Tojo Karen
The red-haired girl from the kendo club.
I'd honestly half-forgotten about her, but when she came to our classroom the next day and introduced herself to the protagonist, Sakamoto Ryuji, it all came back to me.
She was Tojo Karen, the 6th most popular heroine in *Scramble Love*.
In fact, when I first came across this manga through some online meme, the original poster had emphasized the fact that the heroine who ended up with the protagonist was only ranked 4th in popularity.
The proof they'd attached was the result of a popularity poll conducted just before the final volume's release. The top six characters were featured in a color spread at the beginning of the magazine, so I vaguely remembered their faces and names.
And today, she came to Class 2-B again and declared to the protagonist, Sakamoto, "You! You will be my man!"
This sudden, dramatic development sent the class into an immediate frenzy.
The topic of debate: who would Sakamoto Ryuji, the recipient of this confession, end up dating?
"Nah, it's gotta be Yaguchi. She's kind, friendly, and most importantly, she's stacked."
"Tsk, you don't get it. A girlfriend who's usually a wild beast but acts like a puppy just for me? How could you resist that?"
"Isn't Tojo from Class A a bit flat-chested and too boyish? I prefer the traditional, wife-material type."
"The size of her chest doesn't matter. It's what's in her heart that counts."
Among the single male students, it became a debate for the ages.
As a guy myself, I could relate to some of their points, but I really wished they'd tone it down in the classroom.
The girls were starting to look at them like they were insects.
With no one to talk to about such things besides Satoru, who sat in front of me, I was quietly observing the situation from the back of the class when Kishimoto, in the seat next to mine, asked me a question.
"Ryu-chan, who do you think Sakamoto will end up with?"
"Hmm. I'm not sure."
It was a rather sensitive question, so I decided to offer no comment.
After all, if the story followed the original plot, it was already a given that his childhood friend, Yaguchi Maiya, would be the final winner.
"Aww, you're no fun."
With that, Kishimoto turned away, apparently having lost interest. She went back to diligently reading the latest issue of Jump from this morning.
For the record, that magazine was originally mine.
***
"See you tomorrow!"
After school, I parted ways with Kishimoto at the subway station and headed straight for the gym near my house.
I climbed the usual high staircase, opened the door to the second-floor gym, and stepped inside to the sight of macho, muscular men sweating as they worked out intensely.
But what's this? This strange feeling?
Something feels different today.
I was instinctively scanning my surroundings to pinpoint the cause.
Just then, Mr. Nakayama, the owner of this gym, called out to me cheerfully.
"You must be busy with your studies, but you're here again without fail, Kim."
"Hello, Coach. Did something happen today? The members seem to be working out way harder than usual."
The coach shook his head and said.
"A new female member joined today. Everyone's going crazy over how pretty she is."
Ah...
Only then did I understand.
The male members of the gym were trying their hardest to show off for the new girl.
"Anyway, hurry up and get changed. I'll help you with your workout today."
"Ah. Thank you."
At Coach Nakayama's words, I headed to the locker room in the corner of the gym.
***
This gym, run solely by Mr. Nakayama, was about 100 pyeong, not particularly large compared to other major fitness centers.
But among the local fitness enthusiasts, it was practically a holy land.
That was because athletes and bodybuilders from this gym had swept up awards at numerous competitions.
And the man who had personally trained them was the owner, Mr. Nakayama Yujiro.
He was a former professional bodybuilder who, after retiring, opened this gym—a lifelong dream of his—and dedicated himself to nurturing the next generation.
I first came here during the spring break of my third year of middle school, so we've been training together for almost two years now.
He was the one who saw potential in me when I started working out cluelessly, and he graciously taught me all sorts of techniques and knowledge for free.
When I came out of the locker room, changed into a light tank top, a familiar face was standing next to Mr. Nakayama.
"...Fuma Yukika?"
As I muttered her name unconsciously, she puffed out her chest with a confident expression and said.
"What a coincidence, Kim Yu-seong. To think we'd meet in a place like this."
So *this* was the new female member. I never would have expected such a twist.
Feeling a little dizzy, I bowed my head anyway.
"I take it you live around here?"
Fuma Yukika replied with a brazen look on her face.
"I moved here a few days ago. I felt my club activities weren't a sufficient workout, so I was looking for a fitness club to join. I had no idea you came here, though."
Mr. Nakayama, who had been listening to our conversation, said with a sly grin.
"Well, this is perfect. From now on, Kim can teach you instead of me, Miss Fuma. Since you're schoolmates, you'll probably be more comfortable talking to him than an old guy like me."
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?"
At that, Mr. Nakayama sidled up, put an arm around my shoulder, and whispered in my ear.
"Looks to me like she's got a thing for you and followed you all the way here. Give it your best shot."
"...It's not like that."
"Aw, don't be shy."
It seemed he had gotten the wrong idea completely, so I decided to just drop it.
"Anyway, since it's Miss Fuma's first day, she's just observing. Let's you and I get started."
"Yes, sir."
As the coach instructed, I moved to the free weight zone to begin my workout.
Today's agenda was heavy squats.
"Let's start the warm-up light, with 220kg."
With that, Mr. Nakayama began loading plates onto the empty bar.
The standard 20kg bar was soon packed with 25kg plates on each side.
Four on each side, for 100kg.
A barbell weighing a total of 220kg was now ready on the squat rack.
Fuma Yukika, watching from the side, muttered in astonishment.
"He's starting with such a heavy weight?"
The coach just grinned, patted my shoulder, and said.
"Miss, I've been in this business for over 20 years, but I've never seen a monster like this kid, not even when I was competing. So don't you worry."
Ignoring the coach's usual flattery, I settled the firmly loaded barbell just below my traps.
Then, I lifted it cleanly.
I did a light squat, stood up, and reracked the barbell. Without missing a beat, the coach immediately added more weight.
"Alright, let's add two more for 270kg."
"Yes, sir."
As the weight jumped by 50kg in an instant, Fuma Yukika's jaw dropped. Unfortunately for her, this still wasn't the main set.
I once again settled the barbell on my traps and gripped both sides tightly.
"Hsss... Hup!"
I took several deep breaths in and out, then held one in to create intra-abdominal pressure, and once again, I squatted down lightly and came back up.
As I reracked the still-light barbell, the coach, who was watching with his arms crossed, picked up two more plates.
"Warm-up's over. Time for the main set."
"Yes, sir."
I lightly placed the barbell, now so packed with plates that there was no room for more, onto my traps and tensed my entire body.
"Hnngh!"
Lifting the barbell, which was now noticeably heavier than before, I took a few steps forward.
I was aware that the eyes of the other people working out had gradually focused on me, but I didn't have the mental space to care.
Losing focus during a heavy lift is a perfect way to get injured.
With my muscles properly warmed up, I performed five precise repetitions of the squat.
*Thud!!*
After finishing the set, I reracked the barbell. Fuma Yukika, who had been watching the whole thing, spoke with a horrified look on her face.
"Do you always work out like you're torturing your body? Even to a beginner like me, this seems a bit..."
My body feeling much lighter after the set, I stretched a bit and asked.
"Huh? What was that?"
Fuma Yukika stopped mid-sentence and clammed up.
The coach, who had been listening to our exchange, chuckled.
"I told you, miss. He's a monster."
You can't apply common sense to this guy.