fried…rice…"

He saw drool dripping from her pale lips…and because he saw it, he

had to wipe it away. He carefully dabbed at her mouth with a tissue.

"Here, wake up. It'll get cold."

Aisaka's eyelashes fluttered faintly. In order to avoid touching her body

directly, he grabbed her by her clothes and lifted her from the sheets. In the

middle of that, Aisaka wriggled in apparent displeasure.

"Ah…wha?"

It seemed she'd finally woken up. She gave an irritated scowl, brushing

off Ryuuji's arm. With visible distrust, she peeled off the damp towel he'd

put on her forehead. But then her nostrils flared. "…Huh? What's that? It

smells like garlic…" She looked curiously around the room.

"I just said it was fried rice. Hurry up and eat. You need to get your

blood sugar up or you'll keel over again."

When he pointed at the table setting he'd prepared with the fried rice,

her eyes glittered for a moment, but then she said, "What's your deal?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at Ryuuji in his tracksuit with a

taciturn look.

"There isn't any deal. If someone collapses right in front of you, fried

rice is the only answer. It was ridiculous—the sound your stomach made. I

can only imagine what it'd be like if you got anemic at school and…hey,

you haven't been eating anything, have you?"

"Leave me alone, it's none of your business. Do you live alone here?"

"Sometimes my mom's home. Right now, she's at work. If you're going

to invade somebody's household, at least get a sense of it, first. Any other

place would've called the cops on you by now."

"Shut up. You're not up to anything weird, are you?"

Aisaka was still pale, but she purposefully guarded her body with both

hands. She gave Ryuuji a scrutinizing look, challenging him with her glare.

He wanted to yell out, You're way weirder than me! But instead he said,

"Someone who just came off an attempted home invasion and then

collapsed from hunger doesn't get the right to complain. Just eat."

At any rate, it was three in the morning. He couldn't let her disturb the

peace any more than she already had.

"Listen h—ubgh!"

He took a heaping spoonful of fried rice and forced it into Aisaka's

mouth, right where she lay, complaining on the bed. It took a considerable

amount of courage, but Ryuuji was already in despair, so what did he have

to lose? He overflowed with a spirit of gallantry.

"Whaareouing!"

Glaring, Aisaka pushed away the spoon. But—probably because she

couldn't spit out what was already in her mouth—she chewed, her small

cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.

"Y—gulp! You—don't think you'll be able to just get away with this…"

Gulp. She swallowed. "Don't even think our conversation is over yet."

She stole the spoon from Ryuuji's hand—the same spoon she had just

pushed away. "First of all, I've figured out why the envelope was empty."

She hopped off the bed, dragging along her trailing skirt. "You tried looking

at it and unsealed it. You're the lowest of the low. A Peeping Tom." She

turned her back to Ryuuji as she sat down at the table.

"You've got it all wrong. How do I say this… I only noticed because it

was see-through." It was a lie, but oh well. He couldn't tell whether she was

listening or not. Aisaka, still seated, took a small spoonful from the

mountain of fried rice and quietly brought it to her small mouth, oddly

tense.

She chewed, chewed, and swallowed. She touched her mouth to the

spoon, too. For a moment, her expression was one of relish, and then she

took another bite. Ryuuji sat across from Aisaka and started to put words to

what he'd pondered while making the fried rice.

"Now that you mention it, Aisaka, listen to what I have to say for a

second. In the first place…"

Nom nom nom nom.

"…You said you were embarrassed that I saw that letter… Or actually,

the envelope or whatever, right?"

Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom… Cough! "Gah!"

"What I think is…" he tried to say.

Munch munch munch munch munch munch munch munch munch

munch munch munch munch munch munch munch!

"Listen to me!"

"Seconds!"

"Fine!"

Good thing I made a lot, Ryuuji muttered silently, as he placed the

entire contents of the fry pan on her plate. He served it to Aisaka.

"Now listen to what I have to say!"

No matter how much he shouted, it was useless. It was like talking to a

wall. This was what they meant by "having blinders on." He wondered

where she packed all that food away in such a tiny body, while Aisaka

focused solely on the fried rice. Fried rice fried rice fried rice fried rice… It

was a one-woman fried rice feast.

