Toradora! Vol. 1 Read online

  “Hmm.” She was still wearing an expressionless face, intentionally hard to read. “Why don’t you use this? It’s washi.”

  Aisaka thrust something at him. Even if you say to use this… Ryuuji thought, puzzling over the thing she thrust into his hand, do you really expect me to use your empty love letter envelope…?

  “If you can fix it with that, then do it. If it costs money, I’ll pay for it.”

  “Uhh, well…okay.”

  Without answering his question about whether she had had enough to eat, Aisaka started to don the straps of her bothersome-looking shoes, one by one. Her bent back somehow made him think…

  “Hey, wait.”

  She didn’t look happy to be interrupted. “What?”

  “Just how many meals have you been skipping?”

  “Why are you worried about that? It’s not like I haven’t been eating. I kind of got bored of the food at the convenience store… Even when I buy it I don’t really…”

  “At the convenience store? For all three meals? No way is that good for you!”

  “In front of the station, there used to be a bento place, right? That closed down last month, right? And other than that, there really isn’t anything except convenience stores, so… And the food in the supermarket delis is kind of… I don’t know how to buy it.”

  “Come on, you can just put however much you want in the transparent container. And then you have them weigh it at the register… But what about your parents—haven’t they taught you about all this?”

  After she clicked her shoe strap closed and got up, he thought he saw Aisaka faintly shake her head to the side. I’ve made a mistake, he thought. Every household had its own issues, but given that Aisaka’s was already mysterious, it wouldn’t be surprising if her family situation was well outside a normal person’s imagination. Even he had learned to handle a strange household environment as a kid. And that was probably putting it kindly. Uneasy as he was, he couldn’t ask any more questions. He could only watch her long hair as she opened the front door and started to leave.

  “Hey, wait! I’ll walk you over! Being by yourself this late is…”

  “I’m fine. It’s close. And I have my sword.”

  “I think that makes it even more dangerous.”

  “It’s really close. Bye, Ryuuji. See you tomorrow.”

  Turning around, Aisaka left.

  Flustered, he put on his sandals and went after her without even locking the door. But when he looked downstairs from the entrance, she was nowhere to be found. She really was mysteriously fast. “I let her go home alone. But then…”

  Just now, hadn’t she used his first name?

  Ryuuji’s eyes constricted into slits, his cheeks distorted, and he glared in the direction Aisaka had disappeared. He wasn’t angry—he was confused.

  Well before the night ended and Yasuko returned, he finished cleaning the entire room. His speed was probably thanks to the fact he tidied up on a daily basis.

  From that day forward, a cleverly cut, light pink cherry blossom remained magnificently affixed to the Takasu household’s sliding door, among the myriad of other flowers.

  Chapter 3

  A quiet dawn came over the Takasu household that made the commotion from the early morning seem like a dream.

  After being attacked by the Palmtop Tiger, Ryuuji finally got back to sleep at five in the morning. With his growing body, the lack of sleep hit him hard, but his mouth opened wide into a robust yawn, and he willed himself from bed at his usual time. There were a lot of things he needed to get done.

  Once he finished using the restroom and sink, he first needed to change Inko-chan’s food. Like usual, he began by checking whether she was awake. After she responded, he removed the cloth covering the birdcage. But then…

  “Good morning Inko-ch—oh!”

  He drew his head back in astonishment. Inko-chan was dead.

  “B-but you just answered me! Inko-chan!”

  “…Nn…nng, nn…”

  Nope, she was alive. She’d sure looked dead, flopped over at the bottom of the birdcage, but apparently, she was just laying on her side. At Ryuuji’s call, she suddenly sprang up and cryptically fluffed her feathers until she bulged. She looked totally gross.

  “Man, I don’t get you at all anymore.”

  “Morning!”

  He really wanted a cat or a dog, or some kind of pet that he could relate to. While he was in deep thought changing the food box, Inko-chan started to speak. “…Nk… nn… ng cha… nkochan… ngochan.”

