I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

A day like any other.

But there was one small difference today.
The cause was none other than Fuma-senpai, who had been following me around since early morning.
“Good morning, Kim Yu-seong.”

4 a.m.
This was the time I usually went jogging with Goto Kazuya, who was no longer my disciple but a full-on gym buddy now.
“What a coincidence, meeting at this hour.”

But Fuma-senpai, as if she had been waiting, joined us for the run without hesitation.
Kazu, seeing her, asked if I was “in that kind of relationship” with her, but I ignored him and sped up.
“Wait! Can’t we run together, hyung-nim!”

Kazu, who still lacked cardio endurance, was groaning from the pace, but ninja that she was, Fuma-senpai kept up with me effortlessly.
Apparently, this much wasn’t enough to shake her off.
After the jog, I went straight back to my apartment—maybe because I was bothered by the smell of sweat—but I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

And sure enough, my ominous hunch hit the mark. Fuma-senpai was waiting outside my house in her school uniform, ready to walk to school with me.
“…Senpai, don’t you have club activities in the morning?”
She replied shamelessly.

“I’m a third-year, too. With the Center Test not far off, I can’t afford to neglect my studies. I plan to hand over the captain position to a junior in the second semester.”
She said that and naturally took the seat next to me on the train.
“Ah! Ryu-chan! Good morning!”

Rika, coming in from the adjacent car, waved as soon as she spotted me—then froze when she noticed Fuma-senpai sitting beside me.
“Who’s that?”
Apparently she didn’t remember, so I helpfully explained.
“She’s the kendo club captain, the one I sparred with before.”

“Oh, her.”
Rika nodded and casually sat on my other side.
“But why is she sitting next to you, Ryu-chan?”

The one who answered was Fuma-senpai.
“We live nearby. Just a ‘coincidence’ that we met.”
“Heh, a ‘coincidence,’ huh.”

Was there some new slang I didn’t know about?
For some reason, the two of them kept emphasizing the word coincidence in their conversation.
In any case, with a full thirty minutes left on the subway ride to school, light conversation was a good way to kill time.

I just sat and watched them talk, while replying to another wall of texts from Minato.
Ever since my bit role in The Blue, the show’s ratings had been skyrocketing—and she’d been drowning in work, apparently.
Half her messages were just her whining about how she wanted to come to school but couldn’t, and how much she missed my muscles.

After replying with something casual, I eventually got off the train and headed to Ichijo Academy.
Now that it was the end of June, the school was entering a tense mode again.
Naturally—July meant final exams and summer break.

If your scores on the finals were low and you flunked, you’d have to come back for supplementary classes instead of enjoying summer vacation.
Most average students probably didn’t worry too much, but someone like Rika, who wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about studying, was in real danger.
Maybe that’s why she’d been more active in class recently.

After greeting Matsuda-sensei at the front gate, he welcomed us with a smile—then spotted Fuma-senpai and tilted his head.
“Fuma? What’s the occasion? You’re usually here way earlier.”
Fuma-senpai covered her mouth as she giggled and replied,

“I can’t devote myself to training forever. I do have to think about practical things.”
“True enough. For a student, studying is important too.”
Nodding along, he then grabbed the collar of a student trying to sneak past the gate and said,

“And like I always say, Kim-kun, I wish you’d button up your uniform.”
“Sorry, but that’s impossible.”
“Yeah, I figured.”

Matsuda-sensei nodded like a man resigned to fate.
“Go on in.”
“Yes. Thank °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° you for your hard work.”

As we safely passed through the gate and headed toward the high school building, Fuma-senpai asked curiously,
“But why doesn’t that girl get stopped by Matsuda-sensei’s inspection?”
Rika shrugged and answered,

“I’m naturally blonde. And manicures aren’t against the rules. As long as my skirt’s above the knees, I’m good.”
True to her fashion-savvy gyaru instincts, Rika had the Ichijo Academy dress code down cold.
Honestly, she could probably go head-to-head with Matsuda-sensei and give him a run for his money.

