For Some Reason, I’m Almost Locked up by the Most Beautiful Girl in School Who Can Hear My Inner Thoughts

Chapter 2: What Is a Madonna?

At Shikaoka High School, where I studied, there was a person called the school’s Madonna, the center of attention, like an idol.

Come on, that’s like something out of an anime. A Madonna at school? No way that existed.

Sure, it was common for one or two cute girls in a grade to be popular among the boys.

People might have thought it was just an exaggeration, but she really existed.

That person was at this school, in my class, and even sat right next to me.

Her name was Shimozuki Noa.

Her face wasn’t just cute; it was mature and alluring. Her eyes were sharp, her eyelashes long, her lips and skin glossy without a single blemish. Her long black hair was so shiny it seemed like it could have been made of silk.

And her face, which seemed almost perfect, was matched by her large chest and hips. Rumors said she might even have been a J-cup, and every boy in school was glued to her every move. She was tall too, in the high 160s, so some boys, including me, were either the same height or shorter than her.

Today, she sat next to me, as usual, getting talked to by boys.

But she always looked bored or like she didn’t care.

I got it—if someone talked to me while staring so openly, I’d want to keep my distance too. But some students talked to her without making that kind of face.

For example, Yamauchi-kun from the archery club in the next class was good-looking and didn’t act all goofy or lovesick when talking to her. The same went for Sakayori-kun, a smart, good-looking honor student and vice president of the student council, who was a year above us.

These guys didn’t send her obvious creepy looks, and I never saw them looking at her that way.

This was just how I saw her, though. Maybe she wasn’t actually keeping her distance from anyone.

As for me, after going on about all this, I wasn’t exactly good-looking.

At a rounded-up 170 centimeters, I was short for a guy.

The only thing that stood out about me was that my face looked so cute it could pass for a girl’s.

I didn’t like this face, but I gave up on trying to look manly a long time ago, so I let my hair grow out to about a bob cut.

Wearing the boys’ uniform, I looked like a girl dressed as a guy. Since starting high school, my friend Yamashita Mitsuki said to me,

“You’re cuter than most girls.”

It annoyed me a bit, but since I’d already given up, I didn’t bother correcting him. As we got closer, Mitsuki seemed to figure it out and started treating me like a guy friend, so it was fine.

Anyway, my stuff didn’t matter.

The point was, an unbelievably beautiful girl named Shimozuki Noa, who seemed like she stepped out of an anime, light novel, or manga, existed, and I sat next to her.

And why did I explain all this? Because I thought Shimozuki Noa, who acted like she didn’t care about the boys, might have treated me differently.

It might have sounded like an otaku’s delusion, and maybe it was just me being full of myself, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Look, even now.

When I turned to the side, she reacted, looked at me, and smiled.

What was that about? She didn’t smile like that at other boys. She either looked bored or gave a fake smile.

My contact with Shimozuki was almost nonexistent. I didn’t talk to her much, and the only time I remembered talking was when she dropped her eraser.

No way she thought of me fondly. Because of my girly face, I’d been told countless times in the past that I wasn’t seen as a guy.

Those words still… well, never mind that. It was over.

While I was thinking about this, the bell rang, and class ended.

Then, out of nowhere, a bunch of boys, including the popular ones, went to her.

I didn’t want to get involved, so I quietly left my seat and went to Mitsuki.

“Mitsuki, help me out. Can’t that teacher just let us change seats already? It’s such a hassle. Every time, I get forced to move because of the crowd around her.”

“No way that’s happening. The seat change was that stubborn teacher’s whim in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know, ugh.”

“Calm down. Stress is bad for your skin. Here, take this.”

He pulled out a Pucky, a long, thin chocolate snack I liked, from his bag.

“Thanks. It soothes my heart.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Mitsuki smiled brightly. He was Yamashita Mitsuki.

We became friends in our first year of high school. He saw me as a proper guy friend and didn’t do anything annoying. We were close enough to call him my best friend.

He was good-looking enough to be called handsome and was good at sports, but he wasn’t in any clubs, just the go-home club.

“She’s as popular as ever,” Mitsuki said, glancing over.

“It’s such a pain.”

“Well, with that beauty and that figure, I kinda get it.”

“Right? Mitsuki, you confessed and got rejected, so you’d know how it feels.”

“Ugh! Don’t bring that up!”

Mitsuki clutched his chest and slumped onto his desk.

What was great about Mitsuki was that he’d moved on and didn’t cling to Shimozuki like that anymore.

He probably still had some feelings, though.

“Hey, after school today, I’m thinking of studying in the library. Wanna join?”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take care of my little sister today.”

“Oh, right. Mina-chan’s still in early elementary, huh?”