  Staring straight into Ryuuji’s eyes, Inko-chan was desperately trying to tell him something. It definitely had to be what she had practiced for years but had never once managed to say right. This time, you won’t mess it up, right? he thought.

  “Are you finally going to say Inko-chan…? Can you finally say it?!”

  Reflexively, Ryuuji became excited. He had front row seats to the birdcage before him. Inko-chan astutely snapped her wings open. Finally, finally the moment had—

  “Dung-ko-chaan!”

  “You idiot!” In resignation, Ryuuji flung the cloth they used at night back over the birdcage, then stalked out of the family room. He looked brutish, but his heart was calm. Something like this could never stir his emotions. With the backbone of a man, he composed himself, then opened the sliding door to check on Yasuko, who would be sleeping.

  When he was falling asleep, he’d definitely heard the front door open, so he was sure she had come home, but…

  “…This is terrible in its own way,” he groaned and rolled his eyes.

  She was so drunk that she stunk up the room with the scent of alcohol, and for some reason, she was positioned as though she were about to do a somersault, butt sticking straight up as she slept. Thankfully, she had changed into a tracksuit. Even though she was his mother—no, precisely because she was his mother—this was too much. He tolerated her underwear showing, but this wasn’t anything a son ought to put up with. On top of that, she must have given up partway through taking off her makeup. Half her face was clean, and the other half was heavily made up, as though she were trying her best to impersonate Baron Ashura from Mazinger Z—only her version of him was in pain and had an anguished expression.

  If he had to guess, she’d tactlessly taken off her makeup while sitting at the small table by the edge of the futon. Then, in the middle of that, she fell asleep and flopped face first onto the futon.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck… Hey. Don’t sleep like that; it’ll take years off your life.”

  “…Ryu…yuucha…n…n…chan…”

  Not only was she in the same position as Inko-chan, she was talking like the bird, too.

  He could feel the invisible bond between Yasuko and Inko-chan (their brainpower), as he gently lowered the bottom half of her body and straightened her out to sleep properly on the futon. Yasuko wanted her own bed, but with these sleeping habits, he knew he couldn’t ever let her buy one.

  He rescued the melted ice cream from the plastic bag that had been thrown into the corner and quietly tiptoed out of the room. As he gently slid the door closed, he decided to put the melted ice cream into the freezer for the time being.

  Then he peeked into the refrigerator to start preparations for breakfast and their bento boxes for lunch.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Ryuuji viciously scrutinized the contents. He wasn’t mad—he had just been careless. He’d used up the eggs and bacon for the fried rice feast, which meant he didn’t have them for breakfast. He had also used up all the frozen food.

  “…I could just have milk for breakfast. And for lunch, I’ll…make do. All I have that’d work as a side is taro anyway.”

  Ryuuji still had to make rice, so he decided to do something he normally considered cutting corners, which was making takikomi gohan—a simple, seasoned rice—and some quick stewed taro.

  He washed the rice, then—before putting in the water—poured in sake, soy sauce, and mi
rin to taste. He threw in kombu seaweed he had cut into pieces with scissors, boiled bamboo shoots, and the rest of a bottle of nametake. Once he filled it with water and flipped the switch on the rice cooker, that was it. All he had to do was wait for it to finish cooking.

  Then, with supernatural speed, he peeled the taro and threw it into a pot partway filled with boiled water. He washed the cutting board and knife, and by the time he cleaned up the sink drain, the boiling water had evaporated to show the tops of the taro he had thrown in. After eyeballing the amounts of zarame, mirin, sake, soy sauce, powdered broth, and mentsuyu to put in, all he had left to do was leave it alone. If he turned the heat to low to avoid burning the taro and waited until the broth only just finished boiling off, it would naturally turn into nikorogashi. He had never looked up the proper way of making the salty-sweet, potato-like dish, but it was always delicious when he made it like this.