He wouldn't get anywhere with her like this. The very words "fried

rice" were losing their meaning to him. Ryuuji quietly made a decision. He

brought a lethal weapon out from the corner of the living room, hidden by a

cloth.

"Hey, Aisaka—look at this. I'll show you something juicy."

"Something juicy?!"

When she reacted with a lift of her head—BAM—he took off the cloth

and showed it to her.

"GAH!"

"What do you think? It's gross, right?"

Able to sleep through a level four earthquake, it was the positively

disgusting, sleeping face of Takasu's Inko-chan. Spasming, the whites of

her eyes showing, her mouth half open, her weird tongue lolling out—it had

immediate results. Aisaka leaped backwards.

"It's way gross! Why would you show me something like that?"

It seemed she was finally willing to lend Ryuuji an ear.

"…Sorry, Inko-chan. Sweet dreams. Now then, Aisaka."

After returning Inko-chan to her cage, Ryuuji folded his feet under

himself, sitting down to square off with Aisaka. She'd finally regained

some of her cool and glared up at Ryuuji as though saying, what? Except

she still cradled the plate, continuing her fried rice feast.

"You can keep eating, just listen. The thing I want to say is, basically,

stuff like that isn't embarrassing at all. We're second-year high school

students; having one or two crushes is a given. You can write a love letter—

there's nothing weird about doing that. Every successful couple in the

whole world had to get through doing all kinds of stuff before they started

formally dating."

"…"

Aisaka rudely hid her face with the plate she was holding as she

chewed.

"It's just, well…there probably aren't many people who'd screw up and

get the wrong person's bag—or forget to put the letter in the envelope in the

first place," he said.

"That's enough!"

BAM! Aisaka hit the table with her fist, lifted her face, and thrust the

spoon at Ryuuji.

"Everything you've been saying sounds real convenient for you, doesn't

it? I'll have you know—back then, I was debating whether or not to put the

love letter in at all. When I opened the bag and was thinking about what to

do, that's when you came along and made me lose my cool. I had to hide it

in a hurry, so, I threw it in. And then it turned out to be your bag…"

"A-Aisaka…you've got rice plastered all over your mouth."

"Shut! Up!"

"Uh…"

Her sharp gaze grew increasingly dreadful, glinting like the honed edge

of a blade. Faced with that, Ryuuji lost track of what he was trying to say.

It seemed that now that her stomach was full, her power had fully

recharged. Humph! Sticking her chin up arrogantly, she stopped Ryuuji in

his tracks with the eyes of an assassin. Her energy and brutality revived, the

Palmtop Tiger's ferocious snarl was low and long.

"Takasu Ryuuji…if you'd just obediently handed over your bag when I

told you, it wouldn't have come to this. Just how are you going to make it

up to me? How are you going to erase your memory of it? How am I

supposed to keep on living when I'm this embarrassed?"

You're going back to that subject again? Ryuuji put his head in his arms

for a moment. Then he said, "Like I told you, it's nothing to be ashamed of!

Look, just wait!"

He was desperate.

He dashed momentarily from the living room to his bedroom and

returned carrying an armload of stuff. He piled all of it in front of Aisaka's

eyes. Countless notebooks, paper scraps, CDs, sketchbooks, and even a

secondhand MiniDisk player he bought once. If this was what it took, he'd

show her. He'd show her everything.

"…What is this?"

"Just look at it. Look at any of it."

Tsk. Clicking her tongue, Aisaka took one of the notebooks nearest her

hand, as though it were bothersome. She flipped through the pages until her

fingers stopped. Her face distorted unpleasantly as she looked from the

page to Ryuuji.

"What is this, really? What're you trying to pull?"

"Do you know what that list is? Bet you don't, huh? That's a playlist I

made in case I ever got to put on a concert for the girl I liked. And there're

four sets, for each of the four seasons. Of course, I also made an MD."

And here, he turned on the MD player. He stuck the earphones right into

Aisaka's unwilling ears. A faint sound played—the summer concert's first

song.

