The Reason Ruguji started thinking

Takasu?”

“…Yeah?”

Suddenly Kitamura drew incredibly close, until Ryuuji bent away from

him in his chair. “What are you grinning at?”

“Uh, n-nothing.”

“I see.” Kitamura pushed up his glasses with his center finger, and Ryuuji

couldn’t avoid feeling a certain admiration for Kitamura. The guy was

probably the only person in the world who could detect one of Ryuuji’s grins.

That wasn’t the only thing Ryuuji admired him for, though.

“Kitamura,” he said. “You’re, like…really good at…talking to girls.” (He

meant Kushieda, of course.)

“Huh? What makes you say that?” Peering over his lenses, Kitamura’s

eyes showed no trace of humility—only genuine surprise. Somehow, he was

completely unaware of his talent. Confronted with such a thick-skulled guy,

Ryuuji held back his answer.

Kitamura’s casual conversation with Kushieda Minori just a moment past

had been more than successful—and it wasn’t just that conversation, either.

Ever since they were first-years, Kitamura was able to have pleasant

conversations with Kushieda Minori, who was in the same softball club.

Meanwhile, Ryuuji toiled endlessly, pitifully hard to earn leftover smiles and

passing greetings. In soccer terms, he was the sweeper—though he’d never

had a chance to play offense.

The reason Ryuuji started to think Kushieda Minori was cute, the reason

that he liked her and wanted to become closer to her in the first place, was

because he was constantly right there, getting to see how fun her

conversations with Kitamura were.

It wasn’t just that, though. It was because of her bright, ever-changing

expressions. Her flexible body and exaggerated gestures. Her easygoing

smile. Her unclouded voice.

Even though everyone else was afraid of him, from the start, she had been

cheerfully broadminded and never deviated in that attitude toward Ryuuji.

He liked everything about Kushieda Minori. To him, all the elements that

composed her seemed radiant, as though she were made from fragments of

the sun. She was wholesome and straightforward—in his mind, she was

nothing less than the perfect girl.

But even so.

“Don’t be stupid. No way am I good at talking to girls. I bet you don’t

even know what all the girls call me, do you?”

Unconsciously, Ryuuji released a deep sigh. Despite how jealous he

became while watching Kitamura’s conversations—so jealous that he thought

his eyes might bleed—his friend continued, unaware.

“I’m terrible with girls,” he said. “I doubt I’ll ever pull off dating one.”

That was his remark.

“I…don’t think…that’s the case,” Ryuuji said. Looking up at such a

dazzling gentleman, he again decided to swallow any other words he had. No

matter how many times he said it, this guy definitely wouldn’t understand.

And that made Ryuuji feel miserable.

It was true that the girls called Kitamura “Maruo-kun.” This was because

he looked exactly like a certain character from a famous manga, an

obnoxiously serious honor student. His intense glasses, straight-laced

personality, outstanding grades, and frivolous fashion sense all put him

distinctly apart from the norm. He was such a spitting image of Maruo that

whenever he said the word “precisely”—the character’s trademark phrase—

the class would practically go into an uproar. On top of that, last year he’d

also been the class president, and more recently had become the vice

president of the student council. On top of that, he was also serving as the

unofficial new president of the softball club. It was only fitting that he’d wind

up as the subject of a joking comparison.

Still, he wasn’t bad looking. No, in fact, if you looked closely, he was

surprisingly handsome. Plus, he didn’t have any two-faced qualities to his

personality. He had a great sense of humor, and really, there just wasn’t

anything to dislike about him. And because of that, even though the girls

targeted him for teasing, it wasn’t mean-spirited.

Ah, that’s right. Ryuuji understood. Whatever Kitamura might say, the

girls did like him. It wasn’t just Kushieda Minori. He could talk naturally to

any girl. The girls would act like they were close and say, “Awww, I’m with Maruo again this year!” In response, he would make a light remark like,

“What, you’re unhappy about that?”

When you act like that, how can you say that you’re bad with girls?

You’re not even hated like I am. Just as he was thinking this, he heard a voice

say, “Y-yikes…”

There it was again.

When he overheard that word, he turned his gaze down and let the

speaker go past. He felt like he could handle anything anybody might say

about him. He was over the moon about being in the same class as Kushieda

Minori; they’d never shared a classroom before.

But people kept talking.

“It’s really amazing… You can tell just looking at him that he’s not

someone you should mess with.”

“Yeah, those eyes are intense. Be careful—if he lost his temper, you’d be

a goner.”

And the spell was broken. Although the whispering voices probably

harbored no ill will, the sheer number of them was starting to get to him.

Until the new homeroom teacher came, hiding out in the restrooms might be

the best thing for his peace of mind. With that thought in mind, he stood up.

But the moment he headed for the hallway, something bumped lightly against

his stomach.

“Oof…?”

It sure felt like he’d hit something, but he saw nothing in front of him.

How strange. Ryuuji restlessly glanced around the vicinity. But what he saw

was the faces of his classmates as they murmured all around him…

“Oh, man. Just as expected of Takasu-kun… He’s made the first move.”

“It’s the ultimate showdown already… I knew this class would be trouble

the moment I saw the registry.”

They were probably going on about the look in his eyes.

“It’s the battle that’ll decide who’s in charge…the clash of the

delinquents!”

“It’s like an amazing card just hit the table… They were acting strangely. A battle? The delinquents? An amazing card?

What are they talking about? He turned his head to try and better grasp the

situation—and then it happened.

“So, you run into someone, and you can’t even apologize…?”

He heard a quiet voice from somewhere nearby. The speaker sounded

strange, monotone, emotionally contained to an extreme degree—but it felt

like they were just barely keeping the lid on an unparalleled explosion.

The voice’s owner was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh…?”

Feeling a bit like he’d wandered into the Twilight Zone, Ryuuji slowly

looked to his right. No one there. He looked to his left. No one there, either.

Apprehensively, he looked in the scariest direction—up. Good, no one there.

“Which means…”

Sure enough, there she was. Way, way below his line of sight—far below

even Ryuuji’s chest—was the crown of someone’s head.

His first impression of her was that of a doll. Any way you sliced it, she

was small. Small, and enveloped in a long, cloud-like shroud of hair—it was

the Palmtop Tiger.

“…The Palmtop Tiger?”

Without thinking, those enigmatic words suddenly popped into his mind

and spilled right out of his mouth. He felt like he’d heard them from someone

else, murmuring from far off.

The Palmtop Tiger. Is that her…?

“Who…?”

Is that supposed to describe the doll I see in front of me? Sure, palmtop

works, but what makes this girl a tiger? On and on, his mind continued in this

way.

“Who…exactly is supposed to be a ‘Palmtop Tiger,’ anyway?” Taiga

asked.

It was no time to ponder the question. The “tiger” raised her chin slightly,

then both her eyes.

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