  It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since he woke up. He had tons of time left. Ryuuji poured the rest of the milk into a cup, turned on the TV, and sat down on a floor cushion.

  He would have his brief breakfast while watching morning variety shows. Although his eyes and ears were absorbed in a report of the soccer match from the day before, he sat and unconsciously polished the dining table with a cloth until it sparkled.

  His team seemed to have won; ignoring that he’d only had milk for breakfast, the morning was going pretty well. Though it would have been nicer if there had been bright sunlight coming in through the window, like in years past. He looked out the window from within the dim room and sighed. But then…

  “Gah!”

  He was startled by the sudden ringing of the phone. Something must have happened to one of their relatives for it to go off so early. In any case, he couldn’t disturb Yasuko (who, despite appearances, was the sole breadwinner) while she slept. He hurried to the receiver and picked it up.

  “Yes, this is the Takasu—”

  “YOU’RE LATE! What do you think you’re doing?!”

  Without thinking, he hung up.

  What do you think you’re doing? The words echoed in his mind, and he thought, I’m just going about my day, that’s what. With his mind blank from the unexpected scolding, he made the mistake of diligently answering the phone when it rang a second time.

  “Yes, this is the Takasu—”

  “You just hung up on me, didn’t you?! Do I need to come over there and go on a rampage again?”

  Reflexively, he thought, That wouldn’t be good. His landlady hadn’t come to complain, but for a little while now, he’d heard the sound of a broom sweeping stormily outside the front entrance. His landlady was probably waiting to catch Ryuuji leaving the house to complain. He was marked.

  Only one person came to mind who could make such wicked threats.

  “Aisaka… Taiga… Tch.”

  In other words, the ferocious and nefarious Palmtop Tiger.

  “If you don’t want any trouble, hurry up and get over here! What’re you up to? Do you plan to break your vow that fast? I can’t think of a single reason why you’d think that’s a good idea.”

  “Sheesh. By vow, you don’t mean…”

  “You said you’d do anything I told you, like a dog, didn’t you? You swore, didn’t you? So hurry up! Get over here right now. Starting today, you’re coming to my house before school, every morning.”

  “…Hold on, wait a second. That thing yesterday…y’know, that thing, right? When I said I’d help you, I meant that—that I’d give you advice about Kitamura, that’s what…”

  “Tsk.” He heard the click of a tongue packed full of irritation coming from the other end of the line.

  “You’re the one who said you’d do anything. Anyway, just come over. When I say I’m going to do something, I always do it. Though in this case, I’m not telling you what it is.”

  It seemed like she was in a really bad mood. Her voice resonated with sinister tones, like the jeer of an oni bellowing from hell. It made Ryuuji’s eardrums quake. Saying anything to her over the phone when she was like this wouldn’t do any good.

  “W-well… I guess I’ll come, but…I don’t know where your house—”

  “Come to the window.”

  “Huh? The window? If I can see your place from the window, that means—AHH!”

  Phone in hand, he crossed the sadly small living room. From the shadows next to the window, he threw his head back in surprise at what he saw outside. From here, all that could be seen were the upper-class condos, but on the second floor, in a perfectly visible window…

  “What’s with that weird pajama top?” said Aisaka Taiga. She was watching him through the condo’s window, a fashionable phone in one hand and a deadpan expression on her face.

  “Uh, stop! Don’t look at me!” Ryuuji tried to cover up Yasuko’s “snuggly wuggly” heart-covered cardigan with both his hands. He had put it on because of the cold. His face turned into an ogre’s, but he wasn’t angry—he was embarrassed.

  Her face distorted, too. She yanked her expensive-looking curtains shut. “I didn’t want to see it in the first place! Hurry up and come, you mutt!” Aisaka insisted. But Ryuuji still had some things to do.

  “Just wait a second! I just need ten minutes!”

  “What for?”

  “The takikomi gohan I’m making for lunch isn’t done yet!”