If only she applied that kind of memory to her studies, she’d be unstoppable.
We split up in front of the shoe lockers on the first floor.
Second-year classrooms were on the second floor, and third-year classrooms were on the third.

Fuma-senpai handed me something before parting, saying we’d meet at the gym later.
“This is?”
“A bento I made myself. Whether I’m qualified to be a good wife and wise mother depends on whether I can cook or not. And that can only be judged by tasting it.”

“…I’ll enjoy it.”
“Mm. Be sure to savor it and let me know your thoughts later.”
Fuma-senpai turned around coolly and walked off to her clubroom—probably heading to kendo practice after all.

Left alone with me now, Rika stared at the lunchbox with a complicated look in her eyes.
“You’re really gonna eat that?”
“She gave it to me, so I can’t just throw it away.”

Rika placed her hands on her hips and said with a slightly pouty tone,
“Then I’m going to eat your lunch today, Ryu-chan.”
“…That’s a bit much.”

When I pushed back, Rika’s gaze sharpened—but I played dumb and fled to the classroom.
***
Lunch time.

Normally I’d eat with Rika, Sasha, or Karen, but today I had business with the vice president, so I headed to the student council room with both lunchboxes in hand.
“…Why is Fuma-senpai here?”
“Meals taste better when shared, Kim Yu-seong.”

Fuma-senpai shamelessly followed me into the student council room and opened her bento.
The contents were stir-fried bean sprouts, scrambled eggs, and sautéed pork shoulder.
What stood out was the oddly-colored pickled radish.

Turned out it was a crisp and flavorful tsukemono.
Anyway, I couldn’t waste food, so I quietly ate the bento—and that was when the vice president, looking quite annoyed, spoke up.
“Fuma-buchou, this is the student council room. If you’re going to eat lunch in our sacred space, should I take it as a direct challenge to the authority of the student council?”

Fuma-senpai stopped chewing and pointed at him with her chopsticks.
“I know for a fact you guys eat here all the time. And I’m not the only one eating, am I?”
“Kim Yu-seong is the student council’s secretary. It’s still improper behavior, but there is some room for leniency.”

“Oh? I wasn’t supposed to eat here?”
I asked mid-bite. The vice president glared at me.
Hmm. Translation: shut up and eat.

Finally, the president—who had been staring out the window with her chair turned—spoke up for the first time.
“Fuma-san, I’ve always known you were blunt and shameless.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Saionji-san.”

“That wasn’t a compliment! …Ahem. What I meant to say is: Kim Yu-seong is our student council secretary. In other words, he’s the hands and feet of me, the president. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped meddling with him.”
As soon as the president finished, the vice president and Minami broke into thunderous applause behind her.
But Fuma-senpai, unfazed, answered flatly with her chopsticks still in her mouth.

“His student council duties and who he dates are completely separate matters. Don’t act like you can boss me around. I don’t take orders from anyone weaker than me.”
With that immediate retort, the president, having lost the logical upper hand, trembled in frustration.
To begin with, the position of student council secretary wasn’t that prestigious.

It couldn’t be helped.
While the president was quietly stewing in defeat, I finished the bento and handed the empty container back to Fuma-senpai.
“Thanks for the meal.”

“You’re welcome. If you want, I can make one every day—with miso soup.”
“I’ll respectfully decline.”
If I gave her an inch, she’d chase me a mile, so I made it clear I didn’t need it—but Fuma-senpai showed no signs of backing down.

‘This is insane.’
She was clearly in it for the long game.
And if things kept going like this, I was going to end up cornered.

As I pondered ways to naturally shake her off, I ate the rice balls I’d packed for today’s lunch inside the student council room.
“Mmm, tasty.”
“Stop eating in the student council room already!!”

The vice president yelled, furious, but I pretended not to hear and kept stuffing the rice balls into my mouth.
I still had a long way to go before I hit my daily calorie requirement.