"And then around the time I made this, I also made this note, which had

the theme: 'What would I get her for our first Christmas after we started

dating?' I settled on perfume. More precisely, an eau de toilette. I even

narrowed down a list of brands and got the prices from the stores selling

them. I researched everything and wrote it all down… What do you think?

I'm always doing stuff like this."

"Talk about gross!"

Aisaka tore out the earphones and flung them back, as though they were

dirty. They thwacked Ryuuji, but he didn't even flinch.

"Of course it's gross! But even though you know about this, I wouldn't

ever think about killing you! What's wrong with liking a girl, huh? Until I

work up the courage to tell her how I feel, all I can do is fantasize… Which

is really pitiful, but… but I still don't think it's anything to be ashamed of!"

Truthfully, it was a little embarrassing, but he still spoke those words—

and at that moment, it happened. He'd been keeping something hidden

behind his back, to keep so Aisaka wouldn't see it. Now, as he moved

around, he lost his balance—and it slipped, falling right down onto Aisaka's

lap.

"Ah! Oh no…"

"What's this…? An envelope?"

He rushed to get it back, but he was one step behind her small hands.

His own hand writhed as it danced uselessly through the air.

"From Takasu Ryuuji…to Kushieda Minori-sama… Kushieda Minorisama?!"

"Th-that's… Wait, wait a second, that's not—!"

"A love letter?! And it's…to Minorin?! From you?! To Minorin?! This

too?! And this?!"

She left him no room for denial. He'd been satisfied just writing that

letter; he'd never planned to actually send it. But now, it was fully exposed

beneath the bright fluorescent lights.

"Whoa…! You and Minorin… Blech! Tell me it's not true! You

insolent…!"

"A-are you really in any position to say that?! What do you mean

'blech'? Besides, you're the one who likes my friend, Kitamura."

"…Shut up. Do you still not get that I told you to forget about it? You

sure are dead set on being dense."

"You're the one that's being dense!"

They fought loudly over her picking up the wooden sword, over him

trying to get rid of it, then over whether she would hit him—or rather, who

would hit whom.

"Hah!"

Ryuuji came back to himself. Before he knew it, the signs of morning

light began appearing outside the window. "Oh no, it's already four…"

It was about time for Yasuko to come home from work. Having Aisaka

in the house would be bad. Having Yasuko scold him was a depressing idea,

but more than that, he wanted to avoid anyone seeing Yasuko say, "Ryuchaan, your mother is uguh uguh waaaah." She began to wail.

And if the morning paper comes, the landlady downstairs will get up

and might come complain about the noise… No, she might already be

awake, and just waiting for the right moment to complain. The color of

Ryuuji's face suddenly changed. Actually, that's really likely. That's bad—if

we're thrown out now, we won't have enough money for a move… And last

month, we (Yasuko) used up (on her own) way too much of our savings on a

flatscreen TV…

"A-anyway! Anyway, please. I'll never say anything about what

happened to anybody. I won't act like you're stupid, either. Honestly, we're

in the same boat, now! So, come on, just tell me that's good enough."

"…I can't."

"Why. Can't. You. Go! Home! Please. Go. Home! My sick mom is

going to get back…"

In one sense, she really did have a disease. He wasn't completely lying.

But…

"No! I can't trust you, and also… and also…"

Suddenly, like a child, Aisaka curled up and held her legs. She sat down

in the middle of the living room. She rubbed her cheeks into her knees,

tracing words into the old tatami mats. "…Hey, that…love letter… I

wonder if—you don't think it's too early to send one, right?"

Now she was asking for love advice! Arrgh! Ryuuji tore at his hair. "Wwe can spend plenty of time discussing stuff like that—next time! So!

Please! Go! Home! I'm begging you!"

"…You mean it? You really will give me advice next time?"

"I will. I definitely will. I'll do whatever you want, I'll help with

whatever you want. I swear."

"You'll help? With anything? For me?"

"I will. I will, I will, I will. I'll do anything."

"Anything, right? You said anything, right? Like a dog, you'll do it?

Like you're my dog, you'll do anything for me?"

