We headed toward the movie theater after meeting up in front of the station just after 10:00 AM.
Since the theater was a bit of a walk from the station, I fell into step beside Ichinose, but...
As we strolled through the city, we passed all kinds of women, but Ichinose’s face was smaller and her waist thinner than any of theirs. Conversely, her thighs were wonderfully thick, and her chest—while not quite on Miyama’s level—was undeniably large.
(Seeing her like this... Ichinose really is in a league of her own.)
In her case, she had the "otaku" trait to boot. She was that rare specimen who more than satisfied every requirement for the ultimate "understanding gyaru."
"What’s up, Ryouta? Eyes over here. Looking at my thighs again?"
"N-No! What kind of person do you take me for?"
"A thigh-peeking pervert otaku."
"Y-You're absolutely right."
"Pfft, ahaha! Normally, you're supposed to deny it!"
Given my track record, I really couldn't deny it...
Walking beside me, Ichinose flashed an innocent smile, the first one I’d seen today.
(She really was the school’s top gyaru... the sheer impact of that smile was devastating.)
Honestly, the sense of guilt and excitement from walking beside someone like her and acting like her boyfriend in public was off the charts. Every time I turned toward her, a faint, pleasant scent of citrus perfume wafted my way, stirring my heart in more ways than one.
(Man... I could die happy right now.)
"Hey, Ryouta? Can I ask you something?"
"Y-Y-Yesh!"
Because I’d been lost in such wicked thoughts, I panicked when she suddenly spoke.
(D-Did she realize I was savoring how scandalous this feels!?)
"Ryouta, today you're... how should I put it?"
"?"
Ichinose’s eyes wandered, and she fidgeted as if she were struggling to find the right words.
"You look... well, pretty cool, don't you?"
"Eh?"
(She called me... cool?)
That might have been the first time in my life a woman other than my mother had called me cool. The last time I’d heard it was at my elementary school entrance ceremony.
"Ryu-kun, let's take a photo in front of the school gate, okay?"
That was back when my mom prompted me to take a commemorative picture for the ceremony.
"Yeah. Ryu-kun, you look so cool. Say cheese!"
Back in the early years of elementary school, my mother was still desperately devoted to raising me. These days, she was obsessed with playing Sepak Takraw with her "mom-friend" circle, but back then, she was a kind, attentive mother.
(Sorry, Mom. I grew up to be such a gloomy otaku.)
But be proud, Mom. Even a guy like me just got told he was cool by the number one gyaru in high school.
Happiness surged through me, and tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes.
"Wait, what? Why are your eyes getting all teary!?"
"Because... I..."
"Oh, honestly. Here, take my handkerchief. Use this to wipe your eyes."
Like a doting older sister, Ichinose pulled a white handkerchief from her handbag and handed it to me.
"You're as much work as Airi. You're a guy, Ryouta, so pull yourself together. Seriously, you aren't a baby."
"Baby play...?"
"That's not it! Why did you hear it like that!? Did you even clean your ears this morning?"
"Ear-cleaning ASMR!?"
"Sigh... This otaku is hopeless after all."
Ichinose slumped her shoulders with a heavy sigh.
"Well, I'm an otaku too, so I guess I'm not much better."
"Do you like ear-cleaning ASMR too, Ichinose?"
"That's not what I meant!"
What? So Ichinose didn't listen to ear-cleaning ASMR...
"Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask. When you realized I was an otaku, did you think I was gross?"
"Think you're gross? Why?"
"I mean... from your point of view, I'm usually a gyaru but I'm also 'one of you.' Isn't that like a total contradiction? Like I'm just being pretentious or annoying?"
I’d never once thought she was pretentious. (If anything, it was a massive turn-on.)
"So when I think about it again, I guess... I'm curious about what you think of me."
Judging by the Snoto Incident with Miyama the other day, Ichinose was surprisingly prone to worrying. Two days ago, after seeing me "forced" to treat Miyama—even though it was a misunderstanding—she’d gone out of her way to send a worried message. When she came out as an otaku to me, she’d mentioned something about still being bothered by a past falling out with her friends. Perhaps she was still haunted by the friction that arises in those relationships.
(If that's the case, then I need to tell her my honest feelings without hiding anything.)
"I'm... grateful."
"Grateful? For me?"
"Yeah. There aren't many girls who can understand the culture of a gross otaku like me. Just knowing that you're an understanding gyaru makes me incredibly happy."
"I-Is that how it is?"
"Yeah."
When I told her that, Ichinose pursed her lips and let out a soft "Hmm."
"M-More importantly! I told you to call me Yuria, but you’re back to using 'Ichinose'!"
"Ah. Sorry, Ichino—"
"Yuria."
"Yu... Yuria...-chan."
"Drop the '-chan'! It's creepy!"
(She’s got a lot of rules...)
But somehow, I felt like the distance between us had closed quite a bit. The atmosphere was finally getting good... except for the fact that the movie we were about to see was the busty battle action film, Breast-Kyun.
"Since we're seeing the 4D version today, do you think we'll get sprayed with Milk-tan’s breast milk? I’m so excited!"
"O-Oh..."
The conversation had turned way too vulgar.