  “…”

  Then, from the other side of the newly silent line, he heard the faint but intense sound of a rumbling stomach. It was so loud, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard it.

  “…D-do you want some, too?”

  She kept quiet for a while, but eventually, the upper-class condo’s curtains opened by about ten centimeters. Still refusing to utter so much as a word, Aisaka nodded in response.

  Yasuko, Inko, and now Aisaka.

  It seemed the number of mouths Ryuuji was in charge of feeding had increased by one.

  ***

  It was the first time in his life he had seen an auto-locking door.

  The air surrounding the white marble entrance was cooler than outside. It was mysteriously quiet. He felt as though he were being watched.

  He felt so out of place that his eyes took on an imposing and dreadful look as he glared at the mysterious machine before him. It was in a marble stand at about hip level. It had a button, a keyhole, and something that looked like a speaker. There was an automatic door that continued to lead inside, but when he stood in front of it, it made no sign of opening. On his immediate right was the management office, but a note saying “cleaning in progress” indicated that it was deserted. He was sure that he needed to do something with the machine in order to enter the Palmtop Tiger’s pen, but he didn’t know what. Then a voice interrupted his silent pondering. “Good morn…ing…?”

  A young woman opened the door. Even while greeting him, she watched him with a suspicious, questioning look.

  “G-good morning.”

  Ryuuji uneasily lowered his head and slipped through the cracked door. He felt apprehensive entering this way, but no one challenged him.

  He went into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. When the door opened, he found a carpeted hallway like the one he’d seen in a hotel during a school field trip.

  As he wondered what the rent for this must be like, he realized he’d forgotten to ask for the room number. But his anxiety immediately dissipated.

  There was only one door in the hallway ahead. It seemed that the Aisakas’ place took up the entire second floor.

  “She’s rich. Maybe the rumors are true, then… Her dad might actually be a mobster.”

  Deep in thought and just a little nervous (even if it were Aisaka, it was still a girl’s house), he rung the doorbell. But there was no sign of anyone coming to answer, and after a second ring, there was still no response.

  There was still time to get to school, but time wasn’t infinite. Remaining hesitant, he gently tried to open the door.

  He inhale
d sharply. It opened.

  “G-good mornin-ng…Aisaka! It’s Takasu!” He peeked inside and called out, “Heeyyy,” but of course no one answered. “Heyyy, heyyyy,” he called again, trespassing through the marbled front entrance.

  “…Excuse me…I’m coming in! Is that okay? I-I’m coming in now, okay?”

  She’d told him to come—and so he had, out of coercion. Why was he just standing around? Although he was afraid of running into anyone else, especially her father, Ryuuji timidly took off the loafers he had just shined and stepped up onto the hallway flooring in his socks.

  As Ryuuji continued inside, he looked around and breathed out a gasp, “Whoa…” From the white wallpaper to the beige flooring and recessed lighting, everything possessed an elegance completely divorced from ordinary rentals. Ryuuji, who actually rather liked interior design, was enthralled. He quietly opened a clouded glass door.

  “Ooh! Ooh?”

  First, the admiration. Then, the stench.

  His admiration was for the living room, over twenty tatami mats in size. The white rug, the light gray sofa, and then the white table and refined chairs, probably hand-picked by a designer. The south-facing window opened up to a striking view of the park trees—a view that had originally belonged to the Takasu household. The muted colors of the furniture enhanced the openness of the living room, while still maintaining a personal touch. It displayed the taste of a professional. Although the glass chandelier showed modern style, it was exquisite. But strangely, there was only a sofa and a chair for one. For a living room this big, it would have been normal to have five or six people’s worth of furniture.

  And then the stench—

  “It has to be that…”

  It was coming from the refined island kitchen.

  Although the sink was large, it was piled high with what might have been a fixed installment of dirty plates, bowls, and other dishware, all submerged in filthy water. Just imagining what was going on inside the drain made his body shiver. On top of that, the stainless steel in the kitchen was clouded, but that wasn’t the worst of it.