"I will. I'll do it. I swear. Whether it's as a dog or whatever, I'll do it.

So, please. Let's just leave it at that? Okay? Okay?"

"Okay…I guess I'll go home."

Seeming to finally accept those terms, Aisaka grabbed her wooden

sword and stood up. When he looked very closely, he noticed tiny shoes

discarded by the window. She really did break in through the window,

then… Ryuuji groaned, and she cast him a sidelong glance as she carried the

shoes toward the entrance.

Suddenly, she turned around. "Hey."

Instinctively, Ryuuji braced himself for even more suffering.

"Do you have any extra fried rice?"

"Huh? Ah, no… You ate all of it."

"I see. That's fine."

"You don't mean you didn't have enough to eat? That was about two

people's worth. Were you that hungry?"

Without answering, Aisaka turned her back to him and put one foot into

a shoe. Once again, without warning, she turned around and muttered, "…

The sliding door."

"Yeah, there you go with another huge change of subject."

"I made a hole in the sliding door, but…does that cost a lot of money?"

Looking up at Ryuuji's face, Aisaka's big eyes blinked twice, three

times. It took him by surprise and made him feel uneasy, so Ryuuji didn't

return the look. It wasn't that he was scared—he was bewildered. It felt like

this was the first time he had seen Aisaka when she wasn't angry.

"Uhh… Well…it's something I could do myself if I tried my hand at

fixing it…I think. From what I saw earlier, the hole itself was small,

anyway. But it would be better if I had nice paper, and around here, you can

only buy shoji paper in half sheets."

"Hmm." She was still wearing an expressionless face, intentionally hard

to read. "Why don't you use this? It's washi."

Aisaka thrust something at him. Even if you say to use this… Ryuuji

thought, puzzling over the thing she thrust into his hand, do you really

expect me to use your empty love letter envelope…?

"If you can fix it with that, then do it. If it costs money, I'll pay for it."

"Uhh, well…okay."

Without answering his question about whether she had had enough to

eat, Aisaka started to don the straps of her bothersome-looking shoes, one

by one. Her bent back somehow made him think…

"Hey, wait."

She didn't look happy to be interrupted. "What?"

"Just how many meals have you been skipping?"

"Why are you worried about that? It's not like I haven't been eating. I

kind of got bored of the food at the convenience store… Even when I buy it

I don't really…"

"At the convenience store? For all three meals? No way is that good for

you!"

"In front of the station, there used to be a bento place, right? That closed

down last month, right? And other than that, there really isn't anything

except convenience stores, so… And the food in the supermarket delis is

kind of… I don't know how to buy it."

"Come on, you can just put however much you want in the transparent

container. And then you have them weigh it at the register… But what

about your parents—haven't they taught you about all this?"

After she clicked her shoe strap closed and got up, he thought he saw

Aisaka faintly shake her head to the side. I've made a mistake, he thought.

Every household had its own issues, but given that Aisaka's was already

mysterious, it wouldn't be surprising if her family situation was well

outside a normal person's imagination. Even he had learned to handle a

strange household environment as a kid. And that was probably putting it

kindly. Uneasy as he was, he couldn't ask any more questions. He could

only watch her long hair as she opened the front door and started to leave.

"Hey, wait! I'll walk you over! Being by yourself this late is…"

"I'm fine. It's close. And I have my sword."

"I think that makes it even more dangerous."

"It's really close. Bye, Ryuuji. See you tomorrow."

Turning around, Aisaka left.

Flustered, he put on his sandals and went after her without even locking

the door. But when he looked downstairs from the entrance, she was

nowhere to be found. She really was mysteriously fast. "I let her go home

alone. But then…"

Just now, hadn't she used his first name?

Ryuuji's eyes constricted into slits, his cheeks distorted, and he glared in

the direction Aisaka had disappeared. He wasn't angry—he was confused.

Well before the night ended and Yasuko returned, he finished cleaning

the entire room. His speed was probably thanks to the fact he tidied up on a

daily basis.

From that day forward, a cleverly cut, light pink cherry blossom

remained magnificently affixed to the Takasu household's sliding door,

among the myriad of